I wrote more R/S porn
Okay, this was supposed to be short and cute, and therefore, of course, is neither.
Title: Funny Thing
Author: kabeyk
Rating: Hard R/NC17
Word count: 6000+
Summary: Remus has hated being touched for as long as Sirius has known him. So what changed?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Slight dominant/submissive, and freckles.
I'm going to cross-post like hell, then go to work, so if there's any major errors... ah sod it.
Funny Thing
Sirius had found it out one day, horrible November rain clouding the sky, then bucketing down, and four irritable, nearly-teenage boys curled up on the one bedstead. Pettigrew all twitchy and eager to please, Lupin still shy from their recent discovery of his condition. Sirius and James had been the most bored, being that they had the most active minds and the shortest attention spans, and they’d been hitting and kicking and jumping on each other all afternoon. Peter was giggling in that nervous way of his and Remus had fallen off the bed three times already, though Sirius had possibly thought, even at that point, that he seemed a little too quick to dive away from them.
They’d started suggesting different ways to occupy themselves, James promising that they’d do whichever suggestion was the most ridiculous, thereby ensuring that Remus wouldn’t contribute to the game just in case the inevitable trouble they found themselves in was all his fault. Peter said little too, but right from their first day of meeting Sirius had been struck by Pettigrew’s appalling lack of imagination.
It was James whose idea was most definitely the stupidest: play join-the-dots on Lupin’s freckles, and Remus had yelped and fallen off the bed for the fourth time, before they’d even had the chance to decide that that one was decidedly the most amusing course of action. When Sirius had dived over the edge of the bed on top of Remus had been the real shock; being the quiet dreamy sort had meant a lot of the boys left Lupin alone and he clearly wasn’t used to this sort of thing, and they’d all got the impression that he wasn’t very used to people, or rather young people, in general.
He’d screamed blue murder with Sirius on top of him, which no-one had expected, and Sirius quickly realised that no-one had ever tried to fight with Lupin like this before. It was nothing like fighting with James, who laughed and yelled and twisted his body; Remus instead jerked his skinny body very quickly, managed to extricate himself from under Sirius with smooth and easy grace, then snarled and clawed as Sirius’ hands reached for his jumper to try for a glimpse of freckle.
It was finished in seconds, Sirius staring in confusion, Remus shuffled back against the edge of the next bed over, eyes wild with almost-terror, breathing in short, shaky pants.
Sirius knew that everyone’s first thought was that this was a werewolf thing -that Remus couldn’t bear to be attacked, or was scared he would hurt someone- so the subject was immediately changed, and James was soon suggesting that they play join-the-dots on Eleanor Barker’s measles. Sirius had to point out that she probably didn’t have measles anymore, and he and James had ended up hexing each other with different coloured spots.
#
It had been a few days later when Sirius had been bored again, this time with only Remus to keep him company, Remus who was far too engrossed in some stupid, boring, girly book to pay any attention to his friend. After a good ten minutes of ‘I’ll just finish this page’ and ‘Only a few pages of this chapter left and I’ll be with you’, Sirius found himself idly contemplating the freckles on Lupin’s back. His friend was, as was usually the case, sprawled in what surely must be one of the most uncomfortable positions to read in ever; lying on his front, head and one arm over the edge of his bed, book laid on the floor. (There were many such positions when it came to Lupin and his books, once Sirius had caught him reading in the bath, completely underwater except for knees, nose, eyes, the damp top of his head, and his right arm, which had been extended straight vertical holding a hardback book which was rested on his palm.) A sliver of skin showed above the waistband of his silly muggley trousers, and Sirius suddenly got the urge to see what Lupin would do if someone actually tried to play join-the-dots on his freckles.
Remus screamed so loudly as Sirius grazed the inked tip of a quill across his skin, and the look of fear and betrayal on his face as he scrambled desperately away was so truly awful, that it was nearly three years before Sirius dared touch him again.
#
It wasn’t very often that Sirius Black was at a genuine loss with what to do in any given situation, but this situation, he felt, wasn’t one that most people had to suffer through. Or at least not in quite the same way. He couldn’t have said when he first noticed it, or even which were signs to notice and which were just everyday normalities, because it was just that strange and incomprehensible.
He’d learned, several years ago, that Remus Lupin did not like to be touched, though he’d never made the effort to find out why; if Remus didn’t want fingers on him then that was fine. Sirius even occasionally went so far as to stop others from accidentally making Lupin uncomfortable, one time even grabbing James hard by the arms as he dived to reach for Remus, and he got a most grateful smile from Remus for his trouble, if a rather puzzled and angry look from James. But he did sometimes wonder what the boy did about girls, I mean, did he not even like girls touching him? But it was hard to tell, because Remus avoided conversations like those.
And he wanted to ask now, because suddenly it was important that he divine Remus’ motives.
