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Deluge
Author: Regala Electra
E-mail: regala_electra@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Others (many, many others)
Summary: He is submerging, and will drown if applicable. He still loves him, even after the fall.
Author’s Notes: Written to celebrate my lj’s two year anniversary. Tis a dark story, that is not a sequel to all fall down, but could be, if you squint your eyes. Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leelee_cakes for the advice and the encouragement. And a year ago, I posted porntastic The O.C. Seth/Ryan banterfic, cowritten by the lovely torchthisnow, and now I post HP fic starring Remus Lupin, wherein it’s all about Sirius, tragedy, loss, and denial, and Remus even sex with a girl. *gasp* So a lot has changed, then.
*
Imagine this for your voyeuristic needs: the heady smell of bodies pressed together tighter and tighter, hot and firm and ready, the pulsing pounding gasp of that first intoxicating knowledge that fucking is on the menu, the way the booze flowed like it was going out of style, and the clacking of glasses across the loud roar of voices chattering and everyone, everyone toasting to the Boy.
And when he lifts his whiskey, he almost believes it.
But no, drinking to oblivion is a cliché - and he's past that, past caring, past breathing, past hurting, and his story's no more woeful than any other - what he lost is more pitiful; so more’s the reason why he’s downing forgetfulness in greedy draughts, maybe, but it was all so perfectly laid out. A canvas of pain and horror and regret, twisting there, just waiting to snap and all the threads came a-tumbling down, and it’s almost fucking poetry -
He may have said that part out loud, but there’s no one who hears it. They think it out of joy, out of drunkenness, out of painful realizations - this is the End - the end of an Era, the end of friendships. The end of life.
The. End.
And he is here, with a mind that has shut down for self-preservation’s sake, a body falling apart more rapidly than usual, and the motor skills of a person far more sober (soberer?) than he actually is.
( Then his glass is empty and for a moment he can breathe again and it’s almost as painful as forgetting. )
Author: Regala Electra
E-mail: regala_electra@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Others (many, many others)
Summary: He is submerging, and will drown if applicable. He still loves him, even after the fall.
Author’s Notes: Written to celebrate my lj’s two year anniversary. Tis a dark story, that is not a sequel to all fall down, but could be, if you squint your eyes. Thank you to
leelee_cakes for the advice and the encouragement. And a year ago, I posted porntastic The O.C. Seth/Ryan banterfic, cowritten by the lovely torchthisnow, and now I post HP fic starring Remus Lupin, wherein it’s all about Sirius, tragedy, loss, and denial, and Remus even sex with a girl. *gasp* So a lot has changed, then.*
Imagine this for your voyeuristic needs: the heady smell of bodies pressed together tighter and tighter, hot and firm and ready, the pulsing pounding gasp of that first intoxicating knowledge that fucking is on the menu, the way the booze flowed like it was going out of style, and the clacking of glasses across the loud roar of voices chattering and everyone, everyone toasting to the Boy.
And when he lifts his whiskey, he almost believes it.
But no, drinking to oblivion is a cliché - and he's past that, past caring, past breathing, past hurting, and his story's no more woeful than any other - what he lost is more pitiful; so more’s the reason why he’s downing forgetfulness in greedy draughts, maybe, but it was all so perfectly laid out. A canvas of pain and horror and regret, twisting there, just waiting to snap and all the threads came a-tumbling down, and it’s almost fucking poetry -
He may have said that part out loud, but there’s no one who hears it. They think it out of joy, out of drunkenness, out of painful realizations - this is the End - the end of an Era, the end of friendships. The end of life.
The. End.
And he is here, with a mind that has shut down for self-preservation’s sake, a body falling apart more rapidly than usual, and the motor skills of a person far more sober (soberer?) than he actually is.
( Then his glass is empty and for a moment he can breathe again and it’s almost as painful as forgetting. )
