slackened ties (remus/sirius, nc-17)
OKAY.
So, remember about two weeks ago when ponderosa121 posted one of the hottest pictures EVER: Remus and Sirius making out with TIES. And it was delicious and destructive and we all swooned? And then I promised to start writing fic about it?
Well, it's done. :)
This one's for Pondy, of course, for being a fucking BRILLIANT artist and making us all swoon on a regular basis. Also, circe_tigana, *hugs* I hope this cheers you up a bit, muffin. :)
Slackened Ties
By: anniesj
PAIRING: Remus/Sirius
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Schoolboys. Heat wave. Smut. That's about it. :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: For ponderosa121, with adoration. :) And thanks to Franz Ferdinand for inspiring us both with their hot-ass music.
Slackened Ties
By: Annie Sewell-Jennings
*****
In the first week of May, a heat wave seizes Hogwarts in its furious grip and refuses to let go. The air over the deep green lawn seems to ripple and shimmer, and the Whomping Willow looks wilted, burdened by the great, heavy humidity. All over the school, students are shedding their robes, slackening their ties, charming their wands to blow little jets of cool air over their faces in the sweltering classrooms. Even the professors are being affected; the homework load has been considerably lighter this week. It's the kind of hot that drains you, saps you of your will and energy, makes you flushed and restless and sluggish.
The worst of it comes on Thursday, something absolutely crippling and awful, and that, of course, is the day the cooling charm finally gives out. Damp, thick heat festers inside the hard stone of Hogwarts's walls, rising up to choke its inhabitants as Professor Flitwick races about the castle trying to restore the overtaxed charms. Half the students give up on robes completely and get detentions from the stricter teachers. Professor McGonagall actually undoes the top two buttons on her dress, causing James to loudly declare his love for her in a spontaneous sonnet.
Remus has been sweating all day long.
Sirius knows. He's been watching him closely, furtive glances across classrooms and hallways. He keeps finding himself mesmerized by the slow trickle of perspiration curving down the sharp angle of his cheek, winding down the slope of his nose, and Sirius's hands trace their paths in the folds of his robes without him even realizing it. When they brush shoulders in the hall on their way to class, Sirius can smell sea-salt and ginger, and that lush scent of Remus that makes Sirius start sweating, too. When Sirius thinks about how miserably stuffy and dank the Potions room is going to be, about how Remus's eyelashes always flutter just a bit when he gets overwhelmed by the heat, it makes him start craving and dreading the class all at once.
So he decides to skip it.
Sirius is very good at ditching class. Probably the best in the business, since James is disqualified because he has an invisibility cloak at his disposal, the prancing daisy. Sirius knows all the secret passageways with or without the Marauder's Map, but prowling the school seems like far too much effort. So instead, he heads along through the underground tunnels towards Gryffindor Tower and the comfort of a nap. And maybe a good wank, because fuck.
The heat is starting to get to Sirius. Clouding his vision, making his mind dull and useless. It interferes with his ability to concentrate on anything other than what he does not have, like cool breezes or snow or, most importantly, Remus.
Well, Sirius has him in some ways. He has him in carefully measured kisses stolen before breakfast, or slow, cautious make-out sessions behind drawn curtains in their dormitory late at night. He has his smiles, his teases, his warm copper-brown eyes that spark a little whenever Sirius runs a hand through Remus's floppy hair.
But he does not have Remus in his bed, and that, more than anything, is really becoming problematic.
He had him once before. Once, only once, just before the ... incident, and it was amazing. It was hot, it was terrifying, it was intense, it was a thousand fragile, careful things that he'd never experienced before and desperately wants to experience again. But things changed after that stupid, awful night, and he hasn't had him since.
Not that Sirius feels the right to complain, no, because he understands. After all, it wasn't but a few weeks ago that he had nothing of Remus at all, and by all rights, Sirius should still be empty-handed. He deserved every stony look Remus cast in his direction, accepted and welcomed every hard silence or furious snarl. Probably still does. But Remus is, as always, the better man and forgave him, and when Sirius cried and forgot himself and pressed his mouth to Remus's, Sirius was lucky enough for Remus to kiss him back.
Since then, there have been a total of twenty-four kisses, each one of them preserved carefully between the pages in Sirius's mind to serve as a reminder of what Sirius stands to lose if he fucks up again. Little treasured secrets, the swift brush of Remus's toothpaste-flavored mouth in the morning, the hungry crush of Remus's lips against his. They're the best kisses Sirius has ever had, enough to make him shiver whenever he thinks about them, enough to make him hungry for more.
Of course, more is the one thing that Remus will not give, and it's the one thing that Sirius cannot ask of him.
Sirius's hands clench into fists as he kicks at a loose stone in the tunnel, guided by the dim light of his wand. No matter how badly he wants it (wants it wants it god yes), he cannot take it. He doesn't have the right yet to make demands or even gentle requests. All he can do is keep stringing together kisses and savoring the moments when Remus lingers for more. Count all twenty-four of his blessings and hope he'll get to taste number twenty-five.
Still, Sirius is only human. He can't help it if he gets twisted up in his sweat-sticky sheets at night, dreaming of tracing his tongue along Remus's sweat-lined collarbone, tasting him, taunting him, tempting him ...
"Password!"
Sirius blinks, looks around and realizes that he's at Gryffindor Tower, standing in front of the Fat Lady. Hastily, he manages to charm her with grins and compliments on her lovely new ensemble, really very smashing, sure to be the envy of all the other paintings, and she's flattered into agreeing not to say anything about his presence to any nosy professors. She blushes and preens as she swings open the door for him, and Sirius blows her a kiss as he climbs into the common room, only to find that he is not the only one skipping class.
Sprawled out over a plush red velvet chaise is one very flushed, very sleepy Remus Lupin. Dressed only in his shirtsleeves, his tie loose and his collar undone, sleeves rolled up to expose terribly slender forearms dusted with light gold hair and even lighter silver scars. One knee's thrown over the arm of the chaise, his bare toes dangling in the sunlight. Sirius cannot see his eyes; Remus has one of his battered but beloved paperback novels tented over his face to shade him from the furious sun.
For a moment, Sirius thinks he might pass out, and almost stumbles over Remus's abandoned shoes as he makes his way across the common room. His dress robes are abandoned in a pool of black on the floor, very untidy for the usually meticulous Remus, and it makes Sirius's heart shiver to think of how exhausted he must be. Remus has always suffered heat more than any of the rest of them; he's already got a heightened body temperature, part of the magic in his blood, food for the wolf. And what with this merciless heat wave and the waxing moon ...
Sighing, Sirius stands over him, torn between lust and sympathy. Part of him sees nothing but long, lean legs and naked, elegant feet. Those incredible hands of his are tangled up in the tug of his striped Gryffindor necktie, his legs spread in a wanton fashion that practically begs Sirius just to undo the buttons of his fly, get down on his knees and make Remus a completely different kind of hot. But the shallow, shuddering sighs that rise from Remus's thin chest make Sirius think twice about disturbing him. He feels useless, wishes there was something he could do to coax some comfort into Remus, dreams briefly of the twenty-fifth kiss.
And suddenly, idea smacks him like lightning, and Sirius knows exactly how to fix both their troubles at once.
Silly, really, he absolutely must be getting addled by the heat if he didn't think of this sooner. He has to seduce Remus. Make Moony beg for it, make him want more than what they have right now. And Sirius knows how to do it lightly, subtly, and maybe even cool down his poor furnace of a love so he doesn't boil himself alive.
