Self Discovery
When Lily returns to the camp, it’s just Peter by the embers of the fire- the post where James should be.
“What happened to James? Weren’t you with Rabastan?” Lily asks, watching Peter drink from the flask in his hand, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and re-capping the flask behind it, regarding her before answering.
“Rabastan had a hissy fit and stormed off. James has gone looking for him, to see if he can bring him back, heaven knows that I wouldn’t be the best person for the job.”
Lily sighs, sitting down on the log beside Peter. “He’s a bit of a wanker, isn’t he.” She says, and Peter nods.
“No luck finding Barty and Sirius?” Peter asks.
“‘Fraid not. I was worried if we went any further that we would get lost.”
“Oh that’s right, you were out with Marlene.” Peter looks around Lily to where she came from, frowning. “Where’d she go?”
Lily sighs. “We ran into Dorcas, and they decided to go in a different direction, something about a clearing off of the trail of one of the markers.”
Peter sighs. “Just us, then. Did you at least find a weapon?” He asks.
Lily scoffs. “To fight off the werewolf?”
Peter huffs a laugh, “yeah.”
“No I did not.” Lily says. “Hey, do you mind if I pinch some of your toilet paper? Yours is much nicer than the one I brought.”
“Sure,” Peter says, gesturing to his tent.
Lily stands, heading over and unzipping the tent. She catches a whiff of something metallic, and scrunches up her nose. When she unzips it some more, she can see the carnage inside. Before she can scream, a warm hand covers her mouth, and Peter hushes her, his breath hot on her ear.
“Shh, shh little red. The big bad wolf is hungry, so, so hungry.” he takes a deep breath in, his nose pressed into the nape of her neck at her hair. “I can hardly wait to make a meal out of you.”
She tries to fight back, she does, but for some reason her arms are heavy, and her legs want to give out. What was happening?
Lily goes limp in Peter's arms, it’s too hard to hold herself up, and he drags her into the tent. Only then does it occur to Lily that it was Peter that had done this, had sliced through James’ skin, making his body nothing but mutilated flesh. She glances over at him now, her eyes the only thing she has control over, and she notes his face is completely unmaimed. James, one of her oldest friends, so pretty even in death. His hazel eyes stare back at her unseeing.
Peter lays Lily on the “bed” across from James, securing her wrists and ankles to something heavy. She glances at Peter as she wonders how he wasn’t covered in blood when she returned to camp, if this carnage was his doing only to find he was now wearing some kind of hazmat suit. She wonders when he got the chance to put it on without her noticing, though he had done more to surprise her in the last few minutes than he likely had in the few months she’d known him.
She didn’t really know him. None of them did. They thought they did, they’d invited him into their group, they’d even given him a nickname, and he was mutilating them one by one. He said that James had gone after Rab, but James was here, so had he already killed Rabastan? If he killed her, that makes a serial killer. She returns her gaze to James, a tear shedding, her heart pounding, but she doesn’t feel scared necessarily, not for the violence, not for the death, she realises then what she fears more, is not being able to feel it.
She looks up at Peter with pleading eyes. He stands above her, watching her. He leans down and brushes her hair behind her ear. She sniffles.
“I’ll be back for you, little red. Let you regain a bit of feeling, what do you think?”
If she could nod, she would. Peter hums thoughtfully. “You’re different, aren’t you?” He says, tilting his head. “I bet I wouldn’t even have to gag you, you’d just stay here, waiting for me.”
Another tear rolls down her cheek.
“Better not risk it,” he sighs. “Sorry little red, the wolf won't risk his meal being taken from him.”
Peter secures a gag to her mouth, turning her head to face James, her fate, before letting himself out of the tent.
***
Lily doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time she regains feeling in her limbs. She’s had nothing to look at but James’ corpse across from her, bloody and exposed. She can see his ribs, the soft fleshy muscle under the skin along his bones, his intestines have been tugged at, she can see them spilling from his groyne.
Her breathing picks up as her eyes rove the skin that's been torn to shreds, the blood that’s dripped from his body, seeping into everything around it, the splatters that have spouted from arteries. It’s a work of art, truly.
Lily wonders if that will be her, and the way her pussy absolutely throbs at the idea is both surprising and hard to ignore.
She tugs at the restraints, her hands pulling but not moving, and lets out a sob. She feels shame wash over her as she accepts that she is not only turned on by the mutilated corpse of someone who was her friend, but also at the prospect of being torn apart like that as well, and she is ashamed at how much she wishes she could run a hand through the blood, and fuck herself with it. She presses her legs together, desperate for friction against her wet cunt. It’s not enough.
She turns her body to the side, an uncomfortable stretch, but it allows her to touch herself, just enough, her fingers desperately reaching for her clit. Her moan is muffled by the gag, which only spurs her on more. When she hears the terrified screams of people outside, she reaches her peak, thrusting gracelessly against her hand as she cums.