LMoM: The Diary of a Death Eater Whore, Part 19 (SS/RL) Title: The Diary of a Death Eater Whore 19/31 Rating (this chapter): NC-17 Pairing, all-over: Remus Lupin/Severus Snape Additional pairings, this chapter: Remus/Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint Kink(s): Fisting, threesome, dirty talk, sort of. Challenge: LMoM 2008 Word count: 3,700 Link to all chapters: here. Notes: Beta by the lovely envinyatar15 and wonderful red_day_dawning. Summary: Severus Snape returns to a post-war wizarding world without the Dark Lord. No matter the Dark Lord died, his followers still won the battle and the power to rule. In this new world, former Order members are forced to get by as best they can - those who haven't escaped - even if the occupation is not to their liking. Some have even become quite successful and sought after - like the infamous Remus Lupin. The question is: will this new world order make it impossible for love to develop and grow between two such different wizards as a Death Eater spy and a paid man, a werewolf whore?
Monday, 19th May, 2008 - Quidditch and Other Games
'Marcus Flint.'
'Er-' Severus said and rolled over, pulling Remus with him in a rustle of sheets. 'I envy you your ability to express yourself so briefly and to the point.' Severus wrapped his arms around Remus' neck. 'Maybe a bit of elaboration?'
'Today's client is Marcus Flint. I just thought I'd tell you before you tried to pry it out of me.' Remus smiled and kissed his lover's nose.
'Stop it,' Severus growled, not really in a bad mood - on the contrary. So it seemed as if their relationship had changed enough for Remus to trust he wouldn't throw a fit, since he was able to speak of his work so willingly. Did Remus think his jealousy had gone? Because in that case, Remus was wrong. Severus hated what Remus had to do, hated Flint for even wanting to touch Remus. On the other hand, Severus felt secure. He knew Remus wanted only him, there was no doubt about it. Severus was loved, and it made all the difference. He could manage, although he didn't like it. 'Marcus?' he asked, wondering why his former student had any need of going to a brothel. Flint wasn't the flashiest of men, but he was impressive and a brilliant Quidditch player - enough to get him all the women - and probably quite a few men - he wanted.
'Marcus likes to play "riding the broom". The man has a Quidditch fetish, I tell you.' It was a relief to Remus that Severus seemed all right, even remotely interested in his work without being angry about it. It was an improvement. Maybe Severus finally understood that Remus could just as well have any other kind of physical work. In fact, Remus would have preferred any job to his current one, but it wasn't as if the offers had been many, when it came to hiring a treacherous werewolf, not unless one viewed glaring at the inside of an Azkaban cell as work. Prostitution had been the former Minister's lovely way of punishing Remus Lupin, and Remus had rarely seen it as anything but punishment, despite some of the more positive aspects.
'A Quidditch fetish?' Severus raised an eyebrow. He knew what Oliver looked like in Quidditch gear, so he could partly understand Flint's inclination. 'But you don't play Quidditch.'
'No, but Oliver does. They come here after practise, and we...'
'Both of you?'
'Marcus has... stamina.'
'I love you, Remus, and I will try to listen, but please... no more today.' Now Severus wanted the picture of Marcus Flint riding Remus' broom out of his head. Luckily, he had a tight schedule; he had plans that needed to be executed - plans that would improve Remus' life at least a little. Severus pressed a soft kiss to Remus' mouth. 'Also, I need to get up and go to work. I am busy today.'
'Severus... stay? Just a little longer...' Remus looked puppy-eyed at Severus, but the hand that suddenly rubbed against Severus' cock was wicked.
Severus moaned. 'Remus Lupin! Since we got out of that bathroom, we've shagged more or less without pause. You can have no more until tomorrow! And don't pout!'
'I am not pouting,' Remus said, and did exactly that. 'Where are you going?'
'The Ministry first, then back to my house. I am going to make sure the wards are set. I have this odd feeling I might not be coming back to it that often. I want to get some of my clothes too, so that Folly won't have to clean my robes all the time.'
'That is so considerate of you,' Remus teased. 'So you are moving in?' Remus realised he wanted Severus to, that waking up every morning in his lover's arms would mean a level of happiness Remus hadn't thought he would experience. 'Are you coming back tonight?' he asked, hoping Severus intended to.
'You can't really come with me to Wales yet.' There would come a day where they could go where they wanted, live how they liked to. 'I'll be back tomorrow.'
'Oh.'
'You don't have clients tomorrow, do you?'
Remus' face fell, the happiness disappearing. 'It is full moon. I have... I always have one particular client that day, no matter if it is usually my day off. I can't deny him... It's on the Ministry's order. Thicknesse made me...'
'I am sure I don't want to know about it, but...' Severus knew the name already. He just knew. Which was good, because he wouldn't have to go look for that particular wizard tomorrow. His plan suddenly seemed a lot easier to execute. 'It's Greyback.'
