Flashficathon Fic!
Here's my entry for the Harry Potter Flashficathon.
Written for reenka, who wanted Harry/Draco or Sirius/Remus. The requirement was first time bad sex.
Notes: This is one of the hardest stories I've ever had to write, not because I don't like the pairings - they're my two favorites, actually - but because I am very horrible at writing any sort of first time sex. Therefor, sorry, it's not very graphic or very long. Still not completely satisfied, but deadlines had to be met. I can't remember how many different versions I did of this. I tried both pairings, all points of views, and several genre's. Unfortunately, I deleted most of them. This one happened to be the one I was able to complete and liked the best. Hope it is enjoyed!
What He Hated
By Eleret
01-27-04
Rating: PG-13? R? Somewhere in between, I guess.
Remus hated awkwardness. He hated uncertainty. He hated being nervous. He hated being vulnerable. And that night had been all of that. At the time, he had thought he’d hated it, too.
It had been the first time for both of them. Mostly, it had been desperate. Remus hated desperate acts, too. It had been their fifth year and they had been awash with odd hormones. They had been experimenting for a while, with girls. Maybe, in Sirius’s case, with boys as well. And they had been ready to go further. They had also consumed several too many Butter Beers - not enough to be really drunk, but enough to have lowered their inhibitions and made them a bit fuzzy.
It hadn’t really been talked over - Remus wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had been glad the day after, when he had been burning with mortification at having had sex with Sirius. Sirius had been talking rather drunkenly about some girl or other. Remus hadn’t really been listening. And then Sirius must have come to some conclusion which Remus didn’t remember, because he’d leaned over and looked at Remus for quite a while. After a few minutes, Remus had noticed the look and had turned his head to look back at his friend. He had wondered what on earth was going on when he saw the look on Sirius’s face. And then Sirius had kissed him.
The foreplay had been sloppy, both from being slightly drunk and just being inexperienced. Not too bad though - Remus could remember that it had been all right. It had been clumsy, though. Remus didn’t like being clumsy very much either. It made him feel uncertain, nervous and generally uncomfortable. It hadn’t been uncomfortable at the time, though, because they had been beyond that.
Kisses and gropes on the couch in Gryffindor tower had slowly progressed. It got a bit fuzzy then, until they were up in Sirius’s bed. And then, unfortunately, it got very clear. Sirius hadn’t looked lovingly into his eyes. Remus wouldn’t have looked back if he had, anyway. Sirius hadn’t asked him if he was sure he wanted to do this. Remus hadn’t even thought about that until later. He certainly hadn’t asked Sirius. It had just naturally progressed.
Clothes had been removed, although not without enough fumbling to make Remus wince, thinking back on it now. Two of the buttons on Remus’s nice white shirt had been ripped off because Sirius couldn’t figure out how to undo them with his fumbling fingers. Remus didn’t like fumbling. Remus had given up on the fancy clasp of Sirius’s robes had had ripped them. Fortunately, Sirius had never seemed to mind. Remus’s ears went red in recollection, imagine how he would feel if Sirius confronted him about it!
The pants had been much easier to remove for both of them, but they’d been a bit unsure about what to do once they actually were naked. There had been more kissing. Sirius had trailed a line of kisses down Remus’s neck, which had been very nice until Remus realized where their final destination was and in a panic pulled Sirius back up to kiss him again. Remus figured that at that point some of the alcohol must have been fading. He had started to feel a bit uncomfortable, anyway. He was nervous - the most prominent though in his mind was, “What on earth do we do now?”
After that, mercifully, Remus’s memory blended again. He had probably subconsciously blocked it. Moments in time stuck out sharply, much as he wished to suppress them, but it was more like a scrap book now than a muggle movie. They fumbled, they squirmed. Remus remembers clearly, through a hot flush on his cheeks, that it was very messy. No finesse at all. He knows he shouldn’t expect such things, but he can’t help expecting everyone to be perfect - perhaps it comes from being so imperfect himself.
He remembers blunt fingers on him, rubbing over ribs and scars. Ghosting past his navel and on down. He would remember whimpering, except he had blocked it firmly. He would like to believe he doesn’t whimper. He does remember that when he reciprocated for Sirius, Sirius didn’t whimper. He doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved about that.
