Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

When Royal's Attack!!!

For some reason I'm watching something on Kate Middleton on BBC America.
It's so weird watching this stuff. I'm American and I know nothing about the Royal Family. Other than Queen Elizabeth being the longest reigning Monarc since Queen Victoria.
I didn't even bother watching the Royal Wedding.
It's kinda interesting.
To be honest, if America was weird about our politician's. I'm sure we'd get a lot of these sorts of show's. Only I think this is a more British Thing. They're all up on the Royal Family. Funnily enough, you don't vote those people in. It's a blood line thing. So, I think a Monarcy is scarier to have because no one ever rules the same. Ya know?
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Fic: A New Day 1/?

A New Day

Rating - Pg13/R

Pairing - pre John/Sherlock

Warnings -

Disclaimer - I do not own. I do not make any money off this fan fiction.

A/n - Because I rather prefer post The Great Hiatus fic. :) I know, the term is used for ACD refusing to write more Sherlock stories. I use it to refer to the three years Sherlock was undercover taking down Moriarty's gang because it's easier to remember.

Summary - John and Sherlock meet again. London is still the same.


It was upon a Monday morning; a rather foggy morning in fact; that John H. Watson noticed the little details. He'd left that flat that morning at eight, just before his shift at the London Rose Hospital on High Street. And he came home at five that evening to find that things were different. For one, upon entering the building, he could hear the violin playing.

Vivaldi's Winter Concerto number one. The one Sherlock loved to the play. The starting notes were high and sharp before going into the faster but. John couldn't describe the way Sherlock played. Elegant, flexible...and then, Sherlock played like Sherlock played. There weren't many words in the English Language to describe one Sherlock Holmes. But, John knew as he counted the seventeen steps to the flat, that it was indeed Sherlock that was playing.

Ever so slowly, John pushed the door open. At there, by the fire place, Sherlock stood. His back to the door. The music masked the sound of the door creak open. Sherlock looked immaculate. His suit pressed. He must have showered because his hair was slightly damp still. He must smell the same, John added, because Sherlock smelt like a warm spring afternoon in the country.

John lent against the door jam. Just listening. Wondering when the mirage would disappear and he'd be left alone again. Three years was a long time believing that Sherlock was still alive. His therapist said he wasn't past the denial stage of grief yet. Even though that was the first stage and he'd been angry first and then the denial had set in and never left. There was no reason for the denial. All the clues told him that Sherlock was dead. But, and like Sherlock's fans, he just couldn't believe it.

The music stopped abruptly. Sherlock slowly put his violin down in the case open at his feet. Bare feet. John's mind corrected. Sherlock then turned and they stood in silence. John still waited for Sherlock to dissipate into nothing. But, he didn't. Instead he moved and crossed the room. Soon they were facing each other. Almost eye to eye though John had to look up a bit. It was normal and...and suddenly Sherlock found himself with an arm full of ex-Army Medic who was saying his name over and over again and if his shirt felt damp he didn't say.

Slowly. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John who held him tightly and said as soothingly as he could; "I am so sorry, John. I hope you will understand..."


He and John ordered out of Chinese. Their version of comfort food. And John brought out two bottles of beer from the fridge. Sherlock had explained the whole story. How he didn't have a choice, how he had to fake his death. He made it all make sense. He gave John the answers in his usual way. And John had told Sherlock how amazing and brilliant he was. He couldn't find it within himself to be angry. Though he should have been. But, he had all ready been angry at Sherlock and now there was no need because it'd been one of Sherlock's tricks.

"I'm glad you came back," John said. They'd finished their dinner. Sherlock had grabbed them both a second beer and they were watching crap telly at ten in the evening. There wasn't much to talk about. John had given the run down on Lestrade and his teams lives since Sherlock had "died". And Sherlock promised to let them know he was alive and well as soon as possible.

They stayed up late enough to see the start of BBC News at Midnight. Only several minutes into it, John had sagged against Sherlock's side. The taller man smiled at his friend fondly as he moved them both so they were lying upon the sofa. He wrapped himself around John who muttered his name and gripped back. And only then did Sherlock feel safe enough to fall asleep.


London's criminal element didn't stop their activities just because the only Consulting Detective and his Ex-Army medic were asleep in their flat. In fact, it was during the early morning hours of Tuesday when someone decided to kill a young woman. Hortense Mason was twenty-two years old. She coloured her hair blond, though she was originally a red head since her roots had grown out to the point where she needed to do her hair again. She was a prostitute because her clothing was very provocative and she had three thousand dollars of cash on her.

The motive, obviously, was not robbery. Why kill her and not take the money? So, it had to be personal. So far, there weren't many clues. She lived in the sum's of London and shared her flat with other prostitutes. Her family was rich, but the parent's had cut her off because she refused to marry a boy of her station and instead went for a street artist. Three weeks after leaving her fancy life behind, her boyfriend had dumped her and she couldn't go back. So she turned to the oldest business in the history of the world.

Greg Lestrade and his team were stumped as to who had killed her. The case soon became cold and put into storage as other homicides plagues the H-Division.


"How should we tell them you're alive?" John asked, "Texting is a bit rude, isn't it?" he asked.

Sherlock lay on the couch reading the London Times. He folded the paper enough to glance at John; "Is it?" he asked. John smiled and shook his head.

"Or, I could poke my nose into their business..." Sherlock said. He jumped to his feet and folded the paper before handing it off to John; "Tuesday the body of Hortense Mason was found. Her family is of course friends with my family," he shrugged, "and of course Mummy know's I'm alive and have returned to my old station as a Consulting Detective. She asked Mycroft to make me poke my nose into Hortense's death." he explained.

"So, you're just going to go and march into NSY and demand the case files?" John asked.

"It get's better. I may be hired to only look into Hortense's case, but, there are three other cold cases that are very similar," Sherlock said. He rubbed his hands and smiled at nothing over John's head. John "hummed" and put the paper down on the coffee table.

"A Serial Killer," John stood, "you love those, where are we going?"

"NSY, of course, my dear John," Sherlock winked. He dawned his coat and scarf while John did the same and in seconds they were hailing a cab and on their way to see Lestrade and his staff.
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Good Writer's Only, please!

What the fuck.
No, seriously.
I was at the BBC Sherlock meme and some Anon-idiot is posting prompts like crazy. Only they add a rather horrible addendum; "Good Writer's Only, Please!"

As if the "Please" makes it al BETTER!

I posted in the meme's rant post about this. Apparently, it's okay for me to be as mean as I want so I do expect some backlash and name calling. It doesn't bother me. because of this.

We have bad writers.
We have good writers.
We have boring writers.
We have crazy writers.
We have brilliant writers.

And any other writer you can think of.


No one has the right to tell other people not to fill their prompt if the anon thinks they are a bad writer. No one has the right to tell other people that their writing is shit. Oh, don't get me wrong. It's okay to say that there are a few things that need to be fixed. But, the bottom line is, telling a bunch of people not to bother to fill a prompt because they're horrible writer is a troll-like thing to do.

I have read a lot of writing that, to me, was bad. And maybe I'll make fun of it sometimes. But seriously, I'm not going to say that person is a bad writer. Only that they need to practice. I need to practice. I know for a fact my writing isn't perfect.

This anon-idiot needs a lesson in accepting how other people write.
I mean. I hate Twilight, I don't think Meyer's can write at all. But, there are a lot of people out there that EMBRACE her writing and love her for it. A lot of people think JKR can't write either, but I love Harry Potter!

Good writing means different things to different people.
That doesn't mean someone has the right to go around and DEMAND good writing.
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Once more, and more...

I do believe, that as the English Language changes with all the influx of odd things - that I shall never get over the palpitations my heart does when I see erroneous - in my eyes - mistakes that make me go bat shit insane!

Let us, take for example, once more and more...the apostrophe-S.
It is a style marker, I believe. It is neither right nor wrong.
I still despise it.
I blog about this from time to time when someone has attached an extra S on the end of a name that all ready ends with an S. I do not understand why this happens. Let it stand, however, that our Dear Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle has done this. I was reading a story when I saw "Holmes's". And while I understand the style differentiates depending on where in history one writes, there are still things that haunt the moors at night.

I believe that the single apostrophe is far more elegant. And it doesn't disrupts the eye as the cornea rolls over the page, taking up the information. For, at random times, I find that I am transfixed trying to sound the word out in my head and I've got and extra S-sound and the word fizzles out like a snake.


Style in it's own right is rather superfluous.
Writing is an art that is strangled to death by rules that shouldn't exist.
Am I saying this is wrong, yes, I am. I'm not, however, saying that people shouldn't use it. Just, I wish less people would.

And this, my dear friends, is what happens to my writing when I've read a classic.


I found that one must do this if one is making the person a posessive.

"That is Mr. Holmes's personal file."

I'd get rid of that S still. *shrugs*
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Four Times Mrs. Hudson had to replace her Windows and one where she didn't

I wrote this INNOCENT thing for the BBC Sherlock Kink meme.
The OP wanted five times Sherlock threw someone out the window, and one where he threw someone down the stairs. There is some Anderson bashing. But, from what I have read in fandom,t hat's pretty normal. damn, I hope. Meh. He's a jerk anyway. :)
Once again, can't cut because of my Ipad.


She couldn't say she wasn't surprised someone had come into her home without being invited. Sherlock had scrapes with random assassins all the time. Sometimes she knew about it and sometimes she didn't but she'd rather assume a fight had broken out than ask Sherlock if he'd ruined something intentionally.

The first time he threw someone out the window was the American CIA bloke who had her at gun point. She'd been scared. No one had ever involved her in their nefarious plans to kill Sherlock before. And she hoped it wouldn't happen again. The man didn't die though. No, and neither she nore John had told the police anything. Other than the man obviously did it because Sherlock drove him to it. DI Lestrade just gave them a look - and then went to ask Sherlock about it.

Her bins were bent to hell; but they'd been replaced over night and they didn't say anything more on the subject.

Sherlock sprung for the window.


The second time a window broke.
It wasn't a surprise to find out that the man had ben trying to take Sherlock captive. And Sherlock being a black belt in some Eastern form of fighting, not to mention Victorian stick fighting and boxing - it was no surprise when the front window was smashed otu by the heavy set man. Thankfully, he landed in the trash bed of the rubbish truck.

"Good riddance to Charles Augustus Milverton!" Sherlock snorted when asked about it.


The third time. John helped.

Mrs. Hudson watched.

And because of the bruises she got from the fight before her boys discovered the man bashing on her - no one really cared what her son-in-law had to say on the matter.


The fourth time her windows got busted.
It was only the skull being thrown about.
She heard hurried "sorry's!" from her boys up stairs.
She just shook her head, and put it down on the rent.


The fifth time Sherlock threw someone about, he avoided her windows.
Maybe because he was tired of always paying for the window pains to be replaced.
Whatever it was, Anderson took a head long plunge downy he steps.
Sherlock yelling after him to go get sober and then try and beat him up for giving his secret affair away to his wife.
It took a few days for that one to be cleared up.
And Anderson never showed his face at 221B Baker Street after that, even on those pretend drug busts the DI liked to surprise Sherlock with.
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Tickling Arthur's Feet - By Christopher Rosalie - Story Review

I decided that to illustrate what I think are good kink fiction - I can't call this BDSM Fiction because there really isn't any sex in it - that I'd review stories. Good and Bad.
It's a tool for writer's. Now, I'm not saying that what I'm gonna write here goes for everyone. Critics sometimes know what they're talking about and sometimes they don't.
I decided on a classic fiction for today's review. I do like this story. I've read it a few times. I don't know why.

Okay; The story is about a guy, an executive, who wants to buy a house.
He goes to meet someone to see a house. In the basement, he is shown this chair. He is curious about it and so he get's trick into getting strapped in. I can't explain how this thing works. But, there are make shift stalks locked around his ankles. And since he's tied to the chair, Arthur can't go anywhere. And then - that is if I am remembering the story correctly - the guy he met for the house showing tells him that it was all a gag and that it's just pretense to get Arthur into the tickling chair.

Yes, that's right.
This is a Tickle Torture fetish/kink fiction.
I'm using Fiction here instead of fic, because I'm a fan fic writer, so I think of fandoms when Fic is said. So, Fiction is to show that this is an original story. I hope that works.

"My wife and I were going to buy a house. I could not believe it. After being married for three years and paying rent to a landlord we could not stand, we were able to afford a house. All our scrimping and saving had finally paid off. I was at work when I got the call from a Real Estate agency that we had been dealing with that they wanted to show us a choice house as soon as possible. It was nine thirty AM on the dot when my phone rang."

That is the first paragraph of the story. And while it's not too engaging of the reader. It's still better than the "let me describe myself using crags list lingo" that most stories tend to be. Now. I will say that this story is slightly dub-connish. There is a bit of boring set up. But, I have to do that as well. So, it's forgiven.

Let me tell you though. This is a well written story. I have not yet seen a misspelled word; or some other glaringly obvious grammar mistake which tells you the author is either lazy or a novice. Because that usually shows up within the first bit of text.

"My name is Arthur Gimble, I'm thirty years old, an executive with Chase bank. I have short cut brown hair, parted on the side in a banker's cut and brown chestnut shaped eyes. I'm five feet nine inches tall. I had started out at Chase bank as a teller when I was nineteen years old. Through a lot of hard work, four years of college and two years of banking school I worked my way up the corporate ladder. At the age of thirty I was in charge of the Customer Account department and also in charge of a few of the bank's key accounts. Three years ago I married the girl of my dreams. And now we were prepared to buy a house. Yes, it sure seemed that everything was falling in place in my life. I didn't know as I headed for the subway to Brooklyn that I would fall into place myself, actually I would fall stupidly and helplessly into place while checking out the house in Bay Ridge. Dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, a dark red silk necktie and black lace-up wing tips I dashed down the steps to the subway..."

Sorry. I will say that it's better than crags list with the numbers. But...I don't know if there is a better way to do this. Unless you add a character bio at the top along with the title and authors notes for the story. I mean. There has GOT to be a better way. I don't understand my preoccupation with this...writing technique. It seems so old school....

"So there I was, handcuffed to a chair with my damned feet locked in a pair of stocks. I wriggled my fingers and my socked toes nervously. I watched as Ronald switched on the record player and the turntable began spinning the sticks with the feathers on the ends of them around and around. On the turntable speed of 45 RPM's it was moving pretty fast. I watched as the feathers on the ends of the sticks spun around and moved all over the bottoms of my (still) shoed and socked feet.

"See?" Ronald asked me, looking down sort of hungrily at my feet. "It's called an Executive Tickle Torture machine." - "

And now we are getting down to the good bit.
I mean, the dude had to get Arthur into that chair some how.
I say it's dub-con because they didn't meet looking for a good time.
In fact, neither know each other very well. No boundaries have been set. No safe words - though, I read an article that said that safe words are kinda silly seeing as how in times of great distress the sub will forget what the word is - erm...I dunno what to say on that, but I still believe in safe words so whatever. This means, that since nothing has been negotiated, that this scene is dub-conned. I can't say rape because there isn't any sex. There is jerking off, and some piss play...or mention of it. It's kinda hot.

I really like this story because it's not pretentious. The Author is talking this with respect. Because, sometimes I'll read stuff in another fiction but it's really gross. It's the same kink, but badly handled <-- pun! - it's icky and makes me physically sick. So I have to find something else to read.

This story, despite the boring parts which is just the fourth bit of the beginning of the fiction, are good. I enjoyed reading the Fiction. I liked both characters. I found the ending a bit odd. But. I won't spoil. It might just be me. Still. I liked it because the guy wasn't put down by it. There weren't any crass jokes, or bad names being called. It was handled very well. <-- Another Pun!

This, I think, is a classic story. I wanted to do one I liked first.
Of course there will always be something I don't like. I haven't found a Fiction yet that I've read over and over again because it's perfect for me. I've found bits and pieces that are, and so I will happily ignore the boring parts just to get to the good bit.

And this is good.
If you want to try something new. This is mostly tickle torture. Which I've found is really hot as long as the story is written well.

DISCLAIMER - I'm going to assumee that EVERYONE that clicks on the link is of age to read this stuff.

Link - http://web.archive.org/web/200012041108/http://www.ropejock.com/st300/ticklingarthurs.html
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

What to do now?????

I used five question marks in my title because I feel that number sufficiently illustrates my utter lack of muse on TMCOSH <-- "The Many Cumming's of Sherlock Holmes". The WHOLE story is all about kinky sex. And, to get Sherlock to....unwind about sex, with his greatest enemy - not Mycroft, that'd be incest and I don't write that. I mean, Jim Moriarty.

I don't have a problem with plot; mistily because there isn't a plot. Of course you have the whole "if you don't have sex with me I'll kill your best friend" thing. But, you gotta manipulate Sherlock into this sort of thing. He would just...do it...right?

He is glaring at me...ooohhhh....Sherlock is cute when he's pissed. :)

Jim insists on it being as kinky as possible. But, after last night. Meh.
I can't. Mostly because I want to find something original. And...well.
I dunno if a lot of people do Tickle Torture. I've read some fucking hot stories about it.
I think I'll throw that in. Meh. I got over the piss kink pretty quickly. I dunno if it'd be a feature in ALL my stories. But...we'll see.

This post is basically just for me; because it helps me to write the thoughts out.
But, if anyone has an opinion, give it to me. Outside views are important because if I don't get them - I stay in my head for too long.

Consulting Detectives can have Ego's.
Writer's can't.
Not even Pro writer's.
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

I am fed up!

So. I was trolling the net to find goo BDSM fiction. Well written BDSM fiction.
I came across one with a character whoring himself out, and you know what annoyed me about that story? it wasn't the fact that later not he character got tricked into a non-con situation, it was the fact that the author spelt "cool" as "kewel".

Who the fuck spells the word like that? Other than a lazy ass. I mean. Really?

Second thing, and in five separate fictions I tried to read but didn't because of this.
and, I have ranted about it; "I have a really HOT sex story about this guy named Craig! but, first I'll tell yew all about myself. I am five foot four, I have light blue eyes, blond hair and a hot body. I work out at the gym Aaaallll the time because that's the sort of body society wants and that's the sort of body the author wishes they had. :) anyway, now let me tell you about Craig! He's six foot fourteen and he has huge feet. They stink but I love them! blah, blah, blah..."

I made up the foot fetish part. but that's not the point. It's annoying and the WRONG way to start any story. I don't give a shit about what these character's look like. I can easily substitute my own characters in my head or character's from a fandom. URG. I wish people could learn how to FUCKING WRITE!

I also want people to learn how to spell. I saw "moth" as "mouth" - the words aren't even the same. How can you kiss a moth, much less put your tongue down the Moth's....mouth? that doesn't even make sense.

Oh, and I fucking hate those stories where the sub/slave character has a horrible, degrading name. I saw a story called Smallbutt. It was horrible! fucking horrible!
What the fuck is with people and degrading names anyway? I can only say that it's a stereo type of Dom's. YOu have the sub character, who has a horrible name, and the Dom is just...horrible. I hate abusive!dooms. They suck. They're just assholes. And I urge anyone who has a dom that thinks it's okay to call you horrible names to get out of that relationship. If the dom thinks that's okay, who the fuck know what else that stupid person thinks is okay.

So; my question is.
Is it all right for me to write a story about this topic.
I keep wanting to do a thing where the abusive dom get's some comeuppance for the shit they pull on other people. My problem is that I don't want people outside the community to read my story and think this actually happens. I mean, I'm trying to make a point here. That not all Dom's are good Dom's and one must be careful about these sorts of things. I dunno. It's just an idea. I want to set a mystery in a BDSM Club dealing with this problem. Because it is. I've read several accounts online about "Dom's" trying to pick up Subs but being dick's about it.

And not only that, but I'm worried about the people inside the community. Will I be totally laughed out of town for this? especially since I practice nothing of it? I keep not doing it because of this. I don't want people to get the wrong idea. Not that the idea is even clear enough for me to write. I don't know anything other than I want to write a hard core BDSM lifestyle story.

I must be fucked in the head.

Well....yes. I think that will do it for me now.
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

The Many Cumming's of Sherlock Holmes - part 1

Yeah. This is one hell of a kinky story. I appologize that it's not under a cut. I can't do it from my Ipad.


The Many Cumming's of Sherlock Holmes

Disclaimer - I do not own these characters. Don't ask me how that works out. Seeing as how I am playing in BBC Sherlock!verse, I figure I don't own them.

Paring - Jim/Sherlock

KINK ALERTS! - Forced cumming, cum control, bondage, Cock and Ball Torture, piss play

Rating - NC17

Summary - Jim has conned Sherlock into sex games to save John's life. And Jim loves kink.

Chapter 1 - Preparations

Sherlock was naked; the room was cool and goose bumps plagued his skin. The sun light streamed gently through partly opened blinds. It was late afternoon. Jim had brought him to the safe house late morning. He'd ordered Sherlock naked and onto the bed. Then he had chained him down and left him there to strew.

It was quite annoying and boring. Sherlock knew his patience was coming to an end quickly and he just knew that was Jim's game. He wanted to see when Sherlock would demand some company. He wasn't going to do that. No. He wasn't. Jim would just have to come to him. Sherlock bit his tongue. Because he really was getting desperate with curiosity.

Though, there was simply one outcome for this situation. And he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for it. He tried to keep his mind bus by deducing the room. It was plain. One chair and a chest decorated the room along with the four poster bed. He couldn't make a very good guess as to what was in the chest, if in fact anything was kept in it at all. For all he knew, at the moment, it held nothing.

The sheets were cotton, 150 count, and smooth on his skin. It smelt like fresh lavender, so it'd been freshly laundered. There were three doors in the room. One had to lead to a closet, another to the bathroom and the second to the rest of the house. He knew the one in the middle was the entrance to the room. Because Jim didn't really care if Sherlock wore a blindfold or not. They weren't in London, though. Jim's men had kidnapped him off the street, bound him, and blindfolded him after he'd bid fair well to John at Baker Street. He knew that they'd driven out of London the moment they got onto the high way. Then, they were in the country and they had changed cars. The second was a limo and Jim had pulled off the blindfold.

Jim and he had chatted somewhat as they drove the rest of the way to the big, country house in Surrey. There weren't any other houses in site as they had pulled up. And there were four doberman dog's barking at the new comers. It'd be hard to sneak out. He had to play the game until such a time asJim would let free. The house would be useless then, because undoubtedly Mycroft would get that information out of him. But, for now, Sherlock decided he wouldn't worry about it.

The door opened suddenly and Jim pranced inside. He wore a deep, red silk robe. Partly open. He was naked underneath and his cock was hard and all ready leaking. Sherlock blinked and then raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"Have you had a nice time?" Jim asked. He crawled onto the bed and covered Sherlock's cold body with his own.

"I suppose," Sherlock replied.

