FIC: The Silver Spoon (1/1)
Jan. 30th, 2007 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salixbabylonTitle: The Silver Spoon
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Harry Potter
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
salixbabylon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1946
Disclaimer: Rowling owns everything.
Summary: Something about the way Remus looks at him makes Harry feel strange.
Author's Notes: Originally begun as part of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pervy_werewolf's Christmas Kink 2006 fest, but it was too long and needed lots more work. Thanks to sarka and bitofaspaz for the betaing and hand-holding, and to mizbhaven13 for the final push!
The Silver Spoon
It was a spoon, actually – he could still see the imprint of the Black family crest on the handle of the dildo. It hadn't been Harry's best Transfiguration. He'd been a bit distracted with Remus sitting there, looking at him. Waiting.
The bedding feels cold under Harry's heated skin, pin-prickles of sweat and every hair on his naked body standing at attention. He isn't shivering, not yet, not on the outside anyhow. Not where Remus can see.
Harry had wanted this for ages. Well, not this exactly, but Remus.
Thinking on it, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt some sort of deep yearning pull towards the man. A pull that wasn't fatherly nor even big-brotherly and certainly not professorly at all. Everything had slid into place once he'd figured out that he was gay, though the pull towards Remus wasn't just lust or hormones; there was something more complex to it. Something wilder.
This winter holiday alone together at Grimmauld Place had been too much for Harry. Too much tension in the air, unresolved and strange yearnings, all unspoken. He could have sworn he felt Remus' eyes on him constantly: lingering on his ankles if his feet were bare, on his chest when Remus walked into his bedroom while Harry was buttoning up his shirt, on his body when Remus caught him coming out of the shower.
And in his typical blundering style, once Harry was reasonably sure, he'd made a move. Not the most suave move, but he'd only had sex once and he'd been the one on the receiving end of anything that could have been considered a seduction. Which was to say that Justin had given him a few significant looks and once slid a covert hand across Harry's arse in the hallway before they'd had a rushed shag in an abandoned classroom.
Still, Harry had made a move on Remus and he was proud of that. Which was an important thing to keep in mind as he lay naked on his bed with what was formerly a spoon stuck up his arse.
They'd been discussing the menu for Boxing Day while Harry walked to his bedroom, Remus following. Harry shut the door in case anyone from the Order popped by, then pulled off his jumper. Leaning against the wardrobe, his fingers began slipping buttons through their holes as he gave Remus a lustful look. He felt dizzy with power and the way Remus' eyes turned feral made him so hard he moaned.
"So, are we going to have sex then?" The words came out sounding far less nonchalant and smooth than Harry would have hoped.
Remus' lips twitched. His eyes were unreadable, but something in them made Harry shiver.
He didn't know who had lunged at whom, but Harry definitely knew he was being kissed senseless, or rather, the opposite – kissed until he was a creature of pure sensation. He was unable to think at all, beyond the fleeting realization that clearly Remus did desire him. After the initial struggle for balance and control, Harry submitted and let Remus take, their teeth clacking and the taste of blood in Harry's mouth as their hands pulled at his clothing.
At least their shared desire had seemed clear until Remus separated himself from the kiss by pushing Harry back on the bed, where he lay uncertain, unable to read the look on Remus' face.
Harry felt his bravado flag slightly (though not his erection) as he lay there naked and raw under Lupin's eyes for long moments.
Remus was still dressed. He looked at Harry, then sat down at the desk chair. "You have no idea what you're getting into," he said in a tone containing hints of both challenge and warning.
Turmoil warred with arousal. Part of Harry wanted to get up and leave, cover his shame with clothing, storm out in a rage. He tried to dredge up a feeling of defiance but couldn't find it anywhere. Remus' eyes, wild and intense, stole it from him. He shivered again and felt something inside himself relax.
Remus nodded. "Spread your legs. Show yourself to me."
Harry flinched.
"Show me your arsehole."
He couldn't reconcile the idea of the Remus he knew saying such things. His demeanor was as reserved and calm as usual and Harry almost wondered if he was having some sort of delusion. Yet the thing behind Remus' eyes was both wild and in total control, and Harry found his feet on the duvet, hands on the cheeks of his bum, holding them apart, spreading them open under Remus' hungry gaze.
