Into His Keeping

Remus doesn't like to think about how much he enjoys seeing Harry's arse bloom bright red as he smacks it over and over again with his hand. Instead, he howls deep inside, his erection stirring as Harry wriggles over his lap and sobs and promises to be a good boy. He shudders with anticipation as Harry's hard cock presses against his thighs, spilling its salty tears in tandem with the ones slipping from Harry's eyes. He is undone when Harry caterwauls, "Daddy!" in between choking sobs, the pain from Remus's unrelenting force dissolving him. His hand stings from the force of his blows.

Remus stops. Harry's body is limp as a rag doll, unmoving and draped over his knees. Waiting to be posed.

"What am I to do with you?"

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers, sniffling.

Remus runs his hand gently across the curve of Harry's arse. The heat rises and licks at his stinging hand. The touch is meant to be soothing. Harry hisses and tries to wriggle away. Remus holds him fast.

"You always say you're sorry, but we end up right here again, don't we?"

Harry sniffs again. Remus can only imagine how blotchy and wet Harry's face is. He'll need a bath.

"I'm sorry," Harry says again, his tone both petulant and penitent. Only Harry could harmonize such contradiction. The same way he harmonizes strength and vulnerability, Remus suspects.

Remus rubs Harry's arse again, soothing him with the same hand that punished him. Harry doesn't hiss as much this time. Remus examines the fleshy canvas so wantonly displayed across his lap. The red is breathtaking against the milky pale of the rest of Harry's skin. He leans closer and categorizes his marks. Beneath the rosy red are mottled greens and yellows—remnants from Harry's last punishment. He rubs his nose against Harry's left arse cheek, trailing soft kisses in its wake.

"I only do this because I must," Remus murmurs against Harry's skin. "I do this because I love you."

Remus drops a final kiss and straightens up. Harry is squirming, ready to get down.

"Not just yet, cub. We're not through."

Harry tenses. Remus hears more sniffling.

"No more punishment. I promise."

He feels Harry nod, his soft, black hair tickling Remus's shins through the thin spots at the bottom of his shabby robes.

"I'm sorry. Really," Harry says.

Remus believes him. He always believes him, because he knows Harry is telling the truth. He is sorry, but that doesn't stop him from getting into trouble again.

"You were very, very rude to him, Harry. There is no excuse for the way you acted."

More sniffling. A tear splatters against the hardwood floor. "He was… he was touching you," Harry says, the loathing—the fear—in his voice as naked as his body.

"He won't take me away from you, cub. I've told you that. He wants to be a part of our family. Don't you see? I'm doing this for you. I'm giving you what you—what we both—need. Won't you like that, hmm? An uncle to play with as well as a daddy?"

Remus rubs his hand across Harry's arse in circles, trying to calm him.

"I've not had good luck with uncles, if you'll recall," Harry says.

Remus nods, knowing Harry can't see him. He waits. He knows Harry can't stand the silence.

"We don't need him. I just… I just want you."

"And you have me. But I think you need more. I want more and I make the decisions. Don't you remember, Harry? You came to me? You told me how alone and scared and confused you were? How you needed someone to make the decisions? Someone to help you when things got to be too much?" Remus's voice is harsher than he wishes it to be and he almost breaks when he hears Harry whimper. But when Harry is like this, Harry needs his daddy. Harry needs the strength that only Remus can give him.

"Ye—Yes. I remember."

Remus smacks Harry's arse hard, holding him tight as Harry yelps and tries to roll off of his lap. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I remember, Daddy."

Remus's softens his touch, soothing with the pads of his fingers. "Such a good boy. You want to be a good boy, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy." Harry almost purrs as he undulates under Remus's soft touch. Harry sighs contentedly, and Remus smiles down at his beautiful boy.

"How about a bath, a spot of lunch, and a nap, hmm? Does that sound good?"

Harry nods. Remus relishes the familiar tickling against his shins. He helps Harry to his feet, always grateful that Harry never managed to grow taller than him. He pulls Harry along to the bath, admiring his slim lines and angles. Even at eighteen—and a man in more ways than one can count—Harry is still a tangle of gangly limbs and coltish charm.

Harry leans against Remus, letting him take his full weight. He nuzzles Remus's neck, his soft hair and small nose coaxing Remus into pulling him closer. Remus feels the lingering wetness on Harry's cheeks. He wants to lick it away.