"I do apologize for keeping you for so long. We'll have fun now," he winked, "I had to take care of some last minute business,"

Sherlock was about to protest, but Jim put a finger on soft lips; "No. It had nothing to do with John, any of the Yard or your brother. It had to do with other business. John is safe. And for now...you belong to me, remember?" Jim challenged.

Sherlock nodded.

"Good," Jim wiggled against Sherlock. His cock slid along cool skin between Sherlock's thighs; mimicking a fucking motion. Sherlock could feel his own cock rise in reply by the sensual rubbing. Jim ran a hand through Sherlock's hair and kissed his captive detective gently. He sighed into Sherlock's mouth and gently pried his tongue past teeth. Sherlock knew better than to bite down. That'd invite violence he wasn't able to handle. Being tied spread eagle on the bed had him in a very vulnerable position.

However, he couldn't deny that the kiss did feel good. The tongue swept about his mouth, exploring all his teeth and traced a line along their ridges. Jim pet Sherlock lightly. His hand went from hair to cheek to neck over and over again. Sherlock slowly reciprocated the kiss. He didn't know the rules, he wasn't sure if Jim wanted him to become an active roll - but - Jim didn't pull his hair, or bite down. He just smiled against Sherlock's lips before he cut the kiss off completely.

Sherlock was drawing in air as if he'd just run a ten mile marathon. Jim had a bit more control over his breathing, but his face was red. His cock was red and glistened with Semen. Sherlock's had reached full mast but didn't look as tortured. Jim gripped the cock gently and started pumping.

"Have you ever masturbated?" Jim asked.

Sherlock shook his head. He'd never been interested in sex. Even if John brought out those feelings in him. He still had never masturbated. It wasn't important. And now Jim was gently stroking, stroking, stroking...
Sherlock's breath hitched and he watched raptly as the hand went up and down his cock; all of the feelings that ran under his skin were utterly new. He'd read about sex, about how 'good' it felt. He'd never experienced it first hand, and now his enemy was using that fact against him. Sherlock wasn't angry at Jim for this. If their places had been reversed Sherlock knew he'd employ the same technique.

Jim watched Sherlock watching as Jim's hand massaged the cock. Pre-cum, drizzled from the tip and covered Jim's hand, acting as lube. Sherlock's eyes were wide with curiosity warring with confusion. Jim couldn't help but feel pleased that he was Sherlock's first. He'd assumed Sherlock had some history of sex because of the cocaine addiction. But, Sherlock was virginal. Which meant that when he did take the man, he'd have to do a lot of prep.

"I'm going to help you relax," Jim promised. "I'm going to get some lube and stick my fingers up into you. I'm going to find your prostate and I'm going to stretch you so I can fuck you well and good into the mattress," Jim yanked on Sherlock's cock. His captive jerked and moaned. Then he let go and was off the bed, bounding over to the chest. He hummed as he pulled out the things he needed. Sherlock watched suspiciously as the lid was shut and Jim waltzed back to the bed.

"Do you mind a gag, dear?" Jim held up a ball gag. It's ball was bright blue.

"I'd rather not," Sherlock frowned.

"But it's so hot and it'd look so sexy on you!" Jim pouted.

Sherlock sighed and thought about it, then nodded, it'd save him the indignity of begging.

Jim giggled; "Thank you, pet!"

The ball was wedged inside Sherlock's mouth and buckled tightly behind his head. It felt rather odd and he wasn't able to dislodge it. Jim traced the black leather before sitting back and moving between Sherlock's stretched legs.

He opened the tube of lube. He sniffed it and smiled maniacally at Sherlock. He squeezed more than a generous amount onto his fingers. Then he squeezed a bunch onto Sherlock's cock. It was purple now and ached. But in a good way. Sherlock shivered as the cold lube hit the hot skin of his dick. Jim put the lube to the side and then gripped Sherlock's cock in his right hand as hi left teased the entrance. The tip of a finger slipped in slightly and then disappeared, to circle the crinkled skin around the entrance.

Sherlock gasped as his cock was yanked rather hard. The pain turned to pleasure and Sherlock wasn't sure if that was supposed to happen or if he was just off some how. Jim grinned and pushed his finger into Sherlock, to the knuckle. It felt big. Sherlock reminded himself that since he'd never had anal sex before, he'd have to be stretched, otherwise if Jim, did take him without any preparation he'd tear and bleed. And that'd hurt even worse than the finger wiggling inside him. He moaned into his gag as he felt a second finger enter him. The hand on his cock went between soft, gentle strokes to yanking and squeezing. The need to cum was foremost in his mind. He wasn't able to concentrate on anything but what Jim was doing to him. Both sensations warred within him. The fingers had found that spot which made the semen to be released. The Prostate Gland, Sherlock knew, was very sensitive. Jim was using it to his advantage. Even with the gag on, Sherlock was sure Jim would deduce what Sherlock wanted when it got to such a point as desperation and then torture him because of it.

Jim loved the feeling of Sherlock's slicked cock in his hand. And he loved the noises Sherlock made; he grunted softly, moaned and groaned and wiggled as much as he could within the bonds. The gag kept Sherlock from begging, which, for now was fine with him. He'd rather listen to the sounds than the words anyhow.

Jim watched as his fingers stretched the opening. He'd found the magic button and was now watching as Sherlock's first orgasm grew within his hands. The realization of the power he held made him light headed and giggle as he quirked his fingers hard into the prostate. Sherlock keened and winced. He breathed heavily through his nose as he looked up to Jim's face. He'd been avidly watching Jim jerk his cock. But now, they were looking eye to eye.

"It's really nice, isn't it?" Jim asked. Sherlock shook his head. Hair fell into his eyes and sweat broke out all over his body. It was such a beautiful sight. Jim knew that he could become addicted to this. And he wanted it so badly. He moaned himself and had to abandon Sherlock's cock in order to pump his own. He still rubbed that magic button within Sherlock as he pumped his cock. Fast. His orgasm was huge. It erupted like Mount Vesuvius. His white, milky cum splattered onto smooth skin. Sherlock wiggled as the liquid coated him. Jim had good aim. The first drops fell on the gag and migrated to the lips stretched around the ball. The stream continued downwards to splash on neck, chest, abdomen and then against Sherlock's hole where the fingers were still wedged deep inside the resisting body.

Sherlock was pulling hard on the restraints and yelling. No matter how much he pulled, he wasn't able to get free. The locks were heavy duty and Jim wasn't stupid. He'd get the bed manacles to keep Sherlock in place for these games.

Jim sighed as the stream came to an end. The room now smelt like sex and it was heady. Jim withdrew his fingers and bounded excitedly back to the chest. He didn't care that he was getting semen all over the place. He grabbed some toys and then ran back to the bed, bouncing it violently. He held up a big, metal, three pronged speculum. Sherlock gulped at the sight. Jim put the other toy, a fake cock, to the side.

"I know it looks like it'll hurt, but it's super sexy!" Jim justified. Sherlock glared as best he could despite the ball gag. Jim took up the lube and greased the speculum generously. He lowered the tip to Sherlock's opening. Ever so slowly, he pushed it in. Sherlock couldn't help but clench around it as it pushed past the pincer and inside. It felt cold. Sherlock wasn't able to dispel the toy as it was seated fully inside him. And then, it began to widen, a little at a time. Sherlock whinged around the gag. Jim giggled.

"I know I'm probably being really kinky far too soon, but I've been fantasizing about this for far too long not to do it, don't worry, as long as this is slow we'll be okay," He patted Sherlock's inner thigh gently. "Later I'm going to turn you over and spank those hot buns. I have a lot of paddles. You'll enjoy it. And I'll teach you how to do a blow job. I can't wait to fuck you're lovely mouth," Jim prattled. "I'm going to stuff your but and mouth at night and tie you into different positions. Don't worry, you'll enjoy it," he grinned and winked.

