Tracey Davis {can kick your ass} (tracingadavis) wrote in reduxpitch, @ 2017-01-13 23:35:00 |
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The full moon was fast approaching and, as always, Remus had quarantined himself a little early due to the mood changes and fatigue he was beginning to experience. He hated leaving his classes so often, but at this point everybody was understanding of the situation. It didn’t make Remus feel any better about it, though. If he were normal, he wouldn’t have to ask other teachers to sub in for him all the time. He wouldn’t be sitting at home dreading the next few days. He wouldn’t have rejected a chance at a relationship with a woman he’d been interested in for quite some time. He felt the sting of it frequently, but he was much too old to continue feeling sorry for himself when this time came. He needed to get it over with and go back to his life until the next full moon. Still, after his conversation with Tonks, this particular full moon was feeling more sour than usual. Was she right? He did tend to fatalize things when it came to his lycanthropy. Perhaps he could have tried… but then if he’d gone and bitten her? What then? She said it wouldn’t ruin her life, but he knew better than that. Even with the advancements with the wolfsbane potion and a safe place to be, lycanthropy wasn’t a walk in the park. He needed to keep her at arm’s length. Besides, Sirius would probably appreciate it if he knew. Something something don’t go after my cousin… he was sure that would be the narrative. A knock on the door drew him out of his particularly melancholy thoughts. His immediate thought was that Tonks had come back. Well, it was a hope, really. He wanted to talk to her in hopes they could still be friends. However, he wasn’t sure if she would be comfortable with that. He’d basically shut her feelings down, and most people didn’t like that sort of thing. Regardless, he stood up and made his way to the door, pulling it open to discover… “Tracey,” he said, forcing himself to smile. Remus liked Tracey, he really did. He had just been hoping to see somebody else. At least Tracey knew what he was dealing with. Perhaps this was welcome company after all. “What brings you here?” -- The forced smile made Tracey frown slightly, but she didn’t address it. If Remus was going to be weird, then she was going to let him be weird. To a point. “You disappeared,” she replied shortly, brushing past him to inspect the inside of his house. To make sure it was safe and that there weren’t any sharp pointy objects, of course. “Had to make sure you hadn’t offed yourself.” Because Remus was emotional and dramatic, almost like a woman except he wasn’t nearly as pretty and therefore wasn’t as forgivable. Alright, maybe he hadn’t disappeared-disappeared, but Tracey sometimes needed a break from the Reserve and her father and her revolving door of girlfriends, and it was easy to pick the older werewolf as target for her attention and frustration because he was often more of a mess than she was. Which was saying something. -- He moved just enough to allow her to brush past him. He knew she wouldn’t ask to come in, so he’d anticipated the move. He shut the door behind her and turned his head to glance back at her. “I haven’t gone anywhere,” he reminded her with a small grin. “Besides, suicide isn’t my style. I’m much too vain for it.” He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who hasn’t been around. How is the reservation treating you?” he asked her. While he’d been disappointed to see her initially, he welcomed the company now. Sure, she used him as a punching bag, but maybe it was a reflection of him that he allowed it whenever she needed the outlet. -- Well, someone needed to be Tracey’s punching bag sometimes, might as well be someone more durable, right? That was how Tracey rationalized it to herself. She needed an outlet for her anger and aggression, and while it might not always be fair, better Remus than a human girlfriend. Better Remus than most people, actually. Not that she was always horrible to him--sometimes she was downright friendly and amiable. He just never knew how each visit was going to go. Tracey liked keeping people, men especially, on their toes around her. “I’ve been around,” she brushed off the polite concern; with Charlie still gone, the Reserve was always just a bit too much and she was getting a little tired of people asking her about it. “You always know where to find me, not that you really use that information anymore.” The living room seemed fine, and she was bored of looking for sharps anyway, so she gave up the charade of making sure he was safe and sat herself on the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands behind her head. “Why are you here a day early?” she asked. Now, Remus might have changed his habits for one reason for another in the months since they’d last talked about the moons, but she distinctly remembered him saying something about ‘minimal impact on his job’ and staying at the school until the afternoon of the moon or whatever. Something ridiculous that denied or hid what he was. -- She was in that sort of mood, it seemed. She didn’t really respond to his joke, so clearly she was here because she needed somebody to push around. It was an odd relationship, because Remus allowed her to do it without actually allowing it to happen. He was more difficult to push than people assumed, so he just let her do and say what she wanted. She needed that outlet, and he understood. He was much like her when he was her age… maybe a little better balanced, though. “I have a free afternoon on Wednesdays,” he told her, simply. He remained leaning against the door, watching her half-assedly examine the room, probably looking for a method he would use to off himself with. She was clearly not too concerned, because she sat down without looking very many places. An excuse, clearly. “Are you satisfied with my lack of instruments for suicide?