rose_whispers (rose_whispers) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-05 21:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: rose_whispers, kink: alpha remus, kink: dubious consent, kink: wanking (solo or mutual), remus/bill |
LMoM Day 4: Lagu (1 of 2)
Title: Lagu (1 of 2)
Author: rose_whispers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Bill
Kink(s): wanking, alpha!Remus, dub-con
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2008
Word Count: 1090
Summary: After the attack by Greyback, Bill can't control his hunger
A/N: Today's rune prompt is Lagu, water: "the hidden side of our nature... it is associated with the moon, which governs its movements... it implies that [one is] in a receptive frame of mind or that he or she needs to turn off the chattering of the conscious mind and listen to his or her inner voice-- intuition" (Horik Svensson's The Runes). IJ wouldn't let me post last night, so this is my entry for May 4th. Thanks to Lia for the beta!
The scars still hurt, an ache that goes deeper than tightly pulled skin or reknit muscle tissue. Bill isn't a poetic man, but sometimes he thinks Greyback did something to his soul, to the very essence, the very Billness of him. He's not the same person he used to be. It's like when Greyback sunk his teeth into Bill's cheek, he tore away more than just flesh. There's a part of Bill that's missing, and he doesn't know how to replace it.
He knows Fleur is trying to understand, to support him and treat him like nothing is wrong. How can he explain it to her, though? He is changed, fundamentally different than he used to be in ways he can't fully explain. The closest description he can reach is hunger. It's like he's starving all the time, craving dark things he can't put a name to.
Full moon nights are turning out to be the worst. He's had two of them now and he doesn't know how he'll be able to stand them for the rest of his life. If he doesn't get killed in the war, or if this half-cursed existence hasn't been shortened somehow, he's looking at, what, fifteen hundred more? How the bleeding fuck does Remus do it? Bill, like Charlie, is supposed to be brave, daring, dashing, and any other number of adjectives meaning "handsome Gryffindor who charges head-first into dangerous situations and stops to ask questions about twelve days later."
It's at times like this he's glad his mother is a complete prude and is making Fleur sleep apart from him. He can't lie next to her and pretend that everything's all right, so he doesn't mind that she's at the Burrow while he renovates Shell Cottage. He rolls onto his side, ignoring the pain in his side, the pain in his mind. He is naked beneath the smooth silk sheets, even this light fabric irritating his fragile nerve endings. Tomorrow night is the full moon and while he doesn't actually transform into a wolf, he can feel it. Like a caged animal just below the surface, making him twitch, claw at his body, throw himself against walls. He hates this. He aches. And the worst part is that he's also hard. Somehow, the pain or the hunger arouses him against his will. He doesn't want to be turned on right now, by this of all things. He screws his eyes shut and counts the seconds crawl by. "One acromantula, two acromantula, three acromantula...."
Thirty-seven carefully counted minutes later, he's ready to scream until he shreds his vocal chords. "Sod it straight to hell," he growls, sliding a hand under the covers. He knows from past experience that this won't really help, but it will give him a few moments of relief and that's better than nothing. He wastes no time teasing or building himself up-- he's already hard as a crowbar and he's not in the mood for games. Stroking himself viciously, he gives himself over to the fantasy he's been suppressing for the last few days.
He imagines Remus prowling into the cottage, moving on the balls of his toes and barely making a sound. Remus doesn't even disturb the curtains as he slips through the shadows, up the stairs toward the master bedroom that Bill will soon share with Fleur. Bill's strokes are perfunctory, barely giving him any pleasure at all. The pleasure comes from the image of Remus, dark and dangerous, muscles sinuous and deceptively strong this close to the full moon. He pictures the older man stretching out on top of him, licking his throat the way Greyback did before he bit. Bill figures this is sick and wrong but he can't help himself. He's always thought Remus was an all-right bloke, but since the attack, his darkest fantasies have all centred around the other man, not Fleur. Not Fleur.
He shifts his hand further down to cup his balls, groaning softly. The noise covers the creak of a floorboard, and it isn't until the body is on top of him that he realises he's not alone. A stubbled chin rasps against his as teeth drag against his lower lip. He knows that scent. God, he knows it from every Order meeting he's ever attended.
"Remus," he gasps, but he is cut off by a tongue thrusting into his mouth. The tongue flicks against his palate, the slides against the side of his own tongue as if daring him to respond. And Bill does, his tongue fighting against Remus' advancing into the other man's mouth. He doesn't even pause to wonder what the hell Remus is doing here or how he could have known. Is this just his fantasy come to life? A dream? Reason doesn't matter now, Fleur and Tonks and right and wrong don't count anymore.
Remus grabs his wrist and forces his hand away from his groin. "Hold still." The words are a growl, low and barely articulated. Bill glares up at the flashing eyes above him. No one tells him what to do, not even his mother. He tries to push Remus off him and is summarily slammed back down against the mattress. Remus bites him just below the jaw line, sucking hard enough to make Bill stop struggling, his eyes half-closing. Pain shouldn't make him throb like this, make him writhe under Remus' questing tongue. Remus on top of him bars him from getting up with one arm across his chest. The other hand creeps downward, enclosing his cock and beginning a punishing rhythm. Like Bill's initial wank, Remus doesn't waste time playing with his balls or teasing the tip. He strokes Bill hard as he nips Bill's neck and collarbone, marking him. Claiming him. Bill thrashes beneath him, fingers curling desperately in the silk sheets. At last, his hunger is being sated and he is close, so close.... with a primal scream that erupts from somewhere deep within him his orgasm explodes within him. He can't control it and the next thing he is aware of, he is alone. Sweating, covered in a sheet sticky with his own come, he tries to catch his breath.
Bill's heart rate gradually returns to normal and he looks around. Remus is nowhere to be seen and Bill wonders if he dreamt the whole thing. He stumbles into his bathroom, candles flaring to life. A feral smile spreads across his face. Dreams don't leave bruises on one's neck.