HP Fanfiction - "Surviving Azkaban"
Title: Surviving Azkaban
Author: mr_mercutio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rodolphus Lestrange / Rabastan Lestrange
Word Count: 4088
Warnings: Explicit m/m sex, incest, dirty talk, very light s/m, mindfuckery
Summary: Six years in Azkaban is a long time, especially without any conceivable release in the future, so Rodolphus finds his own way of coping with prison.
Notes: Written for for the 2008 Death Eater Smutathon, found here. Set before the mass breakout from Azkaban in OotP, about six years after Voldemort’s first “defeat.” Please note that is a dark fic, not to mention pretty twisted, and thusly may not to be your tastes. Read at your own peril!
Disclaimer: I do not own Azkaban, the Lestrange Brothers, or anything else in the Harry Potter universe. Those are the property of J.K. Rowling, and I just play. No money for me.
* * *
Surviving Azkaban
They say no one is happy in Azkaban.
Rodolphus Lestrange knew that this was not precisely true. Granted, of course, happy was not the predominant state of being for most everyone in the prison. It was a prison, after all, and not a very nice one. He’d been in far more hospitable gaols before. No, it wasn’t that people were happy all the time here. It was that everyone seemed to expect Azkaban to be overrun by a uniform sense of misery and despair, when in truth the emotional atmosphere was far more complex. The air was a soup of feeling, riddled with floating emotions varying from unbridled rage to hysterical paranoia, to manic euphoria and uncontrolled lust and yes, even happiness sometimes.
Reflecting on this, Rodolphus made his way through the rough-hewn tunnels that were the corridors of the prison. That was another thing that no one knew about Azkaban. Before he’d gotten here, he’d assumed that the place was like any other gaol, but just on an island in the middle of an ocean somewhere. Iron bars, bad plumbing; the works. It was true that Azkaban sat in the middle of the sea, but it wasn’t on an island. It was the island. It thrust up like a crooked finger of salt-eaten stone from the ocean, riddled with caves and tunnels, and holes that couldn’t even be called either. There was one small tower built on a tiny island just far enough off the sheer cliff that was the shore of the prison to be safe from both the inmates and their keepers. The Ministry’s guards stayed here, to accept new prisoners and to release those very few who survived their sentences. The guards used magic to ferry the prisoners into the prison; they never came over themselves.
He felt his way ahead, one wasted hand trailing along the stone of the wall to guide him through the darkness. Light, even if it were easier to come by, was not a good idea. It attracted attention, and where there was attention there were the Dementors, and at least for now he didn’t want them around. Every so often he could hear hoarse breathing, the sign of another inmate nearby, and he’d flatten himself against the stone to wait until they’d passed. No one was really sure how many of them there were, but Rodolphus tried to avoid all of them as much as possible. Without his wand he felt defenceless, even after six years.
Six years. Had it really been so long that he’d been rotting in this place? The Dark Lord had fallen, and all their protections had been stolen away. They’d not even had the basest dignity of dying in service to their master, and had been cast into this dismal place to rot for eternity. Six years. He kept track of the weeks by the food drops the guards made. Bella had months ago told him that he was a complete fool for bothering, and he hadn’t seen her since. She had gone up high, he’d heard, to get a better view apparently. They all had their ways of coping.
Coping. That reminded him of what he was doing in the first place, looking for Rabastan. They’d been meeting clandestinely every night for the past little while in a place that he hoped no one else knew about. Azkaban was full of little hidey-holes that served as temporary refuges for those that could find them. Nowhere was truly safe, of course, since the Dementors were everywhere, but there were ways of dealing even with hungry Dementors.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” rasped a voice in his ear, and a body that felt too hot pressed against him from behind. Rodolphus suppressed a startled jump and muttered a curse under his breath. Rabastan had always liked to sneak up on him, and Azkaban had only exacerbated his worst qualities. Now he was like a wraith, drifting along the corridors in a dark malaise most days. That’s what made him perfect for this little experiment.
“Aren’t you always waiting for me?” Rodolphus replied, turning around in the dark and searching for his brother’s face with his fingers.
He felt a tiny smile curve Rabastan’s lips beneath his seeking hands. “It isn’t as though I had a busy schedule or anything.”
Perfect. If he was smiling then tonight, or today - Rodolphus was never sure of the time anymore - was the night that Rodolphus would see if his plan would work out. “I thought I told you to stay in the room,” he murmured, still running the tips of his fingers along the sharp lines of his brother’s face. “We don’t want to lead anyone back there.”
“I got impatient,” said Rabastan simply, and he reached down to tug on Rodolphus’s threadbare robe. “Come on.”
They crept forward together, silent for awhile until Rodolphus realized that he could see. The light was very dim and grey, but it was enough to make out the shape of Rabastan’s shoulders in front of him, the tangled mess of hair that spilled over them, vaguely flame coloured under the grime. They’d always been rather proud of their hair, bright red that came without the freckles that plagued rat-families like the Weasleys. It was odd how seeing the colour of his brother’s hair was enough to constrict his throat with longing for home.
