hpsauce (hpsauce) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2009-05-30 21:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2009, author: hpsauce, kink: drug/alcohol use, kink: exhibitionism, kink: group sex (4+), kink: voyeurism, kink: wanking (solo or mutual), remus alone, remus/justin |
LMOM#30 - Alive
Title: Alive
Author: hpsauce
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus alone, Remus/Justin (some (Remus/)Justin/Ernie/Hannah, Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry, Fred/Lee/George included)
Kink(s): Wanking, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Drug Use
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2009
Word count: 2445
Notes: this includes remus getting messed up at a party and sneaking into a bedroom from some alone time...only he isn't alone :p
i really need to ask for that remus/justin tag one day :)
also, researching justin for curiousity and then remembering dh, was rather upsetting...didn't even manage to get him stoned in this one
Remus had not attended any of the parties that had marked Voldemort's first defeat by Harry Potter.
It only seemed fair that he attended the party after the Second War.
The other guests his own age had long since left, wanting to leave the young people to their fun. Remus had considered following them, flooing home to his lonely cottage to sleep until... until...
He had stayed, sipping at a bottle of firewhiskey as he settled into the edge of the sofa. The music blasting from the charmed stereo is loud enough that he can feel the bass reverberating through his chest. The alcohol burns his throat.
He casts his eyes around the room. Ron and Harry have emerged from the hallway. Ron has Harry pressed up against the wall, their heads pressed together. Remus watches as they kiss, Harry's hands sliding under Ron's shirt and revealing the freckled skin of his back.
He swallows a mouthful of firewhiskey.
"P'fess'r," Seamus Finnegan greets in a slur, throwing himself on the sofa He is full of energy, his eyes twinkling, his pale skin flushed. He seems to sink into the material of the sofa, legs splayed across fabric and Remus' lap. His skin is warm enough that Remus can feel it through two layers of denim.
"Seamus," Remus greets belatedly. He was unaware he was drunk, but focusing on Seamus' face has become a little difficult. Seamus beams at him, ecstatic.
"M'happy," Seamus mutters, "because I got Dean back and everything is going to be good."
Remus smiles kindly. It does not take advanced Arithmancy to understand that Seamus had been at a loss without the other boy. They have always been close - Remus wonders absently just how close, feeling a blush rising in his cheeks.
Ah well, he always looks flushed when he drinks.
"Y'happy?" Seamus asks.
"Of course," Remus says. Everything is better than anyone here could have expected. The war is over. Harry is victorious. Remus is alive. Kingsley is going to be Minister and the world is finally right.
"Don't look it," Dean says, sliding gracefully onto the sofa behind Seamus. He slips his arms around Seamus' waist, presses a kiss to his neck, just behind his ear.
"I just-," Remus begins, but the thought is morbid so he decides not to voice it. He should have gone home with the other fuddy-duddy old men - slept until- slept until-.
"Didn't expect you'd see the end?" Dean asks, his eyes sad but not pitying. He is sober, Remus thinks, his gaze is steady, his hands shaking with hesitation on Seamus' hips.
"No," he admits. "I didn't."
Dean smiles, resting his head on Seamus' shoulder. Seamus lolls against him, head falling to rest on his shoulder. He begins to kiss the dark skin of Dean's throat. Dean's hands wrinkle in his shirt. He continues to look at Remus, gaze calculating.
"You need to relax," he says, "and stop worrying about what you should be doing."
Remus thinks he should probably take offence at a former student, a boy twenty years his junior giving him advice (good advice.) Instead he shrugs and leans his head back on the sofa, pouring more firewhiskey into his mouth.
It hurts his throat to swallow it.
"You look like you're mourning," Deans says.
Remus ignores him.
"Feck," Seamus mutters, muffled by Dean's skin, "Fred! George! Get your freckled arses over here."
Remus has seen the twins, dancing to the pounding of the stereo, Lee Jordan sandwiched between their thrusting hips. He sighs, struggling to sit up and get to his feet. He is bringing down the mood. This is a celebration - he shouldn't be turning it into an intervention.
"How can" "we help you?"
Remus looks up, eyes rising from the tight, sweaty t-shirts to their grinning faces. George's scarred side is pressed into Fred's shoulder, hidden from view and mind. They look exactly as they always have.
Nothing has changed.
And that might just be the problem.
"I'm just leaving," Remus says, "thank you very much for the party, boys."
"Leaving?" Fred asks.
"Now?" George asks.
