wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2009-03-11 02:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, sirius, tonks |
Special delivery for green_amber
Title:Things That Go Bump in the Night
Author: ozma_katiebell
Recipient's IJ/LJ name: green_amber
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Tonks/Sirius
Word Count: 5185
Warnings (if any): Slightly incestuous (see pairing). A bit of breathplay, bondage, a physical fight as foreplay and playing at dub/con.
Summary: Tonks discovers that 'taking down the bad guy' is a hell of a lot more fun when the bad guy in question enjoys being taken down.
Author's notes: Kethlenda, I had this perfectly respectable, plotty and romantic Hannah/Neville plot bunny brewing for you. Just as I sat down to write it, your words, "Tonks/Sirius (yeah, dirtybadwrong for the win)" took over my brain and this demented plot bunny kicked the other one's fluffy backside in a cagefight. I just couldn't help myself. I hope it's up your alley because I sure had a lot of fun writing it. Grateful thanks to M for the much-needed inspiration and input, and to the two lovely ladies (S and J) who helped me polish it.
I'd noticed him before, of course I had, and not just because his face had screamed at me at nearly every wall in the wizarding world right about the time I was first allowed to put on my trainee robes.
Nor was it because we were related, though neither of us would have been caught, dead or alive at a Black family reunion. It wasn't as if our shared blood gave us any sort of bond, because then I might well have felt the obligation to go visiting Auntie Bella, the raving psychopath, or Auntie Cissa, the ice queen.
All those things might have made him stick out in my mind or possibly contributed toward the intrigue. Especially when you added in the absurdity of the fact that the man in the top and center picture on the west wall of the Auror Headquarters was currently paying host to the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix (including the man in charge of hunting him down and killing him) while his mother (was she my third cousin by marriage or my first cousin twice removed, I always forget?) screamed pureblood insults from her gilded frame.
But I reckon I'd have noticed him regardless, even if I'd only seen him nursing a firewhiskey in a corner booth at the Leaky. Because you couldn't not notice him--he had this faded rock star glamour to him that made him damn near irresistible. He was the man your mother warned you about--the sort who'd done every wicked thing twice and had the pictures to prove it.
Granted I was young but not particularly naive. I'd been around enough to spot trouble a mile away. However, apparently I wasn't old enough to know better, or maybe I was just old enough to know that some trouble was bloody well worth it.
And he so totally was.
But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself, because although I had noticed him, I'd noticed a lot of other things, too. Like how in spite of his almost startling ugliness and repellent personality, if you closed your eyes, Snape's voice was very nearly orgasm-inducing. And how, age and injury aside, Alastor Moody was sort of ruggedly handsome and had thick, muscular, bloody gorgeous legs (or rather,leg, if we're going to be specific).
And that Arthur Weasley, though easily dismissed as a middle-aged nerd, had a wicked twinkle in his eye that fully explained the overwhelming popularity of his boys with the fairer sex (and possibly the other sex, too judging by what my partner has to say about the speccy, uptight one whom I see panting after the Minister every so often). I swear, Sprout used to call them the ‘Crimson Menace,' and it seemed no house was immune to their charms, from a year or so before I got to school until...well, odds were it was still happening, from what I could see of the boys running around the house that summer--far sexier than jailbait had a right to be.
And I haven't even mentioned Remus and his sad eyes and ridiculously adorable backside, Emmiline with her dry wit, long legs and graceful neck, and Kingsley's luscious lips and velvet voice.
But all of that is neither here nor there, because I am talking about why I started fucking Sirius and not why I was or wasn't fucking any of the rest of them. Which I was, but that is a different story altogether. The point I am trying to make is that, in my place, you would have done the same.
Not that it was all that well thought out, mind you. I'm the first to admit that I don't often think things through. I'm more of a jump in head first and deal with the consequences later type. Other than bit of flirting (and a wank or two) it all happened very suddenly and unexpectedly.
I think it was Ginny who came up with the idea. Not for us to shag,silly--though I wouldn't put it past her, knowing now what I didn't know then. But she was always asking questions about my job. In fact, I suspect now that she had the tiniest of crushes on me.
