Summary: Set in the timeframe of "Tease" - Sirius is free and he and Remus now live together. Harry is back at Hogwarts. Sirius has developed an interesting technique to help Remus through his transformations and in the process reveals a minor kink or two. Remus is caught between pleasure and pain. It's a bit angsty in places, but I really intended for it to be darker than the end result. The boys insisted on dragging me off in another direction.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. She'd probably be horrified at what I do with them.

Possession

Two ice blue eyes opened blearily. Judging by the amount of natural light in the bedroom, the eyes' owner figured it was about 7:00 in the morning. Eyelids drifting shut, the wizard brain behind the eyes took a mental assessment of his physical well-being.

He was exhausted. Hadn't had nearly enough sleep. Hurt all over. Lots of aches and pains covering his body like a virulent rash, the remnants of last night's activities. What to call these, he mused. Love bites? Mate markings? Claim stakes? Brands? Sexual merit badges? Those imprints of determined teeth and grasping fingers. Bruises and scabs and discolorations where the flesh should be smooth and clear and pure, like a meadow after a snowfall, free of footprints marring its pristine surface.

Pristine? Hardly. Not after a night spent in bed with a werewolf twenty- four hours before the full moon.

Most of all, he noticed that other hurt deep inside, the dull, steady, throbbing ache where the werewolf had penetrated him over and over, demanding, insistent, driving, powerful. Conquering him, owning him, demanding his acquiescence, his submission. Which was willingly given. Eventually. After a certain amount of provocative resistance designed to fire the wolf's frenzied lust to a fevered explosion of love-making.

Well, perhaps the term "love-making" was a bit too romanticized for what had actually happened. The wizard mentally switched gears from cataloging his body's discomforts to compiling a list of synonyms for the previous' night's entertainment. Coupling? Balling? Mating? Taking? Using? Possessing?

He had been truly and royally fucked. Having finally come up with an acceptable term, the wizard smiled softly and slipped back into sleep.

Sirius Black had often pondered about this peculiar ritual he shared with Remus Lupin. No one else, no one in the world could demand this of him or force him to accept it. He was no one's slave, wearing the yoke of another's mastery. Yet, when this particular person asked it of him, wanting absolute possession of his body, he freely granted it. The night before the full moon was always fraught with the battle between his lover's wolf and human sides. Despite the use of Wolfsbane Potion, the wolf's presence was palpable, because it wanted its mate. But, if Remus submitted to the wolf's control and let the wolf take Sirius, no matter how savagely, then it exacted a less punishing tribute when it fought free of its human form during the full moon. Remus' transformations would then pain him no more than a skinned knee. Sirius felt that was reason enough to spend the occasional night in the no-man's-land between rough sex and rape.

Several hours later Remus awoke, feeling comfortable and content, and immediately awash in a wave of shame. He rolled over in bed to look at Sirius, who lay facing him, eyes closed in sleep. The covers had slipped almost to his waist, giving Remus a fairly thorough view of the pain he had wrought. A small whimper of concern escaped him as he started totaling up the damage. He saw jagged teeth marks along the collarbone, discolorations blossoming in the flesh like a perverse daisy chain. Deeper marks around a nipple, deep enough to have drawn blood. He still tasted the coppery, metallic flavor at the back of his mouth. Dark bruises stood out at the hinges of his mate's jaw, a large thumb print on one side and three fingerprints on the other where Remus had gripped him tightly, forcing him to keep his head still while the wolf ravaged his mouth. There were more than a few strands of black hair scattered across the pillow, pulled out when Remus' hands had tangled in that mane, yanking back hard to expose his mate's throat.

Oh, such a sweet, vulnerable throat, begging to be marked and bitten, pulsing with lifeblood, warmly vibrant and seductive. The wolf craved the scent and the flavor of the rich, red river calling to him. He mined the veins of that treasure, lapping up the precious fluid, growling contentedly, even as his cock drove in a primal, insistent rhythm deep into the body that bent to his will.

Remus saw where the blood had scabbed over the assaults of his teeth, adorning that neck like a choker encrusted with garnets. He knew there would be more scabs, more evidence of his domination, in the gouging claw marks down the shoulders and upper back, in the bites delivered to the thighs and along the hipbones. A purplish-blue bracelet encircled one slender wrist, where he had gripped so hard it was a miracle he hadn't shattered the delicate bones. There were other bruises, too, he was sure, unseen because they were internal.

Remus was profoundly, deeply sorry. He loved Sirius more than his own life. How could use his lover so brutally, even though he was not fully aware of his behavior when he did it? The realization that once a month he treated Sirius worse than a whore, bought and paid for, was a bitter pill unwillingly swallowed. He didn't want to do this, even if it meant a less agonizing transformation. The first few times it had happened he tried to convince himself that, next month, he would be prepared to rein in the wolf's excesses. They would have a night of completely abandoned sex, but Remus would prevent his lupine aggression from causing injury. He was always wrong, and finally decided he had to come up with a better plan.

He had once tried leaving the house until it was absolutely necessary to return for his final pre-transformation dose of Wolfsbane Potion. But that had only provoked the wolf to a dangerous level. Now that Remus lived with Sirius, after long years apart, the wolf was accustomed to the presence of his mate as the moon waxed full. When Remus left, the inner agitation he felt at even this brief separation made him frantic. When he'd come home to drink the Potion, merely being in the same room with Sirius pushed him beyond the boundaries of control. He had swallowed the Potion, and then, his senses drowned in a red miasma of lust, he had leapt at Sirius, tackling him to the floor. His overpowering, aching need careened so far out of control that he was already inside his lover's body before he dimly realized that he had knocked Sirius out cold. And even then, to his ever- lasting shame, he ignored his mate's injury. It meant nothing to him, not until he was through fucking the insensate body beneath him.

Remus shuddered, remembering the panic that had risen in him while he had knelt next to Sirius' prone body, working to revive him. All his life, Remus had struggled to master the werewolf. His greatest fear had always been that the wolf would maim or kill someone he loved. He had come uncomfortably close this time.

The Wolfsbane Potion helped him immensely. It gave him so much more control once he was in his werewolf form. But, it had no power to rein in the wolf's sexual hunger. Leaving the house was not an option, not if it spurred his wolfish side into an unrestrained attack, even while he remained in human form.

Instead, Remus tried a different plan. He would stay at home, but simply stay away from Sirius for the twenty-four hours prior to the full moon. He would resolutely occupy himself in other pursuits until he was too tired to think about sex. He would sleep in his study or the spare bedroom. He would be in close enough proximity to Sirius to keep the wolf from becoming too agitated, but he'd be far enough away to keep from losing control.

Avoidance was a good option and it might have worked, except for one six- foot, two-inch problem. Sirius deliberately sabotaged his efforts. He would spend his day tantalizing Remus, interrupting his work for one reason or another. He'd come up with all sorts of creative excuses to explain why he just had to come into the room with Remus.

"Do you need a snack? Try this gingerbread I just baked."

"I was chasing a boggart down the hall and I swear it came in here."

"Sorry to intrude, but I need to borrow your copy of "Nogtails of the Americas."

Foolishly, Remus even tried using locking charms on the doors, a forlorn hope given that they lived in a house that had been owned by the Blacks for generations. The charms worked perfectly, except for someone with Black blood in his veins. All Sirius had to do was touch the doorknob and the locks would happily spring open for him. And Remus would be trapped, caught between wanting Sirius to leave and longing for his presence.

To make matters worse, Sirius always wore muggle clothing on those days, like the comfortably broken-in blue jeans that emphasized his slim hips and long legs and nicely firm ass. A long-sleeved shirt, rolled back on his forearms, fitting beautifully across his broad shoulders. And without the shapeless curtain of wizard robes, Sirius' natural grace of movement would be highlighted. Remus was hard put to keep his eyes, not to mention his hands, off his mate's body. And Sirius knew it, and would deliberately place himself just out of arm's reach, in his campaign to drive Remus to distraction.

With supreme nonchalance, Sirius would display his body for Remus' delectation. Sprawled in a chair, one leg casually flung over the arm, one hand half-buried in his thick, lustrous hair, the long, lean, tactile fingers of the other hand resting high up on his thigh, as if subconsciously pointing to his crotch and the masculine bulge waiting there. The expression on his face would be open and guileless as he nattered aimlessly about any subject that came into his head. Not that Remus noticed. Sirius could have been reciting names and address from a muggle phone book for that matter. No, it took all of Remus' concentration not to throw himself on his knees, thrust his head between his lover's legs, and press his face into that groin, seeking the musky scent of sex and biting the clothing that stood between his mouth and his lover's delicious length.

Sirius initiated this relentless, single-minded, sensual assault knowing full well he'd eventually pay a price, despite Remus' best efforts to restrain himself.

Remus sighed, frustrated that once again, he hadn't foiled his lover's plan. He reached for his wand, thinking he'd use healing charms to repair some of the damage before Sirius awoke. He gently touched the wand's tip to the torn chest, but pulled back when Sirius stirred and opened his eyes.



"Morning, Moony," he mumbled drowsily with a smile.

"Good morning. I was just about to take care of some of this." Remus' hand made a vague gesture that seemed to take in most of Sirius' body.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Probably looks worse than it is." Sirius rolled onto his stomach. Remus craned his neck a bit, and winced when he got a glimpse at the condition of Sirius' back. It looked like he had lost a battle with a particularly vicious garden rake. Remus ran a hand through the tousled black hair. "I think you could use a warm, soothing soak in the tub, while I tend to these injuries."

"Really, there's no need."

Remus interrupted, with a slight edge to his voice. "Since I'm the one who rips you to pieces, the least I can do is try to put you back together."

Sirius regarded him for a moment and saw the tense set to his jaw. "Alright. A warm soak it is."

"Good. Give me a couple of minutes to get everything ready."

Ten minutes later, Sirius had all but disappeared beneath a frothy sea of bubbles filling the large bathtub. Comforting, steamy warmth and the crisp scent of aloe and mint filled the room. A bathrobed Remus perched on a stool at the edge of the tub, his wand and a collection of ointments at hand. He methodically inspected most of Sirius' body, starting at his feet and moving up, soothing the cuts and bruises as he went. Some injuries he easily cleared up; others were too severe to entirely disappear.

The only words spoken were Remus' murmured directions. "Give me your foot.Now the other one.Bend your knee so I can see your thigh..Lean forward.Tip your head back a bit."

Sirius watched him solemnly, the ends of his hair hanging in dripping tails across his shoulders. Finally, when Remus was done, he spoke. "Stop blaming yourself, Remus. You know I deliberately drive you to do this, and I don't regret a second of it."

"But, *I do*," Remus said quietly, his expression troubled.

"Not when we're in bed, you don't," Sirius replied evenly. "You can't sit there and make me believe that you don't enjoy it. I hear your moans and cries. I feel how your hands grip my flesh. You can't get enough of the taste of me, the heat of my body around you, the friction and tension of skin against skin and muscle against muscle."

"And I hurt you! Do you think I like seeing you all bruised and bloody?" Remus sprang away from the tub, unable to bear the calm, warm look in his lover's eyes.

"I know you don't, love. But if I can." Sirius twisted around in the tub to look at Remus, but was only afforded a view of his back. "Please come back and sit down."

Remus didn't move.

"Please?" Sirius asked. With a sigh, Remus returned to his seat on the stool.

"I know this bothers you. But, we both know it helps you. It's all I can do to make your transformations easier. If I could alter the Wolfsbane Potion so that it acted as a painkiller, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But, I'm not a Potions researcher. I don't dare tamper with the ingredients."

"Sirius, it's enough that you can brew the Potion for me. You don't have to sacrifice yourself like this every month. I don't want to exchange my pain for yours. I don't want to pay for my comfort with your blood."

Sirius gave a snort of frustration. "How can I make you understand that I. Don't. Mind. My pain is superficial, a couple of cuts and bruises. It doesn't compare with yours. I admit that I wouldn't want this sort of sex all the time, but for one night a month?" He smiled the smile that always caused a flutter in Remus' stomach. The pale eyes gleamed with a feral knowledge. The knowledge of sex. Sex at its most basic, growling, instinctual level.

"I love what you do to me, Remus. I love to provoke you and tease you and resist you until the only way you can have me is to overpower me. It's rough and hard and primal and so, so hot." Remus felt small tendrils of desire curl through him at the purring growl in that voice, a voice ripe with intimate pleasures shared in the night. Sirius held his gaze a moment longer. Then, reaching up with a warm, wet hand he lightly grasped Remus' jaw and gently pulled him closer. "And then there are these mornings after," Sirius whispered slowly, "when you care for me, and tend my wounds, and heal me with such exquisite tenderness." Their lips met in soft, lingering kisses, as sweetly soothing to Remus' heart as the healing ointments were to Sirius' body. 'He bewitches me,' Remus thought.

Remus slowly sat back, clasping Sirius' hand between both of his own and regarded him with a bemused expression. "I'm beginning to think that it's not the wolf who's in control at all."

The black brows arched in a much too innocent expression. "No?"

"No." Remus rose. "I'm going to fix breakfast." With that, he left. Had he turned around, he would have seen Sirius smile contentedly.

TBC