westernredcedar: (Krum)
[personal profile] westernredcedar
Title: Seekers
Part 5: Must It All Be a Contest?
Characters: Charlie/Viktor, guest starring Bill
Prompt: the rooms had a hint of asbestos
Summary: Now that they live together, Viktor has a creative idea to get back what they have lost.
“So you are suggesting that shagging will help us to solve our problems?” Charlie asked.
“Well,” replied Viktor with a shrug, “it cannot hurt.”

Rated: NC-17 overall, NC-17 in this part
Warnings for this part: This part just got plain smutty, with a weird sort of role-play, competition vibe. A little minor bondage (sort of), language
Word Count: 4,000 in this part, appox. 15,000 in finished fic
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, and I make no profit from this.
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous [livejournal.com profile] schemingreader for her amazing beta abilities. All remaining errors are all mine.
This was written for my [livejournal.com profile] 7spells claim, and will be cross-posted over there eventually. Sneak preview for the flist for now...because I just want this done!
This is my first attempt at this much smut. *nervous*
Catch up on the Charlie/Viktor lurve here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4



Moving the last of the boxes, Bill put on a look of exaggerated exhaustion.

“Last time I volunteer to help a couple of poofters,” he teased, eyeing Charlie and Viktor who had both needed to stop for a rest on the sofa, their individual physical ailments draining their energy. Nothing was easy now.

Charlie had regretted telling Bill about his relationship with Viktor since the words had left his mouth in a comradely moment at The Burrow the week before.

“Fucking lay off, Bill,” Charlie replied. “It stopped being funny about four hours ago.”

“Talk back to me, and I’m telling Mum you’re not just flatmates. She’s already hurt that you are moving out and don’t need her anymore,” said Bill, sprawling out on the rug.

“Is ‘poofters’ another one?” asked Viktor from the end of the sofa where he was lying flat on his back, hand over his eyes.

“Yes,” said Charlie.

“So many words for this,” Viktor observed.

“I’m doing you a service, Viktor, teaching you good British slang,” Bill said. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught unawares.”

“Thanks, you’re a real pal,” Charlie said, rising from the sofa. “I’m going to order take-away so that we can start unpacking now.”

“No more curry,” said Viktor from the sofa.

Their flat was small, plain, run-down, in a bustling neighborhood in London. The rooms had a hint of asbestos. Viktor did control an overflowing bank account from his years in professional Quidditch, but they decided to live frugally, unsure what the future would bring either of them. They were unemployed, adrift, grabbing onto each other as a life raft.

Viktor, Bill, and Charlie sat around on the piles of boxes, eating, and joking. Bill was his best, most animated self. The brotherly night of confidences at The Burrow had included an admission from Bill that he was feeling weighed down with the three kids and a dull desk job at Gringott’s. He was taking advantage of his night out, as much as he teased and complained.

Unpacking after the quick bite was not a lengthy process. Neither Viktor nor Charlie had many personal possessions. Viktor’s only overindulgence was his collection of high-end professional brooms. Charlie had lived in a single room for almost ten years, had almost nothing. The little flat looked sparse but settled after they unpacked.

As a lark they hung up the 1985 Chudley Cannons poster in the kitchen.

Standing in the middle of the sitting room holding a celebratory beer, Viktor threw his arm over Charlie’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. Bill smiled and looked away, sipping his beer.

As he was leaving, he hugged Charlie at the door and whispered, “I am happy for you, little brother.”

“Thanks,” Charlie whispered back.

“Even if you are bent as a bottle of chips.”
Bill added a chuck on the shoulder for emphasis as he walked out the door.



There were unexpected aspects to living with Viktor Krum.

Viktor was fastidiously neat. Charlie had never been a slob, but Viktor liked everything spotless. Charlie did not mind, as long as Viktor was willing to do the cleaning. He wasn’t always.

Viktor was used to getting his own way. He was an only child, a star athlete, the favorite student of his headmaster, a triwizard champion. He was stubborn as a Horntail if something did not please him, was skilled at getting what he wanted. Charlie was thankful to have grown up with his big family, forced to develop stellar negotiation skills and a lot of flexibility. They worked it out, as a rule.

Viktor loved morning sex. His warm groping hands and eager body roused Charlie most mornings. They worked that out as well.

Viktor was recognized everywhere they went. A trip to buy bread turned into an autograph session. Having a pint at the Owl and Thistle, a wizarding pub down the street, generated a loud and bitter debate amongst the clientele about the best Seekers in history. Charlie had no idea how many witches and wizards lived in London was until he noticed how many heads turned as they rode the Underground. Strangers regularly walked up to Viktor, patted him on the shoulder, and told him how sorry they were about his accident. Charlie was jealous of this attention for exactly one day, and then he was just glad it wasn’t happening to him.

Viktor was restless, and so was Charlie. Neither of them had been sedentary for even a short time in their lives. The slow healing of their bodies was an agonizing process for them both. Viktor was still grounded, fear of injuring himself keeping him away from his brooms. Charlie had not even considered how to prepare himself to return to the reservation. They were in a strange limbo, the future uncertain.

About half of the time, they were enough for each other.

It was Viktor who had the idea, to fill that other half of the time.



“It would be…what do you call?…therapy,” Viktor said.

“Pleasant associations connected to the things we are averse to?” Charlie asked, amused.

“Yes,” said Viktor.

“So you are suggesting that shagging will help us to solve our problems?” Charlie asked.

“Well,” replied Viktor with a shrug, “it cannot hurt.”

Charlie had to nod in agreement with that statement.

“You want to work with the dragons again, yes? I want to fly. We have only us. We can try. It will be our work, to help each other.”

“I’m up for it,” said Charlie. “We’ll see which one of us does better at providing this therapy, shall we?”

“Must it all be a contest with you?” asked Viktor, but he was grinning.



The first therapy session was that night. Obviously Viktor had already been planning.

He sent Charlie out of the flat for an hour, asking him to bring home some supper and dessert. When Charlie returned, Viktor was sitting straight-backed on the sofa reading a novel in Bulgarian, cool as a kneazle. Charlie peered around the flat, checking for things out of place, signs of what Viktor was planning. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

An hour later, after eating supper and finishing the pudding, Charlie was starting to doubt that Viktor had planned anything at all. They cleared the table and Viktor left Charlie to finish the washing up.

As he dried the last plate, Viktor called from the bedroom. “Charlie, come here.”

Charlie wiped his hands on a dishtowel and called back, “I’m coming. What do you…?” As he walked through the door of the bedroom, he found what Viktor had been planning. Their room had been spelled into a replica of his old room at the reservation. Viktor had lowered the lighting, lit a number of candles on Charlie’s bureau,
and was standing in the centre of the room, his hands folded over his chest, his legs spread wide, eyes fixed on Charlie.

Charlie peered around the room, amazed. “Fuck, Viktor, this is incredible.”

“Come here.”

Charlie was startled. Viktor’s voice was a command. Charlie looked at him with some doubt. Then, unless it was his imagination, Viktor’s brows twitched up just a millimeter, a subtle signal that Charlie should play along.

He walked towards Viktor.

“Take off my robe,” Viktor ordered.

Charlie shivered. He tended to be the one that took control in this room. Yet Viktor had ordered him around for a few seconds and Charlie immediately felt himself flush with desire.

Charlie moved in and began to unbutton Viktor’s outer robe, sliding it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He hadn’t known that following orders would get him hard, but he was already starting to press at the buttons of his flies.

“Undress me,” Viktor commanded, and Charlie complied, pulling off Viktor’s summer undershirt. Undoing and removing his trousers, he found Viktor was hard as a rock, straining away from his body. Charlie guessed something good was coming. He pulled the trousers free of Viktor’s feet and stepped back to look at him. He was gorgeous, all dark muscles and put-on attitude. Charlie’s prick lurched.

“This is my therapy? It’s working so far,” said Charlie.

“No speaking,” Viktor ordered. “Now you undress yourself.”

Charlie slid out of his robe and gratefully removed his constraining trousers, freeing his body. In the months he and Viktor had been together, Charlie had been taking even better care of his body than usual, trying to rebuild the muscle that he had lost during his injury and hospitalization, trying to keep up with Viktor. He felt strong now, even felt a surge of possessive pride in his scars.

Viktor walked towards him, and stopped a short distance away, tickling his fingers along the dragon tattoo curling around Charlie’s hipbone. Charlie shuddered.

“Follow me,” Viktor said, and stepped away. He walked over to the bureau, braced his arms against it, leaving his back open to Charlie. Charlie swallowed, approached. He ran his hands over Viktor’s sculpted shoulders. Viktor was fumbling in one of drawers of the bureau with one hand, removing something.

“Come close to me, look over my shoulder,” said Viktor as he placed something on the dresser in front of them.

Charlie pressed himself against Viktor’s warm body, hands running down his thick arms, chin on his shoulder.

On the dresser was a small, perfect model of a Chinese Fireball. It was loping around the top of the dresser, shooting miniscule spurts of flame, thrashing his small tail into the wood, letting out snorts of stream.

Charlie smiled at the little model.

“Does it frighten you?” asked Viktor.

“No,” said Charlie.

“Good,” said Viktor. “Then fuck me.”

Charlie let out a little groan at this command, slipping his hands down to Viktor’s ass, fingering his crack, finding that he was already lubed and ready.

Charlie fisted his own cock, searched out Viktor’s opening with his other hand, and pressed the head of his prick firmly against it. Viktor pushed back against Charlie and Charlie responded with a firm thrust. Viktor muttered a spell just as Charlie entered him, and an ear-spitting dragon roar reverberated through the room.

Charlie started, but Viktor’s commanding voice intervened. “Don’t stop. I told you to fuck me.”

Another enormous roar sounded through the room. Charlie felt the chill of his sweat as fear threatened to take him.

“Now.” Viktor demanded, reaching his arms back around Charlie, grabbing his ass, and pulling him forward.

Charlie shut his eyes, refocused on Viktor’s body in front of him, trying to ignore the snorts and snarls that were swirling through the room. He thrust in a little deeper, felt Viktor’s body opening up for him, concentrated on the intense pleasure he felt seeping up from his groin.

“Look at the dragon,” said Viktor.

Charlie opened his eyes. The little dragon model whirled towards him, eyes glinting. He thrust again into Viktor, groaned. The dragon model let out a blast of fire, but this time, the blast was magnified by Viktor’s spell, illuminating the entire room, fire licking out towards Charlie. The blast bushed past their arms, and Charlie winced, pulled up, until he realized the fire was cool, magicked to only appear dangerous. His heartbeat continued to accelerate, images of the Welsh Green flashing in amongst the visions Viktor was providing, but knowing the dragon fire was not dangerous freed up something inside him. He knew what Viktor was trying to do, hoped it might work. He started to pump steadily into Viktor, generating intense friction.

“This is hard,” he huffed to Viktor.

“It is not supposed to be easy,” Viktor replied. “It is supposed to help you.”

Charlie threw his head back as another flash of dragon fire swept over them and the room rocked with an echoing roar. He thrust deep into Viktor, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the Fireball. The creature’s beady eye challenged him, and Charlie stared back, willing himself to defeat the fear.

Charlie knew what he needed. He pulled out of Viktor, drew him around so they were face-to-face, and smothered him in a deep, aggressive kiss. Charlie leaned Viktor back against the dresser, looped his arm beneath his left leg, pulled it up to open him, and thrust in, looking straight into Viktor’s eyes. The room was filled was the distinct throat rattle of a Vipertooth.

“Help me,” he panted to Viktor, thrusting again. Viktor was breathing quickly, barely holding himself up against the bureau, but managed to mutter another spell. Charlie felt the blast of Viktor’s conjured dragon fire cover them, encapsulate them in blue flame. He pounded madly into Viktor, letting his terror transform into an intense, powerful orgasm. As Charlie came, the mad sounds of a wild dragon colony swirled around them like a chorus. The waves of his climax poured through Charlie in rhythm with the grunts and snorts surrounding them.

Viktor lifted himself up as Charlie slid out of him, wrapped his arms around Charlie’s moist, heaving chest, and kissed him, deep and soft.

“Next time you see a dragon, you will have a better memory than being burned. You will remember me,” said Viktor. Charlie leaned in to Viktor, covering him with his coarse hands and lips, thankful.

“Next it is your turn,” Viktor said, fingers trailing down Charlie’s chest.

Charlie was already planning how to outdo him.



It was midsummer, so the timing was perfect for Viktor’s flight therapy.

Charlie started simply, with some great sex associated with his brooms. It didn’t feel very risky or therapeutic though, really just more like a rather uncomfortable but enjoyable shag on the wood floor near the broom rack. Charlie would have to raise the stakes.

“We are going out for supper tonight,” he told Viktor a few days later.

Charlie had arranged the evening earlier in the day, and anticipation was already driving him to distraction.

It was warm at dusk, Charlie suggested they wear loose, light robes. He wouldn’t tell Viktor where they were going, which he could see bothered Viktor slightly, as he was slouched a bit more than usual. Charlie grabbed him roughly around his waist, gave him a good-natured bite on the nose, and quickly apparated them to their destination.

They appeared on a stretch of empty heath near a small crop of boulders. Charlie had stashed his supplies amongst the rocks- a small basket of food, a couple of bottles of lager, a few other special items. Of course, there was also Viktor’s custom Firebolt with the handle worn in just the right places and the plush cushioning charms. Charlie had buzzed around on it a few times while Viktor was out of the flat. It was pure joy to fly.

The stars were just appearing, the air was warm, and the scent of heather and grasses was strong. Charlie breathed it in. He had always felt most at home in the wilderness. He reached over and smacked Viktor’s ass, smiling.

“Therapy,” he said.

Viktor looked nervous. Charlie led Viktor to the rock outcropping and pulled out the simple supper he had packed: pears, cheese, sausages, lager, and bread. They ate sitting on the ground leaning against the rocks. During the meal, Charlie pointed out the planets and constellations to Viktor, who had never studied astronomy. Charlie had become quite an expert during his years out in the open with the dragons. Talking about the night sky, he felt a twinge of homesickness for the reservation for the first time since his accident.

“That bright spot that does not twinkle, that is Jupiter. Over there is Cassiopeia, see the W shape? She’s upside down with her skirts over her head.” Viktor laughed. “That one there is that poncy git Hercules. That bright band across the sky is the light from our arm of the Milky Way galaxy.” Charlie leaned back against the rocks, arms outstretched, and pointed straight up. “Directly overhead, that is Draco, the dragon. He never sets, just endlessly circles Polaris.” Charlie fell silent.

“I forget you are a scientist,” Viktor said, looking at Charlie.

“Hardly,” Charlie replied. “I’m just hired muscle at the colony. I’ve just always been fascinated with the stars.”

“I think you are more than that,” Viktor murmured as he leaned over, rested his hand on Charlie’s crotch, and kissed him, that kiss, the kiss that meant he was ready for more. Anticipation had built in Charlie all day, and blood flooded to his groin. They leaned against the rocks for several minutes, enjoying the feel of soft mouth on mouth, patient hands on hair.

Keeping Viktor locked in a deep, long kiss, Charlie grabbed his wand and silently accio’ed the Firebolt and his extra supplies from behind a boulder. He let the broom fall to the ground next to them as he raised himself up to his knees, pulling Viktor with him.

Charlie snuck his hands under Viktor’s robes, let out a snort of laughter.

“Nothing on under your robes?” he teased. “You slag, rather presumptuous, I’d say.”

“I believe I will find nothing under your robes either,” said Viktor. To prove his point, Viktor lifted Charlie’s robes up and over his head, and Charlie raised his arms to let himself be undressed. Sure enough, Charlie was naked underneath. Being disrobed by Viktor outdoors in the warm night air brought Charlie’s cock fully to life.

Charlie eased Viktor’s robe open and off as well, so that they were both naked, kneeling in the low brush. Viktor was only partially hard, his prick lying sideways in his think crop of hair, and Charlie knew he was nervous about what was planned for him. Charlie moved in, pressing his bare skin against Viktor’s, running his hands up the sensitive sides of his chest, dotting his face and neck with soft kisses. Viktor’s body was a bit stiff, but he responded with a moan.

Still kneeling, Charlie maneuvered himself behind Viktor, keeping in close contact, until he was spooned in behind him, chest to back, thigh to thigh, prick to ass. He snaked his arms around Viktor’s chest and Viktor leaned back into him, resting his head on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” Charlie asked in Viktor’s ear.

“Da,” Viktor sighed.

“You can tell me to sod off any time and I will,” Charlie said, and he kissed Viktor’s neck. “I want to try something.”

He leaned down and grabbed the extra items he had brought along, several long strips of soft silk. Still kissing Viktor’s shoulder and neck, he worked the longest piece around them and bound it with his wand. They were tied together at the chest. Viktor stiffened up, looked down at the binding and turned his head to Charlie.

“Should I go on?” asked Charlie.

Viktor took deep breath. “I trust you,” he said, and relaxed back against Charlie.

Using his wand, Charlie quickly bound them together at each thigh, each ankle, and the waist. Viktor’s hands reached back and rested on Charlie’s hips, his fingernails digging in just a little.

There was one more step. Charlie grabbed the wide strip of black silk from the ground. “You have to do what I do now, and I don’t think you should see what’s next,” he said, and placed it over Viktor’s eyes, blindfolding him. The fingernails dug in a little deeper.

“Don’t worry. I won’t fall, and I won’t let you get hurt. I’m here to make you feel good, as you recall? You know I want to outdo your little dragon show,” said Charlie, and he felt Viktor’s body relax a little in front of him, shake with a silent chuckle.

Charlie was hard, his cock compressed between their bound bodies. He eased the Firebolt over and lifted his knee, bring Viktor’s knee with it, placing the broom under them. He guided Viktor’s hands to the broom handle, which he grasped onto in a perfect right-handed Quidditch grip, thumbs interlaced. Charlie smiled and gently kicked up, letting the broom float about a meter off the ground. Their toes were still resting in the grass.

“Ready?” Charlie asked. Viktor’s head swiveled around as the broom rose up a bit more, pulling their feet off the ground.

“I’ll just let us hover here for now, Viktor,” said Charlie. “How does it feel?” He reached around and wrapped his fingers around Viktor, stroked him once. He moaned, and Charlie felt Viktor’s prick stiffen in his confident grip.

“It is good,” Viktor said.

Charlie muttered a quick lubrication spell, and his hand slid more easily along Viktor’s think shaft, teasing him along. Very slowly, Charlie allowed the broom to rise a few feet higher, away from the ground. He caressed Viktor’s prick, from base to tip as they rose. Viktor’s breath was coming fast, and Charlie could feel the thin sheen of sweat that now coated his body.

He moved his hand a little faster and let the broom move a little higher. Viktor would be able to feel the flying motion now, know that Charlie was taking him up. His back tensed against Charlie’s chest and stomach. With his other hand, Charlie reached up and rubbed at Viktor’s shoulder to calm him.

The warm night air enveloped them as Charlie moved the broom up, drifting over the overwhelming darkness of the heath below them, slowly bringing Viktor off. He leaned his head against Viktor’s back, running his lips over his shoulder blades, over the site of his injury on his spine, moving his hand at a steady and mounting pace on Viktor’s prick.

Viktor writhed on the cushion of air between him and the broom handle, grinding against Charlie’s aching cock, wriggling in the binding holding them together. Charlie gasped and moved his hand faster, urging the Firebolt forward at the same time. They continued to climb.

Charlie brought his other hand around Viktor’s waist and cupped it under his balls, gently tugging. Viktor’s head was thrown back over Charlie’s shoulder now, his breath coming in short little gasps. Charlie knew he was close. He pulled one hand away.

“Not yet,” he said. With his free-hand, Charlie loosened the blindfold, let it flutter to the ground far below. Viktor opened his eyes and gasped. They were about fifty feet up, moving forward through the clear night sky. Viktor’s body was completely still. He even stopped breathing. Charlie also held his breath, stilled his hand.

“We are flying,” Viktor stated at last, and Charlie could hear the smile on his face. He responded by giving Viktor’s prick a firm stroke. He moaned.

Before Viktor could start to think too much about his situation, Charlie muttered a final binding spell, and one last silk cord appeared and wrapped itself around the base of Viktor’s prick. Charlie gave the binding a tug to tighten it, and Viktor convulsed with pleasure.

“Da eba,” he groaned in Bulgarian, pushing back against Charlie’s body, pumping his bound prick through Charlie’s moist, hot hand.

Charlie felt Viktor take control of the broom then, send them shooting forward and up towards the stars. Charlie ground himself into Viktor’s flesh, his hands working Viktor’s thick and oozing cock, tugging the silk bindings, his own prick full and hot rubbing between their bodies. He gave himself over to the feeling of flying. The night breeze sweeping over them, tickling his skin, was too much. Charlie couldn’t control it, let himself erupt against Viktor’s back just as the first drops of Viktor’s come spurted over his hands. Viktor, usually quiet during sex, howled out, and the Firebolt spun and stopped in mid-air as their bodies emptied themselves.

Panting, Charlie leaned in against Viktor, wrapping his arms around his sturdy body, and released all of the binding spells tying them together. “You are flying,” he said quietly in Viktor’s ear. They were hovering several hundred feet up, and Viktor controlled the broom. Charlie’s only regret about his plan was that he could not see the expression on Viktor’s face. “How is your back?”

“This worked well, Charlie. I forgot to even worry about myself,” huffed Viktor, and Charlie laughed, pressing his face into Viktor’s sturdy back. “But I will not concede this contest to you. I believe I was equally successful.”

“I suppose a re-match is needed then,” Charlie replied.

“I suppose,” said Viktor, turning the broom towards the ground and starting them slowly drifting towards the heath.



They were in therapy for months. It passed the time.



Part 6

Date: 27 May 2011 03:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hogwartshoney.livejournal.com
That was.......... I love their therapy...... *\o/*

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