Sirius quickly sheds his own sweat-soaked robes, goes across the room to the little table full of silver pitchers and pours himself a glass of water. He aims his wand at the water and mutters a freezing charm; instant ice. Another sharp incantation and the ice shatters into little friendly cubes, tinkling against the sides of the glass.
"Sirius, what on earth are you doing?"
The weary voice startles him; Moony must've been faking it all along. Wily bastard and his stupid, crafty book. Sirius tosses him an endearing glare that Remus can't see. "Trying to help you out, you miserable cunt," he says. "Now scoot over and give us some room."
A grunt of complete and total displeasure, muffled by yellowed pages. "I most certainly will not," Remus huffs. "I'll have you know that I'm quite comfortable in this position. I've got the sun out of my eyes and there's a very considerate breeze between my toes, so give me one good reason why I should let you sit down."
"I'm charming and will bite your knuckles if you don't."
Another heavy sigh, and then Remus reluctantly starts moving. Pale fingers lift the book away from his face as he slouches up in the chaise, revealing even paler skin punctuated by two rosy flushes in his cheeks. Fine sand-colored hair clings to his brow in damp tendrils, and the dark hollows under Remus's eyes seem even more pronounced than usual. He looks rumpled, battered, delicious. Sirius swallows and sits down next to him, trying to conceal his glass of ice.
"Gotta say, Moony," Sirius says casually, draping an arm across the back of the chaise. "I'm rather impressed that you decided to ditch Potions. Very bold, very rebellious. The movement claims another victim."
A snort; Remus rolls his eyes. "I'm not cutting class," he says. "It's this blasted heat. I started feeling ill after Ancient Runes, went to the hospital wing, and Pomfrey wrote me an excuse."
Now it's Sirius's turn to snort. "You know, you really do have that woman wrapped right around your finger."
"Mm, indeed. You're just jealous that you'll get a detention and I won't."
Sirius scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "I'm not scared of what old Professor Grimace will do."
A sloe-eyed look from Remus. "That's Professor Grimlass, Sirius."
"Yeah, yeah, I know his stupid name. Anyhow, James already has detention from him for showing up to class shirtless."
A sharp, startled laugh explodes from Remus's chest; Sirius smiles and revels in the pleasure of getting a smile out of his poor, miserable Moony. Joy is such a rare thing for his friend, and these little surprised laughs always twist and rend Sirius's heart to smithereens. See, Moony? I can still make you laugh. I'm still the only one who can make you happy, and doesn't that count for something?
Remus turns his head then, gives his friend an amused expression. "And you, Padfoot?" he asks. "Why exactly have you so cruelly and capriciously scratched Potions from your schedule today?"
The crooked grin on Remus's face is more vital to Sirius than oxygen; it takes his breath away. Sirius swallows, musters a smirk, lounges back in the velvet embrace of the chaise. "Oh, I don't know," he drawls. "It's just so terribly hot out there, isn't it? Dreadful, that weather. Makes it hard for a bloke to function. Gives him all sorts of … ideas."
Remus's eyes narrow, suspiciously following the line of Sirius's arm behind his back. "Really. What sorts of ideas?"
Sirius's grin broadens. "Close your eyes and find out."
There's a brief expression of wariness that makes Sirius's heart tug. He knows it's all part of the game, but any sign of mistrust on Remus's part makes Sirius hurt in still-tender places that have yet to scar over. "Come on, Moony," he says, hating the distinctly puppyish whine in his voice. "Have a little faith, would you?"
One more reluctant sigh, and then Remus obliges. Grinning with relief and anticipation, Sirius pulls out the glass of ice, fishes out a cube, and slowly, carefully brings it to the base of Remus's neck.
Remus gasps, jumps at the first kiss of the ice cube. He stiffens and his eyes fly open. "What are you-"
"Shh," Sirius murmurs, leaning in close to Remus's ear. "Just relax."
The ice cube skirts over the surface of Remus's skin, melting at the heat of him, fat water droplets disappearing underneath the damp white of his undone collar. Remus sighs a little, makes a helpless noise that shoots through Sirius like wildfire. The intoxicating symphony of Remus Lupin coming loose. Sirius moves a little closer, lets his arm fall down from the back of the chaise to drape around Remus's thin shoulders. "Feels good, doesn't it, Moony?" he murmurs into the shell of Remus's ear. "You always get so hot when the full moon's this close."
Another little sigh; the ice cube dances around to dip into the hollow of Remus's throat. "You noticed?"
"Of course I noticed. Aced Astronomy because of you, don't you know. Always got to keep on top of the moons for you."
Oh yes, Sirius always must know the moons, will follow lunar cycles for the rest of his life. He'll never disrespect the cry of the moon again, never underestimate or abuse the power it has over Remus. Another lesson learned from his sixth-year mistake, and one Sirius will never forget. The moon is not something to ever be taken lightly.
This, however, is something that has to be made soft and a little teasing, the slow glide of frozen water over bare skin, the tantalizing flirtation. Has to be subtle about it so that Remus won't object when Sirius's fingers start plucking at the buttons on his shirt, opening the linen to expose the fine network of scars that dash across Remus's chest. And he must be doing something right because Remus slouches deeper into the chaise, dry lips parted, eyelashes fluttering as melting water sluices down sharp angles. "Jesus, you're beautiful," Sirius mutters.
Remus gives a funny, strangled laugh. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Sirius insists because it is the truth and it's a damn shame that Moony doesn't know it. Of course, that's part of the charm, too. Remus has no idea that when he fusses with his tie in the middle of class, it makes Sirius's knees weak. He hasn't the faintest clue that the soft, almost invisible way he moves through the school makes it hard for Sirius to see anyone else, like Remus is his well-kept secret. And he certainly doesn't know that right now, he's the most incredible sight in all the world, lost in ecstasy at just a bit of ice.
Gently, Sirius curls his fingers around Remus's slender wrist, lifts up his arm and lets the ice caress the bare expanse of Remus's forearm. It rends a dark, fluttering noise from deep inside Remus's gut, and Sirius feels his cock stir and twitch, eager for more of its favorite song. "Oh, Moony," Sirius sighs, watching water fall down strong tendons and sinews, "no matter what you say, you really are the loveliest sight my eyes have ever seen."
"Your poor, deprived eyes," Remus rasps, but before his mouth can get any smarter Sirius brings the ice over the vulnerable junction of his elbow and Remus gives another cocktease of a sigh.
The ice has been reduced to a mere sliver; Sirius tosses it to the floor and grabs a new one without ever tearing his eyes away from Remus. Fuck, but he's killing Sirius already, sunk deep into the plushy velvet of the chaise, his breath rising in shallow fits, long fingers digging into his thighs as Sirius guides the ice across his hot skin. It's maddening, watching him this way, observing every small fumble into ecstasy. He's never seen Remus this way before, not this openly, brazenly sexual, and it makes Sirius crave more.
While Sirius lazily drags the ice over the sharp curve of Remus's collarbone, he occupies his other hand with the knot of Remus's tie. "Got to get this thing off you," he mutters, and Remus nods a little dazedly.
"Definitely a bit of a … ahhh … hindrance," he agrees, his voice thin and reedy.
"Oh, absolutely," Sirius purrs. "Dreadful things, clothes. Take this shirt, for example …"
Nimble fingers return to plucking at the buttons lining down the front of Remus's sweat-stained dress shirt, and Sirius's greedy eyes drink in every little inch of skin exposed. Another rasping shudder. "Padfoot," Remus says in a slow, cautious voice, "what exactly are you playing at here?"
