Shattered Innocence 3
Title: Shattered Innocence
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sirius Black/Pete Wentz
Summary: In what was meant to be the greatest year of his life, reigning over Hogwarts as a seventh year, Sirius Black was met with his downfall - a dark-eyed, grinning man with the deadliest of secrets and the most fatal of plans.
Disclaimer: I own neither any of J.K. Rowling's works or Pete Wentz. Also, after writing a Harry Potter crossover fic, I no longer possess my own dignity.
Author's Note: Fall Out Boy/Marauder's-Era Harry Potter AU crossover.
Dedication: For Megyal, my lovely wife, who has been reqeusting I write something and mentioned wanting to read something of this ilk.
Prologue
Chapter One: Ashes, Ashes
Chapter Two: Set Up
Sirius shifted uncomfortably at the memory, drawing in a hissing breath as the stone beneath him ground into his back. Spine stinging, he pushed himself into a sitting position, cupping his lower back.
Outside his ring of light provided by a flickering street lamp, the world was cloaked in darkness. Sirius stared out into the blackness of the night, the pain in his back ebbing slightly. His fingers were numb, face pricked with cold, and his breath wafted through the frozen air in tendrils of heat, but Sirius took no notice of that, or that his entire body was stiff with cold. His mind was on Peter, on that night all those years ago…
Guilt and shame washed over him; guilt for the wicked pleasures he was dealt and shame for the blind longing that refused to release him.
He hated Peter passionately for everything he had done to him; for everything he had made him do. He hated Peter for the man he had made him and for the web of lies and deceit he had woven around him. He hated Peter for his damnable looks and his charming façade, and for the sinister, malevolent side of him he masked with seduction. He hated Peter for taking his virginity and he hated him for all the countless times thereafter that he continued to claim him. He hated Peter for captivating him, and he hated him for remaining foremost in his thoughts to that day.
But he also loved him, just a little, for it all.
Sirius let out a shaky breath, cursing himself in every vile fashion he knew because, greater than the disgust and loathing he felt for Peter Wentz was the disgust and loathing he felt for himself for being such a willing pawn in the man’s game. For playing along.
When he was at the height of his repulsive existence as Peter's creature, Sirius had shuddered to be in his own skin. He would return from an evening of carnal desires and horrific deeds that still made him wince and find himself a different man. Slowly, Peter had morphed him into an indistinguishable puppet, a slave of his mastery, until even Sirius himself could barely recognize the smug, cold-eyed man returning his glare from the bathroom mirror.
Then, he had been disgusted with himself. He still was.
It was hard for him to remember, to look back at the person he had been with Peter, and know that all that he had been was still a part of him. True, he hadn't had sex since Peter, nor had he hurt anyone since Peter, certainly not killed anyone since Peter, but he could never be washed of those sins. All of those countless, terrible sins.
Especially the killings.
____________________
Out of all the things Peter could have said or done, those words and that action were among the last on his list.
He had kissed him, for God's sake! A man had kissed him, lips pressed firmly against his, hands cupping their bodies together, and the worst thing was, Sirius liked it. Peter's body, broader and taller than his own, was cloaked in dense sinew, his hard angles and muscles so different from the soft curves Sirius was used to. His hands, long-fingered and elegant, were gripping his hips gently, forcing their groins together, and Sirius felt lurching despair as his stomach dropped to his loins and a sensation of heat and nerves kindled there. His lips, oh those lips, were full and soft, pressed against his own, and he wanted more.
Peter's lips parted against his slightly, and Sirius responded hungrily, eager as a child. His arms, which hung uselessly at his sides, came up, blue-white hands cradling Peter's smooth-shaven jaw, which was warm and heavy in his grasp. The older man grinned into the kiss, lifting Sirius's hips to his suddenly and making the boy shudder, hips bucking against his.
Smirking even more, Peter opened his mouth further, delighted when Sirius did the same, granting him entry into his own mouth. His tongue grazed Sirius's, and they met in a swaying rhythm, entangling and sliding across each other to the pace of their lips.
Sirius had forgotten who he was kissing, who he was so lost in, the moment Peter had pulled their hips together, sending a wave of nerves through his loins, stirring his phallus to life. The touch of flesh, lips, and tongue was enough to drown Sirius in Peter without question, without hesitation. It was so strange, a few years later looking back, how easily Peter had coerced him to drop all of his barriers and misgivings. He had always held that power over him, and for the first time, Sirius got a taste of Peter's particular method of persuasion. He loved it.