"There, there, pet," Remus says. Harry keeps his face buried in the crook of Remus's neck, not watching where they're going, trusting instead that Remus will lead him without fail.

It is Harry's level of trust that Remus finds most intoxicating. When he's like this—when he needs this—he puts his life into Remus's hands on a fundamental level. Remus likes being trusted; he's been trusted too little in his life. With a just nuzzle of his cheek and a soft sigh, Harry absolves him with his vulnerability. That Harry would willingly display it—embrace it, even—shows a quiet strength that others wouldn't understand.

Remus wonders, as they make their way down the hall, if that's what Severus sees? What he feels? Does he believe, like Remus, that there is absolution in Harry? Whatever Severus sees, Remus knows it's genuine—it's the only reason he's considering inviting him into the "family."

Remus walks Harry to the bath and turns on the taps. He gives Harry the choice between the blue bubbles or red. Harry sniffles, still out of sorts from his punishment, and points to the blue. It's silly, really—they both know it—but these inconsequential choices make Harry feel safe. The choice between blue and red bubbles is comforting, unlike having to choose between who lives and who dies.

Harry slips into the bath, hissing as the warm water meets his bruised arse. Remus murmurs soft words and helps him turn on his side.

"It will be better tomorrow."

Harry bites his lip and nods.

"You had to be punished."

Harry looks down. "I know."

Remus nods and sets about washing Harry, smiling when Harry sighs with contentment as the soft flannel swishes back and forth.

"Feel better?"

Harry nods, his eyes half-lidded. He's sleepy, which isn't surprising given the upheaval of the day.

Remus helps Harry out of the bath and dries him off, patting gently around Harry's arse. The punishment is over. Remus has no desire to hurt Harry unnecessarily.

Remus leads him out of the bath. He doesn't dress him. Harry's already half-hard and it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful cock. Lunch can wait.

He lays Harry on the bed on his stomach, his hand pressing against the small of Harry's back. Remus's clothing covers the chair in the far corner of the room.

Harry looks small and almost ethereal sprawled across wine-colored blankets. Remus hesitates, wondering if he's taking advantage.

Harry twists his head around, his eyes questioning. Remus shakes his head imperceptibly and sighs. Harry licks his lips and sits up, facing him. He cocks his head to the side for a moment, a ghost of a smirk plays across his lips.

Before Remus can question, Harry is in his lap, straddling him, his fingernails raking down Remus's back. Remus growls with pleasure. Harry can shift on a knut and Remus loves never being able to anticipate what he wants, needs. His cock stirs as Harry's earlier fragility breaks away.

"You going to fuck me, or what?" Harry whispers breathlessly against Remus's ear, grinding himself against Remus. "I've been a bad, bad boy. Haven't I, Daddy?"

Remus groans. He pulls Harry closer as he feels Harry's legs curl around his back. "You've been punished already," he manages to say, the feel of Harry's lips dancing across his skin almost overwhelming him.

"All right, then, reward me for being your very, very good boy." Harry bites the shell of Remus's ear and licks away the sting. "Fuck me, damn it."

With a growl, Remus pulls Harry away, pushes him down on the bed, and flips him over.

"Someone needs to remember his place," Remus says as he unscrews the lid from a small pot of unguent he uses rarely.

Harry raises his head and sniffs. "Another spanking," he says. Remus can just see a lazy smile curling across his face. Harry turns his head so that Remus can see him fully, his eyes glittering with challenge.

"Lie down," Remus says. He rubs the unguent across Harry's bottom, dispelling all evidence of punishment. His hands rub and knead Harry's arse, pinking it anew. Remus cups his hand, draws back, and lets it fall, reveling in the weight of the blow and the sound of Harry's answering moan.

Harry had told him once what it was like to be spanked for pleasure, comparing it to a bright sting of fire doused by throbbing warmth. He said that as the blows fall, the fire and warmth seeks purchase in his groin, curling and twining around his cock until there's no end and no beginning, just the infinite twist of pain and pleasure. Remus never tired of hearing about it.

"Tell me how it feels," Remus says, his hand falling again and skittering heavily down the side of Harry's arse.

"Stings. Stings, fuck …feels so good."

Remus lets fly three short, percussive smacks, Harry's arse hitching higher with each one.

"Fire… feels like fire."

Remus rubs his hands across the reddened skin. Harry hisses.

"Warmth. Spreading out. Making me hard. Want to come, please… want to come."

"No," Remus growls, smacking harder, making Harry cry out.


Remus rubs again.

"Better. So much better. Makes me want—ah, yeah… like that—makes me want the sting."

Remus waits a long moment before letting his hand fall against Harry's arse with a solid thump. Harry whines and shimmies closer.

"You like this," Remus says.


"You need this."

"Yes. I need it. Please. I need it. Need your hands. Need you."

Remus smacks three more times, each blow a bit harder than the last.

"Harder, more… fuck, that stings," Harry cries.

Remus soothes the reddened skin beneath his hands. Harry sighs.

"Fuck me," Harry says.

Remus chuckles. "In due time," he murmurs as he twists and bends down, searching for a large dildo in the small chest at the side of the bed.

Harry turns his head at the sound of clanking metal and leather and latex. He sees the dildo. He licks his lips and smirks.

Remus coats it with lube and nudges it against Harry's entrance, rocking it in and out until Harry greedily draws it into him with shuddering gasps and throbbing muscles.

"You are going to be open for me." Remus rocks the dildo harder, twisting it, delighting in Harry's gasps.

"Harder," Harry pants.

Remus slaps the side of Harry's arse hard, ignoring Harry's yelp. "You don't tell me what to do. Good boys follow directions. Are you a good boy, Harry? Are you?" Remus asks, kneading the side of Harry's hip, thrusting the dildo in harder and faster.

"Yes," Harry hisses in a long, thin curl of sound. "Your good boy. Yours."

"Mine," Remus growls as he withdraws the dildo and pushes himself inside of Harry in one possessive thrust. He starts thrusting immediately, refusing to hold back.

Remus knows Harry needs something different now. No longer a limp rag doll—sniffling and cowed—Harry scrabbles against the blankets, howling and begging like a Knockturn Alley whore.

Remus thrusts in and out. There's no finesse, no calculation or gentleness. It's about power—freely traded between two willing partners. Remus doesn't think he's as strong as Harry, doesn't think he could give his power away so freely, trusting that it won't be abused.

Such weighty thoughts fly from Remus's mind, their flight buoyed by Harry's groans and nonsensical words as he presses back, meeting Remus thrust for thrust. Remus's fingers dig into Harry's hips, keeping him pressed to the mattress. He knows he'll leave bruises behind. Remus likes knowing that.

He thrusts faster and faster until he's coming, buried deep inside of his boy. The pleasure of it is so exquisite that it bears the sharp edge of pain. The coiled twist of pleasure and pain also pleases his wolf. Remus's eyes roll back and his head lolls as the last of his orgasm leaves him.

With effort, he rolls Harry over and licks the head of Harry's purpling cock. Pre-ejaculate teases his palate as he draws it further into his mouth.

Remus sinks down, growling with pleasure. He flicks his eyes up, looking at Harry, admiring the flush of his skin, the quick rise and fall of his chest. Harry's eyes are closed. His mouth is open, his lips rounded into a perfect "o."

Remus pulls off. "Such a good boy. My beautiful, good boy," Remus whispers.

"Your boy. Yours, yours, yours," Harry moans.

Remus takes him into his mouth again and sucks. He nuzzles his nose at the base of Harry's cock, inhaling Harry's scent. He sucks hard, smiling as Harry yowls and thrusts into his mouth. Harry's thrusts are erratic and rough. His hips snap back and forth, his cock nudging the back of Remus's throat. Remus swallows, enjoying the way Harry shivers and curses and sobs and begs for more, more, more.

Remus gives it to him—gives him all he has.

Seconds later, the salty tang of Harry's come shoots down Remus's throat, the overflow trickling from the corners of his mouth. He pulls away and licks his lips.

Harry's eyes are half-lidded again. He curls on his side and stretches. Remus lies beside him, pulling blankets over them as he goes. Harry nestles into him. They say nothing else, each drifting closer to sleep. Remus curls his arm around Harry's waist. Harry sighs with contentment.

Harry settles down, his breathing evening out, his warm, soft skin wrapped equally by blankets and Remus. "Remus," he whispers, as he wallows deep into the covers and slips into sleep.

"Daddy," Remus whispers back, as he pulls his boy closer into his keeping.



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