westernredcedar (westernredcedar) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-26 09:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: westernredcedar, kink: blood play, kink: bondage, kink: dubious consent, remus/regulus |
LMoM: 1979 (Part 26~ August 27, 1979)
Title: 1979
Today’s Date: August 27, 1979
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~1,800
Pairing: Remus/Regulus
Kink(s): bondage, knives, dub-con
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2008
Summary: 1979: One of the worst years of Remus's life. Also, one of the best.
Today’s Episode: “You found me,” Regulus said, his voice low. “Now what?”
Warning: Dark, torture
Notes: The possibly insane blpaintchart has agreed to speed beta and Brit pick for as long as she can stand it while I try this…so generous is my Chart!! Anything remotely clever is probably her doing…:) Also, thank you to McKay for running this crazy thing.
Need to catch up? Here are the previous parts: Jan 1, Jan 15: Day, Jan 15: Night, Feb 2, Feb 9, Feb 20, Mar 10, Mar 24, Mar 25, Mar 25: Later, Mar 26, Mar 31, Apr 1, Apr 11, Apr 12, Apr 14, Apr 24, May 5, May 6, Jun 1, Jun 2, Jun 30, Jul 20, Jul 20: Later, Jul 22
Even in his current predicament, Remus took a moment to marvel at how much Regulus could look like Sirius, even down to the curl of his eyelashes, yet be so completely unlike his older brother. Where Sirius was eyebrow waggling, bollocks-out fun, Regulus was nail-biting, crooked-sneer disdain. Where Sirius was light-hearted lark, Regulus was angst-ridden brooding.
When they were twelve and Regulus eleven, he had pestered them until they had ganged up on him and locked him, screaming, into the dark objects cupboard at the Black family home, a musty, windowless room filled with terror and maiming and mystery. When they let Regulus emerge after two long hours, he had said with a cocky sneer that it had been the best two hours of his life.
Remus was picturing that stubborn, eleven-year-old Regulus now, even though the older version was glaring at him with those replicas of Sirius’s eyes, Sirius’s except for the deep crevasse of worry or disgust etched between his brows.
Regulus’s wand was pointed to Remus’s throat.
“Yeah, you found me,” Regulus said, his voice low. “Now what?”
Remus was bound tight against the trunk of a large elm, his arms wrenched backwards by the vines holding his wrists, his legs strapped down at knee and ankle. His wand was resting on the grass at his feet, out of reach.
He’d been an idiot to think the Black country estate would not be well-warded. It had taken him so long to discover its location without alerting Sirius to his search that when he had found it at last, he had rushed off without a plan. The tree had grabbed him as he sneaked towards the house. He’d been struggling against the bindings for thirty minutes before Regulus had wandered out to see what he had caught. Remus didn’t even care. He just needed to know what had happened to Gideon.
“Tell me what you know about the Prewetts, Regulus.”
“I don’t believe you're in a position to make demands, Remus.”
Regulus was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his tight black trousers, shiny mane of black hair, and gaudy silver jewelry shockingly out of place in the great outdoors. I’m at the mercy of a kid in a Def Leppard t-shirt, Remus thought, although he knew he should not find any of this funny.
“Did you kill them?”
“Maybe I did.”
Remus took the snide, defensive answer to mean No. It was a relief, really, although he’d never believed Regulus was the murderer. In the month since Gideon’s death, his drive for revenge had become focused, clinical, and cold, but he did not have the appetite to harm Sirius’s little brother.
“Who killed them?”
Regulus snorted. “Oh, I’ll just tell you that. Certainly. Since you asked.”
“I have ways of finding out.” I think. Severus had been teaching him the basics of legilimency, but it was still difficult. He needed to lock Regulus into deep eye contact, and the kid's edgy, twitchy pacing was not giving him the opportunity.
“Ooo. I’m shaking in my boots, you idiot. In case you hadn’t noticed, you are completely helpless. In a few minutes, I’ll take you inside and decide whether to call my father, or the Ministry, or the Dark Lord. But for now, perhaps I should remind you that I can do anything I want to you.” With a flick of the wand and no further warning, Regulus vanished Remus’s clothes.
Remus was shocked at the sudden chill on his skin, and cross with himself for the rush of humiliation he felt, sure that was Regulus’s intention.
Regulus eyes grew round. "Bloody hell. What the fuck happened to you?” Regulus eyed the lattice of scars and fresh wounds covering Remus’s skin. It had been another bad transformation.
Remus was silent, trying again to focus his gaze on Regulus, muttering Legilimens under his breath. Regulus was too distracted though, moving closer and running his fingers along the massive knot of scars on Remus’s chest. His fingernails were painted black, the polish chipped and ugly.
The touch of his fingers tickled and teased at his scarred skin. "Who the fuck did this to you?"
"No one."
Regulus stared at Remus, his eyes bright with fascination. "You did it to yourself?"
“In a way,” Remus replied, focusing his mind on the misery of transformation, just barely maintaining control of his body. Regulus continued to tease his fingers over the lumpy scars.
Oh gods, Regulus’s touch was feathery and light. Combined with the bindings and the cool outdoor air on his skin, and the fact the kid was an exact replica of Sirius, Remus felt his prick stir.
Regulus backed off and pointed his wand at Remus again.