At first, when Peter's teeth caught Sirius's lower lip in a gentle nibble, the young man had enjoyed the soft sensation. It was when he ground the sensitive flesh between his teeth, making Sirius groan in pain, that the boy remembered his doubt. Blood flowed from the deep cut, and Peter ran his tongue over the inside of Sirius's lip, soothing the wound, his hand's moving in synch with his lips, subtly pressing the younger man's groin to his, then rolling Sirius's hips away, before bringing them together again, teasing him with a tide of sensation.
Peter did this once more and felt a stiff presence against the inside of his thigh, grinning into the kiss and sucking on Sirius's cut lip once before breaking their kiss.
Sirius let out a soft whimper, and then his eyes went wide. Just as his mouth opened in protest, Peter's ever skillful lips found the corner of his, silencing him with a soft kiss. Then, he trailed his lips downward, tracing his jaw line before plunging down the slope of the underside of his chin. Sirius immediately tensed in his arms and Peter half-shoved him into the wall of the Quidditch pitch, mouth latching onto a spot just below Sirius's earlobe. Peter used his new position to press the boy into the planks, who winced at the sharp contact, and held his hips to his for a few moments, grinning as Sirius let out a low, pleading moan. As soon as Peter ground their groins together once more, slightly erect member meeting Sirius's engorged one, trapped painfully within the confines of his jeans, Sirius gasped. He threw his head back into the wall, ignoring the blunt pain that resulted from his action, and Peter took advantage of his new angle, running his lip along the rim of Sirius's ear, followed by his tongue and a shiver from the squirming boy between him and that wall.
Sirius was being driven half-mad with not-so-subtle pleasures, and he pressed the back of his head into the wood harder, letting out a trembling sigh. The kisses themselves were breathtaking and arousing enough, and as Peter's lips and tongue played along his ear, soft breaths lapping at his skin, shivers raced across his skin and directly to his erection.
Every time Peter brought their groins together, now setting a rocking pace, Sirius gasped and moaned, his restrained member aching. It was torture; cruel, heartless torture, and Sirius wanted it to end. Not because he was arguing with this ecstasy, he didn't care about the fact that this was a man anymore, but because he longed for the nerve-shattering release that he was on the verge of. He could feel it echoing through him with every one of Peter's rolling thrusts, with every touch of lips to his skin, and he craved it.
Peter's mouth had found its way down to the collar of Sirius's cloak, leaving a trail of red welts in its wake, and the muscles in Sirius's chest leapt in surprise at the nearby sensations.
"Peter…" Sirius groaned, eyes shut and throat exposed with head was pressed against the wall.
The older man shivered, his arousal stirring with the words moaned from those pale lips; one of his very first fantasies about this boy now a reality. He grinned and brought his lips to Sirius's ear again, breath spilling across the lobe.
"What?" He whispered, and Sirius jerked beneath him as he slammed his hips into his, pinning him against the wall of the pitch and feeling the warmth from his loins spreading through his own trousers.
"Please," he moaned, voice husky and cracking. Peter watched carefully as he swallowed, Adam's apple sliding down the column of his throat. Sirius's lips remained parted, brows drawn together above his closed eyes.
"Beg me, Sirius," Peter ordered, voice firm and sending a thrill racing up Sirius's spine as he pressed a kiss to his jaw, waiting.
Sirius Black was not one to beg. But under the circumstances, he was more than willing.
"Please, I beg you, let me come!" He gasped, Peter's grip on his hips tightening.
"Is that the best you can do?" The man asked in a low snarl, moving to pull away, but Sirius pulled him back wantonly.
"What do you want from me?" Sirius asked breathlessly, lines of frustration creasing his forehead.
Peter had a thousand scandalous answers to that question at the ready and grinned wolfishly at some of them, his lips brushing Sirius's earlobe.
"Oh, you'll see in time," he assured him, his voice a soft, seductive murmur, "but for now… moan my name," he demanded huskily.
He brought his pelvis upwards, rubbing their clothed erections together, and Sirius replied with a trembling shudder, as well as exactly what Peter had requested of him.
"Peter!" He moaned for all he was worth, making a spectacle fit for a dirty film out of it, head slamming into the boards. "Peter, please!"
Peter grinned and released his hold on Sirius's hips, maneuvering out of the young man's desperate grasp and taking a step away. Sirius opened his eyes, pupils diluted, tousled hair hanging in his ashen gaze with a haphazard grace. His lips were still parted, emitting gasping breaths, and he was staring at Peter with a shocked expression, his arousal pulsing through him. Why had he stepped away? He had done as he asked and begged, moaned his name. Why the hell did he still not get what he longed for? Torture! It was more unbearable torture.
"I thought you said you weren't gay," Peter said, his grin flickering at the corner of his lips and echoed in his dark gaze before, without so much as a muttered incantation, his form swirled into a spiral of mist, and he was gone.
Leaving a very cold, very alone, very hard Sirius, panting and stunned, in the Quidditch pitch.
______________
Needless to say, it was quite difficult to face James, Remus, and Peter (Pettigrew, that is) after that incident.
When Sirius came through the door, all three looked up, questions ready at the tips of their tongues. Their friend silenced them with one glare, though, and three jaws snapped shut, leaving six inquiring eyes following him as he trudged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
In the bathroom, Sirius drew himself a cold shower and stripped down, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
Peter had left numerous bite marks blooming across his neck and collar, and Sirius touched them absently with his fingertips, transfixed.
Sirius blinked, breaking the hypnosis the thought of Peter's lips forming those welts had created. He glanced down at his chest, pale and rippled with muscles, the bones of his hips slanting away towards his groin, making little crevices above his hips. His member hung limp between his thighs, protruding from a patch of dark curls, innocent in its normality, as if it hadn't been rigid with arousal a few minutes earlier.
Arousal that Peter had kindled.
He groaned and leaned up against the wall, tiles cool on his shoulder and back. Sirius let his eyes flicker closed, reliving the night.
"I intend to seduce you, Mr. Black."
The words were Peter's, and they sent a shiver rippling down Sirius's bare spine. The memory reverberated in his cock, and Sirius started at the feeling, stumbling towards the shower. He ducked into the stall, letting out a shaky sigh at the cold stream of water pelting his back. He braced himself against the wall, head hanging and eyes closed.
He was ashamed to be so vulnerable to this man, even in his thoughts, and he remembered, with a guilty shudder, how he had stroked himself to climax in the middle of the Quidditch pitch after Peter had gone.
He also remembered, opening his pale eyes and staring at the wall through damp strands of ebony hair, whose name he'd called out when he did.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sirius Black/Pete Wentz
Summary: In what was meant to be the greatest year of his life, reigning over Hogwarts as a seventh year, Sirius Black was met with his downfall - a dark-eyed, grinning man with the deadliest of secrets and the most fatal of plans.
Disclaimer: I own neither any of J.K. Rowling's works or Pete Wentz. Also, after writing a Harry Potter crossover fic, I no longer possess my own dignity.
Author's Note: Fall Out Boy/Marauder's-Era Harry Potter AU crossover.
Dedication: For Megyal, my lovely wife, who has been reqeusting I write something and mentioned wanting to read something of this ilk.
Prologue
Chapter One: Ashes, Ashes
Chapter Two: Set Up
Sirius shifted uncomfortably at the memory, drawing in a hissing breath as the stone beneath him ground into his back. Spine stinging, he pushed himself into a sitting position, cupping his lower back.
Outside his ring of light provided by a flickering street lamp, the world was cloaked in darkness. Sirius stared out into the blackness of the night, the pain in his back ebbing slightly. His fingers were numb, face pricked with cold, and his breath wafted through the frozen air in tendrils of heat, but Sirius took no notice of that, or that his entire body was stiff with cold. His mind was on Peter, on that night all those years ago…
Guilt and shame washed over him; guilt for the wicked pleasures he was dealt and shame for the blind longing that refused to release him.
He hated Peter passionately for everything he had done to him; for everything he had made him do. He hated Peter for the man he had made him and for the web of lies and deceit he had woven around him. He hated Peter for his damnable looks and his charming façade, and for the sinister, malevolent side of him he masked with seduction. He hated Peter for taking his virginity and he hated him for all the countless times thereafter that he continued to claim him. He hated Peter for captivating him, and he hated him for remaining foremost in his thoughts to that day.
But he also loved him, just a little, for it all.
Sirius let out a shaky breath, cursing himself in every vile fashion he knew because, greater than the disgust and loathing he felt for Peter Wentz was the disgust and loathing he felt for himself for being such a willing pawn in the man’s game. For playing along.
When he was at the height of his repulsive existence as Peter's creature, Sirius had shuddered to be in his own skin. He would return from an evening of carnal desires and horrific deeds that still made him wince and find himself a different man. Slowly, Peter had morphed him into an indistinguishable puppet, a slave of his mastery, until even Sirius himself could barely recognize the smug, cold-eyed man returning his glare from the bathroom mirror.
Then, he had been disgusted with himself. He still was.
It was hard for him to remember, to look back at the person he had been with Peter, and know that all that he had been was still a part of him. True, he hadn't had sex since Peter, nor had he hurt anyone since Peter, certainly not killed anyone since Peter, but he could never be washed of those sins. All of those countless, terrible sins.
Especially the killings.
____________________
Out of all the things Peter could have said or done, those words and that action were among the last on his list.
He had kissed him, for God's sake! A man had kissed him, lips pressed firmly against his, hands cupping their bodies together, and the worst thing was, Sirius liked it. Peter's body, broader and taller than his own, was cloaked in dense sinew, his hard angles and muscles so different from the soft curves Sirius was used to. His hands, long-fingered and elegant, were gripping his hips gently, forcing their groins together, and Sirius felt lurching despair as his stomach dropped to his loins and a sensation of heat and nerves kindled there. His lips, oh those lips, were full and soft, pressed against his own, and he wanted more.
Peter's lips parted against his slightly, and Sirius responded hungrily, eager as a child. His arms, which hung uselessly at his sides, came up, blue-white hands cradling Peter's smooth-shaven jaw, which was warm and heavy in his grasp. The older man grinned into the kiss, lifting Sirius's hips to his suddenly and making the boy shudder, hips bucking against his.
Smirking even more, Peter opened his mouth further, delighted when Sirius did the same, granting him entry into his own mouth. His tongue grazed Sirius's, and they met in a swaying rhythm, entangling and sliding across each other to the pace of their lips.
Sirius had forgotten who he was kissing, who he was so lost in, the moment Peter had pulled their hips together, sending a wave of nerves through his loins, stirring his phallus to life. The touch of flesh, lips, and tongue was enough to drown Sirius in Peter without question, without hesitation. It was so strange, a few years later looking back, how easily Peter had coerced him to drop all of his barriers and misgivings. He had always held that power over him, and for the first time, Sirius got a taste of Peter's particular method of persuasion. He loved it.
At first, when Peter's teeth caught Sirius's lower lip in a gentle nibble, the young man had enjoyed the soft sensation. It was when he ground the sensitive flesh between his teeth, making Sirius groan in pain, that the boy remembered his doubt. Blood flowed from the deep cut, and Peter ran his tongue over the inside of Sirius's lip, soothing the wound, his hand's moving in synch with his lips, subtly pressing the younger man's groin to his, then rolling Sirius's hips away, before bringing them together again, teasing him with a tide of sensation.
Peter did this once more and felt a stiff presence against the inside of his thigh, grinning into the kiss and sucking on Sirius's cut lip once before breaking their kiss.
Sirius let out a soft whimper, and then his eyes went wide. Just as his mouth opened in protest, Peter's ever skillful lips found the corner of his, silencing him with a soft kiss. Then, he trailed his lips downward, tracing his jaw line before plunging down the slope of the underside of his chin. Sirius immediately tensed in his arms and Peter half-shoved him into the wall of the Quidditch pitch, mouth latching onto a spot just below Sirius's earlobe. Peter used his new position to press the boy into the planks, who winced at the sharp contact, and held his hips to his for a few moments, grinning as Sirius let out a low, pleading moan. As soon as Peter ground their groins together once more, slightly erect member meeting Sirius's engorged one, trapped painfully within the confines of his jeans, Sirius gasped. He threw his head back into the wall, ignoring the blunt pain that resulted from his action, and Peter took advantage of his new angle, running his lip along the rim of Sirius's ear, followed by his tongue and a shiver from the squirming boy between him and that wall.
Sirius was being driven half-mad with not-so-subtle pleasures, and he pressed the back of his head into the wood harder, letting out a trembling sigh. The kisses themselves were breathtaking and arousing enough, and as Peter's lips and tongue played along his ear, soft breaths lapping at his skin, shivers raced across his skin and directly to his erection.
Every time Peter brought their groins together, now setting a rocking pace, Sirius gasped and moaned, his restrained member aching. It was torture; cruel, heartless torture, and Sirius wanted it to end. Not because he was arguing with this ecstasy, he didn't care about the fact that this was a man anymore, but because he longed for the nerve-shattering release that he was on the verge of. He could feel it echoing through him with every one of Peter's rolling thrusts, with every touch of lips to his skin, and he craved it.
