(no subject)
Title: It's Later
Author: Nyxty
Rating: R or NC-17 (I'm not sure. There is a lot of wanking off in this.)
Summary: Sirius likes a photo of a sleeping Remus a little too much.
Word count: 3, 092
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
A/N: I don't know if anyone's paying attention to Harry Potter fanfiction right now when real Harry Potter fiction is almost here!!! I hope everyone has fun reading the new book!!
For Christmas, James asked for Zonko’s Deluxe Kit for the Trickster with a Death Wish.
He got a camera.
Granted it was a really nice, expensive camera that shot out perfect three by three squares with tiny black and white images moving about inside them.
But it wasn’t what James wanted and he forgot about the camera until New Year’s Eve when Sirius stepped on it and started howling with tears and started bleeding all over the carpet. Then of course, being the best mate James could be, he grabbed the camera and took as many embarrassing photos as possible. He especially liked the one he entitled “Mum healing the pad of Padfoot’s foot.”
A month later, and the camera has become the best present ever. A whole corner of James’s trunk is stacked with photographs of the Marauders and other worthy models (Lily Evans).
“So, tell me again, this is what we risked our necks sneaking out of the castle for,” says Sirius. “A photo album?”
James shrugs. “I need to organize.”
“A part of me just died.”
“You just died?” says James, stopping at their dorm door to look at Sirius. “Risked our necks? Since when do you worry about neck risking?”
“Oh, it was for dramatics. Get in.” Sirius pushes the door open and kicks James in with his foot. “Where is everyone?”
“Peter’s still in bed. Oi! Come help us!” Peter snorts and literally rolls out of his bed. “And Moony’s…?”
“Library,” yawns Peter, crawling on the floor over to where James and Sirius are sitting, in front of James’s trunk. “What are we doing?”
Sirius starts to tear off the clear wrapping around James’s new photo album. “Organizing. Apparently.”
“Did you bring breakfast?”
“No.”
“No worries.” Peter reaches into the back pocket of his pajama trousers. And pulls out a squashed thing that looks like it could have once been toast.
James takes a picture of Sirius’s look of aghast disgust.
“OK,” says James, dropping pile and pile of photos on the floor between them. “We’re going to go through these all and divide them into two piles.”
“I thought Moony was in the library?”
“One pile,” continues James, ignoring Sirius’s jibe. “Will be pictures to keep and the other will be pictures to toss in the bin. Show them to me before you toss them because I get the final say.”
Sirius and Peter look at each other in mutual annoyance and get to work sorting the photos.
There’s mostly silence between the three friends, with the occasional outburst of “Oh remember this!” and James’s affirmation or veto for binning.
“This is a toss, I think,” says Peter, flipping a photo around to show James.
“Yeah.”
Sirius watches the picture flip out of Peter’s fingers and land face up on the toss pile. He looks at for a second and then picks it up. “Why are you not keeping this one?”
James grabs Sirius’s wrist and looks at the photo. “It’s dumb,” he says.
“What?” Sirius brings the tiny image closer to his face.
It’s a photo of Remus lying in bed half naked with only a corner of his blanket bunched up around his midriff like a mock strip tease. His long legs are spread wide, the right one falling of the side of his bed. His left arm is tucked in and crooked up so that the tips of his knuckles are brushing gently against the underside of his nipple. Sirius watches the rhythmic rise and fall of his scarred chest, hypnotized. Remus’s right arm is thrown up over his head just missing the crown of honey brown hair fanned out against his pillow. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open and Sirius wonders what he’s dreaming of.
“It’s not dumb,” whispers Sirius, like he’s in the photo with Remus and doesn’t want to wake him up.
James looks at it again. “He’s not doing anything.”
“Why was this taken?”
“I took it,” says Peter. “Thought I could catch him drooling or masturbating.”
Sirius quirks his eyebrow up and looks at Peter over the top of the photo. “Did you forget who Remus Lupin is?”
“Whatever, Pads,” snaps James “Get back to work.”
Sirius scowls and puts the picture down on the keep pile. “I like this picture,” he grumbles.
James laughs. “Seriously,” he says. He picks the picture up and places it to the side by itself. “You keep it then. You can wank off to it later.”
“Pervert,” says Sirius, glaring at James. But he subconsciously, or consciously, pulls the picture closer to him.
“Well, good night lads.” Sirius rolls over and reaches up to grab the rope above his head that will close his bed curtains. He looks across to Remus.
“See you tomorrow, Padfoot,” whispers Remus, with a light smile.
Sirius smiles back and blinks when crimson curtains are suddenly all he can see. He burrows himself back against his pillows, tucks himself under the bedspread and stares up the ceiling.
He can’t sleep. He has The Itch. He’s too warm, and wiggly. It’s been a long, boring Saturday, helping James put his pictures into the photo album. He hadn’t gotten around to snogging even one girl the whole day. He’s pent up.
Sirius’s fingers crawl down his chest to his stomach, lower and lower. Slipping under his pants, making his breath hitch. He’s so hot and hard down there.
Slowly, his fingers cup and slide and pump. His eyes close with a sigh. And he tries to form a picture in his head, but nothings coming up, nothings sticking. Various scenes and girls float in and out. None of them makes his head spin, makes him pump faster.
He lets out a sobbing whine. He needs to think of something or he’ll be hard forever and never come.
Then he remembers. With a jolt of something hot though his body. He remembers that picture. But, oh that is so wrong.
He didn’t like the picture of Remus because he was attracted to what he saw. He liked it because Remus never takes a picture without pulling a face because he hates taking pictures. This photo, taken of Remus when he was unaware and fast asleep, was just a rare gem. That’s why he didn’t want it thrown away. That’s why he liked it.
It had nothing to do with the way Remus’s legs looked long and silky with fine hairs. Sirius, with his eyes closed, can just imagine those legs curling around him, wrapping around his hips.
His hand moves faster.
And it has nothing to do with the way Remus’s arm was thrown up like an invisible lover was holding it there.
Sirius can’t stop it now. He sees himself in-between Remus’s legs, holding his…was it his right or left arm? Sirius’s hand stills on his cock. His thumb starts to stroke the tip, smearing the tiny drops that have collected there. He has to see it. He has to look. Fucking James. Fucking James put this idea into his head. James told him to wank off to it later.
It’s later.
Without thinking, just going with the moment, Sirius reaches quickly over to his bedside dresser and opens the top drawer and takes out the picture of Remus.
Sirius looks at it once, and comes. Suddenly and fast and hard. He slowly strokes his softening cock as he looks at the picture some more. “F-fuck,” he stutters, eyes dragging all over Remus’s body. He licks his lips. Looks over at his curtains where he knows that behind them and behind his own curtains, Remus is sleeping there unaware. Sirius’s face burns with, he’s scared to admit, excitement.
He grabs his wand, performs a silencing charm, and starts again.
The picture of Remus sleeping is back in Sirius’s drawer. He should have thrown it out. After last night, he should have thrown it out.
But, that morning, after he shook off and swallowed down the realization of what he did, he thought that putting the picture back in its place would be less suspicious.
He didn’t count on the fact that the image of that picture lying in the darkness of his drawer, just like the real Remus lying in the darkness of his bed, would be burning in his head all day.
“Are you OK, Padfoot?” asks Remus stepping up behind Sirius, in-between their beds later that night. “You’re all red.”
“I’m fine,” says Sirius, not meeting Remus’s eyes. He’s convinced that Remus will be able to see just how sick and twisted he is if they made eye contact.
“He’s mad,” calls James from across the room.
“Why?” Remus climbs into his bed and tentatively shucks his shirt. Remus hates his body and all his scars and wounds. But he also can’t sleep with a lot of clothes on because he gets too hot in the night.
Sirius stares at James and refuses to let himself look anywhere else.