Sirius was nervous, which was endlessly silly, nervous about starting a conversation with Remus of all people, who wouldn’t have hurt a fly, or even a wasp that had just stung him. But then again this was Remus who still, at the age of fifteen, squealed like a girl when poked in the arm unexpectedly; Remus who took it as a personal insult if someone’s arm accidentally nudged his at the dinner table; Remus who twitched like he’d been hit with a pins-and-needles hex if someone’s fingers brushed against his own while they walked along the corridor. And they still had that third-year house photo, rows of Gryffindors crammed together on wooden benches. Sirius found he could hardly look at that picture; the look of unhappiness and discomfort on Remus’ face drew his eyes and sympathy immediately, and Remus’ image would blink desperately back at him from his place squashed between two random students, his unwilling arms and legs forced to touch theirs.
So… what had changed? Sirius had told himself, quite adamantly and convincingly, that Remus was just trying to learn to be normal; and what was wrong with that? Sirius would offer to help and Remus would be pleased and everything would be fine. And what would that ‘help’ entail? Damn it! But it made sense; one day Remus would want and need to touch someone, and how would he learn if he’d never had the practice?
#
‘Do you do that to everyone?’ Sirius asked bluntly.
‘Ignore them while I’m reading? You know I do, don’t feel like you’re special or anything.’ Remus glanced up a second to flash Sirius a teasing grin, but his smile froze when Sirius stared back a little pointedly. Something may or may not have flickered through his eyes before he turned, still smiling harmlessly, back to his book.
‘I said, do you do that to anyone else?’
‘That’s a different question, and you haven’t told me what yet,’ Remus was still as calm as ever, eyes still on his book and possibly still reading even, but there was no hint of a smile now.
‘You know exactly what.’ Sirius paused and found himself suddenly angry; that he’d worried for weeks over this and Remus acted as if it were nothing. ‘Remus-‘
‘What?’ Remus seemed nothing but supremely irritated, that his reading-time was being spoilt and without a decent explanation.
Sirius took a breath. He gave up trying to read Remus’ thoughts -they were buried too deep- and he looked away from Remus’ pale face (lashes and eyelids flickering as he read) and stared firmly at the door. ‘You- you had better not, you know; they’ll think- that you’re some kind of, you know, some kind of poof.’
‘They already do,’ Remus said, his answer coming too fast to be natural, but his voice and face as controlled as ever.
‘…what? Remus! Who? Who calls you a poof?’
Remus sighed, and at length glanced up from his book, though he didn’t close it. ‘Well, all of Slytherin House for a start.’
‘Since when? I’ve never heard them.’
‘Well they don’t do it when you and James are there.’
‘Why didn’t you say,’ Sirius whined, horrified that anyone dare bully Remus, and that they actually waited until he was alone to do it.
Remus shrugged and turned his book over again.
‘No, Moony, wait. Just tell me -I mean- you aren’t, are you?’ He wasn’t sure his tone was right, having tried for a casual almost-joke, he found the question at the end came out sounding all too desperate.
Again there was no change in expression, and Sirius felt painfully foolish having thought it was due to Remus’ indifference to the conversation in general, when really it was that he’d practiced this conversation so many times that even the worst outcome was comfortingly familiar. And, finally, he shrugged again.
And Sirius didn’t know what to do because he hadn’t practiced this bit in his head, he’d merely gone through all the possible reasons and excuses for Remus’ behaviour, he hadn’t even bothered to realise that if you needed such weird and wonderful excuses then maybe the simplest answer was the truth.
And Remus Lupin was a homosexual.
Shouldn’t have needed a shrug to tell you that. And what now? Ignore it? Ask what it’s like? Console him? Reassure him? Hate him? ‘You don’t have to be,’ Sirius blurted unexpectedly, and was unexpectedly grateful because it made Remus shut his book and look him in the eye for the first time.
‘I have to be a werewolf,’ he answered, pale, his gaze so calm that it felt eerie.
Sirius opened his mouth to point out the differences, but when his brain kicked in the feeling of shock knocked the air out of his lungs and the words wouldn’t come. To Remus it wasn’t different; he couldn’t stop his transformation each month, and he couldn’t stop fancying boys. ‘So you don’t have a choice.’
‘No.’
‘Is that why you don’t like to be touched?’
Remus smirked, and it was almost nasty. ‘Because I’m gay, or because I’m a werewolf?’
‘I- sorry, that was a stupid question.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, do you -ah- do you touch other boys like that? I mean, like you touch me?’
Again, Remus was calmly expecting the question, and there was even a smidgeon of amusement in his demeanour. ‘I think that’s one you have to work out for yourself,’ he replied, and then his attention was back on his book.
#
It made sense, Sirius knew, that Remus should have a crush on him in particular - after all, he was the obvious candidate. James may have slightly more defined arm muscles -only due to his intensive masturbatory habits, Sirius liked to point out- but Sirius Black was definitely the handsome one; he was the taller (the Blacks were all tall and lean; one of the few desirable family traits in Sirius’ opinion), had much nicer hair, and was generally lusted after by the lower school. The whole thing was perfectly understandable.
