Disclaimer: No one in here is mine. I'm making no money off of it.
Warning: Slash! Oh yes this is slash. Two men getting it on hot and heavy. Very hot and heavy. Men having sex with each other! Who? Well, one of them's Remus...If you have a problem with this, don't read it. If you do, don't bitch on the reviews, e-mail me. Or if you do have to bitch at the reviews, then at least have the guts to sign it.
Dedication: For Kitten, who inspired this idea. Ah yes, and for Daddy and Lucius-Daddy, Sorry Daddy, that it's not a Tom/Harry, but I really don't think I can do one of those.
Author's Note: For some reason, I see Remus as being French. And the other character in the fic. I don't know, it just makes sense to me. This was inspired by an RP I participated in. ever since then, I haven't been able to get the idea out of my head, so here we go. On, and I've provided a handy little language key, since I intersperse French phrases throughout the story.
Man, I really did get a lot done on my day off, didn't I? And it's not even dinner time yet...And no, this title has nothing to do with the Stephen King anthology of the same name.
M. La Mort: Mr. Death
Seigneur Loup: Lord Wolf
Creme-de-la-creme: The very best
sol-dissant: Self styled
Bon vivant: Good company
beau monde: Fashionable society
Acien Regime: Old order.
jeunesse doree: Gilded youth
Mon Dieu: My God
By Lady Feylene
The Ministry was, Remus Lupin decided, overly extravagant. He leaned against a wall, eyes scanning the elaborately dressed crowd. A masquerade ball, hearkening back to the days of old. It was supposed to put everyone at ease, take their minds off the turmoil that was rampant in Europe. James hadn't wanted to go, so he had given his invitation to Remus, deciding his underemployed friend could use the night out. And Remus had been far too polite to refuse. He hadn't gone to the great lengths that some had, choosing to simply wear a white poet shirt and a pair of brown leather breeches, with a simple black mask. Everyone had to wear a mask.
//Why did I come here?// Remus wondered. He felt out of place and ostracized. The great ballroom was full of the progeny of old wizarding families and the nouveau riche. Neither of which appealed to Remus. He had no desire to mingle with the likes of Lucius Malfoy and his ilk. He had been put through enough by them in school, he didn't need it now. And he didn't think he knew anyone, or had any desire to meet anyone. He had been approached by a few simpering young women, all of which he turned away politely. Women held very little interest for Remus Lupin. And they all seemed to be sporting some sort of wings, he observed detachedly.
Some of the costumes were rather clever. He had seen a few rather intricate fairy costumes, and one stunning figure that had to be the Red Death. Complete with a skull mask. Some may find the costume tasteless in current times, but Remus found it rather clever.
//You simply think it's clever because M. La Mort has such a lovely derriere.// Remus had been observing M. La Mort, as he had dubbed the Red Death, for most of the evening. He could tell little about the man's face, as most if was covered by his mask. but he had lean, well muscled calves and thighs, displayed by his scandalously tight red leather pants. His torso was rather more well covered, in a red doublet and crimson cloak. His cane sported a grinning skulls head. And of course he worse a large plumed red hat, the ones that were fashionable a century or so back.
//Not taken strait from Mr. Poe's bit of work, but it's certainly an impressive costume.// Remus thought to himself, watching as M. La Mort made the rounds, obviously enjoying himself. He seemed to be heading in Remus' direction, and the werewolf didn't sway his gaze. What did he care if he was caught admiring what was, in his opinion, one of the best costume of the evening. He was sick of seeing knights and champions and things of that nature. Why was everyone so quick to hide from danger, ignore it, pretend it didn't exist? It was quite stupid. Danger was everywhere. Death eaters were everywhere. Remus was certain there were a handful here tonight, laughing and drinking along with everyone else.
M. La Mort was, in deed, heading strait for Remus. The werewolf fond himself staring into a pair of smoky grey eyes, peering out from a skull's empty eye sockets. He raised an eyebrow, to no avail as the motion was hidden by his mask.
"Bon Juor, Messieurs." Remus said. He really wasn't in much f a mood to talk, and hopefully reverting to his ancestral tongue would dissuade M. La Mort from striking up a conversation.
"Bon Jour." La Mort responded, speaking fluid French. "And are you enjoying yourself this evening?"