"Have you ever been fucked?" Remus asked casually.
He nodded, tongue dry and throat constricted with a feeling like humiliation but somehow different. This was what he'd wanted, right? Harry couldn't think anymore. It wasn't his place to.
"Touch your hole."
His fingers tentatively brushed over sensitive flesh, body quivering with anticipation, arousal coupled with something like shame.
Remus opened the drawer on the night table, then set the bottle of lube on Harry's belly, flushed a mottled pink and white.
"I want to see you touch yourself."
Harry let his fingers stroke the outside of his opening, his eyes almost falling shut.
Remus nodded again, encouraging.
Sliding in one finger, then two, Harry watched as Remus sat back in the chair, pressed a hand to his trousers for a moment, then untucked and unbuttoned his shirt. Harry couldn't help the groan that rumbled deep in his throat.
"How far are you willing to go?"
Harry struggled a moment before he could focus his eyes, in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that his glasses had slipped down his nose. He nodded, throat too constricted to speak.
Remus pulled a spoon from the pocket of his robes. "Turn this is into a cock and shove it up your arse." The calm words were only belied by the heat of Remus' eyes and tongue flickering out to wet his lips.
Harry fumbled to move, his limbs slow, like moving through treacle. He tried to reconcile the Remus he thought he knew with this man in front of him, telling him to do these things, but couldn't. This was a totally different man, this was what was lurking in Remus' eyes all those times Harry felt his hot gaze, making him feel raw and open.
Lupin handed him his wand and the spoon.
He had Transfigured it, slicked it with lube, and gently eased it up his arse. The dildo is still silver, though, hard and metal and cold.
And Remus' voice is controlled, as always, but there's a glint of urgent lust in his eyes that has Harry rushing to comply.
"Fuck yourself with it."
And so Harry does but it isn't enough. It isn't Remus, claiming him and using him; it's just a Transfigured spoon, but at least he's doing it for Remus and that's something. He tries to put on a good show, to prove himself worthy, whatever that means. To be whatever Remus wants him to be.
He's shivering with the humiliation of it, of doing what he is told, of his body's response, that it feels so good. His cock is hard and there is a puddle on his stomach where it has drooled with arousal. He feels like he might come or like he might cry or both. He doesn't know which would be worse...
"Harry..." Remus' voice sounds far away.
When Harry focuses again and opens eyes that are wet and thick at the lashes, Remus leans forward and with a soothing touch, stops Harry's hands from moving.
He trembles with tension, afraid and excited by what might come.
"Do you still want me to fuck you?" Remus asks softly, the strain of arousal not quite concealed by his solicitous tone.
Harry knows it will be all right if he says no. He isn't under Remus' control, not doing his bidding for any reason other than that he wants to.
But he wants to.
"Remove your hands."
Obedient, Harry leaves the dildo where it is. Remus' eyes are pleased and he reaches to pull it out and sets it aside. He leans forward, unfastening his trousers. His shirt hangs open but he makes no move to take it off. Harry can see the scars on his chest.
Remus bends over him, looming and huge, and kisses Harry hard, licking and tasting down his chin and throat. Biting hard on his neck until Harry shivers and moans and arches and throbs.
He murmurs "Turn over," and once Harry is on all fours, Remus pauses. Harry can feel him looking at and then running his thumb over Harry's wet and loosened hole. A noise between a purr and a strangled growl rumbles in his chest and then he's on Harry, feral and out of control.
It is everything Harry's ever wanted.
Without preamble, Remus drives his cock into Harry's arse in one unrelenting stroke, holding him by the hips when Harry involuntarily flails for a moment. As if Remus knows.
And Harry is glad, even though the grasp on his hips is iron and hurts, he loves that he can't get away. That he feels possessed, owned, and in his place here, being fucked like this by Remus.
Remus' cock hurts but it also feels so very right, like Harry wishes Remus could split him open, wishes that claws would rend his back and teeth would savage his neck and shoulders. Wants to feel Remus in him, taking him, hurting him, fucking him. And Harry realizes it's not about the pain at all, which is gone - it's about being filled, being taken, being owned as if he was just an empty shell before. Now he is filled. Being fucked like this feels better than anything Harry has ever felt, better than anything he ever dreamed of, so far beyond anything he's ever heard about sex that it must be a wholly different experience.