Sherlock yelled and yanked on the restraints holding him down.

"You agreed to this, dear," Jim cranked the speculum open a bit more and got a gasp of breath from Sherlock for his troubles. He only had the entrance open half an inch. There was a long way to go. The fake cock vibrator at his side was five inches wide. His own cock was six wide. Sherlock couldn't take it without the speculum or the vibrator working him over for a while. Thankfully, since he'd all ready cum all over Sherlock - he wasn't in a hurry to fuck his captive. But, he did want Sherlock to be ready for him.

Sherlock wiggled as the speculum was opened wider and wider within him. The clicking warred with Jim's words and humms as the man watched the device stretch Sherlock. It felt too big but at the same time the feeling made his cock feel rock, solid, hard. If that could happen. Sherlock noted as an aside that he'd have to scientifically explore that possibility. But that was for later. Right now he was more concerned with the mounting pain. The stretch burned. In a good and bad way. He gasped air through his nose - it'd help if he wasn't gagged at all. But he knew he'd be begging Jim to take it out and just to fuck him good and proper.

"We're at two and a half inches, Sherlock," Jim grinned as he gave the data. "I bet you didn't think you could be that wide, did you? but, I'm a pretty big boy," he looked down at himself. Even soft, his cock was bigger than average. He was sure Sherlock hadn't logged that data, being so preoccupied with what Jim'd been doing to his body before. And still, Sherlock hadn't cum but his cock was oozing cum in a small fountain. Sherlock was definitley enjoying the toy. He twisted more, faster now. Sherlock shuddered at the sudden stretch. It hurt but soon the pleasure took over as Jim grabbed the purple cock and started pumping again.

"Have you ever heard of cum control?" Jim asked. Sherlock moaned something.

"It's actually pretty neat. It's so...I love the power I gain from it. See, I tie someone down and then I tease them. I bring them to the brink and then abandon them at the last minute. Then I do it again and again. Sometimes I like to play a game where I keep teasing and teasing, but my captive can't cum, no matter what I do to them, and if they fail...well...it get's worse for them. Do you want to play?" He grinned mischievously. Sherlock shook his head in the negative.

"Too bad, we're gonna play anyway," he stopped notching the speculum open. He looked at it and thought for a second before he shrugged. He then twisted as fast and furiously as he could. Sherlock bucked and yelled. But the speculum was open to the five inches Jim needed. He picked up the cock vibrator and push it in between the prongs. It was a hard fit and Sherlock wasn't being very nice about it. But, the vibrator finally slid into place. He switched it on and it made Sherlock keen high and long.

The sound of the vibrator filled the air. And for a third time, Jim migrated to the chest. He snickered as he pulled out all the tools he'd need to make Sherlock loose all control. All control. He pulled out a different gag because he'd need Sherlock's mouth open without anything barring entrance. He went straight to Sherlock head where he unbuckled the ball gag and replaced it with the ring gag. Sherlock shied away but Jim was adapt at this sort of thing and he had the ring gag in place in seconds. Then. He placed the rest of the toys between Sherlock's legs as he went to the bathroom.

He filled a glass carafe with cold water.

Sherlock watched as Jim reentered the room.

Jim sat down beside Sherlock's head. "I don't want you to get dehydrated, so you better drink up," and then he poured the water from the lip of the carafe into Sherlock's open mouth. Sherlock had to swallow fast because the water kept coming. He didn't feel as if he were drowning because Jim would fill his mouth and then wait as Sherlock swallowed. He did this over and over again. Once the carafe was empty. Jim went for more water and the ritual repeated another five times. Sherlock moaned because his orgasm warred with the need to piss after twenty minutes. On the sixth time, Sherlock turned his head away. Jim clucked his tongue. Then he gripped dark curls and yanked Sherlock back into position. He poured the water and Sherlock swallowed. He really needed to piss. He held it back. He wasn't sure what Jim was playing at, but he didn't want to piss all over the place.

Jim put the now empty carafe to the side and then took his place, once again, between Sherlock's stretched legs. He grinned as he pushed down and massage the skin of Sherlock's abdomen. Sherlock groaned in reply. It hurt because his bladder was so full it was bursting. The vibrator inside him wasn't helping. In fact, it felt that the speculum tips were pushing at his bladder to help the process along.

"You have to piss some time, dear," Jim informed him. "Don't worry about embarrassing yourself, I won't make fun of you. In fact, I want you to do it,"

Sherlock shook his head.

"I'll feed you more water if I have to," Jim sang happily and kept massaging. He twisted the speculum open some more. The vibrator had more room now but it still felt so intrusive to Sherlock. He did, however, enjoy the feeling. It made his cock weep with semen and pee. He had to piss so bad and Jim was manipulating him into it even. That was enough to hold him back a few more seconds. But then Jim pushed down and the stream started. He couldn't stop once it started and piss welled from his dick. It soaked the sheet beneath them, and pool with the semen on his belly and swathed his balls. Jim lent down and took the dick into his mouth. He drank the rest of it. But, at the end, Sherlock was still hard with semen that hadn't escaped.

"Now, time for the grand finale, well, for now at least. After you cum, I'll help you into the bath and I'll get the maids to clean up this mess," Jim licked his lips. "I don't know how you do it, but that tasted good. So often piss is icky tasting, unless it's your thing," here he shrugged, "It's not so much mine, it's just to help you with the cumming part. It'll be intense," he warned.

Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed. The ring gag made him drool and little slivers slid down his chin from stretched out lips. Watching Jim drink from his cock had been so hot - the blood pressure within him had skyrocketed and he'd almost blacked out. He shook from all the pent up emotion he wasn't able to identify at the moment. There will be much thinking about it all later.

Jim gripped Sherlock's cock. And then it happened. The semen burst out by that one touch and Sherlock was yelling so loud that it felt as if the room around them shuddered its own orgasm. Inanimate rooms weren't able to do that. Sherlock knew. His brain as going to mush because of the things Jim was doing to him.

Jim whistled. Sherlock groaned. He felt so dirty. But...really good.
He hoped the bath would fix the dirty feeling. They hadn't even had real sex yet. Sherlock wasn't sure if he could handle a real cock inside him.

Jim turned off the vibrato and removed it. That was the easy part. the Equine Speculum was too dangerous to remove in one fell swoop. Inch by slow inch, he pulled it out. He didn't decrease the stretch because tissue could get caught and he wasn't prepared for that to happen; so, it was pulled out as is. Sherlock grunted as the last bit was pulled out. His hole wasn't gaping, but it was relaxed.

Jim had to wonder back to the chest. From it he pulled a but plug. It had three bulbs on it and a flared head. He also pulled a leather belt and a cock cage from the chest. He lubed up the butt plug first. Thanks to the previous use of the speculum. Jim was able to seat the butt plug within Sherlock rather easily. The bulbs grew in size. THe third gave him a bit of trouble, but after a little more lube and gentle pushing. It was finally seated inside. Sherlock wiggled through the entire process. He had hoped that he wouldn't be subjected to any more toys, but that just wasn't the case.

Jim tracked to the bathroom and wet a towel down with cold water. He used it to clean Sherlock up enough of piss and semen in order to use the cock cage and locking belt. Sherlock's cock was sensitive to touch and he grunted as Jim handled the appendage rather roughly. The cock cage was entirely made out of metal and sheathed his cock in a strange u-shape. The cock head was squeezed through a ring at the end of the tube. The ring was tightened down at the head and base of the cock. Another ring was added around his balls and tightened. It made his balls bunch up and stretched the skin between the balls and his filled hole.

Jim then held up the belt. It had a cup for Sherlock's dick and balls. It completely covered the cock cage. There were three straps. On to go between his legs and up his back to buckled with the other two belts that strapped his waist. These were cinched as tightly as possible. Small, pad locks were introduced and locked the belt contraption in place. Now, Sherlock was unable to access his entrance or dick.