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. She probably wouldn’t be pleased with how cheeky he was being, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe he was taking his mood out on her as well. In a different way. -- On the contrary, Tracey liked Remus best when he was feeling particularly sassy; being so sarcastic herself, she quite enjoyed people who tended to react in a snarky manner (unless she was trying to give direction at work, then she wanted to tear the person’s head off--literally). A cheeky Remus either meant that he was in a poor mood or a very good one. Tracey was just trying to figure out which it was; being that the full moon was the following night, she was guessing former. “What about Thursday’s lessons?” she asked. There was, of course, a very easy and obvious explanation, which was that he’d simply come to his home for an evening alone before going back in the morning, but he hadn’t given that one to her; he’d tried to explain away his presence, and that was a sign that he was hiding something. “Where’ve you been, Remus? You don’t visit, you don’t write, you’re clearly not getting laid, so why’ve you been hiding?” -- A very poor mood indeed. Remus was not feeling particularly jovial, so the biting sarcasm he was employing was due to frustration. He could easily tell she was in that kind of mood as well. He could assume why, but if anything was happening in her personal life, he didn’t ask. He wasn’t in the mood to play dad to someone’s personal problems. Granted, he didn’t think Tracey would ask him to take on that role to begin with. “I don’t live that far from the school, do I?” he asked her. It was easy and obvious. He hadn’t wanted to stay in the castle for most of the past week. He had pulled away from his colleagues, not wanting to talk or interact with most of anyone. He tried not to be short with any of his students, but in hindsight he wasn’t sure if he succeeded or not. “I’ve been working,” he told her, testily. “You’re just as capable of keeping in touch as I am.”. Regardless, he pushed himself off the door, trying to ignore the comment about not getting laid. Of course not. He’d pushed away the first person willing to… well, that wasn’t the point. It certainly wasn’t the whole of the situation either. He moved to sit on the couch as well, on the corner furthest from her so he could lean against the arm. “What’s your excuse?” -- “My excuse for what? Being a cranky old codger?” she responded, eyebrows raised. It had been a long time since she’d seen him this irritable; or at least, he was usually much better at hiding. The moon would definitely account for much of it, but she was pretty sure it was also something she’d said. Once she figured out which part was sensitive, she could poke at it, because of course she was going to poke at it. That’s what Tracey Davis did when she found someone’s sore spot. The urge to continue to wound a person’s wound was usually too much to pass up. “I’m a young angry lesbian, irritable is what I am. You, on the other hand,” she pointed at him, her eyes scanning him as she considered her words, “are supposed to be the real adult and let everything brush off you. Which leads me to believe I touched a sore spot, so I’m thinking...you’ve got a yourself a posh, snooty girlfriend who’s too afraid of the wolf to let you touch her.” Normally, Tracey would be the first one to jump to the defense of anyone who was being unfairly treated because of their Lycanthropy, but this close to the moon, she wasn’t feeling particularly chivalrous. And Remus was a big boy, he could handle himself. In theory. In reality, Tracey sometimes thought he was too much of a pushover (but then, most people were, in her opinion). -- Maybe he was being too touchy. Perhaps she’d hit the nail on the head and he knew she was right. He could be the rational adult here, but allowing himself the frustration was also an option. It was better than taking it out on anyone else. Maybe Tracey didn’t deserve it, but he had a feeling she was pushing his buttons on purpose, and it only made him angrier. He hadn’t actually been this angry in a long time, and perhaps it was building up and needed to be released somehow. His eyes flashed with anger when she tried to assume what the root of the problem was. She was wrong, of course. He didn’t have a girlfriend because he’d refused to give it a chance. It was entirely on him, but that didn’t stop his anger and frustration. “Did you really come to visit me to remind me that I’m not getting laid?” he asked her