FIC
Title: The Lusty Month of May
Author: krabapple, naturally
Fandom/Pairing: HP fandom; Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "It's mad! It's gay! A libelous display!"
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything to do with the musical Camelot or with J.K. Rowling's published work.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Warning and/or Author's Notes: No warnings, really, except for the slash content. Which for most of you, shouldn't be a problem. I know I already tortured people with R/S and Camelot earlier this week, but that one was so sad and had no smut. Poor Remus. Anyway, this one is more a bit of fluff with some smut than anything else. I'd started this one before the other, and wasn't going to finish it since fluff is hard (well, for me!), but went ahead and gave it the old college try. Also, fairly short (again, for me): 2,031 words.
The Lusty Month of May
"Out."
"No."
Remus pointed. "Out. Now."
"No." Sirius crossed his arms and glared.
"Sirius Black, go outside right now."
"No. I'm not some bloody dog in need of a walk."
Remus raised his eyebrows but managed to bite back the obvious retort. He didn't, however, manage to hold back a slight snicker.
"Oh, sod off, Remus."
The back door to Grimmuald Place was open, an airy and fragrant May breeze wafting in. In the small back yard a blanket could be seen resting underneath the elm tree, along with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a picnic basket. Remus took another sidestep toward the outdoors. Sirius refused to budge.
Remus sighed. "I just thought a picnic would be a nice idea, considering this is one of the first nice days we've had in a while." Remus was right; so far the spring had been chilly and rainy, far from ideal for any outdoor activity. And Remus thought Sirius could well use some outdoor activity. Unfortunately for both of them, the being out of doors part was quite limited for Sirius at the moment.
"A picnic?"
"Yes."
Sirius peered outside. "I didn't even know we had a picnic basket in this house."
"You didn't. I transfigured the bread basket."
"Great. Now Molly can beat you to death with the stale bread."
"At least I'll go quickly." Remus gestured again toward the open door. He hadn't anticipated Sirius being stubborn about going outdoors. In fact, he had thought Sirius would be thrilled at the idea of spending some time, any time, in the bright sunshine, even if it was only in the Black back yard.
"And do you know why there were no picnic baskets in this house, Remus?"
"I'd imagine it was because the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black considered picnicking something along the lines of . . . hmmm . . . barbaric? Uncivilized?"
"Exactly. Blacks do not call it a meal unless it is at least a five course affair with crystal, china, and silver."
"What with your rebellious nature and all, it would seem to me then that you'd be more than willing to take to the more uncivilized approach of us lesser beings. Besides, you know I can't do silver."
"More like I don't take to being patronized."
Remus bit his lip and just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Must you make everything so difficult?"
Sirius pretended to consider this. "Yes."
"Fine. Here's the situation: I'm going outside to have some lunch. You can either sit in here and sulk, alone, or you can join me outside and have a nice lunch in the fresh air and sunlight. It's up to you." Remus left the "you bastard" off the end of the sentence, but he knew it was clear enough in his voice. He turned around and walked out the door, out into the yard. He was nearly all the way to the blanket when he heard Sirius' footsteps in the grass behind him.
Remus sat down next to the basket, and waited for Sirius to join him; Sirius' steps weren't slow, but they were measured--the gait of someone coming up on an animal they weren't sure was going to respond well. The sun lit up a few indigo streaks in Sirius' hair. Remus smiled up at him, and saw Sirius' shoulders lower and relax a bit.
He was forgiven, as always.
Sirius sat on the blanket next to Remus, the picnic basket between them. He didn't say he was sorry, but he ran the fingers of his right hand through Remus' hair, rubbing Remus' scalp slightly with his fingertips toward the nape of Remus' neck.
Remus sighed, a release of his residual aggravation. "Difficult bastard, Padfoot."
Sirius used his hand to give Remus' head a friendly shove. "Too true, Moony. But you love me anyway."
Remus smiled at Sirius, opened the basket between them. "Lucky you." Sirius smiled, but didn't contradict him.
"What did you pack for this far-flung adventure?" Sirius asked, lowering his head to sniff around the basket.
"Stop nosing around, Sirius. Cold chicken, potatoes. Cheese, crackers, grapes. Trifle for desert." He pulled all of those items out, and then brandished the wine bottle at Sirius. "And, of course, one of the House of Black's most noble vintages."
Sirius grabbed the bottle and went for the corkscrew Remus had just unpacked. "I love going through my father's stores."
Remus' eyes sparkled. "I know you do."
"Son of a bitch never let me drink any when he was alive." Sirius popped the cork and started pouring a glass.
"And look at you now, frittering away both his fortune and his vintage wine collection."
"On half-breeds and mud-bloods, pure-blood traitors and Gryffindors, no less. If he wasn't already dead, this would do it," Sirius said, handing one glass of deep red wine to Remus and pouring another for himself. "What should we toast to?"
Remus considered. "The lusty month of May?"
"I didn't know May was a particularly lusty month," Sirius said, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
"So says Camelot," Remus replied, grinning.
Sirius just looked blank.
Remus sighed with pretend exasperation. "Camelot. The musical? About King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table? Merlin, even?"
"Is that the one where the hills are alive with something?"
Remus chuckled, sending the wine in his glass sloshing up the sides. "No. That's The Sound of Music. Which is what the hills are alive with."
"With the nuns and the Nazis and a bunch of brats?"
"That's the one." Remus laughed again. "For a poof, you really should know your musicals better."
"They're Muggle musicals, Remus," Sirius intoned, as if that explained everything.
"Don't blame this on being a Muggle thing," Remus said. "You know the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd all perfectly well."
"So I don't know the musicals. What are you going to do, take away my shirt-lifter's license? Aren't those the things where people are always spontaneously breaking out into song, anyway? I tell you, that's not natural."
Sirius had obviously forgotten which of the two of them had been in the All House Choir. " 'Tra la! It's May! The lusty month of May! That lovely month when ev'ryone goes blissfully astray. Tra la! It's here! That shocking time of year. When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear!'" Remus finished in his clear tenor, a bit thinner for lack of use than it used to be, but decent nonetheless. Judging by the look on Sirius' face, he'd done at least a half-way decent job. He caught the glint in Sirius' eyes; oh. Maybe a he'd done a little more than half-way decent.
"Oh," Sirius said, and then set his wine down, leaned over, and kissed Remus. He broke the kiss to run his fingers through Remus' hair again. "Maybe it's alright if you're the one breaking out into song." And then he was kissing Remus again, and Remus was fairly sure he wouldn't have been able to sing again, considering his serious lack of oxygen at the moment.
The kiss grew even deeper, more heady, and Remus began to unbutton Sirius' shirt. Sirius waved his hands away impatiently, though whether because he wanted to do undo the shirt himself or because he didn't think it a good idea to become naked in the back yard, Remus didn't know. What he did know was that Sirius' mouth had left his own and moved over to kiss his jaw line, his ear, nuzzle his neck, so Remus wasn't going to complain about getting his hands batted away.
They fell back onto the blanket together, Sirius going first and taking Remus with him. The momentum knocked over Remus' wine glass, red suddenly spilling everywhere. He had a moment of idle thought committed to the fact that that stain would never come out, and then Sirius' hands were underneath his shirt, fingers rubbing up and down his spine, and he arched back into the touch, wine, spilled or un, forgotten.
Then he himself was kissing the length of Sirius' throat, the bit of chest available through the half-way unbuttoned shirt, his hands working on the buttons at Sirius' fly, briefly annoyed that the man was wearing button-fly jeans--wouldn't a zip do the job for him?--but then he had the fly undone. Remus reached in, hand cupping Sirius' cock, and he pulled it out, pushing the jeans down Sirius' hips just a little, Sirius raising them to help and making low, keening noises in the back of his throat. Remus bent his head down, jaw opening up, and took as much of Sirius into his mouth as he could, palms reaching up to cup Sirius' hips. Sirius growled and his feet scrabbled against the blanket. Remus smiled.
And then he began to hum, the melody of the song now a vibration deep in his chest, his throat. He sucked, and nipped with his teeth just the tiniest bit with Sirius cried his name, but mostly he just worked his mouth up and down and hummed, closing his eyes and hearing his own voice start to harmonize with Sirius' harsh breathing, until all at once Sirius stopped squirming and froze, dead still, and came, Remus' third time into the chorus.
Remus swallowed and pulled back, looking up to see a flushed and disheveled Sirius blinking in the mid-day sunlight. The sight was enough to make his own hard cock twitch within his pants, and Sirius, as if sensing the reaction, squirmed further down the blanket until his hands could reach Remus. Then those hands, those magnificent hands, were tugging at his own fly, pulling his pants down to his thighs, and the fingers wrapped slowly around his cock, soon finding a rhythm. Remus bent his head and panted, the sun casting amber lights into his hair. When Sirius cupped his balls and squeezed, he bit his lip and came.
After a little while, Remus caught his breath and put his pants to rights, helping Sirius, who was still lying on his back on the blanket, do the same. He laid down on the blanket next to him, pillowing his head on Sirius' stomach, arm wrapped around his waist, content just to be there in the moment, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the trees and feeling the warm of the sun on his face. He was sleepy, from both the orgasm and the sunshine, and probably would have soon begun to doze, had Sirius' voice not come quietly from above him.
"Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good."
Remus shifted his head slightly to get a better look at Sirius. "I knew you in your youth, Padfoot. You almost never did anything good."
Sirius bent his head down and shot Remus a bemused look. "There you are, standing there, loving me, whether or not you should. So somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good."
Remus knit his brows together in confusion and continued to look up. Sirius, on the other hand, was looking half-honest, half-amused, at Remus. He raised his eyebrows. "Now which poof doesn't know his musicals, Moony?"
Oh. Remus bent his head into Sirius' stomach and laughed. "For someone who just referred to said musical as 'the one with the nuns and the Nazis' you have a fairly good memory."
"My memory is one of my better traits."
Remus only laughed harder, and Sirius squirmed a bit underneath him, but when Remus looked up at the movement, Sirius was smiling.
"It tickles when you laugh."
"Then I shall endeavor not to do so again."
"Liar," Sirius replied.
"Yeah," Remus said, settling his head back down. There was silence for a minute until he tightened his arm around Sirius a bit and said, "You did lots of good things, Padfoot. You did lots of good things."
Sirius didn't say anything, but his hand came down to stroke his fingers through Remus' hair, their lunch all but forgotten in the basket sitting next to them.
Cross-posted to my journal, remusxsirius and shacking_up.
Author: krabapple, naturally
Fandom/Pairing: HP fandom; Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "It's mad! It's gay! A libelous display!"
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything to do with the musical Camelot or with J.K. Rowling's published work.
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Warning and/or Author's Notes: No warnings, really, except for the slash content. Which for most of you, shouldn't be a problem. I know I already tortured people with R/S and Camelot earlier this week, but that one was so sad and had no smut. Poor Remus. Anyway, this one is more a bit of fluff with some smut than anything else. I'd started this one before the other, and wasn't going to finish it since fluff is hard (well, for me!), but went ahead and gave it the old college try. Also, fairly short (again, for me): 2,031 words.
The Lusty Month of May
"Out."
"No."
Remus pointed. "Out. Now."
"No." Sirius crossed his arms and glared.
"Sirius Black, go outside right now."
"No. I'm not some bloody dog in need of a walk."
Remus raised his eyebrows but managed to bite back the obvious retort. He didn't, however, manage to hold back a slight snicker.
"Oh, sod off, Remus."
The back door to Grimmuald Place was open, an airy and fragrant May breeze wafting in. In the small back yard a blanket could be seen resting underneath the elm tree, along with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a picnic basket. Remus took another sidestep toward the outdoors. Sirius refused to budge.
Remus sighed. "I just thought a picnic would be a nice idea, considering this is one of the first nice days we've had in a while." Remus was right; so far the spring had been chilly and rainy, far from ideal for any outdoor activity. And Remus thought Sirius could well use some outdoor activity. Unfortunately for both of them, the being out of doors part was quite limited for Sirius at the moment.
"A picnic?"
"Yes."
Sirius peered outside. "I didn't even know we had a picnic basket in this house."
"You didn't. I transfigured the bread basket."
"Great. Now Molly can beat you to death with the stale bread."
"At least I'll go quickly." Remus gestured again toward the open door. He hadn't anticipated Sirius being stubborn about going outdoors. In fact, he had thought Sirius would be thrilled at the idea of spending some time, any time, in the bright sunshine, even if it was only in the Black back yard.
"And do you know why there were no picnic baskets in this house, Remus?"
"I'd imagine it was because the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black considered picnicking something along the lines of . . . hmmm . . . barbaric? Uncivilized?"
"Exactly. Blacks do not call it a meal unless it is at least a five course affair with crystal, china, and silver."
"What with your rebellious nature and all, it would seem to me then that you'd be more than willing to take to the more uncivilized approach of us lesser beings. Besides, you know I can't do silver."
"More like I don't take to being patronized."
Remus bit his lip and just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Must you make everything so difficult?"
Sirius pretended to consider this. "Yes."
"Fine. Here's the situation: I'm going outside to have some lunch. You can either sit in here and sulk, alone, or you can join me outside and have a nice lunch in the fresh air and sunlight. It's up to you." Remus left the "you bastard" off the end of the sentence, but he knew it was clear enough in his voice. He turned around and walked out the door, out into the yard. He was nearly all the way to the blanket when he heard Sirius' footsteps in the grass behind him.
Remus sat down next to the basket, and waited for Sirius to join him; Sirius' steps weren't slow, but they were measured--the gait of someone coming up on an animal they weren't sure was going to respond well. The sun lit up a few indigo streaks in Sirius' hair. Remus smiled up at him, and saw Sirius' shoulders lower and relax a bit.
He was forgiven, as always.
Sirius sat on the blanket next to Remus, the picnic basket between them. He didn't say he was sorry, but he ran the fingers of his right hand through Remus' hair, rubbing Remus' scalp slightly with his fingertips toward the nape of Remus' neck.
Remus sighed, a release of his residual aggravation. "Difficult bastard, Padfoot."
Sirius used his hand to give Remus' head a friendly shove. "Too true, Moony. But you love me anyway."
Remus smiled at Sirius, opened the basket between them. "Lucky you." Sirius smiled, but didn't contradict him.
"What did you pack for this far-flung adventure?" Sirius asked, lowering his head to sniff around the basket.
"Stop nosing around, Sirius. Cold chicken, potatoes. Cheese, crackers, grapes. Trifle for desert." He pulled all of those items out, and then brandished the wine bottle at Sirius. "And, of course, one of the House of Black's most noble vintages."
Sirius grabbed the bottle and went for the corkscrew Remus had just unpacked. "I love going through my father's stores."
Remus' eyes sparkled. "I know you do."
"Son of a bitch never let me drink any when he was alive." Sirius popped the cork and started pouring a glass.
"And look at you now, frittering away both his fortune and his vintage wine collection."
"On half-breeds and mud-bloods, pure-blood traitors and Gryffindors, no less. If he wasn't already dead, this would do it," Sirius said, handing one glass of deep red wine to Remus and pouring another for himself. "What should we toast to?"
Remus considered. "The lusty month of May?"
"I didn't know May was a particularly lusty month," Sirius said, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
"So says Camelot," Remus replied, grinning.
Sirius just looked blank.
Remus sighed with pretend exasperation. "Camelot. The musical? About King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table? Merlin, even?"
"Is that the one where the hills are alive with something?"
Remus chuckled, sending the wine in his glass sloshing up the sides. "No. That's The Sound of Music. Which is what the hills are alive with."
"With the nuns and the Nazis and a bunch of brats?"
"That's the one." Remus laughed again. "For a poof, you really should know your musicals better."
"They're Muggle musicals, Remus," Sirius intoned, as if that explained everything.
"Don't blame this on being a Muggle thing," Remus said. "You know the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd all perfectly well."
"So I don't know the musicals. What are you going to do, take away my shirt-lifter's license? Aren't those the things where people are always spontaneously breaking out into song, anyway? I tell you, that's not natural."
Sirius had obviously forgotten which of the two of them had been in the All House Choir. " 'Tra la! It's May! The lusty month of May! That lovely month when ev'ryone goes blissfully astray. Tra la! It's here! That shocking time of year. When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear!'" Remus finished in his clear tenor, a bit thinner for lack of use than it used to be, but decent nonetheless. Judging by the look on Sirius' face, he'd done at least a half-way decent job. He caught the glint in Sirius' eyes; oh. Maybe a he'd done a little more than half-way decent.
"Oh," Sirius said, and then set his wine down, leaned over, and kissed Remus. He broke the kiss to run his fingers through Remus' hair again. "Maybe it's alright if you're the one breaking out into song." And then he was kissing Remus again, and Remus was fairly sure he wouldn't have been able to sing again, considering his serious lack of oxygen at the moment.
The kiss grew even deeper, more heady, and Remus began to unbutton Sirius' shirt. Sirius waved his hands away impatiently, though whether because he wanted to do undo the shirt himself or because he didn't think it a good idea to become naked in the back yard, Remus didn't know. What he did know was that Sirius' mouth had left his own and moved over to kiss his jaw line, his ear, nuzzle his neck, so Remus wasn't going to complain about getting his hands batted away.
They fell back onto the blanket together, Sirius going first and taking Remus with him. The momentum knocked over Remus' wine glass, red suddenly spilling everywhere. He had a moment of idle thought committed to the fact that that stain would never come out, and then Sirius' hands were underneath his shirt, fingers rubbing up and down his spine, and he arched back into the touch, wine, spilled or un, forgotten.
Then he himself was kissing the length of Sirius' throat, the bit of chest available through the half-way unbuttoned shirt, his hands working on the buttons at Sirius' fly, briefly annoyed that the man was wearing button-fly jeans--wouldn't a zip do the job for him?--but then he had the fly undone. Remus reached in, hand cupping Sirius' cock, and he pulled it out, pushing the jeans down Sirius' hips just a little, Sirius raising them to help and making low, keening noises in the back of his throat. Remus bent his head down, jaw opening up, and took as much of Sirius into his mouth as he could, palms reaching up to cup Sirius' hips. Sirius growled and his feet scrabbled against the blanket. Remus smiled.
And then he began to hum, the melody of the song now a vibration deep in his chest, his throat. He sucked, and nipped with his teeth just the tiniest bit with Sirius cried his name, but mostly he just worked his mouth up and down and hummed, closing his eyes and hearing his own voice start to harmonize with Sirius' harsh breathing, until all at once Sirius stopped squirming and froze, dead still, and came, Remus' third time into the chorus.
Remus swallowed and pulled back, looking up to see a flushed and disheveled Sirius blinking in the mid-day sunlight. The sight was enough to make his own hard cock twitch within his pants, and Sirius, as if sensing the reaction, squirmed further down the blanket until his hands could reach Remus. Then those hands, those magnificent hands, were tugging at his own fly, pulling his pants down to his thighs, and the fingers wrapped slowly around his cock, soon finding a rhythm. Remus bent his head and panted, the sun casting amber lights into his hair. When Sirius cupped his balls and squeezed, he bit his lip and came.
After a little while, Remus caught his breath and put his pants to rights, helping Sirius, who was still lying on his back on the blanket, do the same. He laid down on the blanket next to him, pillowing his head on Sirius' stomach, arm wrapped around his waist, content just to be there in the moment, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the trees and feeling the warm of the sun on his face. He was sleepy, from both the orgasm and the sunshine, and probably would have soon begun to doze, had Sirius' voice not come quietly from above him.
"Somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good."
Remus shifted his head slightly to get a better look at Sirius. "I knew you in your youth, Padfoot. You almost never did anything good."
Sirius bent his head down and shot Remus a bemused look. "There you are, standing there, loving me, whether or not you should. So somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good."
Remus knit his brows together in confusion and continued to look up. Sirius, on the other hand, was looking half-honest, half-amused, at Remus. He raised his eyebrows. "Now which poof doesn't know his musicals, Moony?"
Oh. Remus bent his head into Sirius' stomach and laughed. "For someone who just referred to said musical as 'the one with the nuns and the Nazis' you have a fairly good memory."
"My memory is one of my better traits."
Remus only laughed harder, and Sirius squirmed a bit underneath him, but when Remus looked up at the movement, Sirius was smiling.
"It tickles when you laugh."
"Then I shall endeavor not to do so again."
"Liar," Sirius replied.
"Yeah," Remus said, settling his head back down. There was silence for a minute until he tightened his arm around Sirius a bit and said, "You did lots of good things, Padfoot. You did lots of good things."
Sirius didn't say anything, but his hand came down to stroke his fingers through Remus' hair, their lunch all but forgotten in the basket sitting next to them.
Cross-posted to my journal, remusxsirius and shacking_up.