pre_raphaelite1 (pre_raphaelite1) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-18 23:12:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: pre_raphaelite1, kink: alpha remus, kink: biting, kink: d/s, kink: dirty talk, kink: voyeurism, kink: wanking (solo or mutual), remus/sirius |
LMoM: Scentillation (Revisited) #18 [Remus/Sirius, NC-17]
Title: Scentillation (Revisited) #18: Black Phoenix
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Kink(s): Biting, D/s, dirty talk, voyeurism, wanking
Challenge: LMoM 2008
Word Count: 1010
Notes: All subtitles and summaries are names and descriptions of perfume oils from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and therefore belong to the BPAL powers that be. I'm merely fangirling them with Remus/Sirius pron. And HP belongs to JKR, of course. Click on the pervy_werewolf tag of my username for previous entries.
Today's Scent Description/Summary: A dark, languid scent. Promotes hedonistic tendencies and extreme self-love. You won't stop kissing mirrors for a month.
Scentillation(Revisited) #18: Black Phoenix
He poured more oil into his already slick hand then wrapped his fingers closed on his straining cock. Sighing softly, he relaxed into the snug drag of his hand, the slow stroke... stroke... stroke around his cock. His chin tipped up slightly, stretching and showing off the beat of his heart under the thin, pale skin of his neck.
Not that anyone could see it. The figures before him were too caught up in their own pleasure, their games of seduction and domination to notice the man sitting in the corner chair. They didn't react when he first made his entrance, when he appeared in the bedroom, only a few feet from them.
Sirius speaks in a low curling tone, “Always grousing about my curry. If I didn't know you, I'd think you were boring as fuck for all the stacks of dry toast and railing against curry. It's a damned good thing I do know better. Much better, hm?”
Remus smirks at him, the hot teasing obvious in his voice, “It's a convenient mask of tweed and toast, but you damn well better know better than anyone.”
“Oh, I do know, Moony. Clear through to my bones.” He returns the smirk then adds, “And tighter spots.”
The tone and the implications made his cock start to harden, that first rush of blood and desire. The intimate teasing warmed him with ways that were both comforting and exciting. Here they were, the two of them together, so close that they were almost touching. He could almost feel the nearness of their bodies, the warmth of them. He wished he could go to them, feel them touch again, touch each other and touch him. Perhaps that would soothe him- or bring his cock up harder.
Remus' eyes narrow on Sirius when his chin tips up, their gazes locked as he asks in a way that says he clearly knows the answer already, “You want it to hurt, do you? See just how much you could handle today? Tell me.”
Sirius' breath catches then exhales raggedly between his teeth, words pushing through them with sharp twists of his lips, “Yes. Blood and bruises. I want you to break me, or do your best trying.”
When Remus raises his hand, the man in the chair tenses. The strike across Sirius' cheek is vicious, the back of his hand impacting Sirius' skin with an audible crack that sends the blood flooding into his cock even as it drips from Sirius' split lip.
He moans loudly, his cheeks staining pink. He shouldn't find that so arousing. He'd been struck before, had seen others hit, hurt, hexed, killed. This should be distasteful, revolting. But it made him hard, instead of turning his stomach. It made him want to be struck, to feel the burn of a handprint across his face.
However, they were occupied with each other. All the begging and pleading- if he could bring himself to do it- would get him nowhere.
”You know what I want. Chin up.”
Remus waits while Sirius takes a slow breath then gradually obeys, chin tipping up until his throat is fully visible, neck arched in elegant exposure. He bends to him then, his lips nearly touching Sirius', almost kissing him, but then shifting to one side and sliding them down over his chin, avoiding the smear of drying blood. At first it seems like he will do nothing but breathe softly against Sirius' throat. Sirius quivers, whether from the wait or the anticipation, then in one quick catch of teeth, Remus bites down sharply on Sirius' throat. Sirius gives a strangled shout, his hands coming up to twist in Remus' shirt as he arches up under him. He's not pulling away, but Remus still presses closer, holds him still as he continues to press his teeth together on the delicate flesh.
Higher up he tips his chin, as if he can feel those teeth, so close to breaking the skin, sharp points of pressure that could rip through his skin, leave him bleeding and desperate for more. His hand strokes faster on his cock, the bottom of his hand bumping against the base of his cock with a wet, urgent sound.
”Going to choke on my cock, Padfoot? Think you can get my balls on your chin without gagging?”
Sirius answers simply, “You like to make me choke. I'll take it all.”
God he's getting close. He has to close his eyes because it's suddenly too much, too close. His skin is too tight over his body, too sensitive and the sounds Sirius is making in front of him are blending with his own desperate pants and keens. He can't stop his hand; he didn't want to come so fast, didn't want to be this affected by them, but he can't fucking stop his hand. He starts to arch up in the chair when he hears the zip being dragged down.
Remus chuckles quietly, “I do. Very much. I like the sounds you make as you try to keep from gagging completely. The way you struggle when I'm holding you still, your throat around my cock. The way you try so hard not to pull off until your body just can stay without air any more.”
And that's all it takes and he's spurting over his hand, come slicking between his fingers in hot streaks, body straining up, sock-covered toes curled tightly to his feet as he shudders and shakes with it. The world around him contracts to a pinpoint of pure, pulsing feeling.
When he can open his eyes again, he's alone in his room, his trousers around his ankles and his cock limp against his pants. Harry closes his slick hand around the come there, hoping not to drip it onto himself as he pushes his glasses up onto his nose then goes carefully to the bathroom to wash up, trying to ignore memories swirling in the pensieve behind him.
First person to leave feedback gets to choose the BPAL scent as the prompt/inspiration for the next day’s ficlet! Should this not work out, I'll pick a reviewer at my discretion. Thanks to sethkyne_blue and her Sirius (cheeky_mutt) who pounced on my Remus responded to Yesterday's Fic for this one.