"Beautiful," Jim smiled as he stroked the skin of Sherlock's inner thighs. "Now, let's go take that bath, okay?"


The bath had been warm and Sherlock was bone tired. The bed had been cleaned up with new sheets and there was even a blanket laying at the foot of the bed. The room also smelt like bleach. Jim directed Sherlock back onto the bed. He locked down one ankle. "I'll bring up some dinner for us," and then he left Sherlock alone.

Sherlock ran his fingers through damp curls. Jim had made good on his promise not to hurt him. And none of the activities he'd experienced at the mad man's hands hadn't hurt. Much. The butt plug in his ass moved and massaged his insides to the point where it just irritated him. His cock was trying to grow from the stimulus, but with the cock cage he was unable to gain any sort of semen-filled state. Jim had complete control over his ability to masturbate. And he wanted too. He blamed Jim for this. He never had done so and then Jim had come along and made him fucking enjoy it.

That was the problem. He'd enjoyed it. And he wasn't sure if he liked that idea or not
Leverage, Sophie, parker, Nate Ford, team

Wolfsong - CH6

Remus and Sirius finally get it on. First sex scene in the story.
It's rather gentle, all things considered.



Fandom - Harry Potter

Pairing - Remus/Sirius (as in Top Remus and Bottom Sirius)

Disclaimer - All known characters belong to JKR.

Summary - Sirius finds the love of his life during a mission for the Auror department. A Rouge Werewolf is turning as many people as he/she can and it's up to Sirius to stop him/her with the help of Remus Lupin, Alpha of a Pack that faces extinction if the murder case is pinned on them.


Chapter 6 - Home is where the Heart Is

Sirius loved the way the leather pants made his arse look beautiful. He reminded himself that vanity was a sin and not something people liked. So, he kept that thought to himself. He wore a white button down shirt that had slight embroidery in silver thread so that it shone in the right light. Jo finished this off with the knee length boots Sirius kept in his never-ending-bag for those trips into the marsh. The boots were shinned up with a simple spell but still looked worn to pieces.

"Can't you afford new boots?" Jo asked quizzically.

"Despite what some people have taught you, wizards aren't made of money," Sirius snorted. Then he took a look in the mirror. He decided that he looked somewhere between being well off and not so well off. The boots were scuffed up enough to make it look as if he were trying. That was the total truth of the matter. He'd been careful about his inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The money was a blessing he didn't want to waste on extravagant things. And besides, shopping second hand was fun. He'd found things he liked at an affordable price. He still looked decent, and that was what he was going for.

Not to mention Remus was staring at his arse and it made his spine thrill just at the thought. He glanced at Remus' reflection in the mirror. The Alpha was not paying him attention, eyes riveted on his bottom as they were, it gave him time to contemplate Remus. He was young, possibly Sirius' own age even. He looked worn from the Curse of the Moon, the whole pack had that look - even the children. Their clothing was far more worn than his, and they made it all. This, Sirius concluded, was what a family should be. And he wished for it. Yes, even the curse if it meant he could be loved by people who accepted him and loved him despite his flaws.

Remus looked up. Sirius didn't look away but he didn't offer up any of his inner thoughts. "What are you going to wear, Remus?" Sirius asked instead.

"Oh, I've nothing half as royal as..."

"You can borrow anything you want," Sirius interrupted. And then went red in the face. He covered his eyes with his fingers and held his breath. After a couple of seconds ticked by, Jo giggled.

"Yes, yes, I know," Sirius flapped his other hand, "I didn't mean it like it came out,"

"You like Alpha Remus, don't you?" Jo called him to the floor, and just made him groan in reply.

Remus watched them both, a smile tugging on his lips.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Remus shook his head, "But, I think you look rather dashing. I'm afraid I'll have to fight off all the females," he wasn't joking. Sirius looked at him through his fingers.

"So you do like me...like that?" Sirius asked.

Remus smirked; "This is not the sort of conversation to have in front of the cub," he looked pointedly at Jo.

Jo gasped and looked at her bare wrist; "Gee, look at the time, I gotta go and put on my best dress! see you at the feast..." and then she was out of the cabin lightning fast. Remus and Sirius watched her go, both blinking owlishly.

"Ah, Children," Sirius sighed, "I was one once,"

"She's a breath of fresh air," Remus was stripping off his every day clothing. Not bothered at all that Sirius stood and watched until the pants dropped to the floor. The Wizard was then picking up clothing, and folding them before placing them back into his bag. "and messy too," Sirius mock-complained just to have something to say.

Remus pulled out some deer skin pants, a dark red woven shirt and a matching vest. Then he pulled out worn dragon hide boots and slipped them on. Sirius could see muscle flexing beneath the skin tight pants. Now the tables were turned and he was ogling Remus' ass. He couldn't remember the last time he was attracted to someone with such vivid surety.

The last girlfriend he had was Vivian Waters. She left him after school, though. Maybe that didn't count. He looked away. He didn't want Remus all for the sex, he couldn't facilitate a romantic relationship with the man in any capacity. He had obligations, not only to the Ministry but to the Order as well. And the Werewolves wren't going to do anything with them or against them. Mainly because even if the Death Eater's were defeated - the laws wouldn't change.

And, there was the slight chance that if Voldemort did make well on his promises, that the Werewolves would be granted all the rights of a Wizard. Something that they wanted but hardly asked for because they knew it wouldn't happen. Even now Umbridge was working on the Werewolf Registration. It worked much like the system the Muggle Adolf Hitler used on the Jews when captured and sent to the Concentration Camps.

"Sirius?" Remus was close and Sirius jumped back a little. He tripped and fell on the bed. "Let's celebrate tonight and worry tomorrow," Remus helped Sirius up and off the bed. Sirius nodded. After all, he dishonored the family, he held no power over the Ministry. He couldn't help the Pack out there.


Angus sat in the prison hut watching Lockhart watch the village gathering. They had long tables that were slowly being filled with food and mead. They were dressed in their best garb and a small band had begun playing folk songs they never heard before this night. Leroy lay in the pile of hay that made up on of four beds.

"I can't believe one Auror took us down," Victor whined from his hay pile. He was older than Leroy by a couple of years and younger than Gilderoy and Angus by a good five or ten. In essence, he was the middle child.
"Stop yer complanin'," Angus growled.

"I want to know why we can't apparate," Leroy sighed.

"Black out up the anti-apparition spell after he got back and was so graciously accepted by those idiots," Victor clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"I don't get it," Leroy said as he chewed the end of a straw, "didn't we want to get caught?"

"Wait..." Victor sat up and glared at Gilderoy's back, "was that the plan?"

Gilderoy gulped, and then schooled his face, when he turned to the three gruff men, he had a winning smile on his soft lips and he spoke with enthusiasm; "Why yes!" his voice went up an octave, "I planned it to go down exactly as it did, that fire ball was a bit of a surprise though..." he shrugged. "However, we are exactly where we need to be,"

"Why?" Angus asked, "what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, my contact has promised us a huge reward for Lupin's head, and I mean head literally, a million galleons if we bring Lupin's head to Greyback in a sack,"

A trio of low whistles met this statement.


The night sky was darker with clouds hovering over the forest; a light drizzle had stared up just as the huge party had begun. But no one cared. A canopy held up by strong poles was erected above the fire. Children took cuts of meat to cook above the coals that a old women tended so that no one got hurt. Other tarps and poles sheltered the food. Soggy food made for a horrible party. Remus gladly led Sirius over to the food.