But weird all the same.
#
They were both panting for breath; hidden in an alcove whilst on the run from Filch, and then Sirius found himself shuddering at the sudden pressure of Remus’ robe-covered arm against his. It felt odd, he knew, only because he’d never felt that before; a touch from Remus, voluntary, even purposeful. A sideways glance as they stood, backs to the wall, revealed that Remus had obviously noticed what he’d done, had obviously intended it. After all, Sirius always ensured to stand distance enough from Remus that they’d never touch accidentally.
And so there they were; side by side, Remus’ eyes lowered (almost reverently) as Sirius watched him carefully, watched him still breathing a little too fast, even though they’d been still for a while now. He looked as if he was totally absorbed too, as if this intentional contact needed intense concentration and complicated thought. But his eyelashes kept fluttering, and his breath came in short, nervous pants, lips slightly parted yet also slightly curved into an almost-smile.
#
After a time it did get annoying, and in the end Sirius got fed-up with the vagueness and pithy-ness of it one day, Remus’ fingers tentatively brushing his own as they waited outside Professor McGonagall’s office for questioning.
‘She’s going to kill you,’ Remus reminded him -with an unwelcome amount of glee in his voice- for the third time.
‘Yes, I know, thank you,’ and Remus’ fingers slid past his again, a quick wriggle of smooth knuckles against his own.
‘Okay.’
‘Well how about pissing off?’
‘In a minute,’ Remus replied serenely with another brief fluttering of fingers.
Sirius turned suddenly, needing the element of surprise, and roughly grasped Remus by the shoulders, backing him against the wall. ‘What the hell do you want from me, Lupin?’
He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected, but all he got from the endeavour was a vicious snarl and some sort of complex wrestling move that culminated in him being sprawled inelegantly on the floor, in a manner hardly befitting a Black.
So if Remus wanted him, why did he react that way? Surely that was exactly what the poof wanted; to be clutched passionately against the object of his affections? It made no earthly sense that Sirius could determine, chin propped on his palm, frowning eyes surveying the skirting-board as Remus stormed self-righteously off down the corridor.
The office door opened and McGonagall glared down at him, a look of pure disdain plain on her features as she stepped gingerly over his feet. ‘I know you’re in trouble, Black, but grovelling won’t get you anywhere.’
#
Sirius watched Remus as he curled over the desk in their room (intent on some essay or other) because his shirt-tail was tucked under his ghastly home-knitted jumper, and was therefore offering an open view of a good two inches of pale, freckled back. Sirius had found he was becoming unprecedentedly interested in his friend, but merely in simple, brotherly sympathy for Remus’ crush.
Some form of vengeance was necessary, so he decided this time to go with the feather-end of his quill as he crept closer with stealth learnt through years of dedicated practice.
Remus twitched himself a good six inches off the seat of his chair as the fine, white fronds traced across his skin, and a satisfyingly agitated yelp tore involuntarily from his throat. ‘Why,’ Sirius asked after he’d resettled, eyes lowered and whole body trembling. They were no longer touching, but Sirius leant in with lips very close to Remus’ ear, ‘why is the reaction to that so different from yesterday’s rather more aggressive reaction?’
‘I don’t like to be touched,’ Remus replied primly, eyes, as ever, still resting on his textbook.
‘But…?’ Sirius carefully applied the feather to skin again, just the slightest of touches, as warning and encouragement.
‘I’m very- very, very ticklish,’ Remus confessed, his voice hitching again as the feathery threat was removed.
And Sirius smiled; a gorgeous, slow-bursting smile, both gleeful and intensely predatory. He was ecstatic to have discovered that gem of valuable information; oh, the things he could do with such knowledge! ‘So… you like to be tickled…?’
‘Yes- no! But, not- really, always.’ Remus paused, presumably searching for a more descriptive, more academic answer. ‘Sometimes, in a way.’
‘I see.’ Actually, Sirius could understand that description of tickling, as he himself was susceptible in one particular area of his body, and he knew all too well the desperate bubble of pleasure it caused, simultaneously accompanied by intense, fidgety irritation.
‘Don’t you- please don’t-‘
‘Take advantage? Now if you hadn’t wanted me to know, then you’d hardly have mentioned it.’
Sirius placed the quill very precisely on the desk, then let his body crumple neatly to the floor, to his knees. ‘What are you doing?’ Remus asked, voice vaguely panicked.
‘It’s what you want, isn’t it? To be able to touch and be touched, without it causing you pain?’
‘But-‘
‘Hush now,’ Sirius murmured, but knowing (and, unnervingly, hoping) that Remus would be unable to remain silent for long.
To commence he tenderly trailed a fingertip along the same route the quill had followed, but it wasn’t quite the gentle beginning he was planning, as it caused Remus to jump almost as badly as before; his head tipped forward, eyes scrunched, and fingers clutched into the desk-top.
