katekintail (katekintail) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-12 21:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: katekintail, kink: drug/alcohol use, kink: exhibitionism, kink: face shot, kink: partially clothed sex, remus/crossover character |
LMOM: Where, When, Why, Who & Howl Part 12
Title: Where, When, Why, Who & Howl Part 12
Author: KateKintail
Rating: R to NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Methos (Aka Dr. Adams)
Kinks: Exhibitionism
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world. Just my creative juices. Please don’t sue. I don’t make a dime from this.
Summary: New Companions all around! Remus is in heat and in need of more things than sex…
Word Count for this part: 1,951
Notes: I’m in way over my head this year for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May. Any feedback you’ve got for me would be useful. Also, this is completely unbetaed, because of time constraints. Sorry!
Part 12
Where: The Villa Diodati by Lake Geneva, Switzerland
When: May, 1816
“That,” the Doctor said, standing with Remus in a corner of the great room, “is the great Lord Byron.”
“No! It can’t be!” Remus stared in disbelief. “Can it?”
“And those,” the Doctor tipped his wine glass slightly in the direction of a couple sitting not too far from Bryon, “are the Shelleys.”
“This is incredible.” Remus and the Doctor had sort of invited themselves to the party, but once their hosts got a good look at them, there really was no refusing. The Doctor had outfitted them in nothing but the best. Within the tight trousers, the dashing white scarf, the distinguished button-down suit vest, the long tailcoat, and the prominent top hat, Remus felt every bit the part of an English lord. Lord Lupin. Though wouldn’t want the responsibility or title, he liked the sound of that very much. It came trippingly off the tongue. Much like the man’s poetry.
Lord Byron was reciting something now, in fact, and everyone in the room stopped to listen and be captivated by it. Remus had seen this sensation before at wizard rock concerts and had, naturally, been privy to it himself only earlier that month in the seventies. The party was good for two things- listening to the man himself read his ‘newest’ works, and getting laid. Remus expected that doing both might be in order, too, before the night was out.
The party was not what anyone would call especially decent. Already there were two naked women, a midget, and a goat accounted for in the room, and Percy Shelley seemed utterly unable to keep his hand out from beneath his wife’s skirts. She seemed to mind this and struggled only when someone was reciting poetry; the rest of the time she let him have his way.
Remus sampled the foodstuffs one of the servants had brought in. The pastries were unidentifiable but nonetheless good. Remus reflected to himself that if this month taught him nothing other than the importance of never judging a food by its appearance, it would be a month well spent.
“And who’s that?” Remus asked the Doctor, as a round of applause followed the completion of another poem, and his words were too soft for anyone else to hear. Remus nodded in the direction of another man, whose wavy brown hair and strong cheekbones made him stand out. Not to say that Byron wasn’t quite the catch… but this man…
“Not sure,” said the Doctor. “A friend of Byron’s?”
Remus wanted him. He knew nothing about the man and, yet, he wanted him. “I’m going to find out.” He eyed the man for a moment, hoping to make eye contact and getting that wish granted after about a minute. The man held his gaze for a moment, then smiled invitingly. Both Remus and the Doctor headed over, carrying with them a bottle of wine from the table as a peace-making gift.
The man was sprawled out on a red velvet chaise lounge, head propped up on a pillow. “I noticed your glass was empty,” said Remus, holding up the bottle. “Permit me the honor of filling it?”
The man nodded and held up his glass. Remus was in awe, being so close like this. The man was even more handsome now than he appeared to be from across the room. “I haven’t seen you around here before, have I?” he asked the two travelers. He took a generous sip of the wine to make sure he liked it, then offered his cup so that Remus could fill it completely. “The good Dr. Adams at your service. Though, like Byron, you can call me Doc.”
“And you can call me the Doctor,” said the Doctor, smiling. “And this is Remus.”
Remus said nothing to this. His smile was fixed unchangingly upon his face. And his eyes were fixed on the man’s eyes. They were such a rich brown. They looked so deep, as though they could go on forever. The eyes reminded him of the Doctor’s actually, in how you could look at them and still never see what was beneath.
“Ah!” The small wineglass had overflowed. Distracted, Remus had let the wine spill out, over the rim and over the man’s fingers. It dripped down wrist onto the linen shirt sleeve. It left a splash of purplish-pink on the chaise, right between the man’s legs and Remus fought the urge to immediately clean the spill with his tongue.
“So sorry!” Remus said, immediately righting the bottle and what remained of the wine. “Let me get a towel. I’ll clean you off.”
“No need,” the man said, lifting his own hand to his mouth and lapping up the trails of wine, angling his arm without spilling his glass. “Though perhaps you’d like to go somewhere more private and make it up to me? This was my favorite shirt after all. And you know they say a kiss of great worth can absolve many sins.”
“Who says that?” asked the Doctor.