Harry comes far too quickly, but Remus keeps fucking him hard and long, pushing Harry's face down into the wetness on the bed. Harry's muscles melt and he floats on an amazing feeling - euphoric, sated, relaxed, and hurting just a little. Remus gets rougher and harder, and Harry's cock is almost hard again by the time Remus growls, biting the back of his neck and coming deep in his body.
He lies there until Remus pulls out and rolls him over. Remus collapses next to Harry, hands roving across his skin, lingering on scratches and finger-shaped bruises. The marks he's made on Harry's body.
"Why does it feel like this?" Harry asks in a drugged-sounding voice.
"How does it feel?"
There is silence for a few breaths while he tries to find words for something that isn't made for them.
"It feels right," is all Harry can come up with.
Several long moments pass.
"Do you know what it is to be owned? To be mated to a werewolf?" Remus asks.
Harry flinches, suddenly wide awake.
Remus rolls on top of him and holds him down with the weight of his body. With a breath that is part chuckle, he clarifies, "Don't worry, it's not for life." His voice takes on a shadow of a growl as he adds, "But it does mean that you'll submit to me. And that I don't share."
Harry shivers.
He can live with that. Anything, so long as Remus looks at him like that, with that wildness.
They curl up, Remus protectively around him, fire crackling in the grate as light glints off the silver spoon under the bed.
~end~
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Pairing: Remus Lupin/Harry Potter
Author:
salixbabylonRating: NC-17
Word Count: 1946
Disclaimer: Rowling owns everything.
Summary: Something about the way Remus looks at him makes Harry feel strange.
Author's Notes: Originally begun as part of the
pervy_werewolf's Christmas Kink 2006 fest, but it was too long and needed lots more work. Thanks to sarka and bitofaspaz for the betaing and hand-holding, and to mizbhaven13 for the final push!It was a spoon, actually – he could still see the imprint of the Black family crest on the handle of the dildo. It hadn't been Harry's best Transfiguration. He'd been a bit distracted with Remus sitting there, looking at him. Waiting.
The bedding feels cold under Harry's heated skin, pin-prickles of sweat and every hair on his naked body standing at attention. He isn't shivering, not yet, not on the outside anyhow. Not where Remus can see.
Harry had wanted this for ages. Well, not this exactly, but Remus.
Thinking on it, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt some sort of deep yearning pull towards the man. A pull that wasn't fatherly nor even big-brotherly and certainly not professorly at all. Everything had slid into place once he'd figured out that he was gay, though the pull towards Remus wasn't just lust or hormones; there was something more complex to it. Something wilder.
This winter holiday alone together at Grimmauld Place had been too much for Harry. Too much tension in the air, unresolved and strange yearnings, all unspoken. He could have sworn he felt Remus' eyes on him constantly: lingering on his ankles if his feet were bare, on his chest when Remus walked into his bedroom while Harry was buttoning up his shirt, on his body when Remus caught him coming out of the shower.
And in his typical blundering style, once Harry was reasonably sure, he'd made a move. Not the most suave move, but he'd only had sex once and he'd been the one on the receiving end of anything that could have been considered a seduction. Which was to say that Justin had given him a few significant looks and once slid a covert hand across Harry's arse in the hallway before they'd had a rushed shag in an abandoned classroom.
Still, Harry had made a move on Remus and he was proud of that. Which was an important thing to keep in mind as he lay naked on his bed with what was formerly a spoon stuck up his arse.
They'd been discussing the menu for Boxing Day while Harry walked to his bedroom, Remus following. Harry shut the door in case anyone from the Order popped by, then pulled off his jumper. Leaning against the wardrobe, his fingers began slipping buttons through their holes as he gave Remus a lustful look. He felt dizzy with power and the way Remus' eyes turned feral made him so hard he moaned.
"So, are we going to have sex then?" The words came out sounding far less nonchalant and smooth than Harry would have hoped.
Remus' lips twitched. His eyes were unreadable, but something in them made Harry shiver.
