LMOM #17: Of Dragons and Werewolves [Remus/Charlie, PG-13] Title: Of Dragons and Werewolves Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 916 Pairing: Remus/Charlie Kinks: mentions of wanking, fantasizing about licking, biting, oral, fetish (tattoos) Challenge: Lusty Month of May (#17) Note: Part 1 of 2 (?) – I didn't have the time to develop it the way I wanted to, so there WILL be another part, probably tomorrow. There may be more than one more part. I'll just have to see.
Charlie Weasley had had a crap day, and not just any crap day. It was the kind of crap day that made you wish you'd never crawled your sorry arse out of bed in the first place. The kind that made you wish that you'd woken up suddenly paralyzed and unable to pull yourself out of bed, because that... that would have been much better than any thing else that had happened to you that day.
He set his bag of groceries on the counter and sunk into a chair sitting at his tiny kitchen table, letting his head fall onto the pillow made by his folded arms. He let out a soft groan as his brain filled the silence with the memories of everything bad that had happened. His electricity had gone out, probably brought on by his own sloppy spell work, and his alarm hadn't gone off – so he'd woke up half an hour late for work. After throwing on clothes, he'd hopped into his car, and got hit while sitting at a stop sign.
The worst part was, he couldn't even vent about it to his family as none of them knew he drove. His mum would probably have a heart attack if she realised he didn't apparate into work everyday. But he couldn't. Dragons didn't take well to people apparating within miles of them, and floo powder wasn't easily available in Romania, so it had become necessary for everyone who lived off-compound to get a license. It came in handy.
Except, you know, when random Muggles pummeled into the back of his car. And then, of course, was work and various burns, cuts, and near-death experiences. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, but today felt worse than usual after his morning. Top it off with the trip to the local market and the savage behaviour of the people living in his neighborhood because of the invasion of the foreigner and he was ready to crawl back into bed and say "fuck the world."
But he couldn't... not yet; he had to put up the eggs. With a groan he pushed himself up from the chair and started to put up his groceries – fresh farm-raised eggs that reminded him of the Burrow, fresh milk in a glass bottle, fresh cheese, fresh... everything. That was one thing he loved about living in Romania. Everything was fresh and home-made and absolutely delicious.
He froze, mid-task as the knock on his door echoed in his small flat. He crossed to the door and opened it, wondering who it could be at his door. He stared at the man a moment before he recognised him. He was filthy, tattered, and looking in far worse condition than he was when Charlie had seen him last. "Remus? Come on in."
Dumbledore had sent Remus to Fenrir Greyback. Fenrir had sent Remus to Romania to contact another pack – one apparently run by someone who hated Fenrir. Remus had been nearly torn to shreds after they'd discovered why he was there. He'd come to Charlie for help, and now... he wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't go back to Fenrir, not as a failure. He'd be killed for certain. It seemed that Dumbledore would be losing his contact with the werewolves. He wasn't too happy to go back to Dumbledore a failure either.
And so, he'd begged Charlie to let him stay, just for a little while. He'd go back to England soon. He promised. Charlie didn't mind though. Honestly, he'd been thinking of taking on a flat mate. He'd always lived with someone and being alone... was a little too quiet. Eerily so. It was nice to have Remus around.
They'd just settled in for dinner – salad and shepherd's pie, nothing fancy, but good – when Remus cleared his throat. "I... I'll pay you back. I owe you so much for this. It might take awhile, but -"
"No," Charlie said firmly. "You're a friend, and I've enjoyed the company."
"Still, I've been eating your food, using your utilities..."
"Making my dinners, cleaning my flat, doing my laundry. Remus, you've done more than enough. I'm just glad I could help you out."
"I'm sure you rather miss bringing girls home and..."
Charlie flushed deeply, his skin turning a shade which matched his red hair. "No, Remus. I assure you, that isn't a problem. I don't have time for dating working at the compound... and even if I did, I wouldn't be bringing birds home."
The admission shocked Remus and sent a thrill down his spine.
Now that he knew Charlie liked men, Remus couldn't stop fantasizing about him. He was wanking every chance he got, thinking about Charlie's arms, fingers, lips... and his tattoos. Remus had gotten a glimpse of them when Charlie was coming out of the shower, still wet and dripping, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was gorgeous and his tattoos, intricate and brightly coloured images of dragons, were nothing short of art work. He wanted Charlie to take him, lick him from head to toe, to bite him and mark him and claim him. Remus wanted to feel half as beautiful as Charlie was.
Remus had been there for weeks and was starting to think of a perfect way to pay Charlie back – he was going to offer himself for the taking. And now... he just had to figure out how to broach the subject.