“Pad’s mad,” laughs James. “Because I have more pictures of me in my photo album than of him.”
“That’s only because your number one fan always has the camera,” says Sirius.
“Is that a comment about me?” asks Peter, from behind his bed curtains.
“Fine, then.” James reaches over his head and starts to pull his curtains closed. “Next outing Moony can have the camera than there will only be pictures of you.” He snaps his curtains closed, but then peeks his messy haired head back out. “Or better yet, you can have the camera. Wink, wink.”
“Go to sleep, Prongs,” snaps Sirius. He reaches up and pulls his own curtains closed.
Sirius hears Remus’s voice call “See you tomorrow, Padfoot” like he always does, but he doesn’t respond.
What did James mean by “Wink, wink”? He couldn’t have known that he… Or maybe he was just referring to the comment he made yesterday. Sirius nods. Yes, James was only thinking about the comment he made yesterday about the picture of Remus. You can wank off to it later.
It was a Sunday which meant Sirius spent more time just hanging around with Remus then he did on normal school days, when they had classes and homework.
And it was so hard. So hard to sit next to Remus and talk to him and accidentally touch him and not immediately think of what he did, what he imagined doing to Remus the night before with a tiny picture clutched in his hand.
Sirius flips over onto his stomach and groans into his pillow.
At one point earlier, Remus had stretched out on the floor to play with Marlene McKinnon’s cat and Sirius almost lost his mind. He grabbed the nearest girl (some random sixth year, he didn’t catch her name) and took her to a corner and snogged her.
Thinking about Remus the entire time.
Sirius rolls over onto his back. Hard as ever and achy and drenched with sweat.
Remus looked so nice, long and lean on the common room floor. Just like how he looked in the picture.
“I’m-fuck it,” grunts Sirius. He twists and turns and grabs the picture from his dresser drawer.
He sighs with great contentment once he has it in front of his face. Long, sinewy Remus, with that soft hair spread out, and the scars criss crossing endless patterns across his chest. Sirius traces his own knobby finger down the side of the sleeping photo of Remus. Then he takes that same finger and traces a similar path down his own body.
And that’s all it takes.
Now the picture is in the trash bin. Sirius had wanked off last night until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but just before he succumbed to sleep, he floated the picture to the bin and left it there. Where it belonged.
Sirius feels dirty. He’s done a lot of naughty things in his life. Pranks that had gone just a little too far and once he and James got stuck in an invisible passageway that had an unfortunate window into McGonagall’s dressing room where they saw things that they will never speak of again. But, imagining that he’s having sex with a boy, with once of his very best mates, is probably something James can say he’s never done.
Sirius made himself promise, promise, that he was going to shrug the last two nights off as a relapse in judgment and move on. But watching Remus eat breakfast, and watching Remus make potions, and watching Remus read, and watching Remus write, and watching Remus play chess, and watching Remus climb the stairs, and watching Remus leave a room, and watching Remus talking, and watching Remus laugh and sneeze and blink, has made his promise a very hard one to keep.
“Padfoot?” Sirius drops the t-shirt in his hands and spins around. “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yeah, Moony,” he says, watching to see if Remus’s eyes leave his face for a more nude part of his body.
“It’s just that, you’ve been awfully quiet today.”
“Moony, don’t snap him out of it,” yells Peter, sauntering around the room. Peter sauntering is the strangest sight. He kind of looks like a buoy stuck out at sea in a bad storm.
James laughs. “Wormtail’s reaping the benefits.” Peter tries to click his heels together but ends up falling over onto his ass.
“What does that mean?” asks Remus, immediately moving forward to help Peter up.
“Opal Olavina, that pretty blonde fifth year, has been trying all day to get Padfoot’s attention and when she failed-”
“She went blind,” Sirius jumps in. “Didn’t you see her sucking Wormy’s face off since after dinner?”
“No,” says Remus. “I was too busy watching you.”
Sirius gags on his own tongue and quickly slides into bed.