Remus couldn’t look at Sirius for a week. Sirius firmly refused his eyes as well. After that, it seemed to fade a bit. They slowly drifted back together, becoming friends again. They never talked about it - not once. Sometimes, Remus thought they should have. They should have made things clear - did they want to do something about this or not? Should they forget about it or try some more? - but instead they had just let it fall away, trying desperately to forget about it.
Remus spent the rest of his fifth year wandering between discoveries of the sexual sort and berating himself for being so silly. Sometimes, he had wanted to talk to Sirius, sometimes he’d wanted to kiss him. Most of the time, he had wished he had had sex for the first time with someone he could forget about.
Remus hated the awkwardness of it. He hated the way they’d been so innocent, and so silly. He hated that things would never be the same. When you have sex with your best friend, and then refuse to acknowledge it or even think about it, you know you’re well on your way to ruining a friendship. He hated that he knew - knew - they both wanted to be more than friends, but that he couldn’t figure out how to say anything or act on the knowledge. And most of all, Remus hated how he didn’t really hate that night at all anymore.
Remus was in the middle of sixth year. A year ago, he’d thought that having his first time with Sirius was the worst thing in the world that could have happened to him. Now, he wished they could do that again, again, again. Because now, Remus hated the pain, the betrayal, and the knowledge that it was partly his fault so much more than he hated uncertainty, vulnerability, nervousness, awkwardness and desperation.
Remus hated the way Sirius didn’t smile. He hated the way looking at Sirius made him want to cry. (He was glad he didn’t cry.) He hated how James wouldn’t talk to Sirius. He knew he should hate Sirius, too. Sirius had been stupid. Sirius had been cruel. Sirius had endangered all of their lives.
Remus hated everything that had happened since that night in fifth year. Strangely enough, he didn’t hate the night, he didn’t hate Sirius, and he didn’t hate the uncertainty of everything now. And maybe after this big mistake, he could somehow manage to express what he felt instead of letting fall away and be forgotten.
Written for reenka, who wanted Harry/Draco or Sirius/Remus. The requirement was first time bad sex.
Notes: This is one of the hardest stories I've ever had to write, not because I don't like the pairings - they're my two favorites, actually - but because I am very horrible at writing any sort of first time sex. Therefor, sorry, it's not very graphic or very long. Still not completely satisfied, but deadlines had to be met. I can't remember how many different versions I did of this. I tried both pairings, all points of views, and several genre's. Unfortunately, I deleted most of them. This one happened to be the one I was able to complete and liked the best. Hope it is enjoyed!
What He Hated
By Eleret
01-27-04
Rating: PG-13? R? Somewhere in between, I guess.
Remus hated awkwardness. He hated uncertainty. He hated being nervous. He hated being vulnerable. And that night had been all of that. At the time, he had thought he’d hated it, too.
It had been the first time for both of them. Mostly, it had been desperate. Remus hated desperate acts, too. It had been their fifth year and they had been awash with odd hormones. They had been experimenting for a while, with girls. Maybe, in Sirius’s case, with boys as well. And they had been ready to go further. They had also consumed several too many Butter Beers - not enough to be really drunk, but enough to have lowered their inhibitions and made them a bit fuzzy.
It hadn’t really been talked over - Remus wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He had been glad the day after, when he had been burning with mortification at having had sex with Sirius. Sirius had been talking rather drunkenly about some girl or other. Remus hadn’t really been listening. And then Sirius must have come to some conclusion which Remus didn’t remember, because he’d leaned over and looked at Remus for quite a while. After a few minutes, Remus had noticed the look and had turned his head to look back at his friend. He had wondered what on earth was going on when he saw the look on Sirius’s face. And then Sirius had kissed him.
The foreplay had been sloppy, both from being slightly drunk and just being inexperienced. Not too bad though - Remus could remember that it had been all right. It had been clumsy, though. Remus didn’t like being clumsy very much either. It made him feel uncertain, nervous and generally uncomfortable. It hadn’t been uncomfortable at the time, though, because they had been beyond that.
