Flow, R, Remus/Fenrir
Title: Flow
Author: malfoil
Pairing: Remus/Fenrir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they're JKRs.
Summary: Fenrir bites into the skin, where he can taste blood and despair...and it's new.
Warning: Um...a little underaged sex. So if that offends you, you probably shouldn't read this.
Word Count: 850
When he first bites down, he barely gets a feel for the small boy in his arms. The body quivers and shakes and begs and pleads. Fenrir loves it most when they fight, but this boy isn't fighting. Not really. He is moving like all the rest, but he is crying, and it the soulful, despairing kind of cry that Fenrir has seen in his own kind. It chills him and, for the first time in his life, he stops.
He can't see the face - only brown hair is visible, along with tear-stained cheeks. Fenrir has long ago trained himself never to look at the faces, only at the bodies. He sees necks and arms and legs but never faces. It isn't that he doesn't like seeing them, but there is always that whimpering look. It reminds him of small animals that beg, and Fenrir hates begging. It is disgusting to him, the beg of a small child. It sounds only of whining and tears.
This boy - his father called him Remus, a name that Fenrir remembers years later, when they meet a second time - is different. He is accepting. He has already got the shy, reclusive nature of the wolf. Fenrir bites down harder, trying to shake the feeling. As the blood flows more readily into his mouth, he can feel the boy's life swarming into him. Normally, the blood tastes fresh and alive, but this boy is too quiet. Fenrir begins to worry that perhaps the boy is poison, and stops once more.
"Please," whispers the boy, Remus.
Fenrir thinks as he sucks on the wound, drawing out blood because he needs it, almost more than he needs air. His mind struggles to find something that will make this boy more alive, for the blood feels useless to him, and dull. Remus has stopped struggling and Fenrir's paws hold him still as he transforms. He continues to lick at the boy's neck, the taste of blood slightly more acidic in his human form.
His brain is on automatic as he first tries soothing Remus, brushing back the soft hair, wanting him to feel protected, so that he'll relax and the blood will sweeten. This does not work, and Fenrir growls low in his throat. He scratches at Remus, which makes the boy flinch and nothing more. His hands work down the front of Remus's tan shirt and he stops, this time only briefly, as he reaches Remus's zipper.
"No...not there," says Remus, the first words he's spoken since Fenrir has deepened his bite.
Fenrir yells at him to shut up and Remus cries, softly. The wolf slips his hand below the small jeans, searching. Remus is crying more steadily now.
"Stop," Fenrir says in a low voice. "Stop now," he says a moment later, when he can still see silent tears. This time, unlike the others, Fenrir watches the boy's face as he begins to stroke him, feeling the small prick harden in his hand. "Yes...just like that," he says, encouraging the boy who is no longer crying, but gulping. Fenrir knows without interrogating that the boy Remus has never done this before, or at least not with another person. He continues stroking and Remus's gulps turn into tiny moans. Fenrir can see that Remus is helpless and he grins, an idea forming in his mind.
It has been a long, long time since he's done this. He pulls Remus's jeans down, covering the young form with his own. The boy is breathing hard now and Fenrir is delighting in the smell of mixed fear and excitement. He doubts that the boy will ever feel as alive in his life as right now.
He places his cock, larger than Remus's, into his hands. He watches as their cocks rub together - watches Remus's young face. Thin nails dig into his skin as he pushes his cock against Remus's stomach, feeling the young hardness against his own. He strokes them both, his large hand covering them, moving so fast that his hand is almost a blur.
And then he comes, his white heat spurting over Remus's flat stomach, on Remus's still-hard prick. Fenrir knows he must act fast and transforms, jaws hovering above Remus's neck. He lets the small boy ground upwards, into him. The tiny nails feel like nothing as Remus grabs him and cries out, his seed spattering over the bottom of Fenrir's coat.
Fenrir bites down and the blood is so much sweeter. It is thick and flowing and almost blue. It is the purest thing Fenrir has yet tasted and he licks at Remus as the boy passes out.
Fenrir trots away with a blood-stained muzzle. He licks his lips. For a short pause, he looks behind him, at the unconscious body, and the best meal he's ever had.
If only all of them could be like that, he thinks and turns to go back home.
Author: malfoil
Pairing: Remus/Fenrir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they're JKRs.
Summary: Fenrir bites into the skin, where he can taste blood and despair...and it's new.
Warning: Um...a little underaged sex. So if that offends you, you probably shouldn't read this.
Word Count: 850
When he first bites down, he barely gets a feel for the small boy in his arms. The body quivers and shakes and begs and pleads. Fenrir loves it most when they fight, but this boy isn't fighting. Not really. He is moving like all the rest, but he is crying, and it the soulful, despairing kind of cry that Fenrir has seen in his own kind. It chills him and, for the first time in his life, he stops.
He can't see the face - only brown hair is visible, along with tear-stained cheeks. Fenrir has long ago trained himself never to look at the faces, only at the bodies. He sees necks and arms and legs but never faces. It isn't that he doesn't like seeing them, but there is always that whimpering look. It reminds him of small animals that beg, and Fenrir hates begging. It is disgusting to him, the beg of a small child. It sounds only of whining and tears.
This boy - his father called him Remus, a name that Fenrir remembers years later, when they meet a second time - is different. He is accepting. He has already got the shy, reclusive nature of the wolf. Fenrir bites down harder, trying to shake the feeling. As the blood flows more readily into his mouth, he can feel the boy's life swarming into him. Normally, the blood tastes fresh and alive, but this boy is too quiet. Fenrir begins to worry that perhaps the boy is poison, and stops once more.
"Please," whispers the boy, Remus.
Fenrir thinks as he sucks on the wound, drawing out blood because he needs it, almost more than he needs air. His mind struggles to find something that will make this boy more alive, for the blood feels useless to him, and dull. Remus has stopped struggling and Fenrir's paws hold him still as he transforms. He continues to lick at the boy's neck, the taste of blood slightly more acidic in his human form.
His brain is on automatic as he first tries soothing Remus, brushing back the soft hair, wanting him to feel protected, so that he'll relax and the blood will sweeten. This does not work, and Fenrir growls low in his throat. He scratches at Remus, which makes the boy flinch and nothing more. His hands work down the front of Remus's tan shirt and he stops, this time only briefly, as he reaches Remus's zipper.
"No...not there," says Remus, the first words he's spoken since Fenrir has deepened his bite.
Fenrir yells at him to shut up and Remus cries, softly. The wolf slips his hand below the small jeans, searching. Remus is crying more steadily now.
"Stop," Fenrir says in a low voice. "Stop now," he says a moment later, when he can still see silent tears. This time, unlike the others, Fenrir watches the boy's face as he begins to stroke him, feeling the small prick harden in his hand. "Yes...just like that," he says, encouraging the boy who is no longer crying, but gulping. Fenrir knows without interrogating that the boy Remus has never done this before, or at least not with another person. He continues stroking and Remus's gulps turn into tiny moans. Fenrir can see that Remus is helpless and he grins, an idea forming in his mind.
It has been a long, long time since he's done this. He pulls Remus's jeans down, covering the young form with his own. The boy is breathing hard now and Fenrir is delighting in the smell of mixed fear and excitement. He doubts that the boy will ever feel as alive in his life as right now.
He places his cock, larger than Remus's, into his hands. He watches as their cocks rub together - watches Remus's young face. Thin nails dig into his skin as he pushes his cock against Remus's stomach, feeling the young hardness against his own. He strokes them both, his large hand covering them, moving so fast that his hand is almost a blur.
And then he comes, his white heat spurting over Remus's flat stomach, on Remus's still-hard prick. Fenrir knows he must act fast and transforms, jaws hovering above Remus's neck. He lets the small boy ground upwards, into him. The tiny nails feel like nothing as Remus grabs him and cries out, his seed spattering over the bottom of Fenrir's coat.
Fenrir bites down and the blood is so much sweeter. It is thick and flowing and almost blue. It is the purest thing Fenrir has yet tasted and he licks at Remus as the boy passes out.
Fenrir trots away with a blood-stained muzzle. He licks his lips. For a short pause, he looks behind him, at the unconscious body, and the best meal he's ever had.
If only all of them could be like that, he thinks and turns to go back home.