"Rubbing elbows with the creme-de-la-creme and sol-disant bon vivants? Not particularly, no." Remus shook his head, inwardly delighted. Perhaps La Mort would not be such a disappointing companion.
"Ah yes, the beau monde can be frightfully dull. Especially to those of the ancien regime."
"Mmmm." Remus only nodded. //So, he's one of the old families, is he? He'll not be too pleased when he finds out who he's been talking to.// All masks were to be removed at midnight, and not before then.
"So tell me what a so obviously jeunesse doree as yourself is doing alone at such an affair."
"I think you may have me confused." Remus said, with a smile. "I'm actually here on a friend's instance. They didn't want to come, and gave me their invitation."
"Truly? So you're not in the Ministry, are you?"
"No." Remus shook his head.
"Then what do you do? And, may I inquire as to what on earth you are?"
"I don't work, and I'm myself with a mask." So perhaps it wasn't the wittiest remark, but Remus had little taste for the son's of the old families.
"Independently wealthy, I see. And clever as well. So what should I call you, M. You In A Mask?"
"You can call me...Seigneur Loup." Perhaps the lord was a bit too much, but Remus was feeling daring. Besides, he could always slip away before midnight, leaving La Mort forever wondering.
"How intriguing..." La Mort laid a hand on Remus' arm. "You look bored, Mon Seigneur Loup."
"I told you, I don't enjoy these sorts of things."
"Nor do I, truth be told." La Mort sighed. "I'd far rather be home in my library."
"Fond of books, are you?" That piqued Remus' interest. They engaged in a brief discussion of literature, finding to both their delight they shared the same tastes in books. And as the conversation progressed, they found some of their musical tastes ran in the same direction as well. Remus couldn't help but wonder what else they had in common...
"You know." La Mort said, leaning close. "It's quite noisy in here, don't you think? Would you care to join me on the balcony?"
"Certainly." The balcony. Remus knew full well what went on out on the balcony. It seemed La Mort was just full of surprises. Remus allowed himself to be led out to the balcony, which was shielded from view by heavy dark red curtains. And was lockable from the outside.
"It's a rather lovely night, isn't it?" La Mort turned to Remus, leaning casually against the railing.
"Yes." Remus looked out over the fields and lake that surrounded the large manor that lent itself to the occasion. He was rather certain it was the Minister's home. The moon was a cheshire's grin on the horizon, and the grass and water were lent a silver light from the stars. It was cool, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable. It was a nice night. The sort of night that held promises, hints of possibilities...
"Are you aware of how beautiful you are?" La Mort asked suddenly.
"Hmmm?" Remus looked up, the skull mask rather disturbing on so close an inspection. It looked frightfully realistic.
"You're quite beautiful. Or does that make you uncomfortable, coming from another man?"
"Would I have joined you out here, if it did?" Remus chuckled softly. He was actually finding he was enjoying himself. For an old bred pureblood, La Mort was actually rather charming.
"Touche." La Mort leaned over, hands falling to rest on Remus' wrist. "And why did you join me out here, hmm?" His voice was a silky hiss, low and sensual. Remus decided that an opportunity like this was far too good to pass up. He turned, pressing himself against La Mort, lips finding the other man's. Thank Merlin his skull mask stopped above his lips, giving Remus access to them.
It was, all in all, a very passionate kiss. La Mort's lips were full and supple, and he wasted no time parting them to allow Remus' tongue to slide between them. Remus slipped his hands down, finding La Mort's derriere to be just as firm and tight as he had imagined. He ground his hips against the other man's, tongues dueling and hands roaming over satin, velvet and linen.
Remus decided now was not the time for slow seduction. Whatever happened tonight would be hot and quick and remembered forever. He tore his lips away from La Mort's, eyes glinting with mischief. He dropped to his knees, fingers working deftly to unfasten La Mort's breeches and slide them down just enough. It seemed the taller man had certainly been enjoying their little tête-à-tête. Remus licked his lips in anticipation. He grasped La Mort's fully erect shaft, before lowering his mouth to it, enveloping it in a quick motion.
"Mon dieu..." La Mort's hands tangled in Remus' hair, urging the werewolf on. Remus was merciless in his ministrations, scraping his teeth and tongue along La Mort's shaft, taking it in his mouth completely. With his fierce attention, La Mort finished quickly, crying out roughly in French as he climaxed.
