Poem: Companion to 'Wait' - Wax and Wane
May. 5th, 2017 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
llaeyroTitle: Wax and Wane
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Word Count: ~250
Warnings: angst, sex, biting, possessiveness, wolfy instincts
Summary: Remus struggles with his instincts. Sirius only wishes he would stop holding back.
A/N: This was originally written forshiftylinguini in response to her prompt over at Daily Deviant's birthday bash, but I felt it wasn't smutty enough and didn't really fulfill the prompt as well as it might, so I used this to inspire 'Wait' [IJ/DW/LJ/AO3]. I'm glad I did, because I'm very happy with that fic, but I also like this poem so wanted to put it out there once the birthday bash was over. I'm posting it now because where Miss Guini is, it's already tomorrow, which is her birthday! This isn't your present, my dear, but I'm not sure it will still be your birthday where you are when I'm able to get that one up (damn you rehearsal and work) so here's a little something for you to wake up to =) (Because what great birthday doesn't start with a great dollop of Wolfstar angst? AHAHA ♥).
Also on AO3
Wax and wane, goes the Moon.
Please, stop, begs Remus Lupin.
It is an idle plea,
Bred by frustration,
Desperation,
With no real hope left in it.
Wax, says the Wolf.
Wane, says the Man
Desperate to feel again,
To think again, free of desires,
Free of urges
That do not belong in his heart.
Wane, says the Man
Within his treacherous body,
Enjoying the brevity of being
A Man;
Quiet, polite, harmless.
Wax, says Sirius Black,
Craving that bit of an edge
That only comes when
The wolf
Approaches. That hunger, passion, fire.
Claim, says the Wolf.
Possessive touches.
Consuming, surrounding with his scent.
Marking.
Reclaiming his Mate.
Yes, gasps his Mate.
Exposing his neck,
Arching his back, encouraging,
Begging,
To feel teeth bite into his flesh.
Nothing says the Man,
Lost in the strength of the urge
To own, to mark, to claim,
To fuck.
Victim to his own desires.
Please, begs his Mate,
Presenting, on his knees,
Loose and pliant and wanting.
Ready
To be taken apart, body and soul.
Mine, growls the Wolf-Man,
Leaving bruising marks against pale skin,
Licking and soothing with tongue.
Thrusting,
Growling, coming, howling...
Yours, moans his Mate.
Fingers tangled in hair,
Guiding that mouth where it feels
Right.
These are the times that feel right.
Forgive me, cries the Man.
The sting, the ache, will dull with time,
The marks will disappear
But the wolf will always return again
And his mate will still be here.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Word Count: ~250
Warnings: angst, sex, biting, possessiveness, wolfy instincts
Summary: Remus struggles with his instincts. Sirius only wishes he would stop holding back.
A/N: This was originally written for
shiftylinguini in response to her prompt over at Daily Deviant's birthday bash, but I felt it wasn't smutty enough and didn't really fulfill the prompt as well as it might, so I used this to inspire 'Wait' [IJ/DW/LJ/AO3]. I'm glad I did, because I'm very happy with that fic, but I also like this poem so wanted to put it out there once the birthday bash was over. I'm posting it now because where Miss Guini is, it's already tomorrow, which is her birthday! This isn't your present, my dear, but I'm not sure it will still be your birthday where you are when I'm able to get that one up (damn you rehearsal and work) so here's a little something for you to wake up to =) (Because what great birthday doesn't start with a great dollop of Wolfstar angst? AHAHA ♥).Also on AO3
Wax and wane, goes the Moon.
Please, stop, begs Remus Lupin.
It is an idle plea,
Bred by frustration,
Desperation,
With no real hope left in it.
Wax, says the Wolf.
Wane, says the Man
Desperate to feel again,
To think again, free of desires,
Free of urges
That do not belong in his heart.
Wane, says the Man
Within his treacherous body,
Enjoying the brevity of being
A Man;
Quiet, polite, harmless.
Wax, says Sirius Black,
Craving that bit of an edge
That only comes when
The wolf
Approaches. That hunger, passion, fire.
Claim, says the Wolf.
Possessive touches.
Consuming, surrounding with his scent.
Marking.
Reclaiming his Mate.
Yes, gasps his Mate.
Exposing his neck,
Arching his back, encouraging,
Begging,
To feel teeth bite into his flesh.
Nothing says the Man,
Lost in the strength of the urge
To own, to mark, to claim,
To fuck.
Victim to his own desires.
Please, begs his Mate,
Presenting, on his knees,
Loose and pliant and wanting.
Ready
To be taken apart, body and soul.
Mine, growls the Wolf-Man,
Leaving bruising marks against pale skin,
Licking and soothing with tongue.
Thrusting,
Growling, coming, howling...
Yours, moans his Mate.
Fingers tangled in hair,
Guiding that mouth where it feels
Right.
These are the times that feel right.
Forgive me, cries the Man.
The sting, the ache, will dull with time,
The marks will disappear
But the wolf will always return again
And his mate will still be here.
no subject
Date: 2017-05-08 10:23 am (UTC)