'Yes.' Remus looked repulsed.
Severus felt that way. He really didn't want to think of what Greyback wanted. Only Greyback had already told him. The only good thing was that Remus would only have to go through this once more, then never again if Severus' plan worked. And if it didn't, he would just come up with another. Before the next full moon. 'There are reasons I have to leave,' he informed Remus. 'Can you manage, or would you rather I stayed with you?'
'No. I... I have lived through it for many years. Oliver's here, too. He knows what to do.' Severus' care almost made it worse. The fact that someone actually cared what Remus wanted - it was harder to bear the cruel aspects of his fate. 'I can manage.' Remus didn't force himself to smile or to calm Severus down. They had passed that point yesterday, where they needed to pretend. 'It is awful and perverse, but I'll live.'
'I love you,' Severus said. That was all he could do. That, and kill Fenrir Greyback.
After work, Severus Disapparated to Wales. He had left the Ministry early since he had things to do, other than to pack his suitcases and move in with Remus Lupin, more or less. It didn't take long to take care of that; Severus waved his wand, and that was that. There had been an entirely different reason to get back early.
Severus looked in the large mirror. His hair was short, indeterminably brownish. His eyes were somewhere between blue and grey, and his features were just as exciting as a bowl of oatmeal, and just as distinct. He was forgettable, mousy and uninteresting, which was exactly what he needed to be. He buttoned the beige Muggle trench coat, and Disapparated to the nearest city to speak with the Muggle police.
'I live in Nant-dou,' Severus informed the constable. 'Some of my sheep were chased by feral dogs last night, they killed two lambs.'
'We've had this problem before, Sir,' the constable said. 'There has been a few incidents this month, closer to Merthyr Tydfil. You live next to the National Park, then?'
'I do. I suppose the dogs will be back, I left the dead sheep there. Maybe you could send someone to see if they can catch them... tonight?'
'It's not high priority, but we'll try,' the constable said. 'If there's a risk the animals have rabies, we need to find them. Wouldn't do if we had to deal with that vile disease after being rid of it for so many years.'
'That would be disastrous, indeed,' Severus agreed. 'You better do something, just in case. If your men want coffee or anything, you can just tell them to come by. I might be home late, but the sheep are visible from the road, on your left.'
'That's kind of you. Thank you, Mr...'
'Mr Smith.' Severus nodded, and left the police station. Part one of his plan had turned out to work precisely as he had intended it to. Now he just had to return to his small cottage and arrange the two dead pigeons he had Transformed into lambs. He could probably find a flock of sparrows he could turn into a herd of live sheep. He would need some time to do a bit of magic. Tomorrow, he would go back to London to execute the second part of his nice little plot.
A loud crash sounded from below. 'Bloody hell,' someone groaned, probably Oliver. Remus put his book down, pulled his hair back and tied it with a piece of brown leather string and opened his tight jeans, just enough to make it possible to see what was hidden inside them. He pulled the Falmouth Falcons supporter t-shirt over his head, smiling. To be true, he'd rather have worn a Holyhead Harpies shirt, but the one time he'd tried, Marcus had been furious, and since Remus didn't want to let Marcus fuck him, Oliver had been the one to endure the harsh treatment. So Falcons it was. The grey colour looked nice on Remus, that was a comfort, at least. Marcus fucked the way he played: rough, ruthless, hard and fast. Preferably with Quidditch gear on. Even the broom had been used once or twice on Oliver. Flint certainly loved Quidditch as much as Oliver did. Remus, however, had not had any inclination for being fucked up the arse with a Nimbus 2008 Limited Edition. Oliver, on the other hand, had written to the manufacturer to make them alter the shape of the handle for a better fit, no further explanation. Oliver had fun with Marcus, no doubt. What Remus had was a cock the size Marcus liked, which was why they played together, the three of them.
Remus headed down the stairs. It was obvious from the sounds coming from the hall that Quidditch practise (Puddlemere had practise with the Falcons this week) had made the young men rather horny, since they had barely stepped inside the house before they were at it. If nothing else, it would be amusing. Oliver, too, used to find Flint entertaining. It wasn't the worst client they had. Also, Oliver and Flint could get more worked up over Quidditch than over sex, and when both were combined... Remus braced himself. He was getting too old to handle that much enthusiasm from two men.
'Damn it, Flint! Take it easy!' Oliver was leaning against the window frame, facing the street. His robes were pulled up, his arse naked. Marcus had three leather-clad fingers inside him already.
'You like it rough, you little bastard,' Flint sneered. 'That should teach you to play fair!' Marcus pulled out his hand and smeared more oil (probably something used somewhere in Quidditch) over his hand. He was ruthless when he pushed inside again; four fingers this time.