‘Is that bad?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes-‘ Remus whimpered again, one leg jiggling uncontrollably, as Sirius ran his fingers down the brief section of spine that the gap between hem and waist-band afforded.
‘Bad in a good way?’ Sirius asked in an almost-whisper, surprised by how eager and intense his own voice sounded.
‘Mmh-‘ was the only sound Remus managed as he shivered again.
Sirius gladly took that as an affirmation, and slid his fingers round to Remus’ side, stroking the soft flesh above his hip with the back of a curled forefinger.
‘Ah!’ Remus made a noise that was both a cry and a squeak, and his left hand twitched down to push Sirius away.
‘No,’ Sirius admonished, keeping his voice kind and patient, and with only an hint of warning. ‘You wouldn’t want me to have to bind your hands, now, would you?’
Remus looked down at him then, for the first time, he realised, since he’d walked into the room. Remus’ features were an intriguing sight; cheeks flushed, lips open, and his eyes big and wild, showing something that was almost, but not quite, fear.
Sirius watched him closely as his fingers reached for skin again, and listened eagerly to Remus’ anticipatory breaths; each breath in was a series of jerky gasps, and each breath out separated into short, panting shudders. Sirius reached round to his stomach, realising that he actually didn’t know if Remus had belly-freckles or not. Definitely on nose and cheeks, and even shoulders, but really, fancy not knowing that.
He stroked the back of his finger further round Remus’ front, lifting his jumper and shirt discretely as he worked, and Remus’ breaths got stranger at that. Upon tipping his head sideways to attempt to get a peek of belly he realised why; Remus was definitely enjoying this far more than he should have been.
And Sirius smiled even wider, because he made Remus Lupin hard.
Remus’ eyes closed when his skin was touched again, though his lashes continued to flicker against his cheeks, and Sirius’ discovery made the sexual nature of his gasps and moans easier to discern. He learnt that Remus’ sides were the most sensitive, caused the more powerful reactions -louder cries, more violent twitching- and that his soft, fine body hair was standing receptively on-end.
‘Okay Lupin?’ Sirius asked, mouth moving against the shoulder of Remus’ jumper.
‘I think- that’s enough for today.’
‘Yes.’ Sirius stood slowly, not wanting to acknowledge his own sense of disappointment at having to stop the attentions for today.
‘Sirius, why-‘ Remus asked, still shuddering a little (but more relaxed now), his eyes round and curious as he gazed up at Sirius standing over him.
‘S’good for you.’ Sirius grinned, reality rushing back and making his grin wider and more careless. ‘Better get on with that essay, eh?’ And he gave Lupin’s hair a good scrubbing (ignoring the way he flinched) before he left.
#
Remus Lupin was a strange creature, and was getting stranger by the day. Sirius knew he should be doing something constructive to try and hide Remus’ increasingly erratic behaviour, but what was the point in that when it was far more pleasurable (and mutually rewarding) to encourage it?
Remus’ breathing would quicken immediately whenever Sirius got within a couple of feet of him, eyes flickering to and from him, occasionally daring to stare a little longer if no-one was about. The brushing of fingers increased, as did other accidental contacts; arms, shoulders, elbows, knees.
But when Remus shifted to rest their thighs together during History of Magic, Sirius found that he was the one whose breathing was the most laboured, feeling the warmth of Remus’ thigh through their robes and he found himself paying attention to the lesson just to distract himself from making a total twat of himself.
#
There were tight-clasped fingers around his wrist for a good hour during Care of Magical Creatures, but he was pretending not to notice as it was rather pathetic really; the way Remus would look at him, follow him, cling to him. Holding his wrist was practically like holding hands (but with the subtle difference that there was no contact of skin as Remus held on over his robes) and Sirius found himself rather annoyed; that Lupin dare hold him so possessively (and in public too, though it would have gone unnoticed), that he dare believe that Sirius was now his to touch whenever he wanted.
But when he turned to finally admonish, the look of pure, terrified lust on Remus’ face made all coherent thoughts fall immediately out of his head.
#
If you’d asked Sirius to describe his friend Remus, the answer would have been something along the lines of ‘well he may be a bit odd-looking, but he’s a nice enough bloke’. And it was true enough; Remus was definitely a bit of a freak. Especially now, as he played some childish sort of game with Sirius’ left hand under the desk during Transfiguration. What was weird about it was that Remus didn’t seem to care that they might be caught, was just making notes from McGonagall’s lecture quite normally, and Sirius was the one wriggling as his hand was stroked and massaged and pinched at.
But Remus was vaguely attractive in an unusual sort of way, if you liked boys who were pale and delicate, with long pale limbs, thin pale-brown hair and matching eyes. But he was fun; quiet yet stubborn, calm yet wicked, and Sirius always felt a rush of glee when Remus’ features took on that expression of supreme angelic goodness as he was one of only three people on earth that knew it meant something evilly wonderful was about to happen.
Remus turned Sirius’ hand over and placed it palm-down on his own leg.