I was happy to indulge her curiosity--I honestly thought she'd be brilliant at it if she ever tried to give MLE a go. Now that I think about it, it was firmly ensconced in the nature of those kids--well, they had been related to two of the most decorated Aurors in history, hadn't they? And only a few months later, every one of those kids risked their arses and their futures to learn how to take down the bad guy by themselves.
So, as I was saying, Ginny asked, and I didn't mind demonstrating, not at all. It was about more than disarming someone, which, while important, isn't half of what I do. Hell, half these dark wizards are twice my size, so obviously, I had to work out a way to overpower them physically, too. It was learning how to render a wizard (or witch) completely helpless, and it always got me off more than I liked to admit.
It took a bit of practice, but the basic idea was to get their wrists bound behind their back, using my knee (and occasionally my thighs) to hold them face down on the floor. But there was more to it than that. I wanted them to feel utterly terrified, or at the very least humiliated, so a well-placed threat in their ear, my voice low and menacing, always helped. It was the most amazing feeling--knowing that you had quite literally flattened someone--what a fucking rush.
How had I roped him in? I think he volunteered, but he was the perfect choice, because he had been the stuff of nightmares for most of their childhood, the boogeyman that their parents used to keep them in line: ‘better watch out; naughty children go to jail and then Sirius Black'll come and get you.' Either way, the outcome was the same, and as I savoured the pleasure of my victory, I could tell, somehow, that he was nearly as turned on as I was. I grinned at my impromptu audience, making sure that their eyes were on my wand and the spell that held him captive. But I couldn't help whispering in his ear instead of reading him his rights (which he'd undoubtedly heard years before and was well aware were nothing more than a pile of bullshit when politics were involved. "You like this, don't you?" I asked, my lips barely brushing against his ear as he shivered beneath me.
His answer, low and rough and feral, got me soaking my already damp knickers. "Fuck, yeah, I do."
Well, of course I wasn't about to let that thing drop, though acting on it was impossible that night, what with Harry's retrieval, Snape's long awaited update, and all the discussion afterward interfering. I had to content myself with a long, unsatisfying wank at my own flat--with a battered ‘wanted' poster stuck to the shower wall, its edges curling up from all the steam.
But later, days later, days when I'd catch his eye from another room and wonder if he was thinking about it, days in which I had to restrain myself from dragging him out of the room in front of all and sundry and pouncing on him, I got my chance. Or rather, I made my chance, because I'm not a ‘sit-around-waiting-for-the-bloke-to-cal
I snuck into his room after a meeting when he was distracted by yet another of the Weasley boys' products. This one caused Dung to break out in a multicoloured rash, all the while singing 'His Love Makes Me Beautiful' (which I only knew because Grandma Tonks always had an obsession with show tunes.) It really was a riot to behold, but sex topped gags on my list of priorities on that particular night.
Besides, the raucous laughter made any stealth unnecessary, and anyone will tell you that stealth is not one of my strong suits. Patience, that I have, though not many people would give me credit for it. I can muster plenty of patience when I know the rewards will be worth it.
So I sat there in the dark for a while, counting sheep, counting arrests, counting the specks of dust in the moonbeam to the left of me, clearing the area between me and the door so that I wouldn't trip over something and ruin the effect. And then, finally, heard him, whistling an old Hob Goblin's song, blissfully unaware of the trouble (or treat) he was in for. When he opened the door, I didn't even give him a chance to put on the light, I just pounced, hearing a satisfying 'whooph' as I knocked the wind out of him. He recovered quickly, though, managing to stay on his feet (which told me that he hadn't been imbibing that evening, or at least not much, which was good for me, because I wasn't looking forward to whiskey breath.) We struggled for a moment, silent except for the grunts of our efforts, and he managed to pin me to the floor, hands grasping to suss out who his attacker was. When he reached my left tit, I took advantage of his momentary shock and flipped the both of us over in a practiced move, straddling his waist and putting the palm of my hand down hard on his throat, cutting off his circulation. His struggles took on a bit of desperation then, but he was losing momentum. I managed to grab one of his hands with my free one and pin it above his head. His other hand was clawing at the hand on his neck, and his legs were alternately thrashing and trying to buck me up, but I held steady.