pointedly. He wasn’t going to deny it, but he certainly didn’t appreciate hearing it from her. “Because this doesn’t feel much like a social call. Those are supposed to be pleasant.” -- She couldn’t really be sure just why it pleased her so to make him angry, but it did, and she grinned at him like a brat. It was probably mostly the moon, but egging Remus on just seemed so fun. Dangerous, but also fun. He’d never actually hurt her before when she’d been like this, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t, and Tracey didn’t know if she wanted him to hurt her or not hurt her. “Why aren’t you getting laid?” she asked, a little disbelievingly. She’d known for a long time that he didn’t really think very highly of himself--which was just one of the many ways in which they differed--but still...no sex ever? Tracey couldn’t hold down a relationship, but she was never really in need of a bed mate for long; she was pretty and forward enough that she didn’t exactly have to try very hard. And Remus was alright, she supposed. For a man. He should have no excuses either. Ugly men got lucky everyday, much as she didn’t understand it. “Surely there’s some stupid girl on this whole island that would bed even an ugly sod like you.” -- Remus laughed, but it was devoid of humor and joy, instead it was bitter and angry. He knew she was doing this on purpose and it really shouldn’t get to him. He’d made this choice on his own. She was right, there probably were plenty of stupid girls who would sleep with him, but he hadn’t pursued them on purpose because Remus didn’t really get off on bedding morons. His anger at her comments was simply because this was none of her goddamn business. Yet, for some reason, her comment struck a particularly sour note with him. He’d been cranky before, but now he was just angry. It was the full moon coming up, he tried to tell himself, but it didn’t work. He leaned forward and allowed himself another bitter laugh, trying to compose himself. When that didn’t work, he stood and grabbed her arm, forcibly dragging her up and off the couch. “You know, if you’re just going to show up and insult me after pretending to worry about my well-being, you can get the fuck out,” he snapped. He released her arm halfway to the door and pushed her in its direction. “Or was the intention all along to piss me off?” He normally kept his cool, especially around former students. This was highly unusual, but she’d found just the right buttons to press. Coming around to say she was making sure he hadn’t killed himself, only to bring up the single thing he didn’t want to talk about and chide him for it… on top of her usual abrasive manner, it just got to him today. He knew he shouldn’t have lashed out the second he did so, but he didn’t back down. Instead he stared at her expectantly, knowing she wasn’t going to leave without a fight now. He’d started it, but she would certainly be determined to finish it. -- That laughing sounded pretty crazy, and for a second, Tracey wondered what she’d done, not that she had long enough to consider that before she was being hauled forcefully off the couch. The grip on her arm was strong enough to hurt her, and strong enough to keep her from pulling away; she knew that because she tried. The pleasure she got from poking him flipped to anger like a switch, and he was damn right she was going to finish this. “Get the fuck off me, Lupin,” she practically growled. When he let her go, she rounded on him and pushed him back; he might have been bigger than her, but he wasn’t necessarily stronger. “I actually did come here because I give a shit, maybe you should show a little gratitude because I don’t see any evidence of anyone else giving a shit.” Of course, she left out the part about also looking for a fight, but the fact that she’d noticed the change in his habits in the first place should mean something! Even if she was also practically shouting in his face. “God what the fuck is your problem, you’re so uptight.” -- When she went to push him, her hands connected with his chest and forced him back a little bit. In the next moment, he grabbed her wrists and held them tightly. He was not amused. She started this game, then acted like he was the one at fault for reacting. She might have come to check on him, but the message had certainly been lost in translation if that was the only reason why she’d come. Still, at this point, Remus didn’t really care. He was angry and reactive now that she’d managed to find just how to make him angry. Yes, he was uptight. For good reason. “So this is a pity visit?” he asked her, irritation seeping into his voice as he held her, preventing her from pushing him again. “You can take your pity somewhere else.” Somehow, her question snapped him out of it a little. He glanced over, seeming to notice for the first time how tightly he was holding her wrists. He released them, then, and pushed her back and away from him, though less forceful this time. “So what?” he snapped, clearly still angry, but seeming to realize he had to be the adult in this situation. “How is that any of your concern?” He thought better of asking the other question that was lingering on his tongue. ‘Are you going to fix it?’ That was extremely inappropriate. -- Tracey gave a cry filled with rage when he grabbed her again, and tried to pull out of his grasp; all she managed to do was put herself closer to him. She didn’t really have the ability to argue with him anymore--if she had, she’d have reminded him that Tracey Davis didn’t do pity. But it didn’t occur to her to argue with him when she just wanted to be out of his grip. Or did she? Especially in the days leading up to the moon, it was often hard for Tracey to tell if she was hot or hot and bothered, and she’d never actually been in a fight or any other sort of situation with someone even as close to being as strong as she was. While part of her hated the idea of being trapped, a small part of her kind of liked it; it wondered what it would be like to be on the bottom of something like that, rather than the top. When he finally did release her, she was torn between wanting to gouge his eyes out and wanting to turn this into a real brawl. It had been ages since she’d been in a fight, though she’d always fought human men before and knew she would win. The thought that maybe she wouldn’t win this one actually kind of excited her. It was a bit of a thrill, meeting her match, even if she was a tiny bit disgusted that that match was a man; though, if it had to be any man, it was probably best that it was her mentor of all people. Considering her options instead of simply launching herself at him gave her a little bit of space to actually hear and think about his question. Why did she care? Other than the fact that he was taking it out on her (she was also taking her feelings out on him, to be fair). She supposed that it confused her. When Tracey needed a shag, she simply went out to find one, or dropped by to see an old girlfriend or other lovely she’d connected with in the past. But she’d always had to be careful not to hurt them. Women could be such delicate things, that was partly why she liked them so much. Was that why he denied himself? For a Gryffindor like him, being all noble and stupid like that probably seemed like the best course of (in)action. “Well first, because you’re taking out on me the fact that you can’t be an adult who takes care of his own shit when he needs to,” she snapped back, stalking back over to him, hoping he’d be uncomfortable enough with the invasion of his space to back up. “If you need a shag, you go out and get a fucking shag instead of getting crabby at people who, through no fault of their own managed to give a shit about you.” She poked him hard in the chest. “And second, you confuse the fuck out of me. Sex before the moon is like the best part of being a werewolf.” Because trust someone like Tracey Davis to find a best part of being a werewolf. -- What really was the problem with him? When she didn’t come at him immediately, he had a brief moment to think about it. Was he sexually frustrated? Perhaps, but that surely wasn’t the whole issue. The full moon was close, which always put him in a sour mood. He came to the quick conclusion that it was pent up aggression, be it sexual or otherwise. He’d taken things out on Sirius once or twice back at school, because Sirius hadn’t been fragile. He hadn’t used that kind of outlet in a while, though. While Tracey might be good for that, Remus was far too considerate to push her buttons on his own. Maybe that was why she came to him. She needed that release too. She’d always been aggressive, but her jabs at his personal life, knowing it would upset him seemed far more calculated and pointed than just any girl with anger issues. Still, he kept his distance until she got into his face. He didn’t back down, though, holding his ground and allowing her to poke him in the chest. “So you came here to point out that my sex life is inadequate?” he asked her, bringing up a hand to push her’s away from this chest. “How kind of you.” There was sarcasm dripping from every word and his eyes were narrowed. He was entirely unamused by her at this point, but he couldn’t deny that she was right. There was nothing better for pent up aggression like this than a good shag, but Remus had denied himself that because he didn’t want to hurt anybody. Tonks, once again, flashed across his mind. He wished he could accept what she was offering, but he didn’t just want to shag her. Tearing his thoughts away from Tonks, there was Tracey, still in front of him. She was unnaturally strong, and he had a moment where he realized that she wouldn’t be hurt by… no. She was just messing with his head now. He was not going to think about that, especially because he knew her preferences. She wasn’t suggesting anything, she was goading him. “What do you want, Tracey?” he asked her, finally. -- What did she want? That was a loaded question. Tracey wanted a lot of things, and she was used to simply taking them. Most of what she currently wanted couldn’t simply be taken, though. She wanted Daphne back. She wanted to throw things and trash Remus’ house. She wanted Charlie to come back and take the Reserve back over. And she wanted to fuck someone into next week, to hurt them and herself and walk away with bruises and scrapes. She wanted to go back to feeling at peace with things. In the end, what she decided she wanted in that moment was to have sex with another werewolf. She wanted to