Title: Breaking the Habit Rating: r Pairing: Remus/one of the Marauders Kink(s): bondage, blindfolds, anonymous sex Wordcount: 900 Summary: being messrs Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs might be good for them, but it's not good for Remus, who just wants his human friends back.
What the Transfigurations texts had never mentioned was how addicting it was. They'd mentioned everything else, the rituals needed and the potential shortening of life span and all the other hazards, but they'd never mentioned how good it would feel to the animagi to be in animal form. Remus didn't understand it, being the wolf had never felt pleasing to him, even when the skin ripping agony was factored out. But one couldn't deny the addictive properties when they could witness them in action.
It was hard to try to understand as all three of them had different takes on their experience. James said it was calming, though he had a hard time explaining himself further. Peter said it was edgy, everything was bigger then him and a potential threat and his little rat heart beat 275 times a minute with the exhilarating fear. Sirius said being a dog made him gleeful, everything from gnawing at the bottom of the four poster bed to licking his bollocks to eating was a happy occasion. Remus reckoned the bottom line was being an animal reduced the layers of complex thought, and as Martin Luther King said, nothing pained some people more then having to think.
One might say the word addiction couldn't apply to Transfigurations, as addiction was about taking potions or spells unnecessarily. Remus would inform them they didn't have to spend evening after evening with a rat, a dog, and a stag instead of their best mates, because said best mates didn't like living reality.
Upon confrontation the rest of the Marauders said it wasn't addiction. They said I could stop any time, which was true, technically. It was simple to change from human to animal, once you got the technique down. They said I just don't want to, and that was the problem. Sirius said life was depressing in a human shell, James aggravating, Peter boring.
At a loss for how to make them stop, Remus offered them a reward when they could go a whole day without changing. It probably wasn't the best way of enforcing a habit, considering as soon as Remus' rewards stopped they were sure to continue the behaviour. But Remus was desperate and it wasn't like he could ask for advice.
He didn't have much to offer, when he took an objective look at his talents and abilities. He could offer to do homework, but chances were James and Sirius would get better grades then he anyway. As long as they actually did the homework, they'd taken to spending all evening as stag or dog and rushing to complete the most important bits during breakfast. He could offer sweets, but his allowance was small, Peter and James both had greater moneybags then himself.
When one whittled away all the things that wouldn't work, there was only one thing that Remus had to bribe his friends with. Himself. He's not queer, and he's fairly sure James and Peter and Sirius aren't either. But all three are of the opinion that an orgasm is equal to a night spent chasing one's own tail, or cowering in fear from the giant creatures, or just standing, staring at a wall. And if that's what it will take, then Remus is willing to pay that price.
It's why he finds himself blindfolded on someone's bed - he can tell it's not his own but isn't sure of the owner. His friend's beds don't really smell like them anymore, as they generally fall asleep in their animal form - completely nude. He's got his wrists locked together with cuffs, and another set of cuffs around each ankle, each cuff connected to a long bar that keeps his legs spread open. He's not sure who's participating, only that he can feel at least three hands stroking over his skin.
Usually when they've come, whomever it is that needs persuading to be human that night, they jerk him until he gets release too. Sometimes they'll fuck him and not help him orgasm, it's those nights Remus knows they're especially cranky about being stuck in human form. They all consider not coming his punishment for not allowing them to be happy.
When Remus allows himself to be philosophical, which isn't often as what starts off curious usually ends up depressing, he muses about the irony of life. It's funny, in a horrible way, that what made him the hated outcast was never being a werewolf. James and Sirius and Peter had never wanted to persecute him for his status as different. Instead he's the hated outcast because he's not enough of an animal.
But he can't hate himself, because he'll fall apart. He can't hate them back, because he'll lose the will to live if he doesn't have friends. Instead he hates McGonagall, for giving them inspiration, Pince for unwittingly giving them the books, Slughorn for having the ingredients needed for the initial rites. It's so much simpler to hate adults.