He didn't know who had lunged at whom, but Harry definitely knew he was being kissed senseless, or rather, the opposite – kissed until he was a creature of pure sensation. He was unable to think at all, beyond the fleeting realization that clearly Remus did desire him. After the initial struggle for balance and control, Harry submitted and let Remus take, their teeth clacking and the taste of blood in Harry's mouth as their hands pulled at his clothing.
At least their shared desire had seemed clear until Remus separated himself from the kiss by pushing Harry back on the bed, where he lay uncertain, unable to read the look on Remus' face.
Harry felt his bravado flag slightly (though not his erection) as he lay there naked and raw under Lupin's eyes for long moments.
Remus was still dressed. He looked at Harry, then sat down at the desk chair. "You have no idea what you're getting into," he said in a tone containing hints of both challenge and warning.
Turmoil warred with arousal. Part of Harry wanted to get up and leave, cover his shame with clothing, storm out in a rage. He tried to dredge up a feeling of defiance but couldn't find it anywhere. Remus' eyes, wild and intense, stole it from him. He shivered again and felt something inside himself relax.
Remus nodded. "Spread your legs. Show yourself to me."
Harry flinched.
"Show me your arsehole."
He couldn't reconcile the idea of the Remus he knew saying such things. His demeanor was as reserved and calm as usual and Harry almost wondered if he was having some sort of delusion. Yet the thing behind Remus' eyes was both wild and in total control, and Harry found his feet on the duvet, hands on the cheeks of his bum, holding them apart, spreading them open under Remus' hungry gaze.
"Have you ever been fucked?" Remus asked casually.
He nodded, tongue dry and throat constricted with a feeling like humiliation but somehow different. This was what he'd wanted, right? Harry couldn't think anymore. It wasn't his place to.
"Touch your hole."
His fingers tentatively brushed over sensitive flesh, body quivering with anticipation, arousal coupled with something like shame.
Remus opened the drawer on the night table, then set the bottle of lube on Harry's belly, flushed a mottled pink and white.
"I want to see you touch yourself."
Harry let his fingers stroke the outside of his opening, his eyes almost falling shut.
Remus nodded again, encouraging.
Sliding in one finger, then two, Harry watched as Remus sat back in the chair, pressed a hand to his trousers for a moment, then untucked and unbuttoned his shirt. Harry couldn't help the groan that rumbled deep in his throat.
"How far are you willing to go?"
Harry struggled a moment before he could focus his eyes, in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that his glasses had slipped down his nose. He nodded, throat too constricted to speak.
Remus pulled a spoon from the pocket of his robes. "Turn this is into a cock and shove it up your arse." The calm words were only belied by the heat of Remus' eyes and tongue flickering out to wet his lips.
Harry fumbled to move, his limbs slow, like moving through treacle. He tried to reconcile the Remus he thought he knew with this man in front of him, telling him to do these things, but couldn't. This was a totally different man, this was what was lurking in Remus' eyes all those times Harry felt his hot gaze, making him feel raw and open.
Lupin handed him his wand and the spoon.
He had Transfigured it, slicked it with lube, and gently eased it up his arse. The dildo is still silver, though, hard and metal and cold.
And Remus' voice is controlled, as always, but there's a glint of urgent lust in his eyes that has Harry rushing to comply.
"Fuck yourself with it."
And so Harry does but it isn't enough. It isn't Remus, claiming him and using him; it's just a Transfigured spoon, but at least he's doing it for Remus and that's something. He tries to put on a good show, to prove himself worthy, whatever that means. To be whatever Remus wants him to be.
He's shivering with the humiliation of it, of doing what he is told, of his body's response, that it feels so good. His cock is hard and there is a puddle on his stomach where it has drooled with arousal. He feels like he might come or like he might cry or both. He doesn't know which would be worse...
"Harry..." Remus' voice sounds far away.
When Harry focuses again and opens eyes that are wet and thick at the lashes, Remus leans forward and with a soothing touch, stops Harry's hands from moving.
He trembles with tension, afraid and excited by what might come.
"Do you still want me to fuck you?" Remus asks softly, the strain of arousal not quite concealed by his solicitous tone.
