Hiya! No, you didn't read wrong...this is a Bill/Remus! I KNOW!!! I surprised me too! Give it a try anyway?

Thanks to the darling, DragonDi, for making me repeatedly (okay, twice) change this so it made sense. Hugs!

WARNING: Adult themes.

Disclaimers: Neither boy are mine. Damn.

It is the very error of the moon
that she comes more nearer earth than she was wont
And makes men mad.

- William Shakespeare
Othello the Moor of Venice
(Othello at V, ii)

Battlefield

The light of the waxing gibbous moon reflected in brown and blue eyes as a loud, ragged moan broke through the otherwise silent night. Grunts and groans filled the air - the first sign of the battle that was taking place that night between two of the moon's disciples. Their hands are rough, frantic; breath rasping and harsh.

There is nothing gentle in the motions and movements of the men's bodies - hips coming together violently, bruises that would need hiding tomorrow already beginning to blossom where their fingers gripped hard. Mouths dragged over skin brutally - biting, licking, sucking; curse words falling like rain as their mistress the moon twisted their minds, and pure carnal pleasure drove their bodies to breaking point.

This wasn't complicated. This wasn't about love, it wasn't even about sex for the two men grappling on the bed in the old, creaking shack. This was a battle for dominance, a fight to regain some of the control that the nearly full moon stripped from them each month as she filled them with primordial lust; a moon madness that could only be sated with another of their kind. They were her soldiers, her minions, and they couldn't ignore her call, couldn't fight her pull…

They had long since stopped trying.

The dull thud of flesh hitting a wall signalled a switch in power between the men. Long auburn hair cascaded over pale, freckled shoulders as the younger man tossed his head and crowed his triumph in this latest skirmish. His body pressed his scarred combatant into the wall, hips pistoning as he slammed inside the struggling, but willing flesh beneath him. The older man growled - a low, feral sound that vibrated through the sex-scented room - then with a sudden twist of his lithe body, he tossed off the redhead, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Lip curled in a smile that looked more like a snarl, he seized the advantage and fell upon his young counterpart.

Grasping surprisingly delicate wrists, the brown-haired man pinned his lover to the floor then impaled himself on the weeping, almost purple cock that jutted proudly from the other man's body. He let out another growl - this time as a warning to the younger werewolf bucking under him that the fight was over and that this was his victory, his win. The redhead surrendered, throwing his head back and baring his throat in supplication to his Alpha. Teeth tore flesh and deep crimson spilled over their skin as white-hot pleasure overtook them then they were howling, ululating their completion to their mistress the moon.

In the aftermath, there are wounds to heal. Hands are careful, gentle now, breath wafting softly over still-prickling skin. Their bodies move sinuously, soothingly against each other now as bruises and bites and blood were healed and sealed and cleaned with whispered apologies and reassurances, and soft kisses. As the moon faded and the sun's rays eased the chill out of the brisk morning air, they dressed, leaving not a trace of the combat that had raged relentlessly all night.

In any battle, there are casualties, but both men refuse to allow their wives or children to become victims of the war that rages inside them once a month; the struggle between the human and the wolf. It wasn't hard to create a reason to be absent from their everyday life: night shift, an overnight work commitment, a boozy night with a mate…
Their consciences; their souls were the only fatalities of this fight and both men gladly paid that price to have this; to have each other. For one night, they were allowed to take what their bodies demanded and give in to their primal desires and lusts with the only other person who understood that they needed this like they needed oxygen.

They halted at the door, no longer under the moon's command. Now they were just two men preparing for a farewell neither was sure they wanted, to go back to a family that they loved, but that they were beginning to feel suffocated by. This…this is when it got complicated - the line between the friendship they shared every other day of the month, and what went on between them for just this one night becoming more and more blurred as they continued this.

Remus reached out and affectionately brushed long, red strands of hair from Bill's scarred cheek.

'See you next month?'

Bill nodded, adding, 'Fleur wants to get together with you and Tonks; a play date for the kids. I tried to put her off, but…' He shrugged apologetically.

Remus allowed the hand to fall from Bill's hair to slide over the other man's chest, fighting the urge to crush his mouth to the redhead's still-swollen lips.

'I'll tell Dora I saw you in Diagon Alley after my night shift and that we worked out a time. Next weekend alright?'

Bill murmured an agreement then carded his hand through Remus' ruffled brown locks, teasing the normally tidy man. 'You look dishevelled, Remus.'

The other man smoothed his hair then smiled. 'Better?'

'Much.'

Bill caught Remus' hand in his, tracing the fragile bones with his thumb. He was startled that those strong hands that had bruised him, pinned him earlier were so frangible and suddenly, he felt protective of the older man.

'Be safe tomorrow night, Remus.'

Remus smiled and tightened his fingers around Bill's. 'I will. I'll see you soon.'

Bill nodded agreement. 'Soon.'

A soft kiss was pressed to the centre of Remus' palm, then the battlefield was silent and vacant once more.

Until next month.

*Ducks for cover*

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