The light came in through a shaft above a small chamber. It was mostly dry - a surprise in Azkaban - and it had only the one entrance at the end of a series of winding tunnels. This made it a rare treasure, easily defendable against all but the most determined of prisoners. Rodolphus had found it a few months ago and had begun to stash things away here that he’d stolen. Blankets, extra bits of food, even a worn copy of Beadle’s Tales that had somehow miraculously been brought over from the mainland. The only other one who knew about it was Rabastan; telling Bella would have been tantamount to offering it to her on a platter and he was done with giving her whatever she wanted.
Rabastan whirled on him as they entered the room and tugged him close. The heat radiating off his body was almost feverish in its intensity, like a small furnace that was eating away at whatever was left on his thin frame. “Are you going to stop teasing me today, Rodolphus?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Rodolphus grinned before leaning forward and licking a rough trail along Rabastan’s jaw. For over a week now they’d been meeting like this, and Rodolphus never quite gave his brother what he wanted. It was so easy to lapse into the old games, the bait and the tease, the constant withholding until finally Rabastan could take no more. If it reminded him of home, he could only imagine what it inspired in Rabastan’s memory.
“Maybe,” he whispered coyly. When they were younger he’d have dragged this out for months until Rabastan was in a fury over it, but time was never in great supply here, and the longer he waited the more danger he’d be in. If the old man he’d killed a month ago was to be believed, this could be the key to his survival here.
“You’re such a little whore, Rodolphus,” murmured Rabastan, pressing closer to him and pushing him backwards against the wall. “I think that maybe had better be a yes today.”
Rodolphus squirmed against his brother’s body, his hands pushing feebly against his chest. “And what will you do if it isn’t?” he asked.
Seizing Rodolphus’s wrists, Rabastan turned him around and pressed his body firmly against his back, pinning him. “It better not be,” he warned, biting hard on Rodolphus’s neck. Rodolphus whined a little in the back of his throat, clenching his hands into fists and arching back against his brother. He could feel Rabastan’s cock hardening through the tattered robe he wore, and his own cock twitched in response. Carefully he let a breath go through his nose, schooling his raging thoughts into a calm pool. It wouldn’t do to get too caught up in this.
“Why don’t you let me go, and I’ll show you?” he suggested, turning his head around to look at Rabastan over his shoulder.
Rabastan leaned in and claimed his lips in a fierce, messy kiss, forcing his tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips. Rodolphus felt almost as though his breath was being pulled out of him, devoured down hungrily in a desperate bid for some kind of nourishment. Good. Rabastan was well and truly in a state. As the kiss ended, he let his face fall into an expression of dazed desire, staring at his brother with hooded eyes.
“I kind of like you like this,” remarked Rabastan, keeping Rodolphus’s wrists pinned over his head with one hand, and running the other hand up under Rodolphus’s robe. It slid over his arse and around to grasp at his cock, tugging roughly on it once, then twice. “I think you like it like this too,” he said with a snicker. “Look at you, all hot and bothered because you like getting fucked by your big brother. Isn’t that what you want, Rodolphus? Do you want me to fuck you?”
Rodolphus gasped and bucked involuntarily into Rabastan’s tight grip. “Maybe,” he breathed, still dragging the game out.
The hand that was holding his wrists darted in a flash to his hair and seized it tightly. He bit back a sharp cry, wincing as tears came to his eyes. “I want you to say it, little brother,” hissed Rabastan in his ear, still stroking his cock slowly. “You’ve been playing games too long now. Tell me.”
Oh he wanted it very much. Rabastan only started talking like this when he was right on the edge. This wouldn’t take long. “Please,” he whispered, the picture of aching submission. “Please fuck me, Rabastan.”
“Louder.”
“Fuck me, fuck me, it’s what I want, please.”
“Beg me for it.” Rabastan stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at his brother, still pushed against the wall.
Rodolphus turned around and dropped to his knees in front of him. Rabastan loved it when he did that. “Please, it’s all I want. I need it, big brother, please. Fuck me please.”
“Take your robe off,” commanded Rabastan, reaching down and pulling off his own, casting it aside. Rodolphus stared for a moment at the jutting cock that pointed towards his face, and then quickly tugged his robe over his head. He looked up at Rabastan, waiting. “Suck it,” said Rabastan hoarsely, entwining his fingers into Rodolphus’s thick hair and tugging his head against his groin.
Normally Rodolphus would have liked to take his time with this, dragging his tongue in agonizing slowness over every inch of his brother’s cock, licking and nibbling until he finally gave in and took him into his mouth. Rabastan wouldn’t last that long this time though; it had been too long since they’d last been together like this, and Rodolphus wasn’t about to waste all his efforts by having him come early. He’d have to time this exactly right, make it good enough to keep Rabastan happy but leave it wanting just enough so that they could carry on after.
He gripped the base of Rabastan’s cock like a hilt and allowed his head to be guided right to the tip, opening his lips and sliding his mouth smoothly over the crown. He heard Rabastan hiss a sigh through his teeth, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction. Slowly he opened his throat and allowed his brother further down, breathing steadily through his nose until it met the tangle of curls at the cock’s base.