Harry knows it will be all right if he says no. He isn't under Remus' control, not doing his bidding for any reason other than that he wants to.
But he wants to.
"Remove your hands."
Obedient, Harry leaves the dildo where it is. Remus' eyes are pleased and he reaches to pull it out and sets it aside. He leans forward, unfastening his trousers. His shirt hangs open but he makes no move to take it off. Harry can see the scars on his chest.
Remus bends over him, looming and huge, and kisses Harry hard, licking and tasting down his chin and throat. Biting hard on his neck until Harry shivers and moans and arches and throbs.
He murmurs "Turn over," and once Harry is on all fours, Remus pauses. Harry can feel him looking at and then running his thumb over Harry's wet and loosened hole. A noise between a purr and a strangled growl rumbles in his chest and then he's on Harry, feral and out of control.
It is everything Harry's ever wanted.
Without preamble, Remus drives his cock into Harry's arse in one unrelenting stroke, holding him by the hips when Harry involuntarily flails for a moment. As if Remus knows.
And Harry is glad, even though the grasp on his hips is iron and hurts, he loves that he can't get away. That he feels possessed, owned, and in his place here, being fucked like this by Remus.
Remus' cock hurts but it also feels so very right, like Harry wishes Remus could split him open, wishes that claws would rend his back and teeth would savage his neck and shoulders. Wants to feel Remus in him, taking him, hurting him, fucking him. And Harry realizes it's not about the pain at all, which is gone - it's about being filled, being taken, being owned as if he was just an empty shell before. Now he is filled. Being fucked like this feels better than anything Harry has ever felt, better than anything he ever dreamed of, so far beyond anything he's ever heard about sex that it must be a wholly different experience.
Harry comes far too quickly, but Remus keeps fucking him hard and long, pushing Harry's face down into the wetness on the bed. Harry's muscles melt and he floats on an amazing feeling - euphoric, sated, relaxed, and hurting just a little. Remus gets rougher and harder, and Harry's cock is almost hard again by the time Remus growls, biting the back of his neck and coming deep in his body.
He lies there until Remus pulls out and rolls him over. Remus collapses next to Harry, hands roving across his skin, lingering on scratches and finger-shaped bruises. The marks he's made on Harry's body.
"Why does it feel like this?" Harry asks in a drugged-sounding voice.
"How does it feel?"
There is silence for a few breaths while he tries to find words for something that isn't made for them.
"It feels right," is all Harry can come up with.
Several long moments pass.
"Do you know what it is to be owned? To be mated to a werewolf?" Remus asks.
Harry flinches, suddenly wide awake.
Remus rolls on top of him and holds him down with the weight of his body. With a breath that is part chuckle, he clarifies, "Don't worry, it's not for life." His voice takes on a shadow of a growl as he adds, "But it does mean that you'll submit to me. And that I don't share."
Harry shivers.
He can live with that. Anything, so long as Remus looks at him like that, with that wildness.
They curl up, Remus protectively around him, fire crackling in the grate as light glints off the silver spoon under the bed.
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-01-31 01:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 04:28 am (UTC)Yay!
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Date: 2007-01-31 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 05:50 pm (UTC)Thanks for commenting! :)
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Date: 2007-01-31 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-31 05:53 pm (UTC)How did I not know you read HP? Hmmm...
*smooch*
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Date: 2007-01-31 05:56 pm (UTC)Thank you for commenting! :)
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Date: 2007-01-31 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 12:41 am (UTC);)
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Date: 2007-02-01 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 05:06 pm (UTC)I haven't really thought about a sequel, but I'm so flattered that you'd want to read more!
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Date: 2007-07-28 05:17 am (UTC)That is to say, LotR almost seemed made to be slashed and I never got that with HP. But I certainly enjoy your take on the HP universe.
Absolutely lovely, darling!!
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Date: 2007-07-28 05:32 pm (UTC)That's my brief manifesto, anyway. ;) *hug*
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Date: 2007-11-06 06:17 am (UTC)I just love feral Remus....
*shivers*
so sexy.
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Date: 2007-11-08 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-10 04:01 pm (UTC)The end is so right, I love that possessive Remus...
Thanks!
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Date: 2009-10-12 05:18 am (UTC)