Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I am not JK Rowling. Nor do I own Blood & Chocolate. I am not Annette Curtis Klause. I have nothing to do with the creation or publication of either work.
Warnings: Descriptive violence , and….I got nothing. Avert your virgin eyes: this is a T or higher fiction.
AN: This is Lupin-Centric, and a Crossover with the book Blood & Chocolate. It's a werewolf fic, and set during Lupin's 5th year-meaning this is during the Marauder era. For Blood & Chocolate, it is near the beginning of the book.
The moon softly illuminated the figure that rested languidly on the bed. He felt a chill pass through him; the figure had gold predator eyes, they were the only outward sign of anger. The sweat was clinging to his body, and made him very aware of how exposed he was. The curtains were blowing behind the figure, creating an alluring despite the underlying fury beneath the surface.
His heart was stuttering and screaming at him to flee; the figure parted plumped lips, and a kittenish pink tongue darted out. He knew he should have listened to him before-the room seemed to spin, and he was positively shivering now-but it was so hot. It felt like fire was flooding the room; the moon had definitely had something to do with it.
The figure was panting, and stared into something he couldn't see, and he continued to watch the figure with morbid fascination. He felt his bones rattle-maybe the figure felt it too. Now it's eyes were on him-it was changing shape somehow, becoming more full, richer-its eyes refracted the moonlight, becoming potent. It looked as if it was waiting for something. He felt strangely leaden, body shaking as it pulled him forward to the now erect figure. The figure watched with an emotion he couldn't know, and he felt a thrill of fear go through him; both seemed to burn beneath the silver light.
The prospect of a challenge sent rippling heat through him, and he never felt more intrigued as terror bolted into his chest; he had to expel these sensations. The figure was snarling, pearly fangs revealed-the muscles beneath the skin were stretching themselves taunt-as if waiting for something.
As he stood above him, he felt a thrill of dominance he never felt before-but the figure wasn't afraid of him at all, and knowing that made him swell up and tighten like a balloon fit to burst; he was startled to find he was growling. Both were shaking-both collided-he wasn't sure what was happening, but he liked the feel of rough hide and sharpened teeth-the low growls gave him a violent feeling.
He could feel the burning limbs wrap around him, and he can't be sure if its in affection or anger; the hot lips were open and showed the slick teeth-the fur clung dampened to the lithe body that was struggling and writhing beside him. It was crying out in a way that made his chest ache, and he opened his mouth and loosened a howl.
He could feel the teeth sink into him, sliding in a rabid symmetry. His fear reached its peak, he threw his head back, eyes rolling as the blood spurted and ran down hot between flesh and fur. Lightening coursed through his blood, it sang in tandem with the figure's howling-the unity made a thunderous pulse in his ears. When he looked down and opened his eyes, he saw-
A boy's face-one he knew-flesh pinkend and enlivened, the sweat clinging to a petite body-looking the picture a savage and wild flower that had just bloomed. The boy-his face-his lips were covered in blood. His blood. Shining a luminous red when backlit by a looming moon; he knew that he was going to die.