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reynardo prompted me with Remus/Heathcote Barbary: crupper, anonymity, sleigh.

Christmas Queer (NC-17; Remus/Heathcote; 1163 words): "Father Christmas" bears a package for Remus to the Forest of Dean.

Remus has been on his own for a while and has decided he likes it that way; the Forest of Dean is a good place to camp, and a better one in which to undergo his transformations. It's ancient, protected woodland, and he feels safe there . . . until he sees the sleigh.

What the hell?

He approaches the clearing in which it sits, surprised when a dark-haired wizard with a goatee pulls himself out the side of it.

Wizard space, Remus thinks. Wonder if he's got any food in there?

Remus is only a few miles away from a village bordering the forest, but this close to a transformation, he never goes near it. He's hungry, and as he catches a better view of the wizard adjusting the crupper under one of his Aethonons' tails, his stomach gives a lurch.

That's Heathcote Barbary.

Oh, he knows the rhythm guitarist for the Weird Sisters well enough, but he's never before realised how much the bloke looks like Sirius.

So much for being fine on my own, Remus thinks, as he watches Barbary transform himself into Father Christmas. Ah, so that's it. He's going to surprise his cousins.

According to an article in Witch Weekly, old copies of which Remus pulls from the rubbish bin in the nearby village's park on his infrequent trips into town, Barbary has four younger male cousins whom he dotes on. It's not a surprise, then, to find the man gearing up for a Christmas Eve visit in this manner, but it does bother Remus to know that he's so close to another person with the full moon upon him. Concerned, he turns quickly to leave, and in his haste, steps on a twig.

Snap!

"Who's there?" Barbary demands, brandishing his wand.

Remus has never been particularly fast at duelling, but at the rate of the moonrise, he won't have to be. "Shite!" he exclaims, running for it.

To his great relief, Barbary doesn't pursue him, and then, all too soon, he loses himself to his curse.

~*~

When Remus comes to the next morning, he smells bacon, peppermint, and unwashed human male. He's also warm, which he never is.

"Nice," Barbary says, as Remus leaps, nude, to his feet.

Fuck, thinks Remus, noting that Barbary is holding two wands in one hand, and a peppermint stick in the other. "Thank you for the blanket, but if it's all the same to you, I'll just have my wand back and be on my way."

Barbary shakes his head. "It's Christmas Day, mate, and you obviously need feeding up."

"Shouldn't you be with your family?"

"Ah, you know me. Seems unfair." Barbary twirls the wands and takes a long suck of the peppermint stick.

Remus sits down upon the blanket, sighing. "I'd prefer to keep my anonymity."

"Right, I imagine you would, under the circumstances."

Flushing, Remus asks, "May I please have that back?"

"Looks like you've all the wand you need, my friend, and no, I'll just keep this until you eat something. It's a bit lonely out here."

"Why aren't you with your family?"

"My aunt's married to a Muggle, and Uncle Nigel's a religious sort. I won't join them until after services."

"Ah."

"You can't tell me you're not hungry. There's no blood. You didn't catch anything last night."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a werewolf?"

"Nope." Barbary sets the wands down and reaches for the fork sitting on a towel near the fire, poking at the bacon sizzling over it. "No one's perfect, least of all me."

Remus snorts. "You don't seem like a man with problems."

"Well, that doesn't mean I don't have them."

Barbary sits back and licks the peppermint stick again, flicking his tongue over the top of it; swallowing, Remus wraps the blanket over his lap.

"You lonely, Anonymous?"

Remus flushes. "Why should you care?"

Barbary shrugs. "I feel a bit bad about scaring off your prey when I got back this morning. I went looking for you, you know, and saw you after it, and I guess it didn't care for the sleigh bells—hence the bacon."

"And how you knew what I was."

Barbary snorts. "Man, you were naked in the middle of nowhere at dawn. That's how I knew, but yeah, I did keep right on following you until then. Never seen a werewolf in the fur before."

"I'm not a curiosity!" Remus exclaims.

"But you are greatly improved without fur." Barbary smiles and neatly cracks four eggs into the pan of bacon. "Sorry about the lack of toast. I forgot to nick some bread from Aunt's, but it's better than nothing."

Remus is determined not to accept anything from Barbary, but when his stomach growls at the approach of the plate levitating towards him, he can't help but eat.

Barbary doesn't. "Seems like the stick's what I want more than bacon. You finish the rest," he tells Remus, sending more food to his plate.

Remus sags over the plate. "Thank you."

"Yeah, I know. I can be a right arse, but it is a nice one. Are you lonely, Anonymous? Because I could really go for some Christmas 'queer' before sitting down to holiday lunch with my oh so conventional family."

Remus has had some odd encounters before, but never one quite like this one. He supposes Barbary's not such a bad bloke, even if he is withholding his wand.

But he's too much like Sirius, and—

"Oh, I see the problem. It's the unequal footing thing, right? I can fix that." Barbary rises, strips off, and then tosses Remus his wand. "Now we're equal."

"Merlin, no wonder you've so many bloody groupies." Remus can't help but stare at Barbary's cock. Equal, my arse!

Barbary begins stroking himself to hardness. "Oh, feels good. Don't you want to feel me, Anonymous?"

"I don't bottom," Remus says quickly.

Barbary grins. "No problem. I do." Barbary takes a few steps towards Remus, stopping as he holds up a hand.

"Are you high?"

"On this 'holy' day? Hell, no, but a man has the right to a few sips of Firebright every now and again, doesn't he?"

Remus knows Firebright; it's pretty serious stuff. "You'd have to be pretty fucked up to take that shite."

"Yeah, I am," Barbary says, shivering a bit as he steps closer, his hand fisting his cock a little faster.

Remus can smell the peppermint on his breath, and the guilt. "You're ashamed."

"Very conventional family, man—yeah, I've got issues about being a poof. That a problem for you, Anonymous?"

It should be. Remus should have a problem with taking advantage of a Firebright-addled, self-hating rhythm guitarist, but he's hard now, hard, leaking, and fed, and on Christmas Day, who is he to deny Father Christmas?

He drops to his knees, knocking Barbary's hand from his cock and sucking it, as far as he can, into his mouth.

He doesn't taste like you, Remus thinks, of Sirius, but I don't care.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
reynardo
Apr. 16th, 2012 02:42 am (UTC)
Oh yay! Hilarious! Heathcote tends to be (for me) a rather self-centred bastard, so this works very well. Yay again!
iulia_linnea
Apr. 16th, 2012 11:28 pm (UTC)
*dances*
livejournal
Apr. 21st, 2012 03:39 am (UTC)
Serious Fangirl Squeeeeeee-ing
User reynardo referenced to your post from Serious Fangirl Squeeeeeee-ing saying: [...] arry/Luna: Thrush, transformer, lassitude. Christmas Queer (NC-17; Remus/Heathcote; 1163 words) [...]
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )