A/N: My friend Sarah is very very fond of Scabior. This is terrible and should never really see the light of day. Greyback/Scabior.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or Greyback. Or Scabior. Or anything, really.
The man bites down on the other's lip, hard enough to bruise. Those half-hands half-claws caress his back, just roughly enough to leave shallow cuts. He groans into the cold night air, and around them, the world is still.
*
There are certain . . . needs a man must fulfil.
It didn't matter whatever higher cause they were fighting for, whatever filth they were rounding up, there was always that pulsating want at the back of their minds. Forest or city or calm little village - still there.
They never used the prisoners. It was one of their unspoken rules - do not sully your body with the scum, they would probably like it anyway.
*
Scabior had teased the mudbloods, had breathed in their scent and mockingly called them beautiful and frightened them beyond measure, but the fun was not in the taking. The fun was in the tensed shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, teeth worried into the bottom lip.
He had that need, of course - but there were other places he could go to fix that.
*
A groan.
The sound of flesh on flesh.
A growl.
A mutter, with a cockney accent, "Fuck."
The snatcher keeping lookout stares into the trees and pretends to ignore them.
*
The full moon presents an interesting conundrum. Greyback is wolf-like all of the time (and truth be told, Scabior likes the animal in him) and that particular feeling is not quenched merely by the absence of a partner's human form.
Scabior watches the wolf devour the child with his hand down his trousers and tries to imagine he is anywhere but there.
*
"Just there." Scabior feels those fangs scrape his neck and manages to hold back a shudder of pleasure. "Yes."
Hands ghosting down his sides, one moment soft and the next ripping into flesh with another groan of satisfaction. Greyback doesn't know whether he likes it or he's in pain, but he doesn't care as long as Scabior keeps making those noises.
Wet mouth. Scabior can see a smear of blood across Greyback's forehead.
Lips. Teeth. Tongue.
Scabior gives up coherent thought.
*
All men have needs. And snatchers are, after all, only men.