'Ah!' Oliver cried out. 'Fuck you!' He moaned loudly, somehow contradicting his complaining, and tried to push back to get more of the large, gloved hand inside.
Flint smacked Oliver's arse. 'You don't have the bollocks for that,' he grinned. 'And I like to fist you before I fuck you. Can't use a broom for days when I'm done with you.'
'You wish! I'll make you come so hard you can't see straight for a week, and you'll be the suckiest Beater, ever! Hard to hit the Quaffle when all you can think of is me.'
'Shut it, Wood. Or do you want me to shove my broom up your arse and fuck you with it until you beg me to stop? Had trouble with splinters last time, right?'
'Piss off, cunt! You don't even want your coach to touch your new broom, so why make promises like that? You are just sodding afraid I'll ride her like she's never been ridden.' Oliver turned his head and gave Flint a wicked smile. 'Now what'll it be, Flint? Are you going to use your hand on me, or are we just going to chat?'
'I'll turn you inside out, you piss-ant!' Marcus pushed Oliver down, his head against the window. Remus hoped the passers-by wouldn't notice. They were bound to have a wonderful view of Flint's naked chest, visible since his Quidditch robe was ripped open. From outside, there could be no doubt what was going on. Oliver was groaning as Marcus continued to widen him, rather brutally. The sight of the giant Quidditch player handling the smaller Oliver so roughly was not precisely repulsive. Remus stepped closer and the very male scent of leather, sweat and sex hit him. He had to arrange himself, despite the half-open jeans; it was more than arousing to watch the two men, especially since Remus knew that Oliver liked it quite a bit. Oliver had once told him that most of his fantasies evolved around Quidditch and sex, in that order, or about sex and Quidditch if the first combination wasn't available.
'Boys, boys!' Remus tut-tutted. 'Play nicely.'
'Oh, good! Moony, help me shut Wood up. He annoys me.' Marcus underlined his words by pushing even harder inside Oliver's hole. 'Sit on the window sill and make him suck you, that should do it.' Flint looked down at his fingers disappearing into Oliver's widened opening. 'He's ready soon, and I'll not have him scream like a woman when I fist him. I like it when he moans incomprehensibly.'
'Oh,' Remus purred and stepped up to Marcus, sliding a hand over his broad chest from behind. 'You are so wonderfully cruel. I like that. But just wait. I'll let you have it just as hard when I shove myself into you. Just so you know.'
'Fuck, yes! Moony... Ah!' Marcus wasn't against the prospect. He liked to get as he gave.
'But let me see you play with Oliver first. I like to see that dirty, padded leather in his arse, hear him cry out when your fist is so deep inside him he cannot breathe.' Remus let the wolf come out to play. 'Give it to him, Flint,' he growled in Marcus's ear. 'Make him whimper and cry, just like we want him to.'
Oliver just moaned very loudly.
'Look at him,' Remus whispered, his voice rough. 'He is just waiting for you to do it, the little slut. He wants you to be rough with him.' Remus used his other hand to reach further down and pull open some of the buckles that held Marcus' leathers in place, just enough to let Remus loosen Marcus's trousers. 'Give me some of that oil,' Remus demanded and held out his hand. 'I think we both know who wants what Oliver's getting.' Remus slid a hand behind the leather and down Marcus' pants. 'Come on,' Flint,' he urged. 'Put your hand inside him.'
Marcus groaned, for a moment he leaned against Remus, enjoying what he was doing. 'I'll break him. He needs more stretching.'
Good to know Marcus was careful. Remus knew Oliver could take it; he would never let Flint do this without having prepared himself with spells, charming himself wide open, but still appearing tight and unprepared. Flint could probably shove his hand and cock there at the same time and still not hurt Oliver. They never took risks. 'Go on then, stretch,' Remus said, and pushed two fingers inside Marcus. It made the large man push against Remus' hand.
'Yeah, Moony... mmm.' Marcus seemed to have forgotten Oliver for a moment. Then he continued what he had been doing, pushing his fingers in and out of Oliver's arse. It only took a little before he added the thumb, carefully stretching the wide open hole further, enough so he could press his hand inside.
Remus was aroused. Not by any charm or potion, but truly aroused. Of course he would much rather have done this to Severus, but he wasn't yet ready for such a treatment. Watching Marcus's fist slowly disappear up Oliver's arse was incredibly, amazingly arousing. Remus swore he'd use the next week to complete what he had already begun: to make Severus ready for his hand. Luckily, Severus took four fingers easily, so it wouldn't be difficult. Remus closed his eyes and imagined Severus bent over, tied up, begging for Remus to hurt him and invade his body like this. Remus couldn't hold back a wolfish growl.