"What do you want?" he finally asked, his voice strangled by the pressure.
I bent lower and licked at the side of his face. "You," I said, and my voice was so altered by desire and adrenaline that I don't know if he recognized it. "At my mercy, begging me to stop, begging me not to stop."
He finally stopped struggling then, but I don't know if he was giving up, giving in, or just at a loss for words. Or maybe he was about to pass out from a lack of oxygen. I decreased the pressure of my palm on his throat and he inhaled, causing my body to rise and fall along with his abdomen. At that moment, the moon emerged from behind a cloud, making his face more visible. He looked up at me, searching my face of a moment, and then his face spread into a devilish grin. "You can try," he said and bucked up again, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the floor, his body surprisingly heavy and hot and hard as a stone. He'd grabbed at my hands and was holding them above my head, and he bent to my neck to nip at a sensitive spot, making me moan and growl even as I was trying to work out how to best him again. I arched my back and opened my legs a little, reasoning that the contact on his cock might distract him yet again but finding myself somewhat done in by my own plan of attack because he felt bloody perfect there, and with very little persuasion, I could have easily succumbed, letting him slide inside me with little or no resistance.
But that would have disappointed both of us, I think.
I ground up into him, making him close his eyes and shiver slightly as I silently performed a stunning spell. He landed on his side, the wind knocked out of him, and I scrambled to my feet, binding his hands behind his back before he could recover. Unsatisfied by what I could see in the moonlight, I lit a candle. He looked far better than he should have like that, all things considered. He chuckled under his breath, looking over at me with devilish eyes. "Well, love, that's me at your mercy, isn't it? What are you going to do with me?"
"No less than you deserve," I said and dropped my robes with a flick of my wand. His eyes changed then; whatever amusement was there fled, replaced by hunger. I swear, if I wasn't soaking my ridiculously tiny knickers by then, this would have sent me over the falls in a barrel. Not that I hadn't expected it--I mean, I had dressed with particular care, but he was looking at me as if he hadn't seen a half-naked woman in the flesh in over a decade. Which, perhaps, he hadn't, come to think of it.
"On your knees," I said, in a steady a voice as I could manage. He complied with rather astonishing speed.
I moved to the edge of the bed, sitting right in the moonbeam from his largest window, leaning back on straightened arms. I'd never had much in the way of tits (not that I couldn't have changed that if I wanted to) but the corset tended to push them up and having my shoulders back thrust them forward even more. That's where his eyes were, anyway, as he sat there on his knees, waiting for me to continue, or waiting for instructions, maybe. So, I opened my legs and that got his eyes to drop down in a hurry. He licked his lips, and I laughed, saying, "Good. You've got the general idea, then."
With a knowing grin that either warranted complete surrender or a sound beating from me, he moved over, one knee at a time, until he was poised between my legs. He kissed the spot on my left thigh just between the top of my stocking and the edge of my knickers, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there. He looked up at me, a question in his eyes.
"Better hurry or I might have to spank you," I said.
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" he answered, and the sound he made as he bent lower sounded as much like a growl as it did a laugh. I felt his breath first, hot and tantalising, and then his tongue, licking a path from the fleshy part of my thigh to the edge of my knickers, causing me to lean back further, stifling a moan but opening my legs even wider. Then I felt his tongue scraping across the lace, and he let out a delicious little whimper, possibly because he was finally getting a taste of what he'd been missing so very long. Whatever it was, he buried his head deeper, lips and tongue working on me, unable to really do much because his hands were bound and I was still wearing knickers. But that was all right, because I'd meant to frustrate him, even if I had to torture myself in the process. Still, there was no point to the whole business if I wasn't getting off, so I Vanished them, eliciting the sexiest little groan from him as he finally tasted me fully. And hell, did he ever taste me--the man was rather shockingly enthusiastic; using his lips and his tongue and even his nose with the perfect balance of skill and desperation.