“Don’t worry about him, Moony,” says James. He waves his wand and turns the lights out. “I’ll wheedle his issues out of him tomorrow.”
“Good night, Prongs,” calls Sirius, getting into bed. “Night, Wormtail.” Sirius feels something grip his arm and he turns his head to see Remus.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, Moony, no.” Merlin, mad is the last thing he’s feeling towards Remus. “See you tomorrow.”
Remus smiles. His hand loosens and slides down Sirius’s arm with a whisper of pressure until his finger’s curl around Sirius’s wrist and squeezes. “See you tomorrow.”
Sirius doesn’t even pretend to resist. “Accio photo,” he hisses, pointing his wand at the trash bin. The picture of Remus zooms to his hand. And if he wasn’t hard before, he is now.
Sirius burned the picture. He came, rasping for breath, grabbed his wand and an incendio later the picture didn’t even exist anymore.
He thought Tuesday was going to be better. He thought he was going to be able to act normal around Remus. Now that the picture was only a memory.
Fucking James.
Later came. And it hasn’t left yet.
Sirius finds that now he gets hard just looking at Remus. Which has been nothing but a problem for him.
“Alright, out with it.”
“I want to have sex with Remus.”
There’s a moment of dense silence. “Wow, that was easier than I thought,” says James. “I was all ready to hex you.” James pushes and nudges Sirius until Sirius flips over from trying to suffocate himself under his pillows. “So, what took you so long?”
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I am completely disturbed, and I’ve had my problems with it, but….you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Sirius shakes his head.
“Padfoot. Sirius. You and Moony are so involved with each other, that actually it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t even realize anything’s going on.” James suddenly laughs. “It was that picture wasn’t it?”
Sirius’s cheeks heat up with red blotches. He nods. This is the downside of having a best friend who knows you better than you know yourself.
“Well.” James scrunches his hair up. “I think you should at least assure Moony that you’re not mad at him because he’s pretending not to care, and frankly, for someone who is ace at keeping secrets, he’s a horrible actor.” James slaps Sirius on the back and slides off his bed. “And, if it’ll cheer you up, I’ll let you borrow my camera to further your collection.”
James runs away before Sirius can retaliate. But, Sirius isn’t thinking of hurting his best friend. He’d be lost without him.
Sirius wants his picture back. He can’t seem to function anymore. Once again he’s in bed, with an erection, and thoughts about Remus going through his head.
He took James’s advice and assured Remus that he wasn’t mad at him and then, magically, they went back to normal.
Only now Sirius realizes how much he actually flirts with Remus.
Sleeping is something that’s not going to happen until he satisfies himself, and he knows it. So, checking to make sure that James and Peter are sleeping, Sirius slips from his bed and pads the two feet over to Remus’s.
He pulls the curtains back, ignoring the swarm of butterflies battling raging bees in this stomach.
Remus has his wand lit still, placed next to a text book he must have been reading before he fell asleep. The bluish light from his wand curls itself around Remus’s body. He’s stretched out half naked with only a corner of his blanket bunched up around his midriff like a mock strip tease. His long legs are spread wide, and his right arm is thrown up over his head like an invisible lover is holding it there. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open and Sirius doesn’t care if he’s dreaming, unless those dreams are about him.
Sirius places all the imperturbable spells he can remember around Remus’s bed. Then he takes a moment to just stare at a picture come to life.
He crawls up, in-between Remus’s legs, putting his hands exactly where he imagined they would go. Sliding his body up further, settling down gently when they’re completely lined up. Knee to knee, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Sirius extends his left hand up further and latches on to Remus’s wrist, holding his arm down.
He’s not surprised to hear Remus moan, and not surprised to see him open his eyes. “It’s not tomorrow yet, Padfoot,” says Remus, smiling and squirming beneath Sirius.
“I know,” say Sirius. It’s later. “Kiss me.” Their lips meet softly and it’s better than any girl he ever substituted for this.
Or photo.