The gaggle of girls gave Sirius bright smiles and offered up their deserts of choice. "try my spotted dick," , "I've lemon custard!" , "Toffee pudding?" and other options were all thrust at him on spoons or forks by the young ladies who had been taught the age old adage women used on their husbands or men they were gunning for; The way to a mans heart is through his stomach.

Remus helped himself and even got a few charming smiles and giggles from the young ladies. And Sirius played along. Remus pulled him away and promised to be back after sampling the main dishes. Sirius laughed.

"Oh my, I think I'm going to have some competition," Remus winked.

"Why, My Lord, I do think you shall," Sirius agreed jokingly.

The party lasted well into the night. The band kept playing with small breaks, while an old man told the story of the Pack to the children. Sirius couldn't help listening in on some of a scop.

THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene
with the woe of these days; not wisest men
assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish,
loathly and long, that lay on his folk,
most baneful of burdens and bales of the night.

This heard in his home Hygelac's thane,
great among Geats, of Grendel's doings.
He was the mightiest man of valor
in that same day of this our life,
stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker
he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he,
far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek,
the noble monarch who needed men!
The prince's journey by prudent folk
was little blamed, though they loved him dear;
they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.

And now the bold one from bands of Geats
comrades chose, the keenest of warriors
e'er he could find; with fourteen men
the sea-wood he sought, and, sailor proved,
led them on to the land's confines.
Time had now flown; afloat was the ship,
boat under bluff. On board they climbed,
warriors ready; waves were churning
sea with sand; the sailors bore
on the breast of the bark their bright array,
their mail and weapons: the men pushed off,
on its willing way, the well-braced craft.

Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind
that bark like a bird with breast of foam,
till in season due, on the second day,
the curved prow such course had run
that sailors now could see the land,
sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills,
headlands broad. Their haven was found,
their journey ended.

"Wait...your pack is related, somehow to Beowulf?" Sirius whispered to Remus. Remus nodded. They quietly stood at the back of the small crowed and continued to listen. Sirius had heard a little about the Vikings in History of Magic class. The hero's were all Wizards, it seemed, and Beowulf was the ultimate hero. Of course, it made sense to trace one's ancestry as far back as you could and even if the Pack weren't related by blood - it would be a bonding to find out where the pack came from.

Sirius wasn't at all sure, though, if Beowulf was a Werewolf. They didn't cover a lot in Magic History class because Professor Binns died giving a lecture on the Goblin Wars ( 1200 bc, 1700 ac). And that was all he ever lectured upon; it made Sirius question that much of his magical education.

The scop was long and soon it turned to a more mundane story; the old man promised to finish the story of Beowulf another time. Sirius and Remus wondered away and back to the desserts table. Thankfully the women had wondered off with males that were far more accepting and Sirius and Remus could be alone.

"This is some party, I haven't had one like it since my seventeenth birthday," Sirius said as he served up some apple crumble for him and Remus who'd been eyeing it wolfishly. He handed a plate over to Remus first.

"We haven't even gotten to the ceremony yet," Remus replied.

"Right, and what do I do?" Sirius asked, "only, I don't want to mess it up," he didn't look up at Remus.

"All you and I will do is slit our palms, and hold each other's hands as if we are shaking, and then we make the vow," Remus replied.

"And the vow? what sort of magic is it?"

"Ancient magic," Remus replied. "Everyone who joins makes the vow,"

"And what happens if the vow is broken? has it happened before?"

"My are you curious," Remus smirked around a bite of food.

"It's just that...well...vows can go wrong. Have you heard of the Unbreakable Vow?" Sirius asked.

"Refresh my memory," Remus softly demanded.

"Basically if you don't do what you Vow you die," Sirius shrugged.

"Oh, there are some protections woven in, but it's nothing like that," Remus shook his head, "Everyone has a different feeling, but I guess...it feels like home,"

Sirius couldn't keep eye contact any longer; he knew he shouldn't go through with the ceremony. It was too late now to do so politely and he highly doubted he could have when Rebecca had kissed him - in a very motherly way - and he was suddenly transplanted to another time and place when his Mother liked him and didn't yell or verbally abused him. He could be useful in a far better way than ever as an Auror.
Whatever gold he had would help a lot with getting books for education the Pack needed and...well...he wouldn't feel like such a failure.

"Sirius?" Remus poked Sirius in the elbow.

"I'm fine," Sirius replied, "I'm just so honored,"

Remus wasn't sure what to say to that. But, for some reason, no words were needed.


The Ceremony took place by the bon fire. Remus called the whole Pack together and they all stood quietly for the Ceremony to begin. Rebecca and Cory - who Sirius had learned was Remus' older brother - stood a bit behind the Alpha. Sirius tried to hide his nervousness.

Remus raised his hands, calling for silence even though everyone was respectfully quiet; "Tonight," Remus face the crowed, "we welcome a new brother to our pack, Sirius Orion Black, who not only saved my Mother, but a cub and our village," he turned to Sirius, "I welcome you to our pack,"

Sirius bowed his head slightly; "I am honored to join your family," he didn't yell, but the words were spoken strongly and with want that Sirius wasn't able to hide so well. Jo stepped out of the crowd with a wooden box. On it were carvings on ancient Runes Sirius was partly able to decipher by a single glance; the words Family, knife and blood were all he could read as Remus opened the box lid. Inside was old red velvet lining. And the knife was in good condition. It looked rather dangerous though. The long bronze knife held a sharp edge. The hilt was made entirely of onyx with a single purple stone set in the middle. There had to be history behind this knife. It had to be important because Remus picked it up with reverence that resounded. Once the light hit the knife the whole crowd "ooohed" appropriately.

Remus held the knife in on hand and slit his right palm. A Werewolf elder behind Sirius grabbed Sirius' left arm and held out that palm of his hand. Sirius wanted to pull away but instead he straightened out his hand so that his palm was defenseless. Remus slashed the palm, at a diagonal. Sirius didn't even grunt as he watched the blood bubble up from the wound.

Then he was clasping Remus' right hand.

"I, Alpha Remus Lupin Son of Benedict and Rebecca Chase, vow to protect SIrius Black to the best of my ability," Remus said clearly for all to hear. There was a smattering of clapping.

And then it was Sirius' turn.

"I, Sirius Black, Son of Orion and Walburga Black, declare my never ending love and devotion to my Alpha, Remus Lupin. I vow to protect the pack at the cost of my life,"

The clapping after this was much stronger. Remus squeezed Sirius' hand and Sirius tried to squeeze back. Just to let Remus know he wasn't weak, that he could give just as well as he took. And then the grip was lost and the elder who had gripped Sirius' arm the entire time poured hot water over the wound. He dried it and then layered salve that smelt of honey and lavender over it and bandaged it. Rebecca had done the same to Remus' hand.

"Now, it is almost midnight, let us have one last cheer and mug of mead before we retire!" Remus announced. The cheering this time surprised Sirius. He was pulled away from the fire and towards the food tables. The treats weren't nearly gone, so there would be plenty left over for later. Mead was handed around and Sirius was welcomed with open arms.

Yes, he decided as he crawled into bed later, with Remus right behind him, this was home. And it was even better because Remus liked to snuggle in his sleep.


Early morning lollygagged its way across the now clear sky. The storm came to a close an hour before Remus nuzzled his nose into Sirius' neck. He smelt like stale mead and lavender soap. He smelt natural. Not like the flops who wore perfume to mask their natural scent. He took a deep whiff. Held it, and then exhaled as quietly as he could. The smell went straight to his cock and he was stiff in seconds.

He raised a hand to stroke light skin. Sirius was so pail, but it was beautiful. Scarred as well. And that made Sirius human. He was no stranger to pain, spiritual or otherwise and that made Remus want him all the more. He softly ran his finger along the bridge of Sirius' nose to the tip before dipping over lips and pressing just a little harder for actual feeling. They were soft. He leant up on an elbow to get a better look at Sirius. He still slept. Remus could tell because Sirius hadn't moved at all when Remus started touching him.