“You’re a sicko, mate. I didn’t think my brother had any friends like you.” Regulus almost sounded impressed.
You have no idea, Remus thought.
Regulus reached down, pulled up his trouser leg, and reached into his boot to extract a small, silver dagger. “So, you enjoy being cut?” he asked.
Remus swallowed. The knife he could handle. His flesh was so used to being marked, he hardly flinched at the idea. The silver, however...he tensed as Regulus approached.
“You are not a torturer, Regulus.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Regulus brandished the knife in front of Remus. “Oh, aren't I?” He positioned the knife at Remus’s collarbone, his face inches from Remus’s. “Are you trying to stall so my stupid dick of a brother has time to rescue you?”
“No." He doesn't even know I’m here. To say Remus’s grief and anger over Gideon’s death had strained his relationship with Sirius was an understatement. He had not been able to speak to him for weeks, not really, not when every look Sirius gave him was soothing and comforting and horrible. He did not want to be soothed or calmed. He had been running to Severus's bed every night.
He wanted to be here, risking his life. He didn't care what Regulus did to him, if it meant he could find Gideon's killers.
Regulus pressed the dagger in.
The searing, fiery pain of the silver radiated through every nerve of Remus’s skin. His eyeballs hurt. It felt like his hair was on fire. He let out a howling scream.
Regulus dropped the knife in surprise. “Bastard! Fuck, I didn’t even break the skin, you freak. What the fuck?”
Remus let him head flop forward as the agony subsided. He had broken out in a sticky sweat.
“Hey!” Regulus grabbed Remus by the chin and lifted his head. His other hand came to rest on Remus’s chest. His soft touch of his hand in contrast with the pain of the silver sent another jolt to Remus’s prick. "What is wrong with you?” Regulus asked, stepping back and leaning over to pick up the dagger. His gaze rested on Remus’s half-hard prick. “Oh my god, you’re getting hard! You’re a fucking nob jockey!” Regulus bolted back, dagger in hand. “Getting cut turns you on? Or is it me?”
Remus tried to shake his head.
"You fucking pansy. Pathetic. At least admit to what gets you off." Regulus moved the knife closer to Remus's skin and Remus instinctively struggled to loosen the bindings that were holding him there. "I suppose that's what you and my brother get up to, eh? Sucking each other while marveling about the magnificent Dumbledore and his mudblood cronies? It's perfectly understandable, your getting a stiffy over me... if you're only used to that twat of a brother of mine, you would be eager to shoot your load over a proper piece of pureblood."
Before Remus knew what was happening, Regulus slashed the knife in a shallow cut through the skin on his pectoral muscle.
The shock of pain was so intense that Remus whited out. When he opened his eyes, a fine line of blood was trickling down his chest, and Regulus had Remus's stiffening cock in his fist.
“You want me to jack you off, don’t you?”
Remus groaned as his body recovered from the pain and was overtaken by the build of a climax. He was horrified to find that a little part of him wanted Regulus to do just that.
“I want you to tell me who killed Gideon Prewett,” he managed to murmur, in a raspy voice. In the heat of the moment, he was able to lock eyes with Regulus at last, and whisper Legilimens. It took only a moment for Remus to see the flash of memory, four hooded, masked figures, and two red heads, running from them, backed into an alley. He caught a moment’s glance of Gideon’s face before he ripped himself out of the memory and out of Regulus’s mind. He couldn’t watch that. Not that.
They had been masked. He couldn’t see them. Regulus probably did not even know who they were.
He was going to fail. He’d never been strong enough for revenge, anyway.
Regulus’s fist was pumping him fast, his silver snake pendant bumping against Remus's skin in hot, burning shocks as he moved. Remus could hardly feel it when he came, his mind was lost in utter pain and defeat. Gideon was dead. He was really dead.
"You like this, you pervert? You like this when my brother does this to you?" Regulus was murmuring, milking the last of the come from Remus's prick.
Regulus stepped back, panting, and when Remus looked up at him, he was surprised by an expression that was almost embarrassed, as if Regulus didn't know he'd had that in him, and didn't like it. He flicked come off his hand and onto the ground. “Shit." Suddenly he looked like his eleven-year-old self again. "What are you really doing here, Remus?” he asked.
Remus exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t know, Regulus.”
“You are more fucked up than any of the wizards following the Dark Lord. You should join us,” he said. “You’d fit right in.”
Regulus flicked his wand and the vines holding Remus to the tree disappeared. Remus collapsed to the ground and grabbed his wand.
“Don’t bother to attack me,” said Regulus, regaining the arrogant posture he'd maintained earlier. “My family has this entire forest booby-trapped. You'll be lucky to get out without being caught again.” Watching the nervous twitch of Regulus’s mouth, Remus suddenly realized that Regulus didn’t want to hurt him, couldn’t bring himself to hurt him, not really. Regulus wanted him to leave.
“You don’t have to do what they say,” Remus said, panting, crouched against the roots of the tree.
Regulus peered down at him with contempt, as though he was an child who has no idea about the way the world works. “Yes. I do,” he said. As he walked off towards the house, he muttered, “Send my love to my brother.”
Remus looked after the kid as he walked off, staggering a little, through the trees. He gathered himself up, conjuring a robe and pulling it over his wrecked body.
Regulus's words echoed over and over in his mind as he stumbled away. You should join us.
You'd fit right in.