Pale and rosy skin, just a breath away from Sirius's mouth. He licks his lips, nuzzles a bit against Remus's jaw. "Got the whole tower to ourselves right now," he murmurs. "All the good little Gryffindors are in class right now, aren't they? Won't be back for another hour or so …"
Sirius's hands skate the edge of Remus's belt, his fingers fussing at the buckle, unfastening leather and steel. When the ball of Sirius's hand drops, he can feel the sudden, hard heat of Remus's cock through the fabric of his pants and Sirius has to swallow a gasp of his own. Remus doesn't; his voice is sharp and needy, a little dart of pleasure. "Oh, God," he moans, and Sirius smiles.
"See, Moony? Just want to take care of you, that's all, just-"
And just as Sirius's hand starts to dip inside the waist of Remus's loose trousers, strong, slim fingers lash out and grab him by the wrists, tight and fierce and quicker than the wind. Startled, Sirius pulls back to see Remus giving him a dark, strangely dangerous look. "Is that what this is?" he asks, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to the sharpness of his face. "Another apology?"
The world fades a little; the blade-sharp heat rushes out of the place and makes room for tension to stretch and grow. Sirius swallows. "I don't know," he says lamely. "Do … do you want it to be?"
Obviously not. Remus gives a disgusted snarl, tosses Sirius's hand away and gets a sulky look on his face. "I'm tired of apologies, Sirius. I've already forgiven you for what you've done."
"Then why won't you have me?"
It's a sudden burst of words, an unexpected explosion of sexual frustration and very personal hurt, and Sirius instantly feels stupid for having said it. Shame rushes to his face; he feels himself go red. Shouldn't have asked, oh God, he shouldn't have asked. It's not his place to ask that of Remus, not after everything he's done, and now he's mucked things up royally.
"I'm sorry," Sirius stammers, avoiding Remus's eyes. "It's just … well, we've been together for weeks now, and you still haven't … you know …"
"Fucked you?" Remus says calmly, almost with amusement, and Sirius shivers a bit at the way the obscenity sounds coming from Remus's honey-soaked throat.
"I know it's not my place to ask," Sirius mutters, blanching at himself all the while, "not after everything I've done, and I'm sorry, Remus, I really am, I just-"
Remus rolls his eyes and then suddenly, his hand is wrapped around Sirius's tie, jerking him close to Remus's steady gaze so fast that Sirius's arm slips back around Remus's shoulder in a hasty effort to balance himself. Sirius can smell him, strong and soft all at once, a million awkward contradictions. He feels a little faint, and the tug of the necktie is making him feel drunk and woozy.
Remus's hand lifts in a lazy ascension to wrap around the nape of Sirius's neck, and Sirius shivers, almost bucks under the callused caress of Remus's long fingers. Always so calm, the cadence of Remus's voice, the perfect measure of his painfully tight control. "Sirius, do you know why I haven't touched you yet?"
Sirius is suddenly finding it difficult to swallow, and not just because of the necktie. "No," he rasps. "Why?"
One corner of Remus's mouth twitches, goes hungry and sharp with his sudden brand of mischief. "Because I wanted you to ask for it," he says simply, and then Remus pulls Sirius down for the twenty-fifth kiss.
It's not delicate like the second one, all full of hesitations and worries that the first was just a fluke. Nor is it like the seventh kiss, sad and full of longing, when Remus lay in the infirmary and looked as though he was on the verge of just giving up altogether. The twelfth was too coy, the sixteenth too playful, the twenty-first just too drunk and messy.
No, the twenty-fifth kiss is full of hunger, adult and delectable made tender on the edges by something strange and mysterious that must be love. It's darkly joyful, urgent and thorough, Remus's tongue attacking Sirius's mouth, sucking and biting. Blood surges and rushes, burns hotter even than the blasted sun. Another tug from Remus on that irritating tie and Sirius finds his hands moving again, pushing the unbuttoned shirt away from Remus's shoulder while the other hand curls over the loose waistband of Remus's trousers. And all the while Remus is still kissing him, overwhelming him, consuming him at such a rate that Sirius blindly wonders if there will be any left of him by the time Remus is through.
A gasping sigh and they break apart, Sirius's mouth instantly flocking to the curve of Remus's jaw, the sharp line of his throat, oh, any inch of skin he can get while Remus gasps and swears under his breath. "Wanted this for so long," he confesses into Remus's chest, whispering the words right against his rapid heartbeat. "You drove me mad all week long with the heat and the sweating."
"You should've ... oh, God ... said something," Remus says, and Sirius nods his head, brushes his nose against one of Remus's stiff nipples.
"Well, I'm saying something now, aren't I?"
Saying everything with teeth and tongue, scraping his blunt incisors against the tight bud of flesh against his mouth, and Remus thrashes and jerks, his erection pushing up urgently against the ball of Sirius's hand. Eagerly, his fingers slide into Remus's trousers and under the beaten linen shorts until they close around the thick heat of his cock, and he sucks hard on one nipple while he squeezes Remus fiercely in his grip. Instantaneous reaction, Remus crying out and flailing madly under him, and Sirius tastes salty-sharp skin and razor-edge heat that makes him shudder a moan against Remus's skin.
"Want you, Remus, want you right now," he shudders, his hand trembling a little. "Want you inside me, on me, all over me, want you a thousand different ways, want you tonight and tomorrow and right now and--"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Remus hisses between tight-clenched teeth. "If you keep bloody talking, I'm going to lose it."
His face is drenched in sweat, hair hanging wetly in his eyes, which are currently scrunched up tight as though sight might send him over the edge. A little awestruck, a little dizzy, Sirius can't help but keep talking, keep touching, and he has no idea what he's saying right now but Remus is so hard, straining and begging with his hips and thighs, and fuck, but his trousers are killing him. Hastily, Sirius unbuttons his pants with his free hand, fingers tripping and stumbling over every last bloody button until he can't take it anymore and just rips the buttons off, shoves his trousers off and oh, oh yes. The sound Sirius makes sounds inhuman to his own ears, a deep guttural moan that trembles and rips as his hand slides over the aching heat of his own cock, fingers sliding over, hands moving in synchrony, and it's still not enough. Not nearly.
Tense, aching growls spill out of Remus's throat, his eyes suddenly wide and practically glassy, mouth wide as he stares at Sirius's hand rubbing himself up and down. "Padfoot, fuck, Sirius, oh my God," he moans.
"Touch me," Sirius begs, pushing his forehead against Remus's chest, his thumbs running circles over the tips of their cocks. "Touch me, Remus, do it now, need you so bad, please--"
Something breaks in Remus's eyes; his hands scramble over Sirius's skin and clutch feverishly at his back until he pulls Sirius on top of him, straddling his waist, knees pushing against the cushions of the chaise. There's the arch of hips and the slide of fabric, and suddenly Remus's naked cock is pushed right against his, silky and hotter than a thousand angry suns. Sirius goes momentarily deaf, the world gone dim and deadly all around him. The heat is strangling him, like Remus's hand as it wraps around their cocks, like the bloody necktie that he's still stupidly wearing. "Can't breathe," he gasps, tasting sweat as it drips onto his lower lip. "Moony ... oh ..."
Tension has driven every sharp angle of Remus's face into sharp definition, control evident in every jerky movement as he fusses with something in the pocket of his lowered trousers. "Stop squirming, Jesus, Sirius, hold on," he hisses, and then his long fingers finally procure a little amber jar of something that looks suspicious and secretive. Its contents shimmer a little, like a thousand eyes winking coyly at him.
"What the hell is that?" Sirius manages, and Remus opens the jar, gives Sirius an exasperated look.
"Really, Padfoot," he says, delicately dipping his fingertips in the jar. "Did you think you were the only one waiting?"
Sirius has a good retort to this, he honestly does, but it's not worth the argument when Remus's hand slips between their bodies and one warm, slick, incredible finger slides up within him. Sudden heat shocks his system; he thrashes and jerks and feels Remus's hand steadying his back, holding him in place as a second finger joins the first. Deep, furious waves of damp heat are rippling through his body, electrifying his skin, and Sirius can taste saltwater in the back of his throat. "Oh my ... oh my God," he moans. "Oh my God, Remus, what the hell is that stuff?"
A strained noise flutters from Remus's throat. His face is tense, tongue caught between his teeth as his rapid breaths puff against Sirius's cheek. "Hot," he says raggedly. "Hot, it's so hot, you're so hot, oh, Sirius."
Yes, fuck, yes, like the summertime's creeping up inside of him and coiling like a cobra, ready to spring at a moment's notice. Sirius can feel tension and anticipation groaning inside his belly, and when Remus's deft fingers curve a little to the left and brush some ridiculously sensitive place that Sirius didn't even know existed, he makes a helpless noise and almost drowns, everything shaking and shimmering as he rubs his head senselessly into the crook of Remus's shoulder. "Gonna come, gonna come, Moony, oh God, gonna--"
A low, dark-chocolate growl rips itself from Remus's chest, and there's the sudden shift of hips and oh God Remus.
Inside him, deep inside him in just one thrust, and it's like being fucked by the sun, so hot and ecstatic and bright and dizzying that Sirius's head flies back from the force of it, eyes wide in wonder. His cock is trapped between their bellies, and Sirius thrashes violently, overwhelmed by sensation. Remus's mouth closes over his instantly, forces the breath out of him as his tongue matches every thrust of his hips, and then the heat overtakes him and Sirius comes hard, comes hot and sharp and full of relief, and it's not but a moment later that Sirius feels a sudden rush of warmth and hears a shattered moan fall from Remus's kiss-bruised lips into the soft heat of Sirius's own mouth.
Rapture ripples through him and replaces the urgent intensity of the heat with something far more lazy, sleepy, somnolent. Gasping for air, Sirius pulls his mouth away from Remus and lets himself sink into Remus's lap, feeling the other boy's hips jerk a little helplessly beneath him from the last spasms of orgasm. He feels boneless, lighter than air, makes a regretful noise when Remus pulls himself out and shifts his weight so that Sirius slides a little onto the chaise. Doesn't want to leave, not yet, no, not ever, even though he's hot and sticky and his trousers are positively ruined.
There's a sudden rush of soft noise and both of them moan a little when the first tendrils of cool air drift through the common room. "Oh, I love Professor Flitwick," Remus sighs rapturously, and Sirius kicks his calf with his toe.
"Hey, I'm the one you just buggered," Sirius pouts, and Remus chuckles a little, a hand fondly combing through his hair.
"That you are," he agrees. "But you already know I love you, don't you, Padfoot?"
Yes, Sirius knows it now. He can feel it, warm and thick inside him, but it's not suffocating or sweltering. It's just there, and the surprising thing is, Sirius thinks it's been there for a long, long time already. Tenderly, he plants a kiss on the juncture of Remus's slender neck and shoulder. "Love you back, you know," he says. "Even if I'm an ignorant berk, I still love you."
Another laugh; if sex makes Remus giggly, then Sirius is never going to another class ever again. "Trust me, Sirius, you're not nearly as much of a berk as, say-"
Suddenly, a door slams and a loud, terribly off-key voice interrupts them, yowling its horrid lyrics into the room. "Yummy, yummy, yummy, I've got love in my tummy, and OH MY GOD."
"Prongs," Remus finishes weakly.
Sure enough, James Potter is standing at the entrance to the common room, eyes enormous behind his spectacles, gawking at the scene laid out before him. Swearing, Sirius jerks his pants up his hips, tries to tuck himself back into place, while Remus flushes ten shades of pink and fumbles with the buttons to his shirt. "Ah, hi there, Prongs," Sirius says a little shakily, trying to act casual. "Decided to skiv off Potions too, eh?"
James doesn't move. His jaw works once, but no sound comes out. He looks all the world like a deer caught in headlights, and Sirius almost chokes on the mad bubble of laughter that threatens to spill out of his throat. Finally, James manages to lift a shaking finger and point it in their direction. "You two. You were … you were having … sex."
"Er … well, yes," Sirius admits. There's really no point in lying about it now, is there?
Indignation blooms sharp and furious on James's face. "I skipped out early on Potions just to check up on you two wankers, and you were busy having sex in the common room."
Sirius shrugs. "Well, it was kind of spontaneous." Remus makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and when Sirius looks at him, he sees nothing but spidery white fingers hiding Remus's undoubtedly rosy face.
"But just … I mean … then … how long has this been going on?" James says a little shrilly, and Sirius can't help but smile a bit when he answers.
"Twenty-six kisses."
One of the most awkward silences in the history of mankind descends on the room as James looks back and forth between the two of them, apparently weighing his options. Sirius can't help but feel a little panicky at the ashen tinge of James's skin and the slightly awestruck look on Remus's face. He and Remus had never discussed this, just kept it secret out of silent agreement, and now, well, things are definitely not so secret anymore.
Finally, James juts his chin up and gives the two of them an imperious look. "Fine, then," he says. "You want to be shirtlifters, have at it. But there shall be no more sex on that chaise, because frankly, I enjoy sleeping there, and now that's going to be very, very awkward."
An embarrassed sort of pink creeps its way up the back of Sirius's neck, and he grins a little sheepishly at his friend. "Er, right."
"Seriously, James, are you all right with this?" Remus asks softly, and when Sirius looks at him, he sees a pinched sort of worry creasing Remus's face. "It's perfectly understandable if you're, well, uncomfortable with the idea."
"Idea?" Sirius says with a frown. "I think it's more than just an idea by now, don't you? "
He earns a dirty glare from both James and Remus for that one, but then James shrugs a little carelessly. "Eh," he says. "Seen weirder things." Then his face brightens and he smiles. "Besides, now that Sirius is a flaming poof, I'm now the most attractive heterosexual at Hogwarts. Forget Lily Evans; I'm on the prowl."
And with that, James cheerfully walks off, whistling terrible disco tunes under his breath.
As soon as he leaves the room, Remus slumps heavily against the chaise and groans against the palms of his hands. "So that is what it feels like to be completely and utterly humiliated. Excellent. Good to know."
Laughing, Sirius curls back up into Remus's side, wrapping an arm around his friend's slender waist. The tails of his shirt are all askew and he thinks Moony missed a button somewhere; he looks disheveled and debauched and positively scrumptious. "He's already over it," he promises, kissing the sweet skin under Remus's wrinkled collar. "Got all sorts of skirts to chase now, doesn't he? Since I'm a flaming poof and all."
Finally, a smile, another touch of laughter vibrating under the palm of Sirius's hand. "You really are," Remus says. "Honestly, Sirius - twenty-six kisses? You counted?"
Another kiss; Remus still tastes hot to the touch, spicy and salty, a sharp burst of flavor on his lips. "Every last one of them," he says. "After all, Moony, if they were the only ones you were ever going to give me, I had to keep track of them somehow."
Gentle, long fingers wrap around the curve of Sirius's jaw, lifting his face to meet Remus's warm eyes. "But you know better now, don't you?"
Sirius just gives him a slow, hungry smile in return and kisses him so fiercely that they both lose count.
*****
END
So, remember about two weeks ago when ponderosa121 posted one of the hottest pictures EVER: Remus and Sirius making out with TIES. And it was delicious and destructive and we all swooned? And then I promised to start writing fic about it?
Well, it's done. :)
This one's for Pondy, of course, for being a fucking BRILLIANT artist and making us all swoon on a regular basis. Also, circe_tigana, *hugs* I hope this cheers you up a bit, muffin. :)
Slackened Ties
By: anniesj
PAIRING: Remus/Sirius
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Schoolboys. Heat wave. Smut. That's about it. :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: For ponderosa121, with adoration. :) And thanks to Franz Ferdinand for inspiring us both with their hot-ass music.
Slackened Ties
By: Annie Sewell-Jennings
*****
In the first week of May, a heat wave seizes Hogwarts in its furious grip and refuses to let go. The air over the deep green lawn seems to ripple and shimmer, and the Whomping Willow looks wilted, burdened by the great, heavy humidity. All over the school, students are shedding their robes, slackening their ties, charming their wands to blow little jets of cool air over their faces in the sweltering classrooms. Even the professors are being affected; the homework load has been considerably lighter this week. It's the kind of hot that drains you, saps you of your will and energy, makes you flushed and restless and sluggish.
The worst of it comes on Thursday, something absolutely crippling and awful, and that, of course, is the day the cooling charm finally gives out. Damp, thick heat festers inside the hard stone of Hogwarts's walls, rising up to choke its inhabitants as Professor Flitwick races about the castle trying to restore the overtaxed charms. Half the students give up on robes completely and get detentions from the stricter teachers. Professor McGonagall actually undoes the top two buttons on her dress, causing James to loudly declare his love for her in a spontaneous sonnet.
Remus has been sweating all day long.
Sirius knows. He's been watching him closely, furtive glances across classrooms and hallways. He keeps finding himself mesmerized by the slow trickle of perspiration curving down the sharp angle of his cheek, winding down the slope of his nose, and Sirius's hands trace their paths in the folds of his robes without him even realizing it. When they brush shoulders in the hall on their way to class, Sirius can smell sea-salt and ginger, and that lush scent of Remus that makes Sirius start sweating, too. When Sirius thinks about how miserably stuffy and dank the Potions room is going to be, about how Remus's eyelashes always flutter just a bit when he gets overwhelmed by the heat, it makes him start craving and dreading the class all at once.
So he decides to skip it.
Sirius is very good at ditching class. Probably the best in the business, since James is disqualified because he has an invisibility cloak at his disposal, the prancing daisy. Sirius knows all the secret passageways with or without the Marauder's Map, but prowling the school seems like far too much effort. So instead, he heads along through the underground tunnels towards Gryffindor Tower and the comfort of a nap. And maybe a good wank, because fuck.
The heat is starting to get to Sirius. Clouding his vision, making his mind dull and useless. It interferes with his ability to concentrate on anything other than what he does not have, like cool breezes or snow or, most importantly, Remus.
Well, Sirius has him in some ways. He has him in carefully measured kisses stolen before breakfast, or slow, cautious make-out sessions behind drawn curtains in their dormitory late at night. He has his smiles, his teases, his warm copper-brown eyes that spark a little whenever Sirius runs a hand through Remus's floppy hair.
But he does not have Remus in his bed, and that, more than anything, is really becoming problematic.
He had him once before. Once, only once, just before the ... incident, and it was amazing. It was hot, it was terrifying, it was intense, it was a thousand fragile, careful things that he'd never experienced before and desperately wants to experience again. But things changed after that stupid, awful night, and he hasn't had him since.
Not that Sirius feels the right to complain, no, because he understands. After all, it wasn't but a few weeks ago that he had nothing of Remus at all, and by all rights, Sirius should still be empty-handed. He deserved every stony look Remus cast in his direction, accepted and welcomed every hard silence or furious snarl. Probably still does. But Remus is, as always, the better man and forgave him, and when Sirius cried and forgot himself and pressed his mouth to Remus's, Sirius was lucky enough for Remus to kiss him back.
Since then, there have been a total of twenty-four kisses, each one of them preserved carefully between the pages in Sirius's mind to serve as a reminder of what Sirius stands to lose if he fucks up again. Little treasured secrets, the swift brush of Remus's toothpaste-flavored mouth in the morning, the hungry crush of Remus's lips against his. They're the best kisses Sirius has ever had, enough to make him shiver whenever he thinks about them, enough to make him hungry for more.
Of course, more is the one thing that Remus will not give, and it's the one thing that Sirius cannot ask of him.
Sirius's hands clench into fists as he kicks at a loose stone in the tunnel, guided by the dim light of his wand. No matter how badly he wants it (wants it wants it god yes), he cannot take it. He doesn't have the right yet to make demands or even gentle requests. All he can do is keep stringing together kisses and savoring the moments when Remus lingers for more. Count all twenty-four of his blessings and hope he'll get to taste number twenty-five.
Still, Sirius is only human. He can't help it if he gets twisted up in his sweat-sticky sheets at night, dreaming of tracing his tongue along Remus's sweat-lined collarbone, tasting him, taunting him, tempting him ...
"Password!"
Sirius blinks, looks around and realizes that he's at Gryffindor Tower, standing in front of the Fat Lady. Hastily, he manages to charm her with grins and compliments on her lovely new ensemble, really very smashing, sure to be the envy of all the other paintings, and she's flattered into agreeing not to say anything about his presence to any nosy professors. She blushes and preens as she swings open the door for him, and Sirius blows her a kiss as he climbs into the common room, only to find that he is not the only one skipping class.
Sprawled out over a plush red velvet chaise is one very flushed, very sleepy Remus Lupin. Dressed only in his shirtsleeves, his tie loose and his collar undone, sleeves rolled up to expose terribly slender forearms dusted with light gold hair and even lighter silver scars. One knee's thrown over the arm of the chaise, his bare toes dangling in the sunlight. Sirius cannot see his eyes; Remus has one of his battered but beloved paperback novels tented over his face to shade him from the furious sun.
For a moment, Sirius thinks he might pass out, and almost stumbles over Remus's abandoned shoes as he makes his way across the common room. His dress robes are abandoned in a pool of black on the floor, very untidy for the usually meticulous Remus, and it makes Sirius's heart shiver to think of how exhausted he must be. Remus has always suffered heat more than any of the rest of them; he's already got a heightened body temperature, part of the magic in his blood, food for the wolf. And what with this merciless heat wave and the waxing moon ...
Sighing, Sirius stands over him, torn between lust and sympathy. Part of him sees nothing but long, lean legs and naked, elegant feet. Those incredible hands of his are tangled up in the tug of his striped Gryffindor necktie, his legs spread in a wanton fashion that practically begs Sirius just to undo the buttons of his fly, get down on his knees and make Remus a completely different kind of hot. But the shallow, shuddering sighs that rise from Remus's thin chest make Sirius think twice about disturbing him. He feels useless, wishes there was something he could do to coax some comfort into Remus, dreams briefly of the twenty-fifth kiss.
And suddenly, idea smacks him like lightning, and Sirius knows exactly how to fix both their troubles at once.
Silly, really, he absolutely must be getting addled by the heat if he didn't think of this sooner. He has to seduce Remus. Make Moony beg for it, make him want more than what they have right now. And Sirius knows how to do it lightly, subtly, and maybe even cool down his poor furnace of a love so he doesn't boil himself alive.
Sirius quickly sheds his own sweat-soaked robes, goes across the room to the little table full of silver pitchers and pours himself a glass of water. He aims his wand at the water and mutters a freezing charm; instant ice. Another sharp incantation and the ice shatters into little friendly cubes, tinkling against the sides of the glass.
"Sirius, what on earth are you doing?"
The weary voice startles him; Moony must've been faking it all along. Wily bastard and his stupid, crafty book. Sirius tosses him an endearing glare that Remus can't see. "Trying to help you out, you miserable cunt," he says. "Now scoot over and give us some room."
A grunt of complete and total displeasure, muffled by yellowed pages. "I most certainly will not," Remus huffs. "I'll have you know that I'm quite comfortable in this position. I've got the sun out of my eyes and there's a very considerate breeze between my toes, so give me one good reason why I should let you sit down."
"I'm charming and will bite your knuckles if you don't."
Another heavy sigh, and then Remus reluctantly starts moving. Pale fingers lift the book away from his face as he slouches up in the chaise, revealing even paler skin punctuated by two rosy flushes in his cheeks. Fine sand-colored hair clings to his brow in damp tendrils, and the dark hollows under Remus's eyes seem even more pronounced than usual. He looks rumpled, battered, delicious. Sirius swallows and sits down next to him, trying to conceal his glass of ice.
"Gotta say, Moony," Sirius says casually, draping an arm across the back of the chaise. "I'm rather impressed that you decided to ditch Potions. Very bold, very rebellious. The movement claims another victim."
A snort; Remus rolls his eyes. "I'm not cutting class," he says. "It's this blasted heat. I started feeling ill after Ancient Runes, went to the hospital wing, and Pomfrey wrote me an excuse."
Now it's Sirius's turn to snort. "You know, you really do have that woman wrapped right around your finger."
"Mm, indeed. You're just jealous that you'll get a detention and I won't."
Sirius scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "I'm not scared of what old Professor Grimace will do."
A sloe-eyed look from Remus. "That's Professor Grimlass, Sirius."
"Yeah, yeah, I know his stupid name. Anyhow, James already has detention from him for showing up to class shirtless."
A sharp, startled laugh explodes from Remus's chest; Sirius smiles and revels in the pleasure of getting a smile out of his poor, miserable Moony. Joy is such a rare thing for his friend, and these little surprised laughs always twist and rend Sirius's heart to smithereens. See, Moony? I can still make you laugh. I'm still the only one who can make you happy, and doesn't that count for something?
Remus turns his head then, gives his friend an amused expression. "And you, Padfoot?" he asks. "Why exactly have you so cruelly and capriciously scratched Potions from your schedule today?"
The crooked grin on Remus's face is more vital to Sirius than oxygen; it takes his breath away. Sirius swallows, musters a smirk, lounges back in the velvet embrace of the chaise. "Oh, I don't know," he drawls. "It's just so terribly hot out there, isn't it? Dreadful, that weather. Makes it hard for a bloke to function. Gives him all sorts of … ideas."
Remus's eyes narrow, suspiciously following the line of Sirius's arm behind his back. "Really. What sorts of ideas?"
Sirius's grin broadens. "Close your eyes and find out."
There's a brief expression of wariness that makes Sirius's heart tug. He knows it's all part of the game, but any sign of mistrust on Remus's part makes Sirius hurt in still-tender places that have yet to scar over. "Come on, Moony," he says, hating the distinctly puppyish whine in his voice. "Have a little faith, would you?"
One more reluctant sigh, and then Remus obliges. Grinning with relief and anticipation, Sirius pulls out the glass of ice, fishes out a cube, and slowly, carefully brings it to the base of Remus's neck.
Remus gasps, jumps at the first kiss of the ice cube. He stiffens and his eyes fly open. "What are you-"
"Shh," Sirius murmurs, leaning in close to Remus's ear. "Just relax."
The ice cube skirts over the surface of Remus's skin, melting at the heat of him, fat water droplets disappearing underneath the damp white of his undone collar. Remus sighs a little, makes a helpless noise that shoots through Sirius like wildfire. The intoxicating symphony of Remus Lupin coming loose. Sirius moves a little closer, lets his arm fall down from the back of the chaise to drape around Remus's thin shoulders. "Feels good, doesn't it, Moony?" he murmurs into the shell of Remus's ear. "You always get so hot when the full moon's this close."
Another little sigh; the ice cube dances around to dip into the hollow of Remus's throat. "You noticed?"
"Of course I noticed. Aced Astronomy because of you, don't you know. Always got to keep on top of the moons for you."
Oh yes, Sirius always must know the moons, will follow lunar cycles for the rest of his life. He'll never disrespect the cry of the moon again, never underestimate or abuse the power it has over Remus. Another lesson learned from his sixth-year mistake, and one Sirius will never forget. The moon is not something to ever be taken lightly.
This, however, is something that has to be made soft and a little teasing, the slow glide of frozen water over bare skin, the tantalizing flirtation. Has to be subtle about it so that Remus won't object when Sirius's fingers start plucking at the buttons on his shirt, opening the linen to expose the fine network of scars that dash across Remus's chest. And he must be doing something right because Remus slouches deeper into the chaise, dry lips parted, eyelashes fluttering as melting water sluices down sharp angles. "Jesus, you're beautiful," Sirius mutters.
Remus gives a funny, strangled laugh. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Sirius insists because it is the truth and it's a damn shame that Moony doesn't know it. Of course, that's part of the charm, too. Remus has no idea that when he fusses with his tie in the middle of class, it makes Sirius's knees weak. He hasn't the faintest clue that the soft, almost invisible way he moves through the school makes it hard for Sirius to see anyone else, like Remus is his well-kept secret. And he certainly doesn't know that right now, he's the most incredible sight in all the world, lost in ecstasy at just a bit of ice.
Gently, Sirius curls his fingers around Remus's slender wrist, lifts up his arm and lets the ice caress the bare expanse of Remus's forearm. It rends a dark, fluttering noise from deep inside Remus's gut, and Sirius feels his cock stir and twitch, eager for more of its favorite song. "Oh, Moony," Sirius sighs, watching water fall down strong tendons and sinews, "no matter what you say, you really are the loveliest sight my eyes have ever seen."
"Your poor, deprived eyes," Remus rasps, but before his mouth can get any smarter Sirius brings the ice over the vulnerable junction of his elbow and Remus gives another cocktease of a sigh.
The ice has been reduced to a mere sliver; Sirius tosses it to the floor and grabs a new one without ever tearing his eyes away from Remus. Fuck, but he's killing Sirius already, sunk deep into the plushy velvet of the chaise, his breath rising in shallow fits, long fingers digging into his thighs as Sirius guides the ice across his hot skin. It's maddening, watching him this way, observing every small fumble into ecstasy. He's never seen Remus this way before, not this openly, brazenly sexual, and it makes Sirius crave more.
While Sirius lazily drags the ice over the sharp curve of Remus's collarbone, he occupies his other hand with the knot of Remus's tie. "Got to get this thing off you," he mutters, and Remus nods a little dazedly.
"Definitely a bit of a … ahhh … hindrance," he agrees, his voice thin and reedy.
"Oh, absolutely," Sirius purrs. "Dreadful things, clothes. Take this shirt, for example …"
Nimble fingers return to plucking at the buttons lining down the front of Remus's sweat-stained dress shirt, and Sirius's greedy eyes drink in every little inch of skin exposed. Another rasping shudder. "Padfoot," Remus says in a slow, cautious voice, "what exactly are you playing at here?"
Pale and rosy skin, just a breath away from Sirius's mouth. He licks his lips, nuzzles a bit against Remus's jaw. "Got the whole tower to ourselves right now," he murmurs. "All the good little Gryffindors are in class right now, aren't they? Won't be back for another hour or so …"
Sirius's hands skate the edge of Remus's belt, his fingers fussing at the buckle, unfastening leather and steel. When the ball of Sirius's hand drops, he can feel the sudden, hard heat of Remus's cock through the fabric of his pants and Sirius has to swallow a gasp of his own. Remus doesn't; his voice is sharp and needy, a little dart of pleasure. "Oh, God," he moans, and Sirius smiles.
"See, Moony? Just want to take care of you, that's all, just-"
And just as Sirius's hand starts to dip inside the waist of Remus's loose trousers, strong, slim fingers lash out and grab him by the wrists, tight and fierce and quicker than the wind. Startled, Sirius pulls back to see Remus giving him a dark, strangely dangerous look. "Is that what this is?" he asks, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to the sharpness of his face. "Another apology?"
The world fades a little; the blade-sharp heat rushes out of the place and makes room for tension to stretch and grow. Sirius swallows. "I don't know," he says lamely. "Do … do you want it to be?"
Obviously not. Remus gives a disgusted snarl, tosses Sirius's hand away and gets a sulky look on his face. "I'm tired of apologies, Sirius. I've already forgiven you for what you've done."
"Then why won't you have me?"
It's a sudden burst of words, an unexpected explosion of sexual frustration and very personal hurt, and Sirius instantly feels stupid for having said it. Shame rushes to his face; he feels himself go red. Shouldn't have asked, oh God, he shouldn't have asked. It's not his place to ask that of Remus, not after everything he's done, and now he's mucked things up royally.
"I'm sorry," Sirius stammers, avoiding Remus's eyes. "It's just … well, we've been together for weeks now, and you still haven't … you know …"
"Fucked you?" Remus says calmly, almost with amusement, and Sirius shivers a bit at the way the obscenity sounds coming from Remus's honey-soaked throat.
"I know it's not my place to ask," Sirius mutters, blanching at himself all the while, "not after everything I've done, and I'm sorry, Remus, I really am, I just-"
Remus rolls his eyes and then suddenly, his hand is wrapped around Sirius's tie, jerking him close to Remus's steady gaze so fast that Sirius's arm slips back around Remus's shoulder in a hasty effort to balance himself. Sirius can smell him, strong and soft all at once, a million awkward contradictions. He feels a little faint, and the tug of the necktie is making him feel drunk and woozy.
Remus's hand lifts in a lazy ascension to wrap around the nape of Sirius's neck, and Sirius shivers, almost bucks under the callused caress of Remus's long fingers. Always so calm, the cadence of Remus's voice, the perfect measure of his painfully tight control. "Sirius, do you know why I haven't touched you yet?"
Sirius is suddenly finding it difficult to swallow, and not just because of the necktie. "No," he rasps. "Why?"
One corner of Remus's mouth twitches, goes hungry and sharp with his sudden brand of mischief. "Because I wanted you to ask for it," he says simply, and then Remus pulls Sirius down for the twenty-fifth kiss.
It's not delicate like the second one, all full of hesitations and worries that the first was just a fluke. Nor is it like the seventh kiss, sad and full of longing, when Remus lay in the infirmary and looked as though he was on the verge of just giving up altogether. The twelfth was too coy, the sixteenth too playful, the twenty-first just too drunk and messy.
No, the twenty-fifth kiss is full of hunger, adult and delectable made tender on the edges by something strange and mysterious that must be love. It's darkly joyful, urgent and thorough, Remus's tongue attacking Sirius's mouth, sucking and biting. Blood surges and rushes, burns hotter even than the blasted sun. Another tug from Remus on that irritating tie and Sirius finds his hands moving again, pushing the unbuttoned shirt away from Remus's shoulder while the other hand curls over the loose waistband of Remus's trousers. And all the while Remus is still kissing him, overwhelming him, consuming him at such a rate that Sirius blindly wonders if there will be any left of him by the time Remus is through.
A gasping sigh and they break apart, Sirius's mouth instantly flocking to the curve of Remus's jaw, the sharp line of his throat, oh, any inch of skin he can get while Remus gasps and swears under his breath. "Wanted this for so long," he confesses into Remus's chest, whispering the words right against his rapid heartbeat. "You drove me mad all week long with the heat and the sweating."
"You should've ... oh, God ... said something," Remus says, and Sirius nods his head, brushes his nose against one of Remus's stiff nipples.
"Well, I'm saying something now, aren't I?"
Saying everything with teeth and tongue, scraping his blunt incisors against the tight bud of flesh against his mouth, and Remus thrashes and jerks, his erection pushing up urgently against the ball of Sirius's hand. Eagerly, his fingers slide into Remus's trousers and under the beaten linen shorts until they close around the thick heat of his cock, and he sucks hard on one nipple while he squeezes Remus fiercely in his grip. Instantaneous reaction, Remus crying out and flailing madly under him, and Sirius tastes salty-sharp skin and razor-edge heat that makes him shudder a moan against Remus's skin.
"Want you, Remus, want you right now," he shudders, his hand trembling a little. "Want you inside me, on me, all over me, want you a thousand different ways, want you tonight and tomorrow and right now and--"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Remus hisses between tight-clenched teeth. "If you keep bloody talking, I'm going to lose it."
His face is drenched in sweat, hair hanging wetly in his eyes, which are currently scrunched up tight as though sight might send him over the edge. A little awestruck, a little dizzy, Sirius can't help but keep talking, keep touching, and he has no idea what he's saying right now but Remus is so hard, straining and begging with his hips and thighs, and fuck, but his trousers are killing him. Hastily, Sirius unbuttons his pants with his free hand, fingers tripping and stumbling over every last bloody button until he can't take it anymore and just rips the buttons off, shoves his trousers off and oh, oh yes. The sound Sirius makes sounds inhuman to his own ears, a deep guttural moan that trembles and rips as his hand slides over the aching heat of his own cock, fingers sliding over, hands moving in synchrony, and it's still not enough. Not nearly.
Tense, aching growls spill out of Remus's throat, his eyes suddenly wide and practically glassy, mouth wide as he stares at Sirius's hand rubbing himself up and down. "Padfoot, fuck, Sirius, oh my God," he moans.
"Touch me," Sirius begs, pushing his forehead against Remus's chest, his thumbs running circles over the tips of their cocks. "Touch me, Remus, do it now, need you so bad, please--"
Something breaks in Remus's eyes; his hands scramble over Sirius's skin and clutch feverishly at his back until he pulls Sirius on top of him, straddling his waist, knees pushing against the cushions of the chaise. There's the arch of hips and the slide of fabric, and suddenly Remus's naked cock is pushed right against his, silky and hotter than a thousand angry suns. Sirius goes momentarily deaf, the world gone dim and deadly all around him. The heat is strangling him, like Remus's hand as it wraps around their cocks, like the bloody necktie that he's still stupidly wearing. "Can't breathe," he gasps, tasting sweat as it drips onto his lower lip. "Moony ... oh ..."
Tension has driven every sharp angle of Remus's face into sharp definition, control evident in every jerky movement as he fusses with something in the pocket of his lowered trousers. "Stop squirming, Jesus, Sirius, hold on," he hisses, and then his long fingers finally procure a little amber jar of something that looks suspicious and secretive. Its contents shimmer a little, like a thousand eyes winking coyly at him.
"What the hell is that?" Sirius manages, and Remus opens the jar, gives Sirius an exasperated look.
"Really, Padfoot," he says, delicately dipping his fingertips in the jar. "Did you think you were the only one waiting?"
Sirius has a good retort to this, he honestly does, but it's not worth the argument when Remus's hand slips between their bodies and one warm, slick, incredible finger slides up within him. Sudden heat shocks his system; he thrashes and jerks and feels Remus's hand steadying his back, holding him in place as a second finger joins the first. Deep, furious waves of damp heat are rippling through his body, electrifying his skin, and Sirius can taste saltwater in the back of his throat. "Oh my ... oh my God," he moans. "Oh my God, Remus, what the hell is that stuff?"
A strained noise flutters from Remus's throat. His face is tense, tongue caught between his teeth as his rapid breaths puff against Sirius's cheek. "Hot," he says raggedly. "Hot, it's so hot, you're so hot, oh, Sirius."
Yes, fuck, yes, like the summertime's creeping up inside of him and coiling like a cobra, ready to spring at a moment's notice. Sirius can feel tension and anticipation groaning inside his belly, and when Remus's deft fingers curve a little to the left and brush some ridiculously sensitive place that Sirius didn't even know existed, he makes a helpless noise and almost drowns, everything shaking and shimmering as he rubs his head senselessly into the crook of Remus's shoulder. "Gonna come, gonna come, Moony, oh God, gonna--"
A low, dark-chocolate growl rips itself from Remus's chest, and there's the sudden shift of hips and oh God Remus.
Inside him, deep inside him in just one thrust, and it's like being fucked by the sun, so hot and ecstatic and bright and dizzying that Sirius's head flies back from the force of it, eyes wide in wonder. His cock is trapped between their bellies, and Sirius thrashes violently, overwhelmed by sensation. Remus's mouth closes over his instantly, forces the breath out of him as his tongue matches every thrust of his hips, and then the heat overtakes him and Sirius comes hard, comes hot and sharp and full of relief, and it's not but a moment later that Sirius feels a sudden rush of warmth and hears a shattered moan fall from Remus's kiss-bruised lips into the soft heat of Sirius's own mouth.
Rapture ripples through him and replaces the urgent intensity of the heat with something far more lazy, sleepy, somnolent. Gasping for air, Sirius pulls his mouth away from Remus and lets himself sink into Remus's lap, feeling the other boy's hips jerk a little helplessly beneath him from the last spasms of orgasm. He feels boneless, lighter than air, makes a regretful noise when Remus pulls himself out and shifts his weight so that Sirius slides a little onto the chaise. Doesn't want to leave, not yet, no, not ever, even though he's hot and sticky and his trousers are positively ruined.
There's a sudden rush of soft noise and both of them moan a little when the first tendrils of cool air drift through the common room. "Oh, I love Professor Flitwick," Remus sighs rapturously, and Sirius kicks his calf with his toe.
"Hey, I'm the one you just buggered," Sirius pouts, and Remus chuckles a little, a hand fondly combing through his hair.
"That you are," he agrees. "But you already know I love you, don't you, Padfoot?"
Yes, Sirius knows it now. He can feel it, warm and thick inside him, but it's not suffocating or sweltering. It's just there, and the surprising thing is, Sirius thinks it's been there for a long, long time already. Tenderly, he plants a kiss on the juncture of Remus's slender neck and shoulder. "Love you back, you know," he says. "Even if I'm an ignorant berk, I still love you."
Another laugh; if sex makes Remus giggly, then Sirius is never going to another class ever again. "Trust me, Sirius, you're not nearly as much of a berk as, say-"
Suddenly, a door slams and a loud, terribly off-key voice interrupts them, yowling its horrid lyrics into the room. "Yummy, yummy, yummy, I've got love in my tummy, and OH MY GOD."
"Prongs," Remus finishes weakly.
Sure enough, James Potter is standing at the entrance to the common room, eyes enormous behind his spectacles, gawking at the scene laid out before him. Swearing, Sirius jerks his pants up his hips, tries to tuck himself back into place, while Remus flushes ten shades of pink and fumbles with the buttons to his shirt. "Ah, hi there, Prongs," Sirius says a little shakily, trying to act casual. "Decided to skiv off Potions too, eh?"
James doesn't move. His jaw works once, but no sound comes out. He looks all the world like a deer caught in headlights, and Sirius almost chokes on the mad bubble of laughter that threatens to spill out of his throat. Finally, James manages to lift a shaking finger and point it in their direction. "You two. You were … you were having … sex."
"Er … well, yes," Sirius admits. There's really no point in lying about it now, is there?
Indignation blooms sharp and furious on James's face. "I skipped out early on Potions just to check up on you two wankers, and you were busy having sex in the common room."
Sirius shrugs. "Well, it was kind of spontaneous." Remus makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and when Sirius looks at him, he sees nothing but spidery white fingers hiding Remus's undoubtedly rosy face.
"But just … I mean … then … how long has this been going on?" James says a little shrilly, and Sirius can't help but smile a bit when he answers.
"Twenty-six kisses."
One of the most awkward silences in the history of mankind descends on the room as James looks back and forth between the two of them, apparently weighing his options. Sirius can't help but feel a little panicky at the ashen tinge of James's skin and the slightly awestruck look on Remus's face. He and Remus had never discussed this, just kept it secret out of silent agreement, and now, well, things are definitely not so secret anymore.
Finally, James juts his chin up and gives the two of them an imperious look. "Fine, then," he says. "You want to be shirtlifters, have at it. But there shall be no more sex on that chaise, because frankly, I enjoy sleeping there, and now that's going to be very, very awkward."
An embarrassed sort of pink creeps its way up the back of Sirius's neck, and he grins a little sheepishly at his friend. "Er, right."
"Seriously, James, are you all right with this?" Remus asks softly, and when Sirius looks at him, he sees a pinched sort of worry creasing Remus's face. "It's perfectly understandable if you're, well, uncomfortable with the idea."
"Idea?" Sirius says with a frown. "I think it's more than just an idea by now, don't you? "
He earns a dirty glare from both James and Remus for that one, but then James shrugs a little carelessly. "Eh," he says. "Seen weirder things." Then his face brightens and he smiles. "Besides, now that Sirius is a flaming poof, I'm now the most attractive heterosexual at Hogwarts. Forget Lily Evans; I'm on the prowl."
And with that, James cheerfully walks off, whistling terrible disco tunes under his breath.
As soon as he leaves the room, Remus slumps heavily against the chaise and groans against the palms of his hands. "So that is what it feels like to be completely and utterly humiliated. Excellent. Good to know."
Laughing, Sirius curls back up into Remus's side, wrapping an arm around his friend's slender waist. The tails of his shirt are all askew and he thinks Moony missed a button somewhere; he looks disheveled and debauched and positively scrumptious. "He's already over it," he promises, kissing the sweet skin under Remus's wrinkled collar. "Got all sorts of skirts to chase now, doesn't he? Since I'm a flaming poof and all."
Finally, a smile, another touch of laughter vibrating under the palm of Sirius's hand. "You really are," Remus says. "Honestly, Sirius - twenty-six kisses? You counted?"
Another kiss; Remus still tastes hot to the touch, spicy and salty, a sharp burst of flavor on his lips. "Every last one of them," he says. "After all, Moony, if they were the only ones you were ever going to give me, I had to keep track of them somehow."
Gentle, long fingers wrap around the curve of Sirius's jaw, lifting his face to meet Remus's warm eyes. "But you know better now, don't you?"
Sirius just gives him a slow, hungry smile in return and kisses him so fiercely that they both lose count.
*****
END