HP Rare pair-a-thon Fic: Punish, Percy/Remus NC-17
Title: Punish
Pairing: Percy/Remus
Rating: NC-17 for slash and kink.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Because Remus is angry, because Percy is asking for it.
Warnings/Kinks: Spanking with belt. Pretty rough but all consensual.
This is for Kayla (admanthea) who asked for dark Percy/Remus NC-17, kink, slash, possibly h/c. Well, this is more kinky than dark and there's hurt and then comfort though not traditional H/C. Hope you like it.
"What do you want me to say?" asked Percy. "Should I say that vigilantism is best? That bypassing official channels -- secret orders, secret meetings, that breaking into the department of mysteries, hiding Black -- that all these things were right and I was wrong?"
"I don't expect anything from you. The question is what do you want from me? You sought me out."
"Do you want me to admit that I was wrong for taking the side of official order?" said Percy, brushing invisible dust from the sleeve of his robe.
"When the official order is being blind and stupid-"
"Then it's for you and others like you," sniffed Percy, "who think you're better than everyone else to take matters into your own hands."
"Percy why are you here?" sighed Remus Lupin, rubbing his temples. "I'm in no mood to play games. What do you want from me?"
It was true; it was Percy who had wanted to see Professor Lupin, ever since coming back into the family fold. His career was in the toilet again. Fudge, losing popularity and forced to kowtow to Dumbledore, had taken his frustrations out on Percy, who'd been demoted. He was back to weighing cauldrons with no hope of promotion. Penelope dumped him. He had nothing left but disappointed parents and a dead-end job at the Ministry. This was his future, the one he'd tried so hard to avoid. He wasn't in the Order but months of saying sorry to mother and father and brothers and sister and random strangers had got him into 12 Grimmauld Place where he was allowed to help his mother sort out the doxies.
The whole thing left him sour and bothered beyond belief. He was tired of the guilt and the apologising. He didn't feel sorry and the moral certainty of the Order members that seemed to demand his constant contrition somehow left him feeling cold. Percy longed, for some peculiar reason, to see Remus, who'd been haunting the upper rooms like a ghost since Sirius had died.
"I just want things done right -- correctly. Why am I always apologising for that?" he asked when he finally found the courage to burst in on Professor Lupin, alone in a huge sitting room on the fourth floor.
"Percy Weasley," said Remus. "I'd heard you were back." Remus stood with his back to the door, facing a large fireplace. There were two wingback chairs on either side of a large antique sofa that sat in the centre of the room. Most of the floor was covered by a dark black carpet with an intricate oriental design.
"Professor Lupin," said Percy, slightly breathless.
"Just Lupin now, I suppose," said Remus. "Or Remus if you like." He didn't turn around to look at Percy, but kept his back to him.
"I like Professor Lupin," said Percy. No fire burned in the fireplace, it yawned empty, cold, and black.
Professor Lupin, standing there, in the shadows -- it reminded Percy of his last year at Hogwarts. Head Boy. He'd been Head Boy and nobody seemed to appreciate how really impressive that was. He'd been patrolling the corridors searching for students out of bounds and he'd come across Remus standing alone in a darkened classroom, leaning against a high work table scanning parchments. Percy had been mesmerised, for some reason, seeing him there illuminated by those strange twisted candles, a smell of wax in the air. Remus looked up at the sound of Percy's footsteps. Before Remus could say anything, Percy swooped towards him saying "I'm Head Boy." and kissed him -- a taste of salt on his lips.
Remus didn't return the kiss; he just shook his head and said, "What are you at, Percy Weasley."
"I just- I want-" Percy had touched him, pressing his hands against the front of Remus' robes, feeling Remus' belt and trousers underneath.
"You shouldn't do this, you're too young," said Remus. "It's not right."
"You're right. It's wrong," said Percy, dropping his hands and staring straight into Remus' eyes. "You should punish me for it," he whispered. Percy saw the spark, then, in Remus' eyes, and a small smile play across his teacher's lips. Percy frowned and nodded solemnly, "Good night, Professor," he'd said and walked as calmly as he could back to the dorms.
Now three years later and Percy was there with Professor Lupin in this old dust-choked room with it's ugly furniture, and Remus was saying "What do you want from me?"
"I wanted to see you," Percy said, stiffly. "Maybe you'll know -- because you know about Dark Arts and darkness. It's You-Know-Who. I didn't want him to be back. I didn't want to believe Professor Dumbledore or Harry. But now he's back, I'm not scared. I'm- I'm excited. I- I think I like him. I don't really, but I like what he stands for, for order and- uh- order. I want to see him, to hear him speak. Doesn't that make me evil? Maybe I'm tainted -- like Pettigrew. Maybe I can never be good. Maybe I'm beyond redemption."
"Oh be quiet, you tiresome twerp."
"I beg your pardon."
"Really, Percy. There's nothing tainted about you, you're just conceited and selfish. You're not the stuff of great evil -- just a pompous little git, that's all. Quite the ordinary, bureaucratic sort of evil, really, hardly the stuff of Death Eaters. This thing, this evil that exists, is not to be taken lightly. It's not to be mentioned or named. It's not for you to think on him, one way or another, neither to fight nor join. You're never going to be extraordinarily evil and you'll never be extraordinarily good, either. You should just worry about cauldron bottoms and doxies and be content. You're ordinary and that's not a bad thing. You just need to accept it. What you should worry about is being nicer. It's your little cruelties you should be ashamed of. Insulting your father, making your mother cry. These awful, mean, petty things you do -- that's what's wrong with you. Honestly, all you need is a good spanking."
Percy blushed crimson. He could feel the heat burning his face which was no doubt clashing with his hair. He could almost imagine his every freckle glowing.
Remus smiled. "That's what you came here for."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Is that the stuff of your filthy little fantasies? Is that what you think about every time you wank? What's the matter? Did your parents not love you enough to spank you? Now you crave a firm hand or some such nonsense."
"No I-" Percy stammered. "You're mad. If you must know, I don't think my parents noticed me much. And furthermore, I'm leaving." He walked to the door but stopped there, his hand on the doorknob. "Actually, I- May I close the door, first?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, of course," said Remus. "Lock it."
Percy closed the heavy wooden door and found an old iron key in the lock. He turned it; it made a comforting clunking noise.
He walked back towards Remus. "May I kiss you?"
"Why not?"
Percy was taller; he had to bend down to press his lips against Remus'. Remus kissed him back very tenderly, opening his mouth. Percy felt his cock stiffen with the coaxing of Remus' gentle tongue sliding past his lips, stroking and sweeping Percy's tongue. Percy broke the kiss and stood up straight, shaking slightly.
"Now take off your robe," said Remus, casually. "Your trousers, shorts, shoes, socks everything from the waist down."
Percy peeled off his clothes. He hung his robe carefully over the back of one of the wingback chairs. He flipped his trousers over so he could line up the creases before folding them neatly.
"Really, Percy," said Remus. "Do you have to fold everything?"
"Yes I do," said Percy. "I really do."
Remus waited patiently, leaning against the mantle and chewing on his thumbnail while Percy removed the rest of his things. When Percy was finished, he felt very childish standing there in just his shirt, his shirttails hanging down to hide his bottom and rapidly growing cock.
"Bend over and hold onto the back of the sofa," said Remus, coming around behind Percy. "I think that will do nicely."
Percy bent at the waist and gripped the high curved back of the sofa, his arms fully extended. It was covered in thick green velvet. It felt very soft beneath his hands. Remus lifted Percy's shirt to reveal his freckled bottom to the air. Percy felt himself grow even redder. What have I done? he thought. He heard rustling behind him. Remus removing his robes, Percy imagined. He didn't dare look. He stared at the floor with its complicated carpet.
"You'll have to spread your legs more," said Remus. "Or you'll lose your balance."
Percy complied. He heard a quiet whoosh, leather through belt loops. There was a sudden tightening through his balls. Oh God, he thought and stared harder at the rug. He tried to discern the crest that was woven into the pattern -- Black family, surely. And then -- bang! The belt hit his backside with a loud wallop. He didn't feel anything at first but then a long thin burn started to manifest itself just as the belt came down a second time. The blows were hard. They pushed Percy forward. His arm muscles clenched, he had to grip the sofa firmly so as not to be knocked over. They were rapid; too, he quickly lost count of how many whacks he'd received. This is very real, thought Percy. What have I got myself into?
He was quiet at first; he didn't make any sound except these little surprised gasps every time the leather made contact with his skin. It wasn't because he was trying to be brave or because it didn't hurt, it was just because he really couldn't make a sound. The whole thing just felt so audacious, he was embarrassed, even with no one there, he didn't want to do anything to draw attention to himself and his ridiculous predicament.
Still, Remus flailed away, and blows were falling on top of blows. The belt stung twice as much when it hit spots that were already inflamed from the constant thrashing. And then the belt seemed to seek out the tenderest places to land, the tops of his thighs, the crease where the thighs met the buttocks, and -- oh God, Percy cried out, finally. It was a loud sad sound like someone mourning some great loss. And it didn't sound to Percy as if it had come from himself. It sounded like something in the distance.
Remus' pace grew more frenzied, Percy's backside was pulsating in a counter rhythm. Sweat burst out on his forehead and palms, he was fighting to stay still, his gripping hands pressing small damp stains into the green velvet. He was sure he could feel welts rising up -- areas where the skin felt pinched and tightened, areas that screeched in protest when the belt found them.
Then Lupin stopped. Even over his own loud ragged breating, Percy could hear Remus panting behind him. Percy didn't leave his doubled-over position. Remus laid the belt over the back of the sofa where Percy could see it, but didn't move away, he was still very close. Percy could feel the rough brush of tweed against his burning thighs.
"Oh fuck," said Percy. "Can you... do more?"
"What more do you want?" said Remus trailing a finger lightly down the crack of Percy's arse.
"You know," said Percy spreading his legs even wider.
"You want this?" asked Remus, tapping his finger against Percy's tiny puckered opening.
"Yes- um, please?" added Percy, feeling ridiculous and desperate at the same time.
Remus slid a finger in, his fingers were slick. Percy imagined he must be slick, too -- inside. Remus certainly found no resistance. Percy couldn't remember when Remus had prepared him, he felt so disoriented and his head was spinning. Did Professor Lupin do it without a wand? Percy wondered. Remus slid in another finger. Percy squirmed.
"Are you sure?" said Remus.
Percy's cock was pulsating more than his arse. He was making embarrassing little rutting thrusts into the air. "Really sure," he cried.
Again there was a rustling sound behind him. He's not even bothering to undress; thought Percy, just undoing his flies is all. Then he felt the head of Remus' cock pressed against him. Oh God, he thought, what have I got myself into?
And then in one smooth thrust he was lanced right through. It felt so wrong, so dirty, but there was a deep growing pleasure in the pit of his stomach. Remus started thrusting hard and steady and Percy thought he would die from the overwhelming pleasure of it. It was too nice. Percy jerked back hard, his cock bouncing in the air.
"Harder," said Percy. "You're vicious, I know it. You're a monster, act like one."
"Shut up, Percy Weasley," grunted Remus. "Just shut it."
Remus shoved in and at the same time pinched a welt on Percy's thigh. That did it, there was that cry again, broken and heartbroken, pulled from deep within Percy.
"Do you know what I've lost," growled Remus, punctuating each word with a vicious thrust and twisting pinch. "Do you have any idea, stupid boy? You try to provoke me. Here, stand up for it," he said, wrapping his arm around Percy's chest and pulling him up into a standing position, Percy, still impaled on Remus' cock, spread his legs painfully wide. Remus bent his knees and thrust upwards.
"Ow, it hurts." cried Percy, gasping and struggling against the firm arm Remus was gripping him with.
"It's supposed to," said Remus, grinding one of Percy's nipples between his fingers while he continued his merciless fucking.
Christ, thought Percy, I'll die like this. But his cock was harder than ever and squirting pre-come. "Please," Percy gasped.
"Not yet," said Remus. "Not yet." and he buried himself deep and started a quick undulating rhythm. He twisted Percy's nipple so hard that Percy screamed, clenching his whole body tight around Remus. "That's it," Remus growled. "Again." Again he pinched, digging his fingernails into it and again Percy screamed and Remus came with a quiet, angry grunt. He pulled out of Percy and closed his trousers mumbling cleansing spells.
"Your turn," Remus said, almost sarcastically, gripping Percy's cock firmly in his right hand. He yanked on it sharply, while smacking Percy's flank with his left hand. They were vicious little stinging spanks that didn't hurt as much as the belt but felt and sounded more nerve-wracking. Percy groaned and whined and came, pleading nonsensically.
"Back over," said Remus, wiping his hand on Percy's shirt. He shoved Percy back into position. Percy was flabbergasted; Professor Lupin couldn't possibly expect him to take any more. But Remus picked up the belt and started beating him again. It was indescribably more painful now that Percy was soft and his buttocks were sore and swollen. Percy cried out easily this time, begging shamelessly, "Please, please."
"Quiet Percy! Shut your mouth."
Percy understood, suddenly, that this was a command. He sealed his lips and his cries turned into loud pleading moans.
"That's better."
And it was, in a way, it focused all Percy's attention on his burning backside but Percy felt bound somehow by the rule -- by the order not to cry out. It constrained him, comforted him. He found he could grip that with his mind as securely as his hands gripped the sofa. But still the blows felt relentless.
God, thought Percy, doesn't his arm hurt, doesn't Professor Lupin ever get tired? It must stop. It will stop. He focused his mind on staying still, keeping his mouth shut while the belt continued its merciless loud slapping. Do this right Percy, he thought, stay still. He locked his knees, centred his weight on his feet to fight the urge to squirm. He was gripping the sofa so hard, his fingernails were white. Another burning stripe of pain and another. Every blow felt unexpected. I won't let go, I won't cry out. Look at the carpet, he thought, think about that, think about anything else. But his concentration kept being interrupted by sharp hard cracks, and pain, awful, exquisite pain. He threw his head back, moaning.
All thought dissolved. He wanted so to let go, to turn around and block the blows with hands. Every stinging strike pushing this pure reasonable instinct forward, but he had to stay still -- he had to. He arched his back and thrust his buttocks backward, surrendering. His eyes closed, he thought of nothing but the endless rain of leather. He gave up the hope that it would ever end, he forgot that it had ever started. He stayed there in the centre of it, burning, throbbing, hurting, being now. It was as if another orgasm were overwhelming him, one that encompassed his entire body and his soul as well, perhaps. A dizzying euphoria studded with harsh stinging spasms that threatened to tear him apart with their pure intensity. And abruptly it ended.
"There, that's all sweetheart," said Remus, dropping the belt and turning Percy around to face him. The sweetheart was slightly mocking and it smarted almost as much as the belt had. But there was some hint of kindness in Remus' words, and it was this and not the pain that made Percy burst into sudden and thorough tears.
Remus' face changed, he actually looked somewhat taken aback. Quite sincerely he said, "There, there. You are my sweet boy, my brave boy." He pushed the sweat-sticky fringe off Percy's forehead.
Percy swayed, he rested his hand on the sofa to regain his balance. He arse felt enormous and heavy, his welts were starting to itch. He stood like that and wept. He wept because he hurt, because he felt stupid, and because Professor Lupin had been kind to him.
"You were very good," said Remus, lifting up Percy's face and giving his mouth a series of quick wet kisses. "You were very brave."
"I was, a little, wasn't I?" said Percy, sniffing and hiccupping.
"Aww," said Remus, wiping Percy's tears with his sleeve. "There you go, sweetheart. You're all right and not the least bit less smug."
Percy burst again into immediate loud sobs.
Remus laughed and hugged him, pressing Percy's wet face against his chest. "Really Percy, you are the strangest, sweetest boy."
Pairing: Percy/Remus
Rating: NC-17 for slash and kink.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Because Remus is angry, because Percy is asking for it.
Warnings/Kinks: Spanking with belt. Pretty rough but all consensual.
This is for Kayla (admanthea) who asked for dark Percy/Remus NC-17, kink, slash, possibly h/c. Well, this is more kinky than dark and there's hurt and then comfort though not traditional H/C. Hope you like it.
"What do you want me to say?" asked Percy. "Should I say that vigilantism is best? That bypassing official channels -- secret orders, secret meetings, that breaking into the department of mysteries, hiding Black -- that all these things were right and I was wrong?"
"I don't expect anything from you. The question is what do you want from me? You sought me out."
"Do you want me to admit that I was wrong for taking the side of official order?" said Percy, brushing invisible dust from the sleeve of his robe.
"When the official order is being blind and stupid-"
"Then it's for you and others like you," sniffed Percy, "who think you're better than everyone else to take matters into your own hands."
"Percy why are you here?" sighed Remus Lupin, rubbing his temples. "I'm in no mood to play games. What do you want from me?"
It was true; it was Percy who had wanted to see Professor Lupin, ever since coming back into the family fold. His career was in the toilet again. Fudge, losing popularity and forced to kowtow to Dumbledore, had taken his frustrations out on Percy, who'd been demoted. He was back to weighing cauldrons with no hope of promotion. Penelope dumped him. He had nothing left but disappointed parents and a dead-end job at the Ministry. This was his future, the one he'd tried so hard to avoid. He wasn't in the Order but months of saying sorry to mother and father and brothers and sister and random strangers had got him into 12 Grimmauld Place where he was allowed to help his mother sort out the doxies.
The whole thing left him sour and bothered beyond belief. He was tired of the guilt and the apologising. He didn't feel sorry and the moral certainty of the Order members that seemed to demand his constant contrition somehow left him feeling cold. Percy longed, for some peculiar reason, to see Remus, who'd been haunting the upper rooms like a ghost since Sirius had died.
"I just want things done right -- correctly. Why am I always apologising for that?" he asked when he finally found the courage to burst in on Professor Lupin, alone in a huge sitting room on the fourth floor.
"Percy Weasley," said Remus. "I'd heard you were back." Remus stood with his back to the door, facing a large fireplace. There were two wingback chairs on either side of a large antique sofa that sat in the centre of the room. Most of the floor was covered by a dark black carpet with an intricate oriental design.
"Professor Lupin," said Percy, slightly breathless.
"Just Lupin now, I suppose," said Remus. "Or Remus if you like." He didn't turn around to look at Percy, but kept his back to him.
"I like Professor Lupin," said Percy. No fire burned in the fireplace, it yawned empty, cold, and black.
Professor Lupin, standing there, in the shadows -- it reminded Percy of his last year at Hogwarts. Head Boy. He'd been Head Boy and nobody seemed to appreciate how really impressive that was. He'd been patrolling the corridors searching for students out of bounds and he'd come across Remus standing alone in a darkened classroom, leaning against a high work table scanning parchments. Percy had been mesmerised, for some reason, seeing him there illuminated by those strange twisted candles, a smell of wax in the air. Remus looked up at the sound of Percy's footsteps. Before Remus could say anything, Percy swooped towards him saying "I'm Head Boy." and kissed him -- a taste of salt on his lips.
Remus didn't return the kiss; he just shook his head and said, "What are you at, Percy Weasley."
"I just- I want-" Percy had touched him, pressing his hands against the front of Remus' robes, feeling Remus' belt and trousers underneath.
"You shouldn't do this, you're too young," said Remus. "It's not right."
"You're right. It's wrong," said Percy, dropping his hands and staring straight into Remus' eyes. "You should punish me for it," he whispered. Percy saw the spark, then, in Remus' eyes, and a small smile play across his teacher's lips. Percy frowned and nodded solemnly, "Good night, Professor," he'd said and walked as calmly as he could back to the dorms.
Now three years later and Percy was there with Professor Lupin in this old dust-choked room with it's ugly furniture, and Remus was saying "What do you want from me?"
"I wanted to see you," Percy said, stiffly. "Maybe you'll know -- because you know about Dark Arts and darkness. It's You-Know-Who. I didn't want him to be back. I didn't want to believe Professor Dumbledore or Harry. But now he's back, I'm not scared. I'm- I'm excited. I- I think I like him. I don't really, but I like what he stands for, for order and- uh- order. I want to see him, to hear him speak. Doesn't that make me evil? Maybe I'm tainted -- like Pettigrew. Maybe I can never be good. Maybe I'm beyond redemption."
"Oh be quiet, you tiresome twerp."
"I beg your pardon."
"Really, Percy. There's nothing tainted about you, you're just conceited and selfish. You're not the stuff of great evil -- just a pompous little git, that's all. Quite the ordinary, bureaucratic sort of evil, really, hardly the stuff of Death Eaters. This thing, this evil that exists, is not to be taken lightly. It's not to be mentioned or named. It's not for you to think on him, one way or another, neither to fight nor join. You're never going to be extraordinarily evil and you'll never be extraordinarily good, either. You should just worry about cauldron bottoms and doxies and be content. You're ordinary and that's not a bad thing. You just need to accept it. What you should worry about is being nicer. It's your little cruelties you should be ashamed of. Insulting your father, making your mother cry. These awful, mean, petty things you do -- that's what's wrong with you. Honestly, all you need is a good spanking."
Percy blushed crimson. He could feel the heat burning his face which was no doubt clashing with his hair. He could almost imagine his every freckle glowing.
Remus smiled. "That's what you came here for."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Is that the stuff of your filthy little fantasies? Is that what you think about every time you wank? What's the matter? Did your parents not love you enough to spank you? Now you crave a firm hand or some such nonsense."
"No I-" Percy stammered. "You're mad. If you must know, I don't think my parents noticed me much. And furthermore, I'm leaving." He walked to the door but stopped there, his hand on the doorknob. "Actually, I- May I close the door, first?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, of course," said Remus. "Lock it."
Percy closed the heavy wooden door and found an old iron key in the lock. He turned it; it made a comforting clunking noise.
He walked back towards Remus. "May I kiss you?"
"Why not?"
Percy was taller; he had to bend down to press his lips against Remus'. Remus kissed him back very tenderly, opening his mouth. Percy felt his cock stiffen with the coaxing of Remus' gentle tongue sliding past his lips, stroking and sweeping Percy's tongue. Percy broke the kiss and stood up straight, shaking slightly.
"Now take off your robe," said Remus, casually. "Your trousers, shorts, shoes, socks everything from the waist down."
Percy peeled off his clothes. He hung his robe carefully over the back of one of the wingback chairs. He flipped his trousers over so he could line up the creases before folding them neatly.
"Really, Percy," said Remus. "Do you have to fold everything?"
"Yes I do," said Percy. "I really do."
Remus waited patiently, leaning against the mantle and chewing on his thumbnail while Percy removed the rest of his things. When Percy was finished, he felt very childish standing there in just his shirt, his shirttails hanging down to hide his bottom and rapidly growing cock.
"Bend over and hold onto the back of the sofa," said Remus, coming around behind Percy. "I think that will do nicely."
Percy bent at the waist and gripped the high curved back of the sofa, his arms fully extended. It was covered in thick green velvet. It felt very soft beneath his hands. Remus lifted Percy's shirt to reveal his freckled bottom to the air. Percy felt himself grow even redder. What have I done? he thought. He heard rustling behind him. Remus removing his robes, Percy imagined. He didn't dare look. He stared at the floor with its complicated carpet.
"You'll have to spread your legs more," said Remus. "Or you'll lose your balance."
Percy complied. He heard a quiet whoosh, leather through belt loops. There was a sudden tightening through his balls. Oh God, he thought and stared harder at the rug. He tried to discern the crest that was woven into the pattern -- Black family, surely. And then -- bang! The belt hit his backside with a loud wallop. He didn't feel anything at first but then a long thin burn started to manifest itself just as the belt came down a second time. The blows were hard. They pushed Percy forward. His arm muscles clenched, he had to grip the sofa firmly so as not to be knocked over. They were rapid; too, he quickly lost count of how many whacks he'd received. This is very real, thought Percy. What have I got myself into?
He was quiet at first; he didn't make any sound except these little surprised gasps every time the leather made contact with his skin. It wasn't because he was trying to be brave or because it didn't hurt, it was just because he really couldn't make a sound. The whole thing just felt so audacious, he was embarrassed, even with no one there, he didn't want to do anything to draw attention to himself and his ridiculous predicament.
Still, Remus flailed away, and blows were falling on top of blows. The belt stung twice as much when it hit spots that were already inflamed from the constant thrashing. And then the belt seemed to seek out the tenderest places to land, the tops of his thighs, the crease where the thighs met the buttocks, and -- oh God, Percy cried out, finally. It was a loud sad sound like someone mourning some great loss. And it didn't sound to Percy as if it had come from himself. It sounded like something in the distance.
Remus' pace grew more frenzied, Percy's backside was pulsating in a counter rhythm. Sweat burst out on his forehead and palms, he was fighting to stay still, his gripping hands pressing small damp stains into the green velvet. He was sure he could feel welts rising up -- areas where the skin felt pinched and tightened, areas that screeched in protest when the belt found them.
Then Lupin stopped. Even over his own loud ragged breating, Percy could hear Remus panting behind him. Percy didn't leave his doubled-over position. Remus laid the belt over the back of the sofa where Percy could see it, but didn't move away, he was still very close. Percy could feel the rough brush of tweed against his burning thighs.
"Oh fuck," said Percy. "Can you... do more?"
"What more do you want?" said Remus trailing a finger lightly down the crack of Percy's arse.
"You know," said Percy spreading his legs even wider.
"You want this?" asked Remus, tapping his finger against Percy's tiny puckered opening.
"Yes- um, please?" added Percy, feeling ridiculous and desperate at the same time.
Remus slid a finger in, his fingers were slick. Percy imagined he must be slick, too -- inside. Remus certainly found no resistance. Percy couldn't remember when Remus had prepared him, he felt so disoriented and his head was spinning. Did Professor Lupin do it without a wand? Percy wondered. Remus slid in another finger. Percy squirmed.
"Are you sure?" said Remus.
Percy's cock was pulsating more than his arse. He was making embarrassing little rutting thrusts into the air. "Really sure," he cried.
Again there was a rustling sound behind him. He's not even bothering to undress; thought Percy, just undoing his flies is all. Then he felt the head of Remus' cock pressed against him. Oh God, he thought, what have I got myself into?
And then in one smooth thrust he was lanced right through. It felt so wrong, so dirty, but there was a deep growing pleasure in the pit of his stomach. Remus started thrusting hard and steady and Percy thought he would die from the overwhelming pleasure of it. It was too nice. Percy jerked back hard, his cock bouncing in the air.
"Harder," said Percy. "You're vicious, I know it. You're a monster, act like one."
"Shut up, Percy Weasley," grunted Remus. "Just shut it."
Remus shoved in and at the same time pinched a welt on Percy's thigh. That did it, there was that cry again, broken and heartbroken, pulled from deep within Percy.
"Do you know what I've lost," growled Remus, punctuating each word with a vicious thrust and twisting pinch. "Do you have any idea, stupid boy? You try to provoke me. Here, stand up for it," he said, wrapping his arm around Percy's chest and pulling him up into a standing position, Percy, still impaled on Remus' cock, spread his legs painfully wide. Remus bent his knees and thrust upwards.
"Ow, it hurts." cried Percy, gasping and struggling against the firm arm Remus was gripping him with.
"It's supposed to," said Remus, grinding one of Percy's nipples between his fingers while he continued his merciless fucking.
Christ, thought Percy, I'll die like this. But his cock was harder than ever and squirting pre-come. "Please," Percy gasped.
"Not yet," said Remus. "Not yet." and he buried himself deep and started a quick undulating rhythm. He twisted Percy's nipple so hard that Percy screamed, clenching his whole body tight around Remus. "That's it," Remus growled. "Again." Again he pinched, digging his fingernails into it and again Percy screamed and Remus came with a quiet, angry grunt. He pulled out of Percy and closed his trousers mumbling cleansing spells.
"Your turn," Remus said, almost sarcastically, gripping Percy's cock firmly in his right hand. He yanked on it sharply, while smacking Percy's flank with his left hand. They were vicious little stinging spanks that didn't hurt as much as the belt but felt and sounded more nerve-wracking. Percy groaned and whined and came, pleading nonsensically.
"Back over," said Remus, wiping his hand on Percy's shirt. He shoved Percy back into position. Percy was flabbergasted; Professor Lupin couldn't possibly expect him to take any more. But Remus picked up the belt and started beating him again. It was indescribably more painful now that Percy was soft and his buttocks were sore and swollen. Percy cried out easily this time, begging shamelessly, "Please, please."
"Quiet Percy! Shut your mouth."
Percy understood, suddenly, that this was a command. He sealed his lips and his cries turned into loud pleading moans.
"That's better."
And it was, in a way, it focused all Percy's attention on his burning backside but Percy felt bound somehow by the rule -- by the order not to cry out. It constrained him, comforted him. He found he could grip that with his mind as securely as his hands gripped the sofa. But still the blows felt relentless.
God, thought Percy, doesn't his arm hurt, doesn't Professor Lupin ever get tired? It must stop. It will stop. He focused his mind on staying still, keeping his mouth shut while the belt continued its merciless loud slapping. Do this right Percy, he thought, stay still. He locked his knees, centred his weight on his feet to fight the urge to squirm. He was gripping the sofa so hard, his fingernails were white. Another burning stripe of pain and another. Every blow felt unexpected. I won't let go, I won't cry out. Look at the carpet, he thought, think about that, think about anything else. But his concentration kept being interrupted by sharp hard cracks, and pain, awful, exquisite pain. He threw his head back, moaning.
All thought dissolved. He wanted so to let go, to turn around and block the blows with hands. Every stinging strike pushing this pure reasonable instinct forward, but he had to stay still -- he had to. He arched his back and thrust his buttocks backward, surrendering. His eyes closed, he thought of nothing but the endless rain of leather. He gave up the hope that it would ever end, he forgot that it had ever started. He stayed there in the centre of it, burning, throbbing, hurting, being now. It was as if another orgasm were overwhelming him, one that encompassed his entire body and his soul as well, perhaps. A dizzying euphoria studded with harsh stinging spasms that threatened to tear him apart with their pure intensity. And abruptly it ended.
"There, that's all sweetheart," said Remus, dropping the belt and turning Percy around to face him. The sweetheart was slightly mocking and it smarted almost as much as the belt had. But there was some hint of kindness in Remus' words, and it was this and not the pain that made Percy burst into sudden and thorough tears.
Remus' face changed, he actually looked somewhat taken aback. Quite sincerely he said, "There, there. You are my sweet boy, my brave boy." He pushed the sweat-sticky fringe off Percy's forehead.
Percy swayed, he rested his hand on the sofa to regain his balance. He arse felt enormous and heavy, his welts were starting to itch. He stood like that and wept. He wept because he hurt, because he felt stupid, and because Professor Lupin had been kind to him.
"You were very good," said Remus, lifting up Percy's face and giving his mouth a series of quick wet kisses. "You were very brave."
"I was, a little, wasn't I?" said Percy, sniffing and hiccupping.
"Aww," said Remus, wiping Percy's tears with his sleeve. "There you go, sweetheart. You're all right and not the least bit less smug."
Percy burst again into immediate loud sobs.
Remus laughed and hugged him, pressing Percy's wet face against his chest. "Really Percy, you are the strangest, sweetest boy."