Rabastan groaned in appreciation, bucking his hips forward to bury himself as completely as possible in his brother’s mouth. “Merlin, I’d forgotten what a good little cocksucker you are,” he muttered, pulling back a little to thrust down again. Rodolphus made a tiny noise of assent, letting him pump his head up and down. He was careful not to suck too fiercely, not wanting to push Rabastan over the edge. His own cock continued to twitch, demanding attention, but he steeled himself and didn’t touch it. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in this until he knew what would happen.
“I want to fuck you now,” gasped Rabastan after a few moments, tugging Rodolphus roughly off his cock. He ran a finger over his brother’s bruised lips, smirking down at him as he allowed the rush of fire that had built in his groin to subside, and then he cast a glance around the small cavern. Seizing one of the least filthy blankets that had been shoved in a corner, he spread it out on the dusty floor and laid down upon it, looking up at Rodolphus and beckoning.
Rodolphus crawled over and straddled Rabastan’s hips, grinding down against him and grinning. “What do you want, Rabastan?” he asked in a singsong voice.
Rabastan reached up and seized Rodolphus’s chin, dragging him down to bite at his lips. Rodolphus bit back this time, and they fought with their mouths, tongues and teeth clashing against each other. Rabastan dragged the nails of his free hand down his brother’s back, eliciting a small cry from Rodolphus that he took advantage of, shoving his tongue deep into his mouth and sealing his lips over with his own. Rodolphus acknowledged the small victory by melting against him, rubbing his knuckles over the swollen flesh of Rabastan’s cock while Rabastan moved his hand further down to cup his arse.
“You better get on that soon,” he hissed, pulling out of the kiss just enough to breathe the words into Rodolphus’s mouth.
Rodolphus said nothing, and instead slid his fingers into his mouth, moistening them. Rabastan watched intently, and then Rodolphus drew them out and slid them behind him, sliding them inside himself and stretching himself wide. He’d been preparing for this every night for awhile, hoping to make it as smooth as possible. After a moment he withdrew them and spat into his palm, slicking Rabastan’s cock until it shone dully in the grey light.
“Do it now,” growled Rabastan.
“How bad do you want it?” replied Rodolphus flippantly, making no move.
Rabastan’s eyes narrowed and he tugged sharply on Rodolphus’s hair again. “Get on my fucking cock now,” he ordered.
Biting back his grin was difficult, but Rodolphus managed it somehow as he reached down to position the tip of Rabastan’s cock at his entrance. If he couldn’t even manage to do anymore more than issue orders while on his back, Rabastan was clearly aching for him. It was perfect. He shifted until he could feel the blunt press against his hole, and slowly he began to push himself down.
Predictably it burned like his entire body was aflame as Rabastan’s cock invaded him, but he’d been prepared for that. He closed his eyes and let out a hiss of breath through his teeth, tugging a few times on his softening cock to distract himself from the ache.
“Merlin, it’s been so long,” whispered Rabastan, his hands gripping Rodolphus’s waist as he pushed upwards into the tight heat. “You’re so fucking tight around me. How long has it been since you let someone fuck you, little brother? I’d have thought a whore like you would be tricking himself out every night in a place like this.”
Rodolphus shook his head, not so much in disagreement but so as to brush away the words as he concentrated on relaxing his body. The fiery burn was already beginning to fade into a dull ache as Rabastan slipped deeper into him. A small part of his mind remarked on how much this felt like coming home again, and he quickly squelched it. This was not about nostalgia. After what felt like ages, he finally had all of Rabastan inside him, and he held himself still while he felt the cock pulse.
Rabastan made an impatient noise and ground his hips upwards, twisting a little and making Rodolphus gasp. “Fucking move,” he muttered. Rodolphus glared down at him, and squeezed his muscles to clench tightly down. Rabastan in turn gasped, and Rodolphus’s glare turned into an indulgent smirk. “Little whore,” breathed Rabastan, and he began to slowly pull himself down to thrust back up into his brother.
Slowly they began to move together, Rodolphus using his knees to balance himself while he pumped himself up and down, and Rabastan using his hands to guide his brother’s hips atop him. They kept their gazes locked together, each daring the other to look away as they thrust against each other. The heat radiating from them drove the chill of the cold stone away, and sweat dripped down Rodolphus’s brow as he began to increase the speed and intensity of his thrusts down.
“Is this good, is this what you wanted?” he whispered to Rabastan, his face only a few inches above his brother’s.
“Yes,” moaned Rabastan, driving deeper and harder into his brother.
Rodolphus could see that he was very close to climaxing, and the thought of it sent a thrill down his spine. It wouldn’t be long now. “Have you missed this as much as I have?” he asked, panting heavily.
Rabastan’s gaze turned suspicious for a brief moment, but seeing nothing more than intense want on Rodolphus’s face, he relaxed and nodded. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admitted, and Rodolphus knew he had him. He leaned forward and licked at his brother’s ear, pushing up and down hard. Rabastan moaned and scrabbled at his back, painting finger trails in the glistening sweat. “So close, Rodolphus.”
“Do you love me, big brother?” He tightened the ring of his entrance and pushed down hard, willing him with his mind to come.
Rabastan felt the rushing heat pool in his stomach and gush forth. “Yes!” he cried, thrusting up one last time and spilling himself into Rodolphus.
It took every ounce of self control that he possessed for Rodolphus to not grab his own cock and stroke himself to completion at the sensation of the liquid warmth filling him, but he knew that he had to sacrifice that blessed state of oblivion. He held very still as Rabastan twitched beneath him, watching his brother’s face. Rabastan had closed his eyes; he always did when he came, and his mouth was open and lax. Slowly he began to relax as his climax subsided, and his mouth closed on a soft sigh. He opened his eyes and looked up at Rodolphus, and a tender smile curved his lips.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “Missed you.”
Rodolphus smiled and slowly pulled himself off of him, letting his softening cock slip out of him. He grabbed a scrap of fabric and wiped himself down perfunctorily, glancing up at the small shaft through which the light came. “Thank you, big brother,” he said lightly. “This was just what I needed.”
“Why are you getting up so quickly?” asked Rabastan, and then he felt the room grow cold. The sweat on his body turned chill, and he could see his breath ghosting in the air. “Oh no,” he whispered, scrambling to get up.
Down from the shaft came the black fluttering form of a Dementor, flitting around the small chamber. Another quickly followed it, and then another, until there were at least six of them. They circled the two brothers, making no move.
“What do they want?” Rabastan said, his voice shivering. He felt the intense desire to cover himself up, not wanting a Dementor to see him naked and prone before it, and he moved to grab his robe. Rodolphus kicked it aside.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” Rodolphus said, but he wasn’t speaking to Rabastan. Instead he directed himself to the Dementors circling them. They stopped, and seemed to gaze curiously at him. “You felt his love, his moment of pure little joy. So rare in this place, so attractive, isn’t it?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Rabastan, but he was ignored. The Dementors seemed intrigued, which filled him with a cold terror. “Rodolphus! What are you doing?”
Rodolphus’s eyes were alight. This was the moment, this would show whether or not that old man had been telling the truth. The wizened fellow Rodolphus had found hidden in this very chamber all of two months ago had been in Azkaban for decades, apparently, forgotten by almost everyone. Even the Dementors, apparently. Rodolphus had seen for himself how a Dementor had completely ignored the old bastard and gone after him instead, and he’d spent a month coaxing an explanation out of him. It was so easy to manipulate him, give him the attention of a relatively young, still moderately attractive man. The small sacrifice of dignity to pleasure the wrinkled old thing had been worth it when he’d gotten the story of him.
“Dementors like emotion,” the old man had explained. “They feed on it, like you or I drink water. The easiest thing for them to feed on is fear and despair, which is why they evoke it wherever they go, but sometimes they like to have more variety in the meals, yeah? A little change of flavour. They especially like it when someone gets real happy here. Really rare, y’know? They flock to that, the freaky bastards. Eat it right up. The thing is, y’see, that it’s hard for them to get that on their own, seeing how they don’t exactly inspire feelings of joy or anything. So the only way they can get it is from someone like me. I figured it out, see? Make someone nice and happy, get ’em forgetting where they are for a moment, thinking they’re with someone who cares, and the Dementors come running for them. It’s tastiest when that happiness turns so quickly into despair… they like feeling the transition. And they know who it is that gave ’em that meal, see? They’re smarter than you think. So they leave you alone, let you keep doing their dirty work for them. Smart bastards, but I know how to deal with them. Haven’t had a Dementor bother me in years, my lad.”
The man had seemed eager to finally tell his secret to someone, and Rodolphus had repaid him by slitting his throat. Now he’d find out if it had been worth it.
“I made him feel it,” announced Rodolphus, gesturing at his brother behind him. “I did it for you.”
Rabastan grabbed at his wrist. “What are you saying?” he asked in a frantic whisper, but Rodolphus snatched his hand back, all pretence of submission gone. The Dementors swirled around them, seeming to be thinking for a moment, and then like one great beast they converged on Rabastan. They weren’t Kissing him, just drawing on his aura. Rodolphus watched in fascination, imagining that he could see the happiness flowing out of his brother into the dark cloaks of the Dementors, draining him and leaving only a chilly fear inside. Not a one touched him, all of them concentrated on Rabastan alone, and he marvelled at it. It seemed as though the old man had told the truth.
After several long minutes, the Dementors pulled away, drifting like smoke up to the ceiling and out the shaft, and Rabastan fell to his knees on the hard floor. He was gasping and shivering, his entire body grey and cold. Rodolphus smiled down at him and knelt down beside him, drawing him into a close embrace. “There, there, big brother,” he crooned, afire with the knowledge that he’d beaten Azkaban at its own game. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.”
Rabastan shuddered but made no move to pull away, latching on to the warmth of his brother’s body. “Why me?” he whispered, his voice a bare wisp.
Rodolphus laid a gentle kiss on his brother’s head. “You’re my big brother,” he said. “You’re supposed to look out for me. You’ve been such a good brother, Rabastan.”
“Bastard.”
A small chuckle escaped Rodolphus, and he exulted in the feeling of victory, the first he’d had since the Dark Lord had perished all those years ago. He kissed Rabastan on the lips oh-so sweetly, and smiled against them. “Thank you, brother dear,” he said. Maybe he’d survive Azkaban after all.
Author: mr_mercutio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Rodolphus Lestrange / Rabastan Lestrange
Word Count: 4088
Warnings: Explicit m/m sex, incest, dirty talk, very light s/m, mindfuckery
Summary: Six years in Azkaban is a long time, especially without any conceivable release in the future, so Rodolphus finds his own way of coping with prison.
Notes: Written for for the 2008 Death Eater Smutathon, found here. Set before the mass breakout from Azkaban in OotP, about six years after Voldemort’s first “defeat.” Please note that is a dark fic, not to mention pretty twisted, and thusly may not to be your tastes. Read at your own peril!
Disclaimer: I do not own Azkaban, the Lestrange Brothers, or anything else in the Harry Potter universe. Those are the property of J.K. Rowling, and I just play. No money for me.
* * *
Surviving Azkaban
They say no one is happy in Azkaban.
Rodolphus Lestrange knew that this was not precisely true. Granted, of course, happy was not the predominant state of being for most everyone in the prison. It was a prison, after all, and not a very nice one. He’d been in far more hospitable gaols before. No, it wasn’t that people were happy all the time here. It was that everyone seemed to expect Azkaban to be overrun by a uniform sense of misery and despair, when in truth the emotional atmosphere was far more complex. The air was a soup of feeling, riddled with floating emotions varying from unbridled rage to hysterical paranoia, to manic euphoria and uncontrolled lust and yes, even happiness sometimes.
Reflecting on this, Rodolphus made his way through the rough-hewn tunnels that were the corridors of the prison. That was another thing that no one knew about Azkaban. Before he’d gotten here, he’d assumed that the place was like any other gaol, but just on an island in the middle of an ocean somewhere. Iron bars, bad plumbing; the works. It was true that Azkaban sat in the middle of the sea, but it wasn’t on an island. It was the island. It thrust up like a crooked finger of salt-eaten stone from the ocean, riddled with caves and tunnels, and holes that couldn’t even be called either. There was one small tower built on a tiny island just far enough off the sheer cliff that was the shore of the prison to be safe from both the inmates and their keepers. The Ministry’s guards stayed here, to accept new prisoners and to release those very few who survived their sentences. The guards used magic to ferry the prisoners into the prison; they never came over themselves.
He felt his way ahead, one wasted hand trailing along the stone of the wall to guide him through the darkness. Light, even if it were easier to come by, was not a good idea. It attracted attention, and where there was attention there were the Dementors, and at least for now he didn’t want them around. Every so often he could hear hoarse breathing, the sign of another inmate nearby, and he’d flatten himself against the stone to wait until they’d passed. No one was really sure how many of them there were, but Rodolphus tried to avoid all of them as much as possible. Without his wand he felt defenceless, even after six years.
Six years. Had it really been so long that he’d been rotting in this place? The Dark Lord had fallen, and all their protections had been stolen away. They’d not even had the basest dignity of dying in service to their master, and had been cast into this dismal place to rot for eternity. Six years. He kept track of the weeks by the food drops the guards made. Bella had months ago told him that he was a complete fool for bothering, and he hadn’t seen her since. She had gone up high, he’d heard, to get a better view apparently. They all had their ways of coping.
Coping. That reminded him of what he was doing in the first place, looking for Rabastan. They’d been meeting clandestinely every night for the past little while in a place that he hoped no one else knew about. Azkaban was full of little hidey-holes that served as temporary refuges for those that could find them. Nowhere was truly safe, of course, since the Dementors were everywhere, but there were ways of dealing even with hungry Dementors.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” rasped a voice in his ear, and a body that felt too hot pressed against him from behind. Rodolphus suppressed a startled jump and muttered a curse under his breath. Rabastan had always liked to sneak up on him, and Azkaban had only exacerbated his worst qualities. Now he was like a wraith, drifting along the corridors in a dark malaise most days. That’s what made him perfect for this little experiment.
“Aren’t you always waiting for me?” Rodolphus replied, turning around in the dark and searching for his brother’s face with his fingers.
He felt a tiny smile curve Rabastan’s lips beneath his seeking hands. “It isn’t as though I had a busy schedule or anything.”
Perfect. If he was smiling then tonight, or today - Rodolphus was never sure of the time anymore - was the night that Rodolphus would see if his plan would work out. “I thought I told you to stay in the room,” he murmured, still running the tips of his fingers along the sharp lines of his brother’s face. “We don’t want to lead anyone back there.”
“I got impatient,” said Rabastan simply, and he reached down to tug on Rodolphus’s threadbare robe. “Come on.”
They crept forward together, silent for awhile until Rodolphus realized that he could see. The light was very dim and grey, but it was enough to make out the shape of Rabastan’s shoulders in front of him, the tangled mess of hair that spilled over them, vaguely flame coloured under the grime. They’d always been rather proud of their hair, bright red that came without the freckles that plagued rat-families like the Weasleys. It was odd how seeing the colour of his brother’s hair was enough to constrict his throat with longing for home.
The light came in through a shaft above a small chamber. It was mostly dry - a surprise in Azkaban - and it had only the one entrance at the end of a series of winding tunnels. This made it a rare treasure, easily defendable against all but the most determined of prisoners. Rodolphus had found it a few months ago and had begun to stash things away here that he’d stolen. Blankets, extra bits of food, even a worn copy of Beadle’s Tales that had somehow miraculously been brought over from the mainland. The only other one who knew about it was Rabastan; telling Bella would have been tantamount to offering it to her on a platter and he was done with giving her whatever she wanted.
Rabastan whirled on him as they entered the room and tugged him close. The heat radiating off his body was almost feverish in its intensity, like a small furnace that was eating away at whatever was left on his thin frame. “Are you going to stop teasing me today, Rodolphus?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Rodolphus grinned before leaning forward and licking a rough trail along Rabastan’s jaw. For over a week now they’d been meeting like this, and Rodolphus never quite gave his brother what he wanted. It was so easy to lapse into the old games, the bait and the tease, the constant withholding until finally Rabastan could take no more. If it reminded him of home, he could only imagine what it inspired in Rabastan’s memory.
“Maybe,” he whispered coyly. When they were younger he’d have dragged this out for months until Rabastan was in a fury over it, but time was never in great supply here, and the longer he waited the more danger he’d be in. If the old man he’d killed a month ago was to be believed, this could be the key to his survival here.
“You’re such a little whore, Rodolphus,” murmured Rabastan, pressing closer to him and pushing him backwards against the wall. “I think that maybe had better be a yes today.”
Rodolphus squirmed against his brother’s body, his hands pushing feebly against his chest. “And what will you do if it isn’t?” he asked.
Seizing Rodolphus’s wrists, Rabastan turned him around and pressed his body firmly against his back, pinning him. “It better not be,” he warned, biting hard on Rodolphus’s neck. Rodolphus whined a little in the back of his throat, clenching his hands into fists and arching back against his brother. He could feel Rabastan’s cock hardening through the tattered robe he wore, and his own cock twitched in response. Carefully he let a breath go through his nose, schooling his raging thoughts into a calm pool. It wouldn’t do to get too caught up in this.
“Why don’t you let me go, and I’ll show you?” he suggested, turning his head around to look at Rabastan over his shoulder.
Rabastan leaned in and claimed his lips in a fierce, messy kiss, forcing his tongue into his mouth and biting at his lips. Rodolphus felt almost as though his breath was being pulled out of him, devoured down hungrily in a desperate bid for some kind of nourishment. Good. Rabastan was well and truly in a state. As the kiss ended, he let his face fall into an expression of dazed desire, staring at his brother with hooded eyes.
“I kind of like you like this,” remarked Rabastan, keeping Rodolphus’s wrists pinned over his head with one hand, and running the other hand up under Rodolphus’s robe. It slid over his arse and around to grasp at his cock, tugging roughly on it once, then twice. “I think you like it like this too,” he said with a snicker. “Look at you, all hot and bothered because you like getting fucked by your big brother. Isn’t that what you want, Rodolphus? Do you want me to fuck you?”
Rodolphus gasped and bucked involuntarily into Rabastan’s tight grip. “Maybe,” he breathed, still dragging the game out.
The hand that was holding his wrists darted in a flash to his hair and seized it tightly. He bit back a sharp cry, wincing as tears came to his eyes. “I want you to say it, little brother,” hissed Rabastan in his ear, still stroking his cock slowly. “You’ve been playing games too long now. Tell me.”
Oh he wanted it very much. Rabastan only started talking like this when he was right on the edge. This wouldn’t take long. “Please,” he whispered, the picture of aching submission. “Please fuck me, Rabastan.”
“Louder.”
“Fuck me, fuck me, it’s what I want, please.”
“Beg me for it.” Rabastan stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at his brother, still pushed against the wall.
Rodolphus turned around and dropped to his knees in front of him. Rabastan loved it when he did that. “Please, it’s all I want. I need it, big brother, please. Fuck me please.”
“Take your robe off,” commanded Rabastan, reaching down and pulling off his own, casting it aside. Rodolphus stared for a moment at the jutting cock that pointed towards his face, and then quickly tugged his robe over his head. He looked up at Rabastan, waiting. “Suck it,” said Rabastan hoarsely, entwining his fingers into Rodolphus’s thick hair and tugging his head against his groin.
Normally Rodolphus would have liked to take his time with this, dragging his tongue in agonizing slowness over every inch of his brother’s cock, licking and nibbling until he finally gave in and took him into his mouth. Rabastan wouldn’t last that long this time though; it had been too long since they’d last been together like this, and Rodolphus wasn’t about to waste all his efforts by having him come early. He’d have to time this exactly right, make it good enough to keep Rabastan happy but leave it wanting just enough so that they could carry on after.
He gripped the base of Rabastan’s cock like a hilt and allowed his head to be guided right to the tip, opening his lips and sliding his mouth smoothly over the crown. He heard Rabastan hiss a sigh through his teeth, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction. Slowly he opened his throat and allowed his brother further down, breathing steadily through his nose until it met the tangle of curls at the cock’s base.