Author: Nyxty
Rating: R or NC-17 (I'm not sure. There is a lot of wanking off in this.)
Summary: Sirius likes a photo of a sleeping Remus a little too much.
Word count: 3, 092
Disclaimer: Not mine!!
A/N: I don't know if anyone's paying attention to Harry Potter fanfiction right now when real Harry Potter fiction is almost here!!! I hope everyone has fun reading the new book!!
For Christmas, James asked for Zonko’s Deluxe Kit for the Trickster with a Death Wish.
He got a camera.
Granted it was a really nice, expensive camera that shot out perfect three by three squares with tiny black and white images moving about inside them.
But it wasn’t what James wanted and he forgot about the camera until New Year’s Eve when Sirius stepped on it and started howling with tears and started bleeding all over the carpet. Then of course, being the best mate James could be, he grabbed the camera and took as many embarrassing photos as possible. He especially liked the one he entitled “Mum healing the pad of Padfoot’s foot.”
A month later, and the camera has become the best present ever. A whole corner of James’s trunk is stacked with photographs of the Marauders and other worthy models (Lily Evans).
“So, tell me again, this is what we risked our necks sneaking out of the castle for,” says Sirius. “A photo album?”
James shrugs. “I need to organize.”
“A part of me just died.”
“You just died?” says James, stopping at their dorm door to look at Sirius. “Risked our necks? Since when do you worry about neck risking?”
“Oh, it was for dramatics. Get in.” Sirius pushes the door open and kicks James in with his foot. “Where is everyone?”
“Peter’s still in bed. Oi! Come help us!” Peter snorts and literally rolls out of his bed. “And Moony’s…?”
“Library,” yawns Peter, crawling on the floor over to where James and Sirius are sitting, in front of James’s trunk. “What are we doing?”
Sirius starts to tear off the clear wrapping around James’s new photo album. “Organizing. Apparently.”
“Did you bring breakfast?”
“No.”
“No worries.” Peter reaches into the back pocket of his pajama trousers. And pulls out a squashed thing that looks like it could have once been toast.
James takes a picture of Sirius’s look of aghast disgust.
“OK,” says James, dropping pile and pile of photos on the floor between them. “We’re going to go through these all and divide them into two piles.”
“I thought Moony was in the library?”
“One pile,” continues James, ignoring Sirius’s jibe. “Will be pictures to keep and the other will be pictures to toss in the bin. Show them to me before you toss them because I get the final say.”
Sirius and Peter look at each other in mutual annoyance and get to work sorting the photos.
There’s mostly silence between the three friends, with the occasional outburst of “Oh remember this!” and James’s affirmation or veto for binning.
“This is a toss, I think,” says Peter, flipping a photo around to show James.
“Yeah.”
Sirius watches the picture flip out of Peter’s fingers and land face up on the toss pile. He looks at for a second and then picks it up. “Why are you not keeping this one?”
James grabs Sirius’s wrist and looks at the photo. “It’s dumb,” he says.
“What?” Sirius brings the tiny image closer to his face.
It’s a photo of Remus lying in bed half naked with only a corner of his blanket bunched up around his midriff like a mock strip tease. His long legs are spread wide, the right one falling of the side of his bed. His left arm is tucked in and crooked up so that the tips of his knuckles are brushing gently against the underside of his nipple. Sirius watches the rhythmic rise and fall of his scarred chest, hypnotized. Remus’s right arm is thrown up over his head just missing the crown of honey brown hair fanned out against his pillow. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open and Sirius wonders what he’s dreaming of.
“It’s not dumb,” whispers Sirius, like he’s in the photo with Remus and doesn’t want to wake him up.
James looks at it again. “He’s not doing anything.”
“Why was this taken?”
“I took it,” says Peter. “Thought I could catch him drooling or masturbating.”
Sirius quirks his eyebrow up and looks at Peter over the top of the photo. “Did you forget who Remus Lupin is?”
“Whatever, Pads,” snaps James “Get back to work.”
