hpsauce (hpsauce) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2009-05-27 23:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2009, author: hpsauce, kink: dubious consent, kink: prostitution, remus/seamus |
LMOM#27 - Blank
Title: Blank
Author: hpsauce
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Seamus
Kink(s): prostitution
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2009
Word count: 2126
Notes: warning for angst :D gala wanted remus/seamus with prostitution (i think also a bit of a blond thing...erm...i mentioned blondness)
- this was planned to be a longer fic and it was going to have lots of gennish-plot explaining about seamus' type of prostitution and remus' relationship to it through his life...this is more of a 2k taster :p
After the war, Remus almost forgot about the past and about Knockturn Alley and the blank eyes of the boys who walked the cobbles there.
When he hurried down the street, he never looked up from his own feet. The strangers surrounding him, the dusty shops, the grimy houses, they all blurred into a sea of grey. He ducked into the apothecary once a month and left immediately, ignoring the pseudo-polite conversation offered by anyone he passed who recognised his face from the papers.
It was on a day such as this, battling against bitter winds and a tide of unpleasant wizards and witches that Remus caught a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye.
Remus would never be sure as to why his attention had been caught by that blond head. He stilled in the middle of the pavement, turning around and looking into a familiar pair of eyes.
"Seamus?" he asked, walking across the street. The boy looked terrible, grubby, cold and the gaunt side of slender. He pulled his robe (if the garment could be called such) tightly around himself.
"Seamus?" Remus asked.
The eyes were blank. The boy looked down, his face hidden by his grown out fringe. His lip went white, pressed by his teeth.
"I-," Seamus muttered, accent soft and pleasant, "do I know you?"
"Seamus-," Remus began, knowing it was in vain. He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach, his chest felt tight.
"I-," Seamus said, stepping away and looking nervous, "I've been told I have to ask for money?"
Remus blinked, looking at the red flush of Seamus' cheeks. The boy's gaze focused over his shoulder, ashamed, unable to make eye contact. He held out his hand.
Remus reached into his pocket, not knowing what had possessed him. Perhaps it was the sight of other prospective clients, hovering on the edge of his vision. Perhaps it was the play of colours, pale Irish skin and pink blush and dirty blond hair. Perhaps he thought it was worth it now, now that he could afford it, to do what he wanted.
Seamus took the bag of coins and looked down into it.
"Jesus! There's got to be thirty galleons here!" he cried, boyish surprise evident.
Remus smiled and placed his hand on Seamus' shoulder. Seamus' skin was cool and solid under his hand. He led him towards the Leaky Cauldron, pressing down whenever Seamus appeared to be distracted by the everyday goings on in Diagon Alley.
Tom did not ask questions. He had not asked questions when Remus had rented rooms for twenty-seven days out of every twenty-eight, arriving bloodied and limping. He did not ask questions as Remus led Seamus up to an empty room - even though Remus knew that the situation must have seemed clear.
He sat down on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. Seamus sat down, trusting. His smile had yet to leave his face. His eyes turned up at the corners, half-hidden under the mess of his hair.
"What d'you want?" Seamus asked, leaning back cockily. The robe was open up to the thigh. His legs were slender, lightly muscled, white and dusted with golden hairs. He kicked off his shoes, flexing his toes against the carpet.
When Remus continued sat in silence he turned towards him, eyebrow raised and eyes losing the blurry confusion that Remus had become used to in boys of this type. His smile twisted into a smirk.
"I'm not stupid," he said, "no matter what you feckers might say about the Irish. Y'don't take a boy to your room to talk, do you?"
That was exactly what Remus did. Seamus was only a boy, like any of the other boys before him. He might be wiser, his mind not as clouded as his predecessors, but he was still an innocent.
"I just want to talk," Remus said calmly.
"For thirty galleons?" Seamus asked in surprise, "it's going to have to be a bloody good conversation for me to earn that!"
Remus smiled and leaned back on the bed. Seamus threw himself backwards as well, he face turned towards Remus'. His cheeks were rounded by the strength of his smile.
"I can afford it," Remus said softly, "and I get lonely."
"Hmm?" Seamus hummed, looking into his eyes. He drew his brows together. "Am I ugly or what?"
"What?" Remus asked, amused by Seamus' confused form of conversation.
"Ugly," Seamus repeated, "you're treating me like I’m a fecking scab. And we could have talked in the bar."
Remus sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Seamus' hand reached forward, hesitant, resting on his chest. He didn't move. Just rested his hand there. Remus could feel the weight through his jumper, warm and comforting.
"You're not ugly," he said, "I just can't."
"I'm not exactly experienced," Seamus said, "but I can try."
Remus winced, squeezing his eyes shut. He thought of Seamus before, his easy bravado, his flirting, his reputation even in third year. He swallowed.
"Please," Seamus said, "just a kiss. You seem sound and you're not exactly hard on the eyes."
Remus couldn't resist those eyes. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Seamus', the lightest touch of skin against skin. Seamus' breath was hot and wet against Remus' lips. He leaned forward, deepening the kiss.
Seamus' tongue was clumsy, his teeth in the way. His nose pressed painfully against Remus' cheek, despite Remus' angling. He moaned when Remus' tongue brushed against his own, wriggling on the bed until his body was flush against Remus' own.
Seamus' cock was stiff, pressed against Remus' stomach. Remus stilled his hips, the temptation making him hard and ill at the same time. Seamus whimpered against his mouth, needy and desperate.
Remus pulled away, trying his best to put distance between the two of them. His breath came in shallow pants, his chest feeling tight again. His lips tingled, reddened and wetted by Seamus' mouth. He could taste him on his tongue.
Seamus' eyelashes fluttered, gold against his white skin. He opened his eyes, looking at Remus with an expression of hurt and confusion mixed together.
"Don't do this, Seamus," Remus said, trying his best to remember that he had been the boy's professor, his mentor, that he was a responsible adult, not a lusty teenager. He could control himself.
"I'm sorry," Seamus muttered, sitting up. His cock pressed against the fabric of his robe, the material tented. He put his hands over it, looking mortified.
Remus kissed him again, if only to take that look of shame off of Seamus' face. He teased his lips, brushing against them feathery-light before he leaned forward, deepening the kiss. Seamus clung to him, fingers grabbing tight fistfuls of his hair. Their bodies crashed against each other, painful and electric. Remus grasped at the material at the back of Seamus' robe, trying to pull him away but only succeeding in drawing him closer.
"God," Seamus muttered against Remus' lips, breathless, "Jesus. Fecking hell."
He ground his cock against Remus', his hips moving jerkily. He leant his head backwards, revealing his throat to Remus'. There was light stubble there already, golden in the sparse sunlight that entered through the dusty window. Remus pressed his lips against Seamus' chin, feeling the rasp of rough stubble against his puffy lips.
Remus was hard now. The thought was relief and disgust. Seamus' cock brushed against his. The knowledge was enough to overcome the problems of clothes between them. Seamus, however, seemed not to agree.
His finger fumbled at Remus' fly. He was clumsy, nervous, he pulled the zip downwards in slow, jerky increments. The brush of his hand against Remus' cock was rough and impatient but it still made Remus moan and twitch.
It had been so long, too long, and he knew he should stop Seamus' hand but Seamus' face registered such delight when the fly was finally undone and he could push his jeans and underpants away, revealing Remus' cock to the cool room.
"Fecking hell," Seamus muttered, eyes wide, "not bad at all."
Remus blushed, once again moving to distance himself. This had gone far enough.
Seamus' hands wavered for a second before he unbuttoned his own robe, slipping it off his shoulders. He was naked underneath, his body skinny and pale and dusted in gold. Remus stilled, unable to hide his attraction towards the boy before him.