Remus stroked the back of Sirius’ hand with his thumb, continuing to write left-handed (as he was), but his body rocking slightly, and Sirius bet that was because his cock was hard as could be right now.
Sirius looked sideways at his friend, cautiously, and noted the look of perfect, beatific virtue Remus wore. Oh yes; harder than he’s ever been in his life and desperate to just- Sirius dug his fingernails into his friend’s thigh to stop from accidentally sliding his hand further up his leg (just to check), and Remus squealed with quiet pain and shoved his hand away.
#
Sirius had been basking in the glorious attention from his latest escapade quite happily as his friends fawned over his injuries in the Hospital wing; James’ congratulations at finally winning one over on his cousin, Peter’s congratulations at managing not to get himself killed, and he hadn’t noticed Lupin really at all until the three were about to leave. More whoops from James, a grin and a thumbs-up from Peter, then, as they slid through the door, Remus darted back, just ever-so-briefly, and (without touching anywhere else) kissed Sirius firmly on the lips. And then was gone.
#
Sirius let the door swing shut on it’s own, the heavy weight of the oak pulling it closed slowly, the notch fitting in with a gentle, ominous click.
And he waited.
When he was sure that Remus knew it was him, reading it from Remus’ tightly-tensed body-language, he advanced, his steps measured and deliberate.
Remus was lying on his bed, stretched out on his front, facing away from the door and barefoot, and Sirius quickly took hold of an ankle to get a closer look, and indeed; Lupin had freckles on the bottoms of his feet. Remus trembled quietly, but Sirius knew that it was from a genuine fear; feet were delicate, private things and anyone who dared to touch the feet of Sirius Black would find themselves kicked solidly (and, for a change, accidentally) in the face.
And oh, there was nothing more intoxicating than this pure rush of power, Remus impatiently waiting, and, fucking hell, he’d actually closed his book.
‘Lupin,’ Sirius said, seating himself on the edge of the bed, and he wished he could see Remus’ face. Remus just waited, but the anticipation was thick and cloying in the air and Sirius wondered if Remus was hard already. ‘Take your shirt off.’
Remus’ head twitched sideways to stare at him in amazement, looking at Sirius from profile and therefore through one eye, like some alert and nervous bird.
‘Now,’ Sirius insisted, his voice a little stronger.
Remus nodded, scrambling round and up quickly to his knees, beginning on his buttons, fingers fumbling in his haste, and yes; he was actually quite obviously hard. Sirius smiled triumphantly, on the inside at least, amazed that Remus could get hard from just anticipating a touch to his skin. No, Sirius corrected himself, he’s hard from anticipating you touching his skin.
Eventually Remus managed to remove the shirt, despite his uncooperative hands, and Sirius glanced over his bare chest; pale skin, flat little belly-button and small, hard nipples. Sirius had been expecting by this point (in whatever was going on) that he might enjoy the sight of Remus’ naked chest, but he still found it disturbing just how much he did enjoy it. Remus was thin, made up of sharp corners and long slim bones, and delicate though he was, he was also clearly very male; with his flat stomach and angular shoulders, narrow, pointed hips and red-blond hair trailing his belly.
And the freckles! They were everywhere; clustering together in places and evenly spread in others. Sirius had been fascinated by them when he’d first met Remus and he realised now that nothing had changed. They were most concentrated on his shoulders and belly, and down the centre of his chest, all brown and gold and beautiful.
Remus watched himself being watched, pensive and clearly desperate for approval, his eyes bright and open.
‘Okay,’ Sirius said, ‘lie down.’
Remus nodded, an eager jerk of the head, and lay back; absolutely straight, legs together and his arms by his sides, fingers curled around thick handfuls of the duvet. His eyes were squinched closed and his deeply shaky breaths were punctuated with eager little licks of his lips. And his erection was blatant now in this position; Sirius could actually see where the tip of his cock rested, straining, against the thin fabric of his trousers.
Sirius oh-so-carefully crept upwards on the bed, swinging a leg over Remus’ prone body but deliberately not touching, and he leaned down, hands either side of Remus’ shoulders, to watch him. Remus didn’t even open his eyes, his whole body seemingly concentrating on that first touch. There was something so fascinatingly beautiful about Remus; watching his wet lips, vibrating eyelashes, and the gentle shivers moving their way through him. And there was another place that Sirius had never known you could have freckles; on your lips. How had he never noticed those before, speckled around the borders of Remus’ mouth and even in fact visible on the pale pinkness of his actual lips.
Sirius pushed himself up again, knees either side of Remus’ hips, and tried to decide where to start. He reached forwards and pressed a fingertip to Remus’ chin and felt his friend’s jaw move as he gasped. Then he slowly traced the finger down, over Remus’ jaw, throat, collar-bone, down the centre of his chest-bone, Remus writhing underneath, head tipped back and little choking noises escaping his mouth.