Sirius scowls and puts the picture down on the keep pile. “I like this picture,” he grumbles.
James laughs. “Seriously,” he says. He picks the picture up and places it to the side by itself. “You keep it then. You can wank off to it later.”
“Pervert,” says Sirius, glaring at James. But he subconsciously, or consciously, pulls the picture closer to him.
“Well, good night lads.” Sirius rolls over and reaches up to grab the rope above his head that will close his bed curtains. He looks across to Remus.
“See you tomorrow, Padfoot,” whispers Remus, with a light smile.
Sirius smiles back and blinks when crimson curtains are suddenly all he can see. He burrows himself back against his pillows, tucks himself under the bedspread and stares up the ceiling.
He can’t sleep. He has The Itch. He’s too warm, and wiggly. It’s been a long, boring Saturday, helping James put his pictures into the photo album. He hadn’t gotten around to snogging even one girl the whole day. He’s pent up.
Sirius’s fingers crawl down his chest to his stomach, lower and lower. Slipping under his pants, making his breath hitch. He’s so hot and hard down there.
Slowly, his fingers cup and slide and pump. His eyes close with a sigh. And he tries to form a picture in his head, but nothings coming up, nothings sticking. Various scenes and girls float in and out. None of them makes his head spin, makes him pump faster.
He lets out a sobbing whine. He needs to think of something or he’ll be hard forever and never come.
Then he remembers. With a jolt of something hot though his body. He remembers that picture. But, oh that is so wrong.
He didn’t like the picture of Remus because he was attracted to what he saw. He liked it because Remus never takes a picture without pulling a face because he hates taking pictures. This photo, taken of Remus when he was unaware and fast asleep, was just a rare gem. That’s why he didn’t want it thrown away. That’s why he liked it.
It had nothing to do with the way Remus’s legs looked long and silky with fine hairs. Sirius, with his eyes closed, can just imagine those legs curling around him, wrapping around his hips.
His hand moves faster.
And it has nothing to do with the way Remus’s arm was thrown up like an invisible lover was holding it there.
Sirius can’t stop it now. He sees himself in-between Remus’s legs, holding his…was it his right or left arm? Sirius’s hand stills on his cock. His thumb starts to stroke the tip, smearing the tiny drops that have collected there. He has to see it. He has to look. Fucking James. Fucking James put this idea into his head. James told him to wank off to it later.
It’s later.
Without thinking, just going with the moment, Sirius reaches quickly over to his bedside dresser and opens the top drawer and takes out the picture of Remus.
Sirius looks at it once, and comes. Suddenly and fast and hard. He slowly strokes his softening cock as he looks at the picture some more. “F-fuck,” he stutters, eyes dragging all over Remus’s body. He licks his lips. Looks over at his curtains where he knows that behind them and behind his own curtains, Remus is sleeping there unaware. Sirius’s face burns with, he’s scared to admit, excitement.
He grabs his wand, performs a silencing charm, and starts again.
The picture of Remus sleeping is back in Sirius’s drawer. He should have thrown it out. After last night, he should have thrown it out.
But, that morning, after he shook off and swallowed down the realization of what he did, he thought that putting the picture back in its place would be less suspicious.
He didn’t count on the fact that the image of that picture lying in the darkness of his drawer, just like the real Remus lying in the darkness of his bed, would be burning in his head all day.
“Are you OK, Padfoot?” asks Remus stepping up behind Sirius, in-between their beds later that night. “You’re all red.”
“I’m fine,” says Sirius, not meeting Remus’s eyes. He’s convinced that Remus will be able to see just how sick and twisted he is if they made eye contact.
“He’s mad,” calls James from across the room.
“Why?” Remus climbs into his bed and tentatively shucks his shirt. Remus hates his body and all his scars and wounds. But he also can’t sleep with a lot of clothes on because he gets too hot in the night.
Sirius stares at James and refuses to let himself look anywhere else.