Kisses and gropes on the couch in Gryffindor tower had slowly progressed. It got a bit fuzzy then, until they were up in Sirius’s bed. And then, unfortunately, it got very clear. Sirius hadn’t looked lovingly into his eyes. Remus wouldn’t have looked back if he had, anyway. Sirius hadn’t asked him if he was sure he wanted to do this. Remus hadn’t even thought about that until later. He certainly hadn’t asked Sirius. It had just naturally progressed.
Clothes had been removed, although not without enough fumbling to make Remus wince, thinking back on it now. Two of the buttons on Remus’s nice white shirt had been ripped off because Sirius couldn’t figure out how to undo them with his fumbling fingers. Remus didn’t like fumbling. Remus had given up on the fancy clasp of Sirius’s robes had had ripped them. Fortunately, Sirius had never seemed to mind. Remus’s ears went red in recollection, imagine how he would feel if Sirius confronted him about it!
The pants had been much easier to remove for both of them, but they’d been a bit unsure about what to do once they actually were naked. There had been more kissing. Sirius had trailed a line of kisses down Remus’s neck, which had been very nice until Remus realized where their final destination was and in a panic pulled Sirius back up to kiss him again. Remus figured that at that point some of the alcohol must have been fading. He had started to feel a bit uncomfortable, anyway. He was nervous - the most prominent though in his mind was, “What on earth do we do now?”
After that, mercifully, Remus’s memory blended again. He had probably subconsciously blocked it. Moments in time stuck out sharply, much as he wished to suppress them, but it was more like a scrap book now than a muggle movie. They fumbled, they squirmed. Remus remembers clearly, through a hot flush on his cheeks, that it was very messy. No finesse at all. He knows he shouldn’t expect such things, but he can’t help expecting everyone to be perfect - perhaps it comes from being so imperfect himself.
He remembers blunt fingers on him, rubbing over ribs and scars. Ghosting past his navel and on down. He would remember whimpering, except he had blocked it firmly. He would like to believe he doesn’t whimper. He does remember that when he reciprocated for Sirius, Sirius didn’t whimper. He doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved about that.
Remus couldn’t look at Sirius for a week. Sirius firmly refused his eyes as well. After that, it seemed to fade a bit. They slowly drifted back together, becoming friends again. They never talked about it - not once. Sometimes, Remus thought they should have. They should have made things clear - did they want to do something about this or not? Should they forget about it or try some more? - but instead they had just let it fall away, trying desperately to forget about it.
Remus spent the rest of his fifth year wandering between discoveries of the sexual sort and berating himself for being so silly. Sometimes, he had wanted to talk to Sirius, sometimes he’d wanted to kiss him. Most of the time, he had wished he had had sex for the first time with someone he could forget about.
Remus hated the awkwardness of it. He hated the way they’d been so innocent, and so silly. He hated that things would never be the same. When you have sex with your best friend, and then refuse to acknowledge it or even think about it, you know you’re well on your way to ruining a friendship. He hated that he knew - knew - they both wanted to be more than friends, but that he couldn’t figure out how to say anything or act on the knowledge. And most of all, Remus hated how he didn’t really hate that night at all anymore.
Remus was in the middle of sixth year. A year ago, he’d thought that having his first time with Sirius was the worst thing in the world that could have happened to him. Now, he wished they could do that again, again, again. Because now, Remus hated the pain, the betrayal, and the knowledge that it was partly his fault so much more than he hated uncertainty, vulnerability, nervousness, awkwardness and desperation.
Remus hated the way Sirius didn’t smile. He hated the way looking at Sirius made him want to cry. (He was glad he didn’t cry.) He hated how James wouldn’t talk to Sirius. He knew he should hate Sirius, too. Sirius had been stupid. Sirius had been cruel. Sirius had endangered all of their lives.
Remus hated everything that had happened since that night in fifth year. Strangely enough, he didn’t hate the night, he didn’t hate Sirius, and he didn’t hate the uncertainty of everything now. And maybe after this big mistake, he could somehow manage to express what he felt instead of letting fall away and be forgotten.