Drabble: The Wolf at the Door
Title:The Wolf at the Door
Author: freakinwinky
Rating & Warnings:R, Voyerism, non-graphic mature situation, dark imagery
Prompts:"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell-"
Format & Word Count: drabble (barely), 494 words
Summary: Greyback pays a little vist to the Lupin's home. (DH era)
Author’s Notes:I honestly didn't come up with this until the very last minute. I had other much lighter ideas for the promts I was given, but I just couldn't make those ideas go anywhere. So, for your New Years enjoyment, I give you the perverted musings of Fenrir Greyback. Enjoy! (p.s. Do I get the 'Made it by the skin of your teeth' award? :))
I can smell you. I sit here, in the shrub, just outside the window of your cozy little home and you have no idea that I am here, breathing in your scent, and hers and your unborn pup’s. Did you think you would be able to hide from me, Remus Lupin? I know the scent of everyone I have ever turned. I remember you. Your body is filled with wood, pine, dirt, wild. The scent, the wilderness is as much a part of you as the blood that runs through your veins. You’re trying to cover it. I’m sitting in the shrub, looking into your window and I’m watching as you try to bury it inside of her. As though making love to your pretty, young wife will somehow avenge the sins caused by your wild aroma.
I can smell her too. You’re trying to cover that as well, aren’t you? Are you trying to protect her from me? It does no good. Behind the haze of sweat and lust, she still smells of vanilla and flower blossoms and fresh, untainted blood. Her scent intrigues me, as does the glow in her skin as she arches her back in pleasure. I wonder, would she be as delicious as you were? Would her skin tear so satisfyingly in my mouth the way yours did? The way you are running your hands up and down her body tells me you already know the answer to this and wish to keep it to yourself. A secret, of sorts. But, we both know, you have no secrets from me.
Finally, I smell the child. The small child growing in your wife’s stomach was created in a mixture of flowers, wood and innocent blood. The smell is faint, but intoxicates me none the less. The idea of having him, having both of them one day, is something I treasure. You know this and so you are careful.
You are sure to put up protective wards around the home, to change location if the need arises, to keep her locked inside the house.
But not careful enough to pull the curtains closed. Not careful enough to resist her intoxicating scent. Not careful enough to avoid making a child at all.
You wanted to pretend that there was no wolf at the door, no one chasing after you or your nice little family.
But there is a wolf at the door,Remus Lupin. Even when I am dead and gone, you will not be able to deny the gift which courses through your own veins. You cannot tell me that you do not smell what I smell.
I listen and hear your cry of climax mingling with hers. She flops back onto the pillows wearing a blissful sleepy smile. The expression on your face as you watch her, that of a starving wolf, tells me all I need to know.
You are mine. And soon, those you love will be too.
Author: freakinwinky
Rating & Warnings:R, Voyerism, non-graphic mature situation, dark imagery
Prompts:"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us according to what attracts us, and I can smell-"
Format & Word Count: drabble (barely), 494 words
Summary: Greyback pays a little vist to the Lupin's home. (DH era)
Author’s Notes:I honestly didn't come up with this until the very last minute. I had other much lighter ideas for the promts I was given, but I just couldn't make those ideas go anywhere. So, for your New Years enjoyment, I give you the perverted musings of Fenrir Greyback. Enjoy! (p.s. Do I get the 'Made it by the skin of your teeth' award? :))
I can smell you. I sit here, in the shrub, just outside the window of your cozy little home and you have no idea that I am here, breathing in your scent, and hers and your unborn pup’s. Did you think you would be able to hide from me, Remus Lupin? I know the scent of everyone I have ever turned. I remember you. Your body is filled with wood, pine, dirt, wild. The scent, the wilderness is as much a part of you as the blood that runs through your veins. You’re trying to cover it. I’m sitting in the shrub, looking into your window and I’m watching as you try to bury it inside of her. As though making love to your pretty, young wife will somehow avenge the sins caused by your wild aroma.
I can smell her too. You’re trying to cover that as well, aren’t you? Are you trying to protect her from me? It does no good. Behind the haze of sweat and lust, she still smells of vanilla and flower blossoms and fresh, untainted blood. Her scent intrigues me, as does the glow in her skin as she arches her back in pleasure. I wonder, would she be as delicious as you were? Would her skin tear so satisfyingly in my mouth the way yours did? The way you are running your hands up and down her body tells me you already know the answer to this and wish to keep it to yourself. A secret, of sorts. But, we both know, you have no secrets from me.
Finally, I smell the child. The small child growing in your wife’s stomach was created in a mixture of flowers, wood and innocent blood. The smell is faint, but intoxicates me none the less. The idea of having him, having both of them one day, is something I treasure. You know this and so you are careful.
You are sure to put up protective wards around the home, to change location if the need arises, to keep her locked inside the house.
But not careful enough to pull the curtains closed. Not careful enough to resist her intoxicating scent. Not careful enough to avoid making a child at all.
You wanted to pretend that there was no wolf at the door, no one chasing after you or your nice little family.
But there is a wolf at the door,Remus Lupin. Even when I am dead and gone, you will not be able to deny the gift which courses through your own veins. You cannot tell me that you do not smell what I smell.
I listen and hear your cry of climax mingling with hers. She flops back onto the pillows wearing a blissful sleepy smile. The expression on your face as you watch her, that of a starving wolf, tells me all I need to know.
You are mine. And soon, those you love will be too.