[Harry Potter fanfic] Poetry in Motion
Title: Poetry in Motion
Prompt: Dec. 3, 2008 ~ I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG
Summary: In the lazy days between childhood and adulthood, two boys share a few quiet moments. And then Sirius decides quiet is boring.
Posted to 31_days and packmates.
~*~
"Pads, stop it."
Remus swats at the dark haired boy breathing down the back of his neck, and tries to concentrate on the essay he's writing.
Charms work has a long and very distinguished history, beginning in ancient Egypt with the brewing of beer...
He feels a hand creeping over his thigh, and swats it before it can reach its destination. "Sirius, please! This is due in the morning and I have another two inches to go!"
He can practically hear Sirius pouting as he lays his chin on the werewolf's shoulder. "Remy," he says with all the dignity he can muster. "For you, two inches is a matter of ten minutes' work..."
"Then you can wait ten minutes." Remus insists, though he can feel his cheeks flushing a bit. "Honestly Pads, you're insatiable."
"Of course." Sirius grins, breath washing over Remus's ear. "I'm a sixteen year old boy, Moony, and you expect me to have iron control over my libido. It's unrealistic, I tell you! Not all of us can be pillars of control, you know."
Remus coughs and shifts a bit in his seat, quite aware of just how much he is not a pillar of control, at this moment. "So because you're a sixteen year old boy, it's excusable that you think about nothing but sex?"
"Not just sex!" Sirius insists, hand creeping over Remus's thigh again. "Sex with you. Mostly."
Remus rolls his eyes, but can't bring himself to swat at the creeping hand again. "At least you're honest," he grumbles.
"What would you prefer?" Sirius murmurs huskily, nuzzling at his neck. "That I woo you with poetry and flowers?"
Remus flushes. Sirius knows him entirely too well, sometimes. "Well, yes, sometimes..."
"Hmm, I am making a mental note." Sirius nuzzles again, then pulls back and drops to his knees beside Remus's chair, ignoring the werewolf's startled look. Sirius grabs his hands, giving him an insipid, sappy look.
"Moony," he begins, "I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur, to your funny shaped nose and soulful moonlit eyes-"
Remus is laughing so hard already, he can barely keep from falling out of his chair. "Pads, that's awful! Stop butchering the art of poetry!"
Delighted at the laughter, Sirius grins and forges ahead. "I beseech you, from the very bottom of my drooly doggy heart-"
"Which smells like wet dog too," Remus feels compelled to add.
Sirius contrives to look hurt. "But even though my poetry of adoration is not appreciated, I shall appeal and beseech you anyway, because you are my Moony."
Remus grins, and leans down to kiss Sirius.
A couple minutes later they surface, Remus still rather flushed. "You don't even know what 'beseech' means. The bit about soulful moonlit eyes was quite good though. Very romantic."
"Of course I know what a beseech is," Sirius sniffs, raising his chin. "We Blacks have the very finest of classical education. Obviously, a beseech is a sort of nut, like the sort you get from trees."
Remus is laughing so hard, it's quite easy for Sirius to have his wicked way.
Prompt: Dec. 3, 2008 ~ I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters/Pairings: Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG
Summary: In the lazy days between childhood and adulthood, two boys share a few quiet moments. And then Sirius decides quiet is boring.
Posted to 31_days and packmates.
~*~
"Pads, stop it."
Remus swats at the dark haired boy breathing down the back of his neck, and tries to concentrate on the essay he's writing.
Charms work has a long and very distinguished history, beginning in ancient Egypt with the brewing of beer...
He feels a hand creeping over his thigh, and swats it before it can reach its destination. "Sirius, please! This is due in the morning and I have another two inches to go!"
He can practically hear Sirius pouting as he lays his chin on the werewolf's shoulder. "Remy," he says with all the dignity he can muster. "For you, two inches is a matter of ten minutes' work..."
"Then you can wait ten minutes." Remus insists, though he can feel his cheeks flushing a bit. "Honestly Pads, you're insatiable."
"Of course." Sirius grins, breath washing over Remus's ear. "I'm a sixteen year old boy, Moony, and you expect me to have iron control over my libido. It's unrealistic, I tell you! Not all of us can be pillars of control, you know."
Remus coughs and shifts a bit in his seat, quite aware of just how much he is not a pillar of control, at this moment. "So because you're a sixteen year old boy, it's excusable that you think about nothing but sex?"
"Not just sex!" Sirius insists, hand creeping over Remus's thigh again. "Sex with you. Mostly."
Remus rolls his eyes, but can't bring himself to swat at the creeping hand again. "At least you're honest," he grumbles.
"What would you prefer?" Sirius murmurs huskily, nuzzling at his neck. "That I woo you with poetry and flowers?"
Remus flushes. Sirius knows him entirely too well, sometimes. "Well, yes, sometimes..."
"Hmm, I am making a mental note." Sirius nuzzles again, then pulls back and drops to his knees beside Remus's chair, ignoring the werewolf's startled look. Sirius grabs his hands, giving him an insipid, sappy look.
"Moony," he begins, "I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur, to your funny shaped nose and soulful moonlit eyes-"
Remus is laughing so hard already, he can barely keep from falling out of his chair. "Pads, that's awful! Stop butchering the art of poetry!"
Delighted at the laughter, Sirius grins and forges ahead. "I beseech you, from the very bottom of my drooly doggy heart-"
"Which smells like wet dog too," Remus feels compelled to add.
Sirius contrives to look hurt. "But even though my poetry of adoration is not appreciated, I shall appeal and beseech you anyway, because you are my Moony."
Remus grins, and leans down to kiss Sirius.
A couple minutes later they surface, Remus still rather flushed. "You don't even know what 'beseech' means. The bit about soulful moonlit eyes was quite good though. Very romantic."
"Of course I know what a beseech is," Sirius sniffs, raising his chin. "We Blacks have the very finest of classical education. Obviously, a beseech is a sort of nut, like the sort you get from trees."
Remus is laughing so hard, it's quite easy for Sirius to have his wicked way.