So good was it that I very nearly lost my resolve to drag it out as long as possible, not only for him but for myself. At the last possible moment before I lost all control, I sat up, squeezing my thighs together to force him to stop. I dragged him to his feet, pulling him up onto the bed where I tried to appear calm as I worked the buttons on his trousers. Inside, I was mush, but that feeling of dominance was growing a bit stronger with each passing second. I could see his chest heaving and I could see the wildness in his eyes, not to mention the way he was biting at his lip, still slick from me. When my fingers brushed against the sensitive skin below his navel, he shuddered and groaned, attempting to lean back and give me better access, but being forced to brace himself with his tied hands. His arms must have been killing him by then. I finally undid the last button and I reached inside his trousers, caressing him through his pants. He groaned again, and the word, "Please," escaped his lips, barely audible.
It was just enough to bring back that heady rush of power in spite of the fact that I'd sank to my knees before him. I looked up at him, licking my lips. "Please? Please what? Please stop? Please go away?"
"Merlin, no," he said, and the cock in my hand twitched in apparent agreement. His voice was thick when he added, "Don't stop, for fucks sake, do anything, but don't stop."
"Hmmm," I said, trying not to smirk. "Anything? Does that mean I can chain you to your wall and break out the whip? Or find something in here to transfigure into a toy, strap it on, and bugger you senseless? Just how kinky is the wizarding world's most wanted criminal, I wonder?" He didn't answer, but that might have had something to do with the fact that I'd reached inside the gap in his pants and was tracing the veins on his cock with my fingernail. If anything, he hissed.
"Or were you hoping I'd take hold of this sadly neglected willy of yours and, what--stroke it until it explodes all over my face? Wrap my lips around it and suck it down until it hits the back of my throat? Stick it between my tits and squeeze? Or did you want me to climb up onto it, stick it in my cunt, maybe bounce around a bit?"
"Fuck," he hissed, closing his eyes and letting his head roll back as my fingers crept feather light around his shaft, almost but not quite circling it.
"That's not an answer," I said, tightening my grip just a bit as he tried to press his erection into more contact with my hand. "Or maybe it is. Are you asking me to fuck you, Black? You already know how wet I am--can't you just picture how it would feel to be surrounded by all that? Do you want me to push you onto your back and ride you as hard as you ride that ridiculous motorbike of yours?"
"Yes," he finally groaned. His cock twitched in my grip.
I wasn't going to let him off that easily, but I let go and tugged at his trousers, peeling them down his hips along with his pants. He tried to help me but was impaired by the limited use of his hands. In fact, he had fallen back again and was struggling to sit up. I stole a moment to drink in the sight of him; his dapper velvet coat all wrinkled, his shirt bunched up beneath his waistcoat, and beneath that, acres of bare skin to explore, long legs and strong thighs and a thick, pale cock jutting up from a nest of black hair. I wanted him inside me nearly as much as I wanted anything--I was aching from want, dripping down my thighs. But this was too good an opportunity to waste, so I said, "Well that's too bad, isn't it? Because I have other plans."
I ran my hands up his thighs and moved my face closer to his groin, inhaling his potent scent and allowing myself the smirk that I'd been suppressing. He was squirming with need, his cock leaking out the top. I let my tongue dart out to capture the bit of moisture, causing him to gasp. Then I took just the head in my mouth, letting my teeth brush hard against him just as I released him a moment later. He yelped at the contact, and I could see the strain in his arms as struggled against his bonds, probably desperate to grab at my hair and force my head down where he wanted it.
"That wasn't very nice of me, was it?" I murmured, just before opening my mouth wide and taking him in as deep as I could, (which was pretty damn deep, I'm proud to say.) He yelped again, but this time I suspect it wasn't in protest. I began to move, fighting the urge to gag, bracing myself on his taut thigh and using the other hand to stroke his bollocks. Sirius was uttering an unintelligible mixture of grunts and groans and not-quite words and profanity, his thigh muscles spasming beneath my palm and his bollocks drawing up as if they were getting ready to burst.
I released him again, drawing from him a groan of protest, and then I raked my nails down his thigh just for good measure. I might have heard, "Bitch," muttered under his breath, or it might have just been a hiss, but I was enjoying myself too much to care.
"Bet your arms are killing you now," I observed, unbuttoning his shirt and waistcoat from the bottom up. "If I release them for a minute, are you going to be a good boy?"
"Haven't been a good boy a day in my life," he said and let out that barking laugh that I'd come to love.
"Still," I said. "You don't want to miss what's coming next..." I might have been willing to trust him, but I really didn't want to even give him the illusion of control, so I silently Stunned him, then moved behind him to release the bonds on his hands.
I stripped him down and moved him closer to the headboard, tying his arms to the gilded post. For a moment, I considered blindfolding him, but really, I've seen those cells at Azkaban and I seriously doubted he relished the idea of more choking darkness, especially during sex. Besides, men are such visual creatures, and I'd gone to a lot of bother dressing up.
Women may not be as visually stimulated as men, but I wasn't above taking a moment to memorise the way he looked there, completely at my mercy, absolutely bloody gorgeous. I couldn't help but run my hands over his body, enjoying the way his skin reacted to my touch even when his mind was disconnected from the proceedings.
By the time he woke up, I had his cock back in my mouth, and he certainly wasn't complaining. In fact, he was arching up on the bed, swearing under his breath. This time, the ‘bitch' was a bit more audible, and in reward, I used my teeth on him again, reaching up his torso to pinch at his nipple a moment later. Apparently he liked that, because the nipple contracted and he let out a half whimper, half moan that would have soaked my knickers had I been wearing any. I was feeling fairly desperate to be touched at this point, and I began to crawl my way up his body, my breasts threatening to spill out the top of the corset, my hips swaying. He was watching me, transfixed, and the hunger in his eyes went straight to my cunt. "You've got a bit of a mean streak, haven't you?" he said. "I thought 'Puffs were supposed to be helpful and all that."
I laughed. "And from what I hear tell, you were ‘helped' by an awful lot of us. But we Blacks tend to have a dark side, don't we? A cruel streak. I've seen it in you, now it's your turn to be on the receiving end." Instead of climbing onto his cock, I moved a little higher, straddling his stomach, the contact easing the ache I was feeling just slightly. The tip of his cock had been flattened by my arse, so I reached around to release it, settling it into the crevice between my cheeks. And then I began to move, grinding myself into his stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on he soft skin and dark trail of hair. I bent low to lick at his neck; I could tell that maybe he thought I was going to kiss him and he lowered his mouth in anticipation, but I wasn't sure if that was a good idea, all things considered. It was all very good to fuck on a whim, but we were mates, and I didn't really want to change that. Kissing was dangerous business sometimes.
I doubt if he was disappointed, though because as a result of my bending lower, my arse had risen into the air, causing the head of his cock to slide from the cleft of my arse to the cleft of my cunt, gathering wetness along the way. The slick slide felt far better than even I anticipated, so I went with that for a while, trying to keep from moaning aloud and giving him the edge again. His eyes were rolled toward the back of his head, so I wonder if he'd even have noticed, but I got his attention by reaching between us and grabbing at his cock, guiding it so that it hit me just right as I moved. Back and forth, arse to clit, clit to arse, and I was growing progressively wetter with each swipe and Sirius was straining against his bonds, his fingers claw-like, possibly aching to touch me.
With one swipe, I let the head of his cock dip inside my cunt, almost as if it had been a mistake, but the groan he let out when I did made it clear that he liked that very much indeed. So I did it a bit more, receiving in reward a louder reaction each time and a groan of frustration when I stopped.
And then I abruptly sank down on him fully and he practically howled. I had to bite the inside of my cheek not to cry out myself. When I began to pull off again, he picked himself up with his legs and tried to buck up into me, and I could hear the headboard groaning in protest as he tugged desperately on his bonds.