The blanket fell to reveal more white skin. In the dawn light of day, Remus couldn't help but note the differences in skin tone. He was just slightly darker, but that was possibly thanks to days spent in the fields during summer. Skinny dipping in the swimming pond and being immensely comfortable being naked. Sirius had grown up on the city. Though he'd seemed to do all right in the woods. Remus was glad that Sirius was also getting over his horrible cold. Yes, his Mother was a Miracle Worker like that. Sirius sighed and stretched before turning away from Remus and onto his stomach. Remus bent over and kissed the shoulder blade farthest from his side of the bed. Sirius slept by the wall and Remus between Sirius and the door, where he wanted to be to protect the man he knew he was in love with.

Sirius sighed and moaned. Dark grey eyes flickered open. First meeting the wooden wall. "What'cha doin' Remus...?" Sirius asked sleepily.

"Nothing," Remus whispered into Sirius' ear as he tongued the shell.

"That doesn't feel like nothing," Sirius chuckled. Remus sat up, he lay a hand up the small of Sirius' back. They were both naked and Remus needed to get off.

"So...what are the rules with this? because, I want to know what sort of commitment I might be making if we have sex," Sirius stretched. He tried to move to face Remus but the Werewolf held the human down just by his hand.

"Oh, I'm deffinantly making a claim," Remus replied with a smirk chasing the sex charged words. Sirius could feel it and it sent a shiver down his spine. And he decided that since obviously Remus wanted him as much as he wanted Remus...he could work with it. The only thing that worried him was his job, the Order...could he pack up to be with Remus, since the Werewolf would never leave the Pack for the London. No, he couldn't ask Remus to do that. All the sacrifices would have to be done on his end.

"Sirius, what's wrong?" Remus asked, noticing that the once sex charged atmosphere had gone sour in seconds.

"I..." Sirius gulped loudly, "I don't know If I can..."

"Can what? have sex with another guy?" Remus asked.

"No, I know how it's done, that's not what I am worried about. It's just that..."

"I can't leave the Pack," Remus said. He patted Sirius' hip, "are you wondering if you could...come and live here?"

"Yes, I wonder if I can just pack up and...come here," Sirius buried his face into the pillow. Remus watched him, silently, for a few seconds.

"You don't need to decide now, and we don't need to do anything now," Remus said. he kept rubbing Sirius' hip.

Sirius replied. His words were muffled by the pillow. Remus sighed and pinched some skin, "Say that again?"

"Ough!" Sirius popped to his knees, not at all bothered that he was naked in front of a randy Werewolf. Seven years of living on a boys dorm did that to anyone; "What the fuck was that there?" Sirius rubbed the bit of skin Remus had abused. He glanced down just to make sure the skin hadn't been pulled from his person.

Remus chuckled; "Sorry."

"You are not," Sirius snorted offended.

"But, what did you say?" Remus asked.

"I do want to have sex with you," Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed at the same time, making his words heady with air and annoyance all at the same time.

Remus watched him, and then he lent forwards and captured Sirius' lips in his. Sirius wilted into the kiss. A tongue poked between his lips and he granted entrance. He'd kissed plenty of girls, and had plenty of practice, but there was something different about Remus' talented tongue. It slithered its way into his mouth as if it belonged there. Their tongues gently wrestled, but Sirius gave the game up to Remus because of a soft growl and he loved it. He loved the thrill. Remus was dangerous in the sexiest way possible. Sirius reached up to grip Remus by the shoulders.

They breathed just a bit faster, moaned just a bit breathily. Remus' hands migrated to grip Sirius' ass. He pulled and their cocks rubbed against each other. Remus growled and Sirius moaned at the feeling of shock running up cocks and setting them both on fire within. Then, Remus broke the kiss to bite down on Sirius' bottom lip. Blood was drawn and that set Remus into a fury. He licked the blood, it was tangy-sweet. He pushed Sirius down onto the bed - he didn't have to look far for lotion. Once found he captured Sirius into another breath-stealing kiss while he pushed a lubed finger into the man below him.

Sirius keened into the kiss as the breach was made. Remus pinioned in and out for several seconds before adding a second finger. He scissored the muscles until they felt like putty around his fingers. Sirius tried to mummer something around the second tongue in his mouth. He had his eyes closed and was far too gone to think about ramifications. Remus smirked and broke the second kiss for a second time. A long thin string of saliva connected their lips still as Remus straddled Sirius.

They were breathing heavily; but Remus lubed up his cock and slowly started the insertion. He didn't want to hurt Sirius on their first time, but no doubts his Mate would be sore later. Sirius grunted as the head popped in. Remus stopped so as to give Sirius time to adjust. When the Wizard nodded Remus began the inward trek. He was slow because he not only wanted to be gentle with Sirius, but because he wanted the Wizard to get some pleasure out of the act as well.

So many Alpha's let the power go to their head; they didn't think about the needs of their mate. Which were just as important. Sirius moaned and begged him to go faster. But Remus sped up just a touch. Not enough to hurt. Because the muscles were still having a hard time adjusting. Even if he had spent long minutes stretching before hand. This was just par for the corse and that was all right with him.

Remus could help a half-snarl when Sirius raised his legs and crossed ankles at the small of Remus' back. Sirius wanted him to go faster and by Merlin he was gonna get a pounding; the snarl was because Remus knew this would hurt his mate and he was going to have it his own way.

Sirius begged and pleaded for it though, Remus never took him up on the offer and it was a long time till either of them came. Sirius in an explosion. His seed dripped down Remus' chest and Sirius' own stomach and thighs while Remus deposited his deep within Sirius.

Everyone would smell them and know that he'd made his claim on the Wizard and if anyone knew any better; they'd let it be.

Sirius felt sweaty, but not dirty. He'd held off on the whole sex thing because Auror's just didn't have the time to date anyone. He also had never bottomed for a anyone before and it was a new experience. The guilt settled in and Sirius tried not to think about it. His Mother would have a fit if she knew her son was consorting for a Werewolf.

And no matter how he thought about it, the normal reason of sticking it to his horrible family did not, in this instance, make him feel better. Remus lay on top of him and Sirius tried to hid his feelings. He opened his eyes to meet amber rimmed brown. Remus, however, knew in a second.

"It's all right, there is nothing wrong with what we just did," Remus whispered.

"It's not what you think. I'm not feeling scared or guilty because I've just had sex with a man," he whispered, "it's a long story, but...well...even though I haven't talked to my family in a couple of years now, all the stuff I've grown up with has lingered and...I was just thinking about my Mother. She wouldn't approve, not that I care if she does or not...It's just...well...it was having sex that did it. We never talked about it and though I've gotten far with girls...it's just...I never really scored and.."

Remus shushed Sirius with a gentle finger barring soft lips; "I understand, and it's all right. I'm not going to treat you like trash, or like you're a whore. Because I know you aren't. You are brave and beautiful and scared so deliciously,"

Sirius blinked owlishly up at Remus; "No one has used 'delicious' to describe me," he muttered.

"The point is that I love you, and I think you haven't gotten that from your family. I know the Black's are pure blood and that they support those view points. But you are different, you treated me and the Pack like human's from the start. And now you do have a family. I love you, you are my Mate and I won't let you think badly of yourself just because we had sex. Sex is the natural way for people to express their love. Of course, it's abused, and I suppose it each their own or whatever. But, between us, I love you. I think I did from the moment I saw you," Remus sighed and smiled gently, "is that just a little mushy?"

Sirius laughed; "just a little but I think I feel better now,"

"Good," and with that Remus plopped a chase kiss on the tip of Sirius' nose before snuggling into the covers and dropping off to sleep moments later.