Sirius hadn't thought that boys could be beautiful, that he himself could find them beautiful, but Remus so obviously was, soft and freckled and perfect. He ran his fingers all over, trying to take in every last freckle, wondering if now he'd be allowed to join them up, but then joining them up with his fingers was even more fun anyway. Or with his tongue...
I wonder what freckles taste like.
‘You ready for your next lesson, Lupin?’
All he got in reply was another laboured breath in.
‘Remus?’
‘…yes, yes, anything-‘
‘Okay.’ Sirius got to his hands and knees again, crawling down, but still without touching Remus’ body, letting Remus feel hot breath against his skin.
‘Uhhh.’
‘Ready?’ Sirius whispered against Remus’ ribs.
‘Mm!’
Remus twitched violently as Sirius’ mouth pressed openly to his skin, but also moaned rather loudly too. Sirius froze in position, feeling the deep, hungry moan as well as hearing it. ‘Remus,’ Sirius hissed, letting his tongue lick a little, kissing more and dragging his lips slowly to draw out more of those moans that made his body ache and want.
The flesh of Remus’ belly felt amazingly good and Sirius was sure his own skin wasn’t this soft, this touchable, but then maybe it was different, with Remus being so sensitive and beautiful, maybe it was because he had a different type of skin or something.
Sirius was kissing and licking and lapping over Remus’ belly now, and it was making Remus crazy; twitching and wriggling, his hands reaching and trying to grab, legs kicking to push Sirius away.
Oh it was just so perfect and satisfying to watch him that way; all mad and wild and desperate and passionate. Though it was even more satisfying to… ‘Still!’ Sirius yelled, clamping his hands to Remus’ wrists, surprised at how angry he suddenly was.
‘Ah!’ Remus whinged, falling back, but his squirming ceased immediately. Sirius watched his chest rising and falling heavily as he held Remus’ wrists tightly against the mattress. Being held down made Remus worse, but in a spectacular way; all tiny whines and grunts and desperately thrusting hips as Sirius kissed all of his soft, tasty belly-freckles.
He let Remus wriggle a little, because the boy clearly needed the relief, not because Sirius in any way took pleasure from the feeling of Remus’ cock rhythmically nudging his shoulder. ‘Are you going to come?’ Sirius asked him matter-of-factly, lips brushing his side to elicit another jerk of the hips.
‘I need to-‘ he whined.
‘Really?’ Sirius asked, letting his teeth graze over Remus’ left hip-bone.
‘Yes, oh- Padfoot, you’re going to break me if you -ah!- keep on like this.’
‘Unbutton your trousers.’
‘Wh- what?’
‘Do it,’ Sirius told him, voice calmly authoritative as he sat back on his haunches, freeing Remus’ hands.
Remus stared at him but his shaking fingers managed to find his fly-buttons and prise them hurriedly open.
‘And your pants.’
There was no point pretending to himself that he wasn’t eager for this now, that he wasn’t desperate to look at Remus’ cock; to touch and lick and kiss him. Remus shuffled his trousers down a bit, then pushed at the waistband of his underwear.
His erection sprang free easily, and Sirius quickly reached to run the back of his finger up to the wet tip, listening to Remus actually sobbing.
Sirius gently applied his tongue to the end of Remus’ cock, then stroked back down it. ‘Tickle?’ he asked, kissing down the length of it, Remus’ cock twitching from the kisses.
‘Umm…’
‘In a good way?’ He licked again, then pressed another kiss to the tip.
‘Please -oh, I- please-‘
Truth be told, Sirius actually didn’t know how to do this, but a mental image of Remus sliding his pretty, freckled mouth down over Sirius’ own cock helped him along with the idea of it, and he closed his mouth and sucked a little, just the end and just gently. Remus made a blissful noise, part growl, part whine, and Sirius was too distracted by it even to stop him from tangling his fingers into Sirius’ hair.
‘S-Sirius, I-‘
‘Mm,’ was all the reply he got. Sirius didn’t need him to say anything because Remus was absolutely rock-solid in his mouth and it was obvious he was about to come.
When he did it was it was loud, a very intense cry of pleasure that more than made up for the rather bitter taste in Sirius’ mouth.
Sirius raised his head, dizzy with lust, and he leaned over Remus. ‘You okay?’ he asked his friend, who was watching him and whimpering, his shoulders shaking as he tried to breathe more calmly. ‘Yes?’ Remus gasped a few more times before reaching up, grabbing the front of Sirius’ robes and pulling him down. ‘Re-‘
Remus kissed him, hard, their bodies side by side and pressed completely together.
‘But-‘
‘Shh-‘ Remus’ voice and hands still shook, but he’d gained confidence from somewhere and he easily, if shakily, lifted Sirius’ robes and lowered his pants.
Sirius knew he was in trouble when he was gifted with that innocent smile. ‘Wha-‘
And then Remus was touching his cock; it was only a gentle back-of-a-finger stroke, but then no-one had ever touched him erect before, so it was perfect, and the way Remus watched him and licked his own lips as he did it could hardly have been any more erotic. Sirius reached out a hand and placed it on Remus’ front, pushing a finger into his belly button, causing a little giggle and a raised eyebrow.
Sirius looked at his friend, who was gay and beautiful, watching Remus watch his cock, watch his own fingers on it. He glanced down himself to see what all the fuss was about, and Remus’ thin freckled fingers stroking and massaging made it all too much.
‘You’re going to come?’
Sirius managed a brief nod before it was happening; orgasm bursting out of him, come spurting on Remus’ fingers and warm, freckled belly.
Sirius sighed and flopped onto his back.
Remus calmly sucked each fingertip clean and licked his own palm, before re-arranging Sirius’ pants and robe for him and rolling onto his back to begin to fasten his own shirt.
They lay, side by side, not even touching for nearly a minute, Sirius’ mind all over the place; partly shocked at what they’d done, but also, he realised, feeling rather smug and pleased with himself. After all, he was barely sixteen and he’d already had his first hand-job (which was quite an achievement) and he’d also given his first blow-job (admittedly not something he’d ever expected to do, but pretty good all the same). And Remus’ fingers were starting to tickle against his own.
He turned to smile at his friend who turned also. ‘So am I getting better?’ Remus asked with mischievous innocence.
‘Better?’
‘At the touching thing.’ Sirius found he loved the way Remus’ smile hitched sideways when amused.
‘Oh. Yes, definitely. You are getting very good at touching people.’
‘But I still need more practice?’ Remus had looked back to the ceiling to ask that question, and his too-calm tone told Sirius that he was asking an important question.
‘Well, yeah. Just think; if we practice enough, one day you might be normal.’
‘Don’t think I’ll ever be normal, I just don't like being touched.’
‘Nah, you’ll always be this funny little freak-thing.’
Remus grinned, sideways and wicked, and it took Sirius’ breath away. 'You can touch me any time you want.'
Title: Funny Thing
Author: kabeyk
Rating: Hard R/NC17
Word count: 6000+
Summary: Remus has hated being touched for as long as Sirius has known him. So what changed?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Slight dominant/submissive, and freckles.
I'm going to cross-post like hell, then go to work, so if there's any major errors... ah sod it.
Funny Thing
Sirius had found it out one day, horrible November rain clouding the sky, then bucketing down, and four irritable, nearly-teenage boys curled up on the one bedstead. Pettigrew all twitchy and eager to please, Lupin still shy from their recent discovery of his condition. Sirius and James had been the most bored, being that they had the most active minds and the shortest attention spans, and they’d been hitting and kicking and jumping on each other all afternoon. Peter was giggling in that nervous way of his and Remus had fallen off the bed three times already, though Sirius had possibly thought, even at that point, that he seemed a little too quick to dive away from them.
They’d started suggesting different ways to occupy themselves, James promising that they’d do whichever suggestion was the most ridiculous, thereby ensuring that Remus wouldn’t contribute to the game just in case the inevitable trouble they found themselves in was all his fault. Peter said little too, but right from their first day of meeting Sirius had been struck by Pettigrew’s appalling lack of imagination.
It was James whose idea was most definitely the stupidest: play join-the-dots on Lupin’s freckles, and Remus had yelped and fallen off the bed for the fourth time, before they’d even had the chance to decide that that one was decidedly the most amusing course of action. When Sirius had dived over the edge of the bed on top of Remus had been the real shock; being the quiet dreamy sort had meant a lot of the boys left Lupin alone and he clearly wasn’t used to this sort of thing, and they’d all got the impression that he wasn’t very used to people, or rather young people, in general.
He’d screamed blue murder with Sirius on top of him, which no-one had expected, and Sirius quickly realised that no-one had ever tried to fight with Lupin like this before. It was nothing like fighting with James, who laughed and yelled and twisted his body; Remus instead jerked his skinny body very quickly, managed to extricate himself from under Sirius with smooth and easy grace, then snarled and clawed as Sirius’ hands reached for his jumper to try for a glimpse of freckle.
It was finished in seconds, Sirius staring in confusion, Remus shuffled back against the edge of the next bed over, eyes wild with almost-terror, breathing in short, shaky pants.
Sirius knew that everyone’s first thought was that this was a werewolf thing -that Remus couldn’t bear to be attacked, or was scared he would hurt someone- so the subject was immediately changed, and James was soon suggesting that they play join-the-dots on Eleanor Barker’s measles. Sirius had to point out that she probably didn’t have measles anymore, and he and James had ended up hexing each other with different coloured spots.