Remus rose, licking his lips, eyes meeting La Mort's. He decided he quite liked those eyes clouded and darkened with lust. He pressed himself against La Mort again, his own desire evident. He pressed his lips against his lover's, surprised but delighted when La Mort slid his tongue between his lips.
"Take me." La Mort whispered throatily against Remus' ear. The werewolf nodded, unfastening his own breeches as La Mort turned, bracing himself on the railing. Remus dropped to his knees again, this time using his mouth and tongue to prepare La Mort, as well as pleasure him. He laved his tongue along La Mort's entrance, feeling the other man tense and shudder. After a few moments, Remus rose, taking himself in hand, and sliding easily into La Mort.
Remus closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of being completely encased. He placed his hands on the railing as well, for balance, before thrusting again and again into the receptive body of his lover. Again, it took very little to send him over the edge. La Mort was tight and hot, and clenched around him, bringing Remus to an earth shattering orgasm.
They both needed a few moments to recover. Remus sat down, back against the railing, letting the cool night air bathe his heated skin. La Mort joined him, tilting his head back and taking deep breaths.
"Well." Remus said, smoothing back his tawny hair. "I'm certainly glad I came. To the party." He said, with a wicked grin.
"As am I. You have no fear of the danse macabre."
"I live the danse macabre." Remus said, seriously. "I've no bete noir."
"I admire that." La Mort ran a hand through Remus' hair. "And I admire you. You are quite a passionate lover. Perhaps, after this affair is all over, you would join me at my manor?"
"Perhaps." Remus nodded. He was certainly attracted to La Mort, and it was something other then just the fact that he had smoldering eyes and a wanton air. There was something more primal between them. An animal attraction, forgiving the pun. And Remus had been alone far too long. Since fifth year, truth be told. He had never *quite* recovered from Severus' abrupt dismissal. And it had killed him a little every time he had seen Severus with Lucius Malfoy. It gave him a sort of sick satisfaction knowing Severus had left the other man high and dry as well. Lucius didn't deserve the time of day from Severus, as far as Remus was concerned.
"I do hope so." La Mort continued. "Though...does it concern you, that I'm married?"
"You're married?" Of course. There had to be something wrong. Passionate, eloquent, witty, and taken.
"Yes. It was purely political, I've no love of my wife, and vice versa." La Mort was quick to assure. "My tastes do not run in that direction in the slightest. I wed to please my parents, and to achieve an heir."
"I see." Remus frowned. He wasn't sure what he thought of that. But it obviously the wife would know, or she should.
"She is well aware of this." La Mort added, as though he had read Remus' thoughts. "And I must be honest. I find you to be quite desirable. There is an animalistic quality to you that caught my eye as soon as you walked in the door. And I sense a hint of danger about you..."
"Then your senses are right." Remus said, turning to glance at La Mort. "I'm more dangerous then I look."
"And I thrive on danger." Again, that husky whisper.
"Then perhaps I should accompany you to your manor." Remus tilted his head. Why not? Why the hell not? Sirius had been telling him he needed someone for years now. And maybe he had found someone. All right, he was married. But that didn't seem to be much of a problem. "Yes, I will. But honestly...you don't even know who I am." Remus decided.
"Nonsense. All I fail to know is your name, and that matters little." La Mort took Remus' hands in his, kissing them each. "Trust me, you shall not be disappointed."
"I'll take your word at that." Remus grinned, feeling much better about attending the party. He rose, dusting off his knees, and offered his hand to La Mort. They stood, just as the clock pealed midnight. Remus grinned. He was looking forward to seeing if La Mort's face was as attractive as the rest of him.
"It's midnight." Remus said, softly.
"Time to remove our masks." La Mort grinned as well, and Remus was rather surprised at how natural it looked with the skull's mask.
"Yes." Remus nodded, lifting his hands to the black leather mask that obscured the top part of his face. La Mort took off his hat, exposing shoulder length pale blond hair that shone silver in the starlight. Remus immediately wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. And then he put his hands to his mask, and Remus removed his, looking away as he pulled it off. When he looked up, he wasn't able to keep the startled gasp from escaping his throat or the horrified twist to his lips.
He was looking strait into the smoky grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.
* * *
Eh. There might be more. I don't know. It depends.
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