“I do.” And the man smiled a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. Remus went weak and touched his lips tentatively to Doc’s. The kiss was returned with all kinds of gentleness, yet there was an underlying eagerness, to, that Remus couldn’t help noticing. When Remus moved away finally- mostly to stop himself from going further- the man was still smiling. “What do you say, my brothers?”
Remus glanced suddenly at the Doctor, alarmed and inquisitive both. The memory of the bar bathroom wank filled his mind at once, and suddenly the possibility he had so long ago dismissed seemed to be back. He might very well find himself in a doctor sandwich.
Yet, he wasn’t so sure that was what he wanted. It would be unbelievably delicious, for sure. But the Doctor wasn’t just some random man on a random world in a random time. He was a friend now, a companion. And the last time Remus had gotten involved with a friend, it had not ended well at all. Besides, there was no indication that the Doctor even fancied Remus like that. Yes, of course there were little glances, little touches, little words… but he’d never said. He wasn’t the kind to say, but he’d still never said. Remus studied the Doctor’s face for some sign.
The Doctor had a kind look about him. “I’m flattered, truly. But I have to see a man about a horse. You two…” His gaze lingered on Remus as he trailed off. “I’ll be back soon enough.”
Doc grabbed Remus kissing him so hard and holding him so tightly that Remus altogether forgot the Doctor’s presence there. When he looked up, he found himself alone with Doc. Or as alone as one could be in a large banquet room full of minstrels, poets, and only half-dressed whores. Remus thought briefly about asking if the man wanted to go somewhere a little more private. But then another kiss came and Remus’ mind completely stopped working.
He was aware that everyone could see, but he did not care. All that was real was that kiss and those long fingers plunging into his leggings. The prominent nose nuzzled into the fills and folds of Remus’ scarf and the lips found the nape of Remus’ neck, kissing the sensitive area tenderly. One of the man’s legs came up, thigh pressing, then leg hooking around Remus’ arsecheek and thigh.
The two men didn’t undress. Not much, anyway. Remus’ loose leggings were tugged down past his groin and the curves of his arse. The man’s cock was freed from his trousers. And with just a little effort and a little more wine, Remus managed to sit down properly at an angle that made both men breathe out with simultaneous pleasure and relief.
Remus had closed his eyes, but his ears burned red. He opened his eyes back up to find that everyone was watching them. The music-makers still make music. One woman still suckled from another’s breast. Percy and Mary were wholly still wrapped up in each other. The goat snagged a piece of cheese and a fig leaf from a platter on the table and munched away. But otherwise most everyone else was watching Remus and Doc do their thing.
“Do not mind them,” Doc whispered.
“I don’t.” Remus’ cock twitched, and he reached down for it. He held his balls in one hand and his cock in the other. Then he started bending at the knees. He moved up and down onto Doc’s erection and then off again. Every time he went down, it was bliss, and every time he moved up, he wanted desperately to go back down. Doc was highly excited, but his movements and his orgasm were slowed by the alcohol. Remus was conscious of wanting this to look good, but more conscious of wanting this to feel good. He was careful, therefore, wanting to make sure of his position, even though his hand was moving twice as fast on his own cock.
He risked quick glances at the room’s occupants, wondering if the Doctor would be back in time to see them orgasm and wondering if he wanted that or not. He pumped his cock faster and the man plunged deeper into Remus with each iteration, raising his arse up off the bed. Remus felt pounded by the rhythm, each movement a stanza with its own rhyme, all melding together and leading up to one final, lyrical ending.
Remus went down one last time and stayed down, with the man’s cock buried deep inside him. Remus gasped and gripped the man’s shoulder tightly as came, running the plush chaise lounge further, to his dismay. He threw his head back, eyes open, knowing everyone in the room now would be watching and loving the attention. The orgasm lasted forever and a day, the cock inside him spilling and turning, twisting and thrusting, doing more to Remus than Remus thought possible. This man had amazing control over himself and over Remus, who stayed put, even when it was all over.
When Remus was finally allowed to slide off, he was pulled into a tight embrace. His head was pillowed on the man’s chest and his body was squeezed tightly. Remus saw the shoulder he’d been gripping and watched up-close as several small scratches he’d made healed and disappeared right before his eyes. “My Don Juan,” Remus whispered. “Your wounds… I won’t say a word.”
Doc smiled again and whispered directly into Remus’ ear. “I’m afraid the last person who discovered that secret promised her silence…” he cast a glance over at Mary Shelley, who was blushing furiously and drinking her wine, “and then she wrote a book about immortality.”
Remus chuckled and let the man pull his pants back up and give them both a quick wipe off with Remus’ scarf. He’d made such a mess of Lord Byron’s chaise, on top of it all. But then Remus nuzzled close, closing his eyes, not wanting anyone to watch this part of it, just wanting this man all to himself forever.