"You like that, do you?" I asked. "Still not sure you deserve it, but if you ask me nicely..."
"Fuck," he hissed as I rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit, shivering at the sensations that spread throughout my body like electric currents.
"Well, that certainly wasn't 'nicely,' nor was it really asking." I slid him back to the entrance to my cunt, waiting, making slow circles in the slick flesh.
"Fuck," he repeated, and I moved it away again.
"No! Shit, damn, bugger, Merlin's bloody balls, fuck me," he said, and I had to laugh.
"What's the magic word?" I asked in a sing-song voice.
Sirius merely grinned. "Nymphadora," he said, emphasizing every syllable.
"Are you asking for a smacked bottom?" I asked, letting him go and pretending I was about to climb off him entirely.
"Maybe," he replied, still grinning, arching his back in an attempt to stop me. "Is that an offer?"
I laughed then--as a matter of fact it came out almost embarrassingly close to a giggle. "Could be," I said and moved back on top of him, sliding over his flattened cock, enjoying the sensation of the ridges moving over slick folds.
He closed his eyes and exhaled, bucking up into me slightly. "Please," he finally murmured as he caught my eye. "Please, fuck me."
I slid forward once more and bent low, biting at his neck. As I slid back down his body, I caught him up and inside me, and this time the pair of us moaned, and I could feel the sound coming up his chest as I licked it. Then I sat up again, moving back until I found an angle I liked, and began circling my hips, taking him deeper and deeper. I closed my eyes and began to rock a bit, bringing my hands to my body and touching my stomach through the lace, my bare shoulders, my breasts. Faster and faster I moved, sometimes reaching behind me to touch his bollocks, sometimes in front of me to toy with his nipples, sometimes bracing myself on his abdomen. Soon enough, I couldn't keep my cries inside, and I reached down to touch myself between our bodies, watching as his eyes dropped low to see what I was doing and thoroughly enjoying the wildness in them as he licked his chops hungrily.
I wanted to outlast him--bloody hell, the man almost certainly hadn't been with a woman since before I developed breasts, I bloody well ought to have been able to do it easily. But I felt my climax coming and he was still fighting his, so I raked my fingernails down his side and smacked hard at the side of his arse, causing him to hiss in surprise and then shudder, oddly silent as he began to empty himself into me. I don't know if it was the look on his face or my fingers between my legs, but I was right behind him, contracting around him, head thrown back and crying out loud. Still, I kept moving, squeezing out every last bit of contact and sensation I could, knowing that it was giving him nearly as much pain as pleasure.
I was still trying to catch my breath when he damn near shocked the fucking magic out of me, startling my eyes open with the touch of his hand on my arse. His completely unencumbered hand, apparently. I looked at the headboard, thinking maybe I'd imagined it, but no, his hands were not where I bound them. In fact, the other hand (the one that wasn't touching me)was now holding my own fucking wand, which he'd apparently nicked with his toes at the foot of the bed while I was otherwise occupied.
Before I could even wrap my mind around that, (could you actually perform a spell with your toes--and silently at that?) I found myself flat on my back with Sirius pinning me to the bed, grinning wickedly, his head cocked to the side like a dog waiting for a reward.
"You cheat," I said, rather impressed but somewhat surprised that he seemed to be using his hard-won advantage to start kissing my neck, of all things.
"Mmmm," he murmured. "Never underestimate a Black when power is up for grabs."
"Oh yeah?" I asked, finding myself rather distracted by the marvelous things he was doing with his tongue, not to mention the fingers tugging down my corset and stroking my nipples. "So what do you plan to do, now you've got me at your mercy?"
He lifted his head and grinned at me. A moment later his eyes dropped to my lips, and the hunger in them seemed muted, but no less compelling. Suddenly the concept of kissing him, though certainly ill-advised, seemed almost worth the risk.
He licked his lips and pressed closer closing his eyes just before reaching my lips. "Seems to me that with a pair of filthy minds like ours, we'll think of something, won't we?"