'More,' Marcus demanded. 'Give it to me, Moony!' His voice was ragged, and he was working furiously on Oliver. 'He's ready soon... I want to be ready for you... want your big cock shoved into me...'
'In good time,' Remus said, pushing Marcus's trousers down before he pushed another finger inside. 'Still want Oliver to suck me off?' Remus didn't think so. This was too delicious.
'Fuck, no! Keep going!' Marcus looked down at Oliver, checking the strained rim hadn't split. 'He's ready. Moony...' Marcus looked over his shoulder at Remus; his grey eyes were glazed over, he was more aroused than Remus had thought. Obviously, Quidditch had been rough today - just the way Marcus and Oliver liked it.
Oliver made some more incoherent moans. 'Flint! Now... I... God!' Marcus pushed his hand inside, careful not to make the leather seams scratch Oliver. The Quidditch glove was charmed, of course. 'Ah... ah...' Oliver let out little pained cries, but leaving no doubt how much he enjoyed it. 'Turn it... padding over... prostate... Yes! There... godyesnow... Ah!'
Marcus thrust in, slowly. He had used plenty of oil; his arm was dripping. He bent down over Oliver's back, rubbing his other gloved hand over Oliver's uniform. It seemed to arouse Marcus even more. 'Moony... now. Want it. Shove your cock in me.'
Marcus was growling, in a way the wolf recognised. Remus pulled his cock out of his jeans, slicking it with some of the Quidditch oil (Fleetwood's High-Finish Quidditch Leather Polish for Better Performance). Had he not been aroused already, the look of Marcus' muscular arm with leather padding that disappeared up Oliver's arse would definitely have done it. Merlin, it looked so hot!
Remus dug his fingers into Marcus's hips as he pushed into his narrow arse. Marcus seemed to have muscles in places other men did not; maybe from the many hours of Quidditch practise. Remus found it amazing what many daily hours on a broom could do for a man.
Oliver had a firm grip on the windowsill. He was trying to brace himself against the hard thrusts of Marcus' fist. Oliver's moans had become a constant litany of pained sounds. The sight of the pretty young man getting fist-fucked by Marcus only made it harder for Remus to hold back, close as he was. He took his bollocks in one hand, pulling them, trying to stop the impending orgasm.
'Flint! Oliver sounded as if he was choking. 'I'm coming, give it to me... deeper... Fuck, you're good!' Oliver was shivering and crying as Marcus pressed his arm inside too, just before Oliver froze and came; his semen ending up against the window and the wall. Oliver stood, gasping for air, whimpering softly as the last spurts were forced out of him by Marcus's huge hand.
Marcus made Remus pause (something Remus appreciated, because he had been so close) as he carefully pulled his hand out of Oliver's arse. 'You have no idea how fuckable you look,' Marcus groaned as he was treated with the sight of Oliver's wide, slicked hole, open to just thrust into. 'I am going to fuck you so hard.' Without further ado, Marcus slid home, ramming his cock into Oliver with the sensitivity of a sledgehammer.
Remus just followed Marcus's movements, fucking him from behind as he took Oliver, not too fast. He was trying to keep himself from coming, just at the mere sight of what Marcus was doing.
Marcus wanted otherwise. 'Fuck me!' he demanded. 'I don't care if you come now. Do it, Moony! Let me feel your beast!' The large man moved, trying to pace the rhythm. Impaled on Remus' cock, and with his own buried in Oliver, Marcus couldn't hold back for long, either, of that Remus was sure.
Marcus didn't have to say that twice. Very few men were able to stand Remus' forceful fucking when he was close to full moon. He became too wild, too feral. Marcus... he didn't care if he was hurt, he was just as strong as Remus, and he appreciated a hard cock shoved into his arse - preferably as ruthlessly as he played. For a minute there were no other sounds than flesh against flesh as Remus fucked Marcus's muscular arse and Marcus in turn had his cock pistoning into Oliver. Oliver was utterly gone, totally absorbed in the pleasure it gave him. He didn't seem to be able to even moan. He just stood there, whimpering, with closed eyes, and let Marcus fuck him.
Then Marcus let out a shout. 'Moony! Now! Come with me. Fuck me! Harder, damn, harder!' Marcus thrust into Oliver a few times, to the hilt. Remus could barely follow, but the wonderful, deep contractions inside Marcus made it evident the man was coming hard. Remus stopped holding back. He came, too, on his mind the image of his wonderful lover bent over a desk as Remus fucked him brutally. The "Severus" he whispered against Marcus's back was luckily not heard by anyone but himself.
When they had calmed down a bit, Marcus helped Oliver to the bathroom. Remus followed, making sure a bath was run for the three of them. Folly served them chilled wine and water. Later they would dine, and have another go. Marcus had, if nothing else, the endurance of a cave troll.
Maybe it was a very good thing that Severus wouldn't return that night.