#
It had been a few days later when Sirius had been bored again, this time with only Remus to keep him company, Remus who was far too engrossed in some stupid, boring, girly book to pay any attention to his friend. After a good ten minutes of ‘I’ll just finish this page’ and ‘Only a few pages of this chapter left and I’ll be with you’, Sirius found himself idly contemplating the freckles on Lupin’s back. His friend was, as was usually the case, sprawled in what surely must be one of the most uncomfortable positions to read in ever; lying on his front, head and one arm over the edge of his bed, book laid on the floor. (There were many such positions when it came to Lupin and his books, once Sirius had caught him reading in the bath, completely underwater except for knees, nose, eyes, the damp top of his head, and his right arm, which had been extended straight vertical holding a hardback book which was rested on his palm.) A sliver of skin showed above the waistband of his silly muggley trousers, and Sirius suddenly got the urge to see what Lupin would do if someone actually tried to play join-the-dots on his freckles.
Remus screamed so loudly as Sirius grazed the inked tip of a quill across his skin, and the look of fear and betrayal on his face as he scrambled desperately away was so truly awful, that it was nearly three years before Sirius dared touch him again.
#
It wasn’t very often that Sirius Black was at a genuine loss with what to do in any given situation, but this situation, he felt, wasn’t one that most people had to suffer through. Or at least not in quite the same way. He couldn’t have said when he first noticed it, or even which were signs to notice and which were just everyday normalities, because it was just that strange and incomprehensible.
He’d learned, several years ago, that Remus Lupin did not like to be touched, though he’d never made the effort to find out why; if Remus didn’t want fingers on him then that was fine. Sirius even occasionally went so far as to stop others from accidentally making Lupin uncomfortable, one time even grabbing James hard by the arms as he dived to reach for Remus, and he got a most grateful smile from Remus for his trouble, if a rather puzzled and angry look from James. But he did sometimes wonder what the boy did about girls, I mean, did he not even like girls touching him? But it was hard to tell, because Remus avoided conversations like those.
And he wanted to ask now, because suddenly it was important that he divine Remus’ motives.
Sirius was nervous, which was endlessly silly, nervous about starting a conversation with Remus of all people, who wouldn’t have hurt a fly, or even a wasp that had just stung him. But then again this was Remus who still, at the age of fifteen, squealed like a girl when poked in the arm unexpectedly; Remus who took it as a personal insult if someone’s arm accidentally nudged his at the dinner table; Remus who twitched like he’d been hit with a pins-and-needles hex if someone’s fingers brushed against his own while they walked along the corridor. And they still had that third-year house photo, rows of Gryffindors crammed together on wooden benches. Sirius found he could hardly look at that picture; the look of unhappiness and discomfort on Remus’ face drew his eyes and sympathy immediately, and Remus’ image would blink desperately back at him from his place squashed between two random students, his unwilling arms and legs forced to touch theirs.
So… what had changed? Sirius had told himself, quite adamantly and convincingly, that Remus was just trying to learn to be normal; and what was wrong with that? Sirius would offer to help and Remus would be pleased and everything would be fine. And what would that ‘help’ entail? Damn it! But it made sense; one day Remus would want and need to touch someone, and how would he learn if he’d never had the practice?
#
‘Do you do that to everyone?’ Sirius asked bluntly.
‘Ignore them while I’m reading? You know I do, don’t feel like you’re special or anything.’ Remus glanced up a second to flash Sirius a teasing grin, but his smile froze when Sirius stared back a little pointedly. Something may or may not have flickered through his eyes before he turned, still smiling harmlessly, back to his book.
‘I said, do you do that to anyone else?’
‘That’s a different question, and you haven’t told me what yet,’ Remus was still as calm as ever, eyes still on his book and possibly still reading even, but there was no hint of a smile now.
‘You know exactly what.’ Sirius paused and found himself suddenly angry; that he’d worried for weeks over this and Remus acted as if it were nothing. ‘Remus-‘
‘What?’ Remus seemed nothing but supremely irritated, that his reading-time was being spoilt and without a decent explanation.
Sirius took a breath. He gave up trying to read Remus’ thoughts -they were buried too deep- and he looked away from Remus’ pale face (lashes and eyelids flickering as he read) and stared firmly at the door. ‘You- you had better not, you know; they’ll think- that you’re some kind of, you know, some kind of poof.’
‘They already do,’ Remus said, his answer coming too fast to be natural, but his voice and face as controlled as ever.
‘…what? Remus! Who? Who calls you a poof?’
Remus sighed, and at length glanced up from his book, though he didn’t close it. ‘Well, all of Slytherin House for a start.’
‘Since when? I’ve never heard them.’
‘Well they don’t do it when you and James are there.’
‘Why didn’t you say,’ Sirius whined, horrified that anyone dare bully Remus, and that they actually waited until he was alone to do it.
Remus shrugged and turned his book over again.
‘No, Moony, wait. Just tell me -I mean- you aren’t, are you?’ He wasn’t sure his tone was right, having tried for a casual almost-joke, he found the question at the end came out sounding all too desperate.
Again there was no change in expression, and Sirius felt painfully foolish having thought it was due to Remus’ indifference to the conversation in general, when really it was that he’d practiced this conversation so many times that even the worst outcome was comfortingly familiar. And, finally, he shrugged again.
And Sirius didn’t know what to do because he hadn’t practiