LMoM: Scentillation (Revisited) #9 [Remus/Sirius, NC-17] Title:Scentillation (Revisited): Laudanum [#9] Author:pre_raphaelite1 Pairing: Remus/Sirius if you squint Rating: NC-17 Kink(s): bestiality, necrophilia & snuff (of animals), and a hint of watersports Challenge: LMoM 2008 Word Count: 575 Notes: All subtitles and summaries are names and descriptions of perfume oils from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and therefore belong to the BPAL powers that be. I'm merely fangirling them with Remus/Sirius pron. And HP belongs to JKR, of course. Click on the pervy_werewolf tag of my username for previous entries. Today's Scent Description/Summary: The essence of the most debauched hunger encapsulated into a perfume. Desire beyond love, anguish beyond sanity. Nutmeg, sassafras, black poppy and myrrh.
Scentillation(Revisited): Laudanum [#9]
There shouldn't have been any on an island such as this. Yet when the moon shown bright enough in the sky, he could see them weaving through the elongated shadows. A solitary hunter one month, a pack of them then next. He'd remember his own treks through darkened forests with a running pack, a magnificent wolf at the lead with eyes of golden amber. A wolf that would lead, demand, dominate, and never submit. But it was only a memory of lupine snarls and teeth gripping the back of his neck as hips pistoned a savage cock into him. Now he would watch the glitter of duller eyes as they darted through the darkness, would grimace at the occasional flash of too large teeth as they fought amongst themselves, tails raised and mouths ripping through fur and hide, dominance and death.
He would linger quietly out of the way as they clashed, tumbling over the ground, claws shredding soft underbellies until their screams died away. Waiting for the others to disappear, his nostrils would flare at the hot scent of spilled blood that seemed to permeate the air around him, warming it in salty waves. Then he'd inch forward, slowly advancing to the animal. Sometimes it would still be living, its mouth open in vain attempt to suck its life back in in uneven gasps, eyes widening when it saw him looming over it, not knowing anything more than its inability to escape this second attack.
His fingers would slide over grey fur, smoothing it down along the long back to the base of the tail. If it lived still he would grasp its throat, holding it still so that he could touch it, could feel the warmth of it without being bitten. Sometimes a foot on its head would be sufficient, freeing both his hands to caress it, fingers finding the bleeding wounds, probing them. Blood would slip over his fingers, warming them in a way that not even the steaming piss he would catch in frostbitten hands could.
When that wasn't enough, he'd rip the animal open, pressing jagged fingernails into the small holes left by the other beast's teeth. He'd curl his fingers in, feeling the tenuous separation where skin joined muscle and wrench his hand to the side, skinning it so he could quickly claw through the thin layer of muscles to expose the hot contents of its adomen . The high screams would echo around him, sending a savage thrill straight to his cock. As it thrashed against his hand, he would quickly spread his flies, freeing his hardening length so he could rub it through the body, let the sheered skin and fur cling around his cock like spiderweb lips, the summer-sun blood sliding down it to drip over his balls and stain his clothes. Rocking his hips forward would make him shudder; entrails, soft as any tongue, made scarlet-slick and giving way to the ribbed rise of bone and fading pulse of heart. If he'd timed it right, he'd feel the death spasms around the head of his cock, tight convulsions like no other. He'd fuck it quickly then, cock squelching into spilling intestines until he came, spurting his come in irregular pulses into the eviscerated carcass.
Spent, but not satisfied he'd pull out of the body then fling it with all his might against the wall so he could hear it thud and bounce to the ground or he would twist the heads heads off and crush them under his heel. It gave him a momentary reprieve from his driving, burning need.
But the problem with the rats in Azkaban was that they were never more than rats.
First person to leave feedback gets to choose the BPAL scent as the prompt/inspiration for the next day’s ficlet! Should this not work out, I'll pick a reviewer at my discretion. Thanks Apologies to dannybailey for this one.