Rabastan groaned in appreciation, bucking his hips forward to bury himself as completely as possible in his brother’s mouth. “Merlin, I’d forgotten what a good little cocksucker you are,” he muttered, pulling back a little to thrust down again. Rodolphus made a tiny noise of assent, letting him pump his head up and down. He was careful not to suck too fiercely, not wanting to push Rabastan over the edge. His own cock continued to twitch, demanding attention, but he steeled himself and didn’t touch it. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in this until he knew what would happen.
“I want to fuck you now,” gasped Rabastan after a few moments, tugging Rodolphus roughly off his cock. He ran a finger over his brother’s bruised lips, smirking down at him as he allowed the rush of fire that had built in his groin to subside, and then he cast a glance around the small cavern. Seizing one of the least filthy blankets that had been shoved in a corner, he spread it out on the dusty floor and laid down upon it, looking up at Rodolphus and beckoning.
Rodolphus crawled over and straddled Rabastan’s hips, grinding down against him and grinning. “What do you want, Rabastan?” he asked in a singsong voice.
Rabastan reached up and seized Rodolphus’s chin, dragging him down to bite at his lips. Rodolphus bit back this time, and they fought with their mouths, tongues and teeth clashing against each other. Rabastan dragged the nails of his free hand down his brother’s back, eliciting a small cry from Rodolphus that he took advantage of, shoving his tongue deep into his mouth and sealing his lips over with his own. Rodolphus acknowledged the small victory by melting against him, rubbing his knuckles over the swollen flesh of Rabastan’s cock while Rabastan moved his hand further down to cup his arse.
“You better get on that soon,” he hissed, pulling out of the kiss just enough to breathe the words into Rodolphus’s mouth.
Rodolphus said nothing, and instead slid his fingers into his mouth, moistening them. Rabastan watched intently, and then Rodolphus drew them out and slid them behind him, sliding them inside himself and stretching himself wide. He’d been preparing for this every night for awhile, hoping to make it as smooth as possible. After a moment he withdrew them and spat into his palm, slicking Rabastan’s cock until it shone dully in the grey light.
“Do it now,” growled Rabastan.
“How bad do you want it?” replied Rodolphus flippantly, making no move.
Rabastan’s eyes narrowed and he tugged sharply on Rodolphus’s hair again. “Get on my fucking cock now,” he ordered.
Biting back his grin was difficult, but Rodolphus managed it somehow as he reached down to position the tip of Rabastan’s cock at his entrance. If he couldn’t even manage to do anymore more than issue orders while on his back, Rabastan was clearly aching for him. It was perfect. He shifted until he could feel the blunt press against his hole, and slowly he began to push himself down.
Predictably it burned like his entire body was aflame as Rabastan’s cock invaded him, but he’d been prepared for that. He closed his eyes and let out a hiss of breath through his teeth, tugging a few times on his softening cock to distract himself from the ache.
“Merlin, it’s been so long,” whispered Rabastan, his hands gripping Rodolphus’s waist as he pushed upwards into the tight heat. “You’re so fucking tight around me. How long has it been since you let someone fuck you, little brother? I’d have thought a whore like you would be tricking himself out every night in a place like this.”
Rodolphus shook his head, not so much in disagreement but so as to brush away the words as he concentrated on relaxing his body. The fiery burn was already beginning to fade into a dull ache as Rabastan slipped deeper into him. A small part of his mind remarked on how much this felt like coming home again, and he quickly squelched it. This was not about nostalgia. After what felt like ages, he finally had all of Rabastan inside him, and he held himself still while he felt the cock pulse.
Rabastan made an impatient noise and ground his hips upwards, twisting a little and making Rodolphus gasp. “Fucking move,” he muttered. Rodolphus glared down at him, and squeezed his muscles to clench tightly down. Rabastan in turn gasped, and Rodolphus’s glare turned into an indulgent smirk. “Little whore,” breathed Rabastan, and he began to slowly pull himself down to thrust back up into his brother.
Slowly they began to move together, Rodolphus using his knees to balance himself while he pumped himself up and down, and Rabastan using his hands to guide his brother’s hips atop him. They kept their gazes locked together, each daring the other to look away as they thrust against each other. The heat radiating from them drove the chill of the cold stone away, and sweat dripped down Rodolphus’s brow as he began to increase the speed and intensity of his thrusts down.
“Is this good, is this what you wanted?” he whispered to Rabastan, his face only a few inches above his brother’s.
“Yes,” moaned Rabastan, driving deeper and harder into his brother.
Rodolphus could see that he was very close to climaxing, and the thought of it sent a thrill down his spine. It wouldn’t be long now. “Have you missed this as much as I have?” he asked, panting heavily.
Rabastan’s gaze turned suspicious for a brief moment, but seeing nothing more than intense want on Rodolphus’s face, he relaxed and nodded. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admitted, and Rodolphus knew he had him. He leaned forward and licked at his brother’s ear, pushing up and down hard. Rabastan moaned and scrabbled at his back, painting finger trails in the glistening sweat. “So close, Rodolphus.”
“Do you love me, big brother?” He tightened the ring of his entrance and pushed down hard, willing him with his mind to come.
Rabastan felt the rushing heat pool in his stomach and gush forth. “Yes!” he cried, thrusting up one last time and spilling himself into Rodolphus.