Peter's mouth had found its way down to the collar of Sirius's cloak, leaving a trail of red welts in its wake, and the muscles in Sirius's chest leapt in surprise at the nearby sensations.
"Peter…" Sirius groaned, eyes shut and throat exposed with head was pressed against the wall.
The older man shivered, his arousal stirring with the words moaned from those pale lips; one of his very first fantasies about this boy now a reality. He grinned and brought his lips to Sirius's ear again, breath spilling across the lobe.
"What?" He whispered, and Sirius jerked beneath him as he slammed his hips into his, pinning him against the wall of the pitch and feeling the warmth from his loins spreading through his own trousers.
"Please," he moaned, voice husky and cracking. Peter watched carefully as he swallowed, Adam's apple sliding down the column of his throat. Sirius's lips remained parted, brows drawn together above his closed eyes.
"Beg me, Sirius," Peter ordered, voice firm and sending a thrill racing up Sirius's spine as he pressed a kiss to his jaw, waiting.
Sirius Black was not one to beg. But under the circumstances, he was more than willing.
"Please, I beg you, let me come!" He gasped, Peter's grip on his hips tightening.
"Is that the best you can do?" The man asked in a low snarl, moving to pull away, but Sirius pulled him back wantonly.
"What do you want from me?" Sirius asked breathlessly, lines of frustration creasing his forehead.
Peter had a thousand scandalous answers to that question at the ready and grinned wolfishly at some of them, his lips brushing Sirius's earlobe.
"Oh, you'll see in time," he assured him, his voice a soft, seductive murmur, "but for now… moan my name," he demanded huskily.
He brought his pelvis upwards, rubbing their clothed erections together, and Sirius replied with a trembling shudder, as well as exactly what Peter had requested of him.
"Peter!" He moaned for all he was worth, making a spectacle fit for a dirty film out of it, head slamming into the boards. "Peter, please!"
Peter grinned and released his hold on Sirius's hips, maneuvering out of the young man's desperate grasp and taking a step away. Sirius opened his eyes, pupils diluted, tousled hair hanging in his ashen gaze with a haphazard grace. His lips were still parted, emitting gasping breaths, and he was staring at Peter with a shocked expression, his arousal pulsing through him. Why had he stepped away? He had done as he asked and begged, moaned his name. Why the hell did he still not get what he longed for? Torture! It was more unbearable torture.
"I thought you said you weren't gay," Peter said, his grin flickering at the corner of his lips and echoed in his dark gaze before, without so much as a muttered incantation, his form swirled into a spiral of mist, and he was gone.
Leaving a very cold, very alone, very hard Sirius, panting and stunned, in the Quidditch pitch.
______________
Needless to say, it was quite difficult to face James, Remus, and Peter (Pettigrew, that is) after that incident.
When Sirius came through the door, all three looked up, questions ready at the tips of their tongues. Their friend silenced them with one glare, though, and three jaws snapped shut, leaving six inquiring eyes following him as he trudged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
In the bathroom, Sirius drew himself a cold shower and stripped down, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
Peter had left numerous bite marks blooming across his neck and collar, and Sirius touched them absently with his fingertips, transfixed.
Sirius blinked, breaking the hypnosis the thought of Peter's lips forming those welts had created. He glanced down at his chest, pale and rippled with muscles, the bones of his hips slanting away towards his groin, making little crevices above his hips. His member hung limp between his thighs, protruding from a patch of dark curls, innocent in its normality, as if it hadn't been rigid with arousal a few minutes earlier.
Arousal that Peter had kindled.
He groaned and leaned up against the wall, tiles cool on his shoulder and back. Sirius let his eyes flicker closed, reliving the night.
"I intend to seduce you, Mr. Black."
The words were Peter's, and they sent a shiver rippling down Sirius's bare spine. The memory reverberated in his cock, and Sirius started at the feeling, stumbling towards the shower. He ducked into the stall, letting out a shaky sigh at the cold stream of water pelting his back. He braced himself against the wall, head hanging and eyes closed.
He was ashamed to be so vulnerable to this man, even in his thoughts, and he remembered, with a guilty shudder, how he had stroked himself to climax in the middle of the Quidditch pitch after Peter had gone.
He also remembered, opening his pale eyes and staring at the wall through damp strands of ebony hair, whose name he'd called out when he did.