lose herself in wild abandon and not think about the consequences. So she grabbed Remus roughly by the shirt collar and kissed him. There was nothing sweet or gentle or romantic about it, not like she was with women. It was hard and rough around the edges. As she pressed into him, she found that all of him was hard and rough around the edges. That was usually a great big turn off, but in the moment it was what she needed. -- Alarm bells immediately went off. When she grabbed his shirt, he was sure she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite and somehow it seemed worse. He lifted his hands, intending to push her away, but the portion of his brain that stored logical thought and reason got pushed to the side. Instead, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, digging his fingers in to hold her there. This is wrong. This is a mistake. Everything Remus should have been telling himself held no weight. She was right, he needed to get laid. Nothing romantic or loving. Something rough and emotionless and with someone who could handle it. In fact, it was highly possible she could hurt him more than he could hurt her, and he was surprisingly okay with that. -- Oh Remus was going to get hurt alright, one way or another. If he’d rejected her, the switch would have flipped back to rage and he might not have been able to stop her from tearing the place apart. Fortunately for the both of them, he didn’t--although later, Tracey would find herself surprised at it. And it should have meant something that he was nearly as old as her father, but it didn’t. It didn’t even register. It did register that this was a completely different side of him than she’d ever seen, and she was pretty sure that almost no one else had seen it either. This Remus was angry and aggressive and Tracey liked it. Though, to be fair, she liked those traits in pretty much everyone she liked; she thought most people could benefit from more anger and aggression in their lives. Impatient, she pushed back on him, forcing him to step backwards until she could give him a good shove back down onto the couch. She climbed on top of him, straddling him with her knees on the cushions and swept her long hair over one shoulder so it was less in the way. Her mouth went back to his while her fingers found the opening of his shirt at his neck. Pulling the fabric aside, she broke the kiss and bit the meaty part of his shoulder hard, though not quite hard enough to draw blood. -- He should have the sense to question this. She was his student at one point, after all. That fact, somehow, made it more appealing, though. It was something he shouldn’t be doing and would be frowned upon… something he would frown upon. He chastised Sirius for sleeping with younger women, and yet here he was, giving into hormones like a damn teenager. He would regret this in an hour, but for now, he was going to enjoy it. He wasn’t thinking, and he didn’t want to. The back of his knees hit the couch and he fell back, but she was quick to follow. He dipped his head back when she bit his shoulder and groaned softly. It hurt, but not in a bad way. In a way that he didn’t realize he’d enjoyed. Perhaps he should explore this side of himself more often. He tilted his head back up so he could see where she was. His hands went to her shirt, but, instead of unbuttoning it, pulled it open. The buttons flew in different directions, but Remus was already busying himself with pushing it off her shoulders. -- When all was said and done, the guilt began to flood Remus’ mind. This was not something that should have ever happened, but he had let it and he had to deal with the consequences. He stood to gather his clothing and get dressed. His trousers first, then he made an attempt to find the shirt that had been discarded haphazardly. He said nothing to Tracey, not entirely sure how to begin anyway. She probably had something to say, though. He knew that she would, but he was hoping to put it off as long as possible. -- It did not surprise Tracey that Remus was quick to compose himself and run away. Speaking for herself, she was pretty sure she wasn’t yet physically capable. She pushed herself up, her body already hurting, but it was a good kind of hurt. And she was tired, so very tired. It was a level of exhaustion that she usually only felt the day after the moon, but she also felt better. She’d needed the release of tension far more than she’d realized, and it felt incredible to not have to hold back. “I told you sex was the best perk,” she said, looking around for her own clothing. Everything was pretty close, as they hadn’t bothered to move around the room once the disrobing had begun, so she didn’t even have to stand until she needed to pull her jeans and underwear up. She pocketed her bra instead of putting it on, realizing that would just be horrible, and hissed when she pulled her tank top down over the raw skin of her back. Carpet burn. Ah well. She’d never before been ashamed or regretful about marks from a lover. That is, until she looked back at Remus, and it started to really hit her that the best sex she could remember was with a man. That realization was what made her quickly bid him goodbye with a “See you later,” and walk out the door. Fuck everything. |