It took every ounce of self control that he possessed for Rodolphus to not grab his own cock and stroke himself to completion at the sensation of the liquid warmth filling him, but he knew that he had to sacrifice that blessed state of oblivion. He held very still as Rabastan twitched beneath him, watching his brother’s face. Rabastan had closed his eyes; he always did when he came, and his mouth was open and lax. Slowly he began to relax as his climax subsided, and his mouth closed on a soft sigh. He opened his eyes and looked up at Rodolphus, and a tender smile curved his lips.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “Missed you.”
Rodolphus smiled and slowly pulled himself off of him, letting his softening cock slip out of him. He grabbed a scrap of fabric and wiped himself down perfunctorily, glancing up at the small shaft through which the light came. “Thank you, big brother,” he said lightly. “This was just what I needed.”
“Why are you getting up so quickly?” asked Rabastan, and then he felt the room grow cold. The sweat on his body turned chill, and he could see his breath ghosting in the air. “Oh no,” he whispered, scrambling to get up.
Down from the shaft came the black fluttering form of a Dementor, flitting around the small chamber. Another quickly followed it, and then another, until there were at least six of them. They circled the two brothers, making no move.
“What do they want?” Rabastan said, his voice shivering. He felt the intense desire to cover himself up, not wanting a Dementor to see him naked and prone before it, and he moved to grab his robe. Rodolphus kicked it aside.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” Rodolphus said, but he wasn’t speaking to Rabastan. Instead he directed himself to the Dementors circling them. They stopped, and seemed to gaze curiously at him. “You felt his love, his moment of pure little joy. So rare in this place, so attractive, isn’t it?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Rabastan, but he was ignored. The Dementors seemed intrigued, which filled him with a cold terror. “Rodolphus! What are you doing?”
Rodolphus’s eyes were alight. This was the moment, this would show whether or not that old man had been telling the truth. The wizened fellow Rodolphus had found hidden in this very chamber all of two months ago had been in Azkaban for decades, apparently, forgotten by almost everyone. Even the Dementors, apparently. Rodolphus had seen for himself how a Dementor had completely ignored the old bastard and gone after him instead, and he’d spent a month coaxing an explanation out of him. It was so easy to manipulate him, give him the attention of a relatively young, still moderately attractive man. The small sacrifice of dignity to pleasure the wrinkled old thing had been worth it when he’d gotten the story of him.
“Dementors like emotion,” the old man had explained. “They feed on it, like you or I drink water. The easiest thing for them to feed on is fear and despair, which is why they evoke it wherever they go, but sometimes they like to have more variety in the meals, yeah? A little change of flavour. They especially like it when someone gets real happy here. Really rare, y’know? They flock to that, the freaky bastards. Eat it right up. The thing is, y’see, that it’s hard for them to get that on their own, seeing how they don’t exactly inspire feelings of joy or anything. So the only way they can get it is from someone like me. I figured it out, see? Make someone nice and happy, get ’em forgetting where they are for a moment, thinking they’re with someone who cares, and the Dementors come running for them. It’s tastiest when that happiness turns so quickly into despair… they like feeling the transition. And they know who it is that gave ’em that meal, see? They’re smarter than you think. So they leave you alone, let you keep doing their dirty work for them. Smart bastards, but I know how to deal with them. Haven’t had a Dementor bother me in years, my lad.”
The man had seemed eager to finally tell his secret to someone, and Rodolphus had repaid him by slitting his throat. Now he’d find out if it had been worth it.
“I made him feel it,” announced Rodolphus, gesturing at his brother behind him. “I did it for you.”
Rabastan grabbed at his wrist. “What are you saying?” he asked in a frantic whisper, but Rodolphus snatched his hand back, all pretence of submission gone. The Dementors swirled around them, seeming to be thinking for a moment, and then like one great beast they converged on Rabastan. They weren’t Kissing him, just drawing on his aura. Rodolphus watched in fascination, imagining that he could see the happiness flowing out of his brother into the dark cloaks of the Dementors, draining him and leaving only a chilly fear inside. Not a one touched him, all of them concentrated on Rabastan alone, and he marvelled at it. It seemed as though the old man had told the truth.
After several long minutes, the Dementors pulled away, drifting like smoke up to the ceiling and out the shaft, and Rabastan fell to his knees on the hard floor. He was gasping and shivering, his entire body grey and cold. Rodolphus smiled down at him and knelt down beside him, drawing him into a close embrace. “There, there, big brother,” he crooned, afire with the knowledge that he’d beaten Azkaban at its own game. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of you.”
Rabastan shuddered but made no move to pull away, latching on to the warmth of his brother’s body. “Why me?” he whispered, his voice a bare wisp.
Rodolphus laid a gentle kiss on his brother’s head. “You’re my big brother,” he said. “You’re supposed to look out for me. You’ve been such a good brother, Rabastan.”
“Bastard.”
A small chuckle escaped Rodolphus, and he exulted in the feeling of victory, the first he’d had since the Dark Lord had perished all those years ago. He kissed Rabastan on the lips oh-so sweetly, and smiled against them. “Thank you, brother dear,” he said. Maybe he’d survive Azkaban after all.