“Pad’s mad,” laughs James. “Because I have more pictures of me in my photo album than of him.”
“That’s only because your number one fan always has the camera,” says Sirius.
“Is that a comment about me?” asks Peter, from behind his bed curtains.
“Fine, then.” James reaches over his head and starts to pull his curtains closed. “Next outing Moony can have the camera than there will only be pictures of you.” He snaps his curtains closed, but then peeks his messy haired head back out. “Or better yet, you can have the camera. Wink, wink.”
“Go to sleep, Prongs,” snaps Sirius. He reaches up and pulls his own curtains closed.
Sirius hears Remus’s voice call “See you tomorrow, Padfoot” like he always does, but he doesn’t respond.
What did James mean by “Wink, wink”? He couldn’t have known that he… Or maybe he was just referring to the comment he made yesterday. Sirius nods. Yes, James was only thinking about the comment he made yesterday about the picture of Remus. You can wank off to it later.
It was a Sunday which meant Sirius spent more time just hanging around with Remus then he did on normal school days, when they had classes and homework.
And it was so hard. So hard to sit next to Remus and talk to him and accidentally touch him and not immediately think of what he did, what he imagined doing to Remus the night before with a tiny picture clutched in his hand.
Sirius flips over onto his stomach and groans into his pillow.
At one point earlier, Remus had stretched out on the floor to play with Marlene McKinnon’s cat and Sirius almost lost his mind. He grabbed the nearest girl (some random sixth year, he didn’t catch her name) and took her to a corner and snogged her.
Thinking about Remus the entire time.
Sirius rolls over onto his back. Hard as ever and achy and drenched with sweat.
Remus looked so nice, long and lean on the common room floor. Just like how he looked in the picture.
“I’m-fuck it,” grunts Sirius. He twists and turns and grabs the picture from his dresser drawer.
He sighs with great contentment once he has it in front of his face. Long, sinewy Remus, with that soft hair spread out, and the scars criss crossing endless patterns across his chest. Sirius traces his own knobby finger down the side of the sleeping photo of Remus. Then he takes that same finger and traces a similar path down his own body.
And that’s all it takes.
Now the picture is in the trash bin. Sirius had wanked off last night until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but just before he succumbed to sleep, he floated the picture to the bin and left it there. Where it belonged.
Sirius feels dirty. He’s done a lot of naughty things in his life. Pranks that had gone just a little too far and once he and James got stuck in an invisible passageway that had an unfortunate window into McGonagall’s dressing room where they saw things that they will never speak of again. But, imagining that he’s having sex with a boy, with once of his very best mates, is probably something James can say he’s never done.
Sirius made himself promise, promise, that he was going to shrug the last two nights off as a relapse in judgment and move on. But watching Remus eat breakfast, and watching Remus make potions, and watching Remus read, and watching Remus write, and watching Remus play chess, and watching Remus climb the stairs, and watching Remus leave a room, and watching Remus talking, and watching Remus laugh and sneeze and blink, has made his promise a very hard one to keep.
“Padfoot?” Sirius drops the t-shirt in his hands and spins around. “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yeah, Moony,” he says, watching to see if Remus’s eyes leave his face for a more nude part of his body.
“It’s just that, you’ve been awfully quiet today.”
“Moony, don’t snap him out of it,” yells Peter, sauntering around the room. Peter sauntering is the strangest sight. He kind of looks like a buoy stuck out at sea in a bad storm.
James laughs. “Wormtail’s reaping the benefits.” Peter tries to click his heels together but ends up falling over onto his ass.
“What does that mean?” asks Remus, immediately moving forward to help Peter up.
“Opal Olavina, that pretty blonde fifth year, has been trying all day to get Padfoot’s attention and when she failed-”
“She went blind,” Sirius jumps in. “Didn’t you see her sucking Wormy’s face off since after dinner?”
“No,” says Remus. “I was too busy watching you.”
Sirius gags on his own tongue and quickly slides into bed.
“Don’t worry about him, Moony,” says James. He waves his wand and turns the lights out. “I’ll wheedle his issues out of him tomorrow.”
“Good night, Prongs,” calls Sirius, getting into bed. “Night, Wormtail.” Sirius feels something grip his arm and he turns his head to see Remus.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, Moony, no.” Merlin, mad is the last thing he’s feeling towards Remus. “See you tomorrow.”
Remus smiles. His hand loosens and slides down Sirius’s arm with a whisper of pressure until his finger’s curl around Sirius’s wrist and squeezes. “See you tomorrow.”
Sirius doesn’t even pretend to resist. “Accio photo,” he hisses, pointing his wand at the trash bin. The picture of Remus zooms to his hand. And if he wasn’t hard before, he is now.
Sirius burned the picture. He came, rasping for breath, grabbed his wand and an incendio later the picture didn’t even exist anymore.
He thought Tuesday was going to be better. He thought he was going to be able to act normal around Remus. Now that the picture was only a memory.
Fucking James.
Later came. And it hasn’t left yet.
Sirius finds that now he gets hard just looking at Remus. Which has been nothing but a problem for him.
“Alright, out with it.”
“I want to have sex with Remus.”
There’s a moment of dense silence. “Wow, that was easier than I thought,” says James. “I was all ready to hex you.” James pushes and nudges Sirius until Sirius flips over from trying to suffocate himself under his pillows. “So, what took you so long?”
“What?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I am completely disturbed, and I’ve had my problems with it, but….you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Sirius shakes his head.
“Padfoot. Sirius. You and Moony are so involved with each other, that actually it doesn’t surprise me that you don’t even realize anything’s going on.” James suddenly laughs. “It was that picture wasn’t it?”
Sirius’s cheeks heat up with red blotches. He nods. This is the downside of having a best friend who knows you better than you know yourself.
“Well.” James scrunches his hair up. “I think you should at least assure Moony that you’re not mad at him because he’s pretending not to care, and frankly, for someone who is ace at keeping secrets, he’s a horrible actor.” James slaps Sirius on the back and slides off his bed. “And, if it’ll cheer you up, I’ll let you borrow my camera to further your collection.”
James runs away before Sirius can retaliate. But, Sirius isn’t thinking of hurting his best friend. He’d be lost without him.
Sirius wants his picture back. He can’t seem to function anymore. Once again he’s in bed, with an erection, and thoughts about Remus going through his head.
He took James’s advice and assured Remus that he wasn’t mad at him and then, magically, they went back to normal.
Only now Sirius realizes how much he actually flirts with Remus.
Sleeping is something that’s not going to happen until he satisfies himself, and he knows it. So, checking to make sure that James and Peter are sleeping, Sirius slips from his bed and pads the two feet over to Remus’s.
He pulls the curtains back, ignoring the swarm of butterflies battling raging bees in this stomach.
Remus has his wand lit still, placed next to a text book he must have been reading before he fell asleep. The bluish light from his wand curls itself around Remus’s body. He’s stretched out half naked with only a corner of his blanket bunched up around his midriff like a mock strip tease. His long legs are spread wide, and his right arm is thrown up over his head like an invisible lover is holding it there. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open and Sirius doesn’t care if he’s dreaming, unless those dreams are about him.
Sirius places all the imperturbable spells he can remember around Remus’s bed. Then he takes a moment to just stare at a picture come to life.
He crawls up, in-between Remus’s legs, putting his hands exactly where he imagined they would go. Sliding his body up further, settling down gently when they’re completely lined up. Knee to knee, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Sirius extends his left hand up further and latches on to Remus’s wrist, holding his arm down.
He’s not surprised to hear Remus moan, and not surprised to see him open his eyes. “It’s not tomorrow yet, Padfoot,” says Remus, smiling and squirming beneath Sirius.
“I know,” say Sirius. It’s later. “Kiss me.” Their lips meet softly and it’s better than any girl he ever substituted for this.
Or photo.