Pairing: LM/RL, SB/RL implied

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1023

Betad by the incomparable Underlucius

The dingy, stinking walls of the rented chamber closed in around him, Malfoy’s cloying scent overpowering his senses as he laid spread out on the rickety bed, magical restraints stretching his arms above him, crudely pulling his legs apart so his shrivelled prick lay exposed and vulnerable.

He should never have come here, should not have sought out Lucius Malfoy during a Hogsmeade weekend, confronting him about what had happened with Sirius, why Malfoy had sent Sirius the black roses, why Sirius had fled from the Great Hall.

Now his clothes were hanging in tatters around his slender body, his wand ripped from his hand before he could even think about using it. Malfoy’s fiery breath played over his bare chest, tongue darting out to tickle and tease his nipples, and Remus twisted his hips from side to side in a vain attempt to evade the long-fingered hand that was tracing a path from his navel down to tangle in his embryonic pubic hair, then on to manipulate his cock, which was stiffening, oh God he was getting hard, how could he be getting hard? He struggled frantically, and the chains jerked roughly, spreading his legs so wide he thought his pelvis would crack open like an egg.

“So, you want me to stay away from Black,” Malfoy murmured, “and why should I do that, hmm? Can you offer me something better?" And he slithered over Remus' thin body, rough tongue scraping over every scar, every claw mark, every bite the wolf had wrought on his body in the endless years since he'd been infected, down to lick up the length of his unblemished cock.

"And judging by how well marked you are, you like it rough." Malfoy squeezed Remus' prick hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. "I like it rough as well."

Then his mouth was closing over Remus, lips deftly massaging the tip, tongue teasing his slit and around his cock head, and it felt so good, and so incredibly wrong that it was Malfoy's . Sirius should have been the one, the first one to touch him like this, not Malfoy, not like this, chained like…like an animal.

But he couldn't stop himself from thrusting hard into Malfoy's mouth, and the man's hand grasped around the base of his prick, milking it, while the other reached under his balls and pressed upward, hard, and Remus' pleasure began to spiral out of control and he was so fucking close, inches away from orgasm.

Then Malfoy was off him, leaving him shuddering with frustration and relieved beyond measure. Remus looked up and saw the man smiling down at him and the smile was more terrifying than the chains or the gag that kept him silent. And his captor was reaching for a single beeswax taper stuck high in a wall sconce, twirling it in those elegant hands, fanning the flame, watching the milky white wax melting and flowing like the come that Remus so longed to shoot from his aching cock.

And the wax was dripping, seeping like precome from the candle's tip and it was dropping like Chinese water torture onto his chest and belly, trailing fire and agony over scars and nipples and sensitive skin. Remus screamed despite the gag, which swelled, filling his mouth with foul cloth, and he choked, fighting down the urge to vomit, struggling against the inexorable bonds. He looked down at his body, where angry blisters were erupting under the scabs of wax, and tears of pain and humiliation slid unchecked down his cheeks.

And he was still hard, oh god, how could he still be hard after that? But he was, and Malfoy had his own prick out and was stroking it, while he watched Remus' slender body writhe, terrified of where the excruciating fire would next strike.

But Malfoy extinguished the candle, and muttered a spell, and the bonds holding his legs pulled upwards and even further out, and his virginal arse was laid open for Malfoy. No, please, not you, not like this, he begged silently, but it was no use – something was insistently pressing at his entrance. Not Malfoy's prick though, for he could see that, angry, red and leaking, so impossibly large, was that what all grown men looked like?

The thing was warm, oh God it was the candle, still blood-warm and slightly melted and wasn't there supposed to be lubrication when you did this? But no, no Malfoy was pushing it past the iron ring of muscle, forcing the taper past the pucker Remus had hardly dared to touch in his solitary sex play, and it was breaching him, opening him, scraping against his dry anus. He moaned without volition as the thing filled him, ripping from him the gift he'd intended for Sirius. He strained, trying to force it out, but Malfoy must have placed a spell on it, for with every exertion, the obscene candle slid further in, and oh God why was he still hard?

Malfoy's hand was stroking him and the candle was fucking his arse, and it felt good, how could this grotesque travesty feel so wonderful – but it did, and warmth was spreading through his whole body, radiating out from his balls, which were drawing up tight and wrinkled against his body, and he tried to hold it off, but his climax hit him, and he couldn't help the groans of pleasure that slid past the gag.

Surely now his captor would remove the candle and replace it with his organ, but oddly, Malfoy seemed content to stroke himself to climax, and within seconds he felt hot spurts of come splattering his chest, and the sordid chamber was redolent of sex.

Then the cottony taste of the gag was gone, and Remus was swallowing convulsively, trying to return enough moisture to his mouth for speech.

"I'll…" he finally managed.

"You'll tell? You'll scuttle off to the Ministry, replete with tales of Lucius Malfoy's barbaric behaviour? No, you won't, because I have something of my own to share. And you'll be back for more, anytime I say." Malfoy smiled down coldly. "Won't you…Werewolf?"