"Yeah?" Seamus asked, eyes twinkling. He stepped forward, his back foot coming up to rub against the back of his calf. It was a sign of nervousness and, although Remus supposed it should bring him guilt, it only made Seamus more beautiful, more real.
"Yes," he muttered before he even thought the word. Seamus moved forward, sitting once again, so close that their bare thighs pressed together. He looked up at Remus from under pale lashes, swallowed hard so that his Adam's apple bobbed.
Remus kissed him again, leaning forward to take Seamus' cock in his hand. He held it firmly, stroking it with slow, gentle stroke. Seamus bucked into his hand, groaning into Remus' mouth.
He reached out, wrapping his arms around Remus' neck as he brought them closer. He threw one leg over Remus' lap, moving them so that he straddled him, cocks rubbing against each other as he bucked against Remus, lips still sealed in a kiss. His rhythm was stilted, more random movement than anything. His fingers were cold against Remus' back.
"Yeah?" he muttered again.
"Five seconds," Remus said, reach around on the bed, grasping desperately for his wand.
Seamus fidgeted impatiently, hard cock hot and damp against Remus' own, arse pressed against Remus' thighs.
Remus raised his wand and tapped it against his fingers with a muttered lubrication charm. Seamus looked down at his fingers with a frown, confused.
"What's that for?" he asked.
Remus shook his head, closing his eyes so he would not have to look at Seamus' bewildered face. He inched Seamus back with gentle touches, tapping his wand to his cock.
"What-?" Seamus asked and Remus couldn't bear to answer. He shook his head, waiting until Seamus had settled again, thighs spread on either side of Remus' waist, arse raised. "Is this right?" he asked.
Remus eased one finger into Seamus. He was tight. He stiffened, gasping. He pressed closer to Remus' chest, cock brushing Remus' stomach. Remus moved the finger slowly, looking up into Seamus' large eyes. He swallowed down the regret he felt. It was good, he thought, that he was at least doing this properly.
He pressed a second finger in. Seamus hissed, eyes fluttering closed for a second, pale brows drawn together. Remus prepared him gently, tenderly, taking his time. Even as Seamus pushed forward, pushing his cock with even increasing insistence against Remus' stomach.
He added a third finger and Seamus only moaned. Remus searched with them, quickly finding the place. Seamus moaned louder, rubbing his wet cock against Remus' stomach desperately.
Remus withdrew his fingers, gripping Seamus' hips lightly. He shifted, positioning his cock beneath him and then thrusting up. Seamus shivered, shuddered, eyes squeezed closer. There was a glimmer on his lashes, possibly a tear, and then he gave a gasp, his eyes opening wider than before.
Remus guided him, keeping the rhythm steady even as Seamus moaned instructions in a shaking voice. Seamus' hands shook against Remus' shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh painfully as he let out whimpers of pleasure, head thrown back, face hidden in his messy blond fringe.
Seamus came first, hot and wet and sticky against Remus' stomach. His body shook with the force of it, tight and tense against and on top of and around Remus. He flopped forward onto Remus' chest like a doll with the string cut, not moving as Remus came inside him.
"That," he moaned afterwards, falling back against the sheets, body bruised and pink and painted with his own come, "was fecking amazing."
Remus chuckled, running a hand across his body once again, ignoring the stickiness of his skin, content just to be able to hold him.
Seamus' eyes shone as he looked up at the ceiling, panting for breath.
"If you ever find yourself with a free thirty galleons," he muttered, although it sounded as if the thought of such a possibility ever occurring was impossible, "we should so this again."
Remus smiled and promised that he would.
One month later, Remus stilled in the middle of Knockturn alley when he saw a flash of blond hair. He walked over to the grinning Irish boy, mesmerised by the pinkness of his cheeks and his innocent smile.
"Seamus," he greeted.
"I-," Seamus muttered, voice quiet and hesitant, "do I know you?"