"But the party isn't over."
Dean struggles to his feet, wrapped up in Seamus' limbs, and leans against George's shoulder. George's arm reaches out to steady him, slipping under the seam of his too-small vest.
Remus wonders what the attraction is in ill-fitting clothes. As a teenager he would have given anything for a jumper that actually fit.
He must be getting old.
Dean whispers something into George's good ear, lips brushing against the pale shell. George raises an eyebrow, looking Remus up and down and then nods.
"It's Lee's, actually," he says.
"Gets really good stuff," Fred supplies.
"Just the ticket," George says.
Dean smiles lazily and slumps back onto the sofa, onto Seamus' lap. Seamus kisses him sloppily. Remus falls back, trying his best not to look at them. If he pretends he is not here then it will be okay.
"Here you are," Lee Jordan says, appearing on the arm of Remus' chair. "I've been told the stuff you guys had was wild but this is pretty good."
Remus looks up, surprised to see Lee holding out a joint. He frowns at it.
"You know how to-?" Lee mutters with a confused frown.
Remus knows how to. It has been a good decade since he last had a toke, but it isn't something you might forget.
He takes the joint and sets it between his lips, inhaling deeply. He can feel the smoke in his lungs, the pleasant burn of it, the taste of it on his tongue. He hands the joint back to Lee, leaning back onto the sofa.
The taste takes him back to Hogwarts, to his flat with Sirius, to lying under the stars, nestled between James and Lily. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke flee, thick and opaque before disappearing into the air.
Lee grins, easy and relaxed. He breathes in a chain of quick puffs, sending small, round clouds of smoke. Remus takes the joint back, inhaling until his lungs are full, burning, his throat hot.
"Hey," Dean mutters, his long, dark fingers flapping in front of Remus' face. "My turn."
Remus hands it over. He tries to blow smoke rings, but he has forgotten how. The smoke forms misshapen clusters instead, he leans his head back, blowing them towards the ceiling.
Seamus mutters something and laughs. His feet shift in Remus' lap, bare toes squeezing the denim over Remus' thigh. Remus shifts uncomfortably at the slight tingling sensation it induces, reaching out for the joint to be returned.
It is slipped into his hand, already burnt low. The heat tickles his fingers. He raises it to his lips and sucks deeply. He has never enjoyed the heat this far down, the way it scratches as his throat.
He crushes it into the handy ashtray Lee drops on the arm of the sofa and leans back, breathing out through his nose. It burns, but not unpleasantly. He closes his eyes.
"Mmguh," Seamus moans. The heel of his foot is pressed into Remus' inner thigh, close to his cock. His toes curl in the denim. Dean is writhing against the sofa, close enough that Remus can feel the vibrations in the air. The music continues to thump, tingling in Remus' chest.
Remus opens his eyes again and looks around the room. His vision is in soft-focus, slightly blurry and very pleasant. It is as if all the sharp edges have been taken from the world.
Lee has returned to the dance floor, pressed between Fred and George once more. They move in synchronised motion like waves in time to the thumping in Remus' chest. Lee's hands are tangled in George's hair, his body pressed back against Fred's, touching from shoulder to thigh. Their clothes have ridden up, pushed by the friction of their bodies, sticky with sweat. Lee's skin is the colour of strong tea, beautiful and dark and exotic in contrast to the paleness of the twins.
"Guh!" Dean gasps, low and guttural. His hand reaches out, brushes over Remus' thigh before it grasps hold of the sofa between them, fisting in the material. He let out another gasp, turning it into a moan.
Remus leans his head back on the sofa. He feels...he feels boneless. His limbs are so loose and heavy that he is amazed he hasn't simply slipped through the cushions to the floor.
He shudders as Dean's hand brushes his thigh again.
He is painfully hard. His cock straining against the thin material of his underpants, scratched by the sharp stitching and metal of his fly. He shifts uncomfortably. Seamus' foot sweeps across as he gives a cry, brushing against Remus' crotch and causing stars to flash before Remus' eyes.
Remus moans, clutching the arm of the sofa and the bottle of the firewhiskey in a tight hold.
He can't do this here. He can't get his cock out in a room full of former students, no matter how grown up they might appear to be now.
He isn't- he isn't an exhibitionist.
He struggles to his feet, pushing Seamus' feet out of his lap. He looks down. Seamus and Dean pay him no mind, spreading out across the sofa to cover the space where he had sat. They are locked together, shirts discarded and chests and necks littered with marks made my hands and lips.
No one stops to ask where he is going and he is glad. The world sways pleasantly and his mind is light. He is not sure he would be able to lie. He feels- he feels-.
He stumbles up the stairs, only falling once. He holds onto the wall as he moves along the corridor before he pushes a door open, closing it behind him. He stumbles towards what he knows is the bed, perching on the side. Breathing sharply through his mouth as he unzips his fly.
He wraps his hand around his cock, whimpering in relief at the touch of skin against the heated flesh. He holds it tightly, his movements slow and jerky. He moans low in his throat, eyes squeezed closed, body shaking with the intensity of pleasure after so much tension and pain.
"Huh?" a voice mutters from behind him and he stills. He tries to keep his breathing even, tries to be quiet. He feels the bedclothes shift, the bed creak under him. He stays seated, hand wrapped around his cock, body jerking with each breath.
"Lumos!" a voice mutters, young and cultured.
Remus squeezes his eyes shut, caught. His hand stays glued to his cock, still moving slowly. The pleasure is too much for him to ignore. His cock aches with need and he cannot help but obey.
"Professor Lupin?" a voice asks.
Remus opens his eyes, turning to look into a pale, gaunt face. The boy's eyes are huge, his arms wrapped around his thin chest as if he is worried about protecting his modesty. As if he has anything to worry about. He recognises, absently, the curls on his head, the squareness of his chin.
Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Remus moans as his fingers sweep over the head of his cock. He is damp there already. He leans his head back against the door, unable to look away. Justin looks at him, seemingly unable to look away. There is an arm wrapped around his waist, Remus notices, a partner.
Remus stomach squeezes in disgust at what he is doing but he can't stop. His hands wraps more tightly around his cock, callused palms rough against the tender skin. He moans at the pleasure-pain of it, tilting his head back.
The hand on his is a surprise. He jerks, whole body stiffening. Justin's fingers are painfully slender, wrists delicate. He wraps his hands around Remus'. They are slick with something, smooth and pleasant. He moves in slow, teasing movements.
Remus groans, bucking his hips up towards Justin's hands, urging him faster. His fingers tangle in the bedclothes, trying his best to ground himself in the present. The semi-darkness around them swirls around him, shadows shifting.
He closes his eyes, taken in by the pleasure as Justin quickens his tempo, pressing his body against Remus' back. His body is solid, skinny, tiny against Remus' back. His arms press against Remus' sides, brushing his waist in time with his jerking hands.
Remus pushes back against him, throwing his head back as he groans loudly. There is more shifting in the bed, the tell-tale movement of the other occupant waking from their slumber. Remus feels nervousness and fear swell in his chest but he ignores them as Justin presses his lips to Remus' neck, hot and wet, his teeth slightly sharp. His hands twists on the head of Remus' cock, teasing the delicate skin their. His fist squeezes at the base.
Remus comes, trembling against Justin's chest. Justin kisses him again, several times, feather light touches of his lips against the damp, heated skin of Remus' cheeks and neck.
"What the hell was that?" a voice asks.
Justin stiffens against Remus, his hands tightening on Remus' hips.
"It's Remus Lupin," Justin says, as if that explains everything. His fingers tease the skin of Remus' waist, tickling until Remus writhes.
"Ah," a third voice says, a girls. Remus stiffens in surprise and turns his head, looking over Justin's shoulder at the two naked figures in the bed. He recognises Ernie Macmillan, blond hair ruffled and lips red and bruised. Behind him is a woman, looking worn and pained but still beautiful, long hair falling over his kiss-bruised breasts.
She smiles.
Ernie Macmillan glares at him, hand reaching out a tugging at Justin's until they pull free. He is possessive, pulling Justin towards him. Justin cannot fight back, slender and weak as he has become.
"Oh, stop it, Ernie," the girl mutters. She pats the bed by her knees, raises an eyebrow in invitation.
"Hannah," Ernie warns but she ignores him, still smiling warmly at Remus.
Ernie sighs and lies back down. His arms remain wrapped around Justin's waist but he shifts them over enough so that there is room enough for Remus to lay.
Remus settles down on the bed, his mind pleasantly foggy. He closes his eyes, sinking into the soft pillow. Justin's breath ghosts over his face and his arms reach out, pulling him closer. Remus feels other hands on him, touching him lightly, protectively.
They lay there together until sunlight streams into the room, too bright for them to ignore any longer.
They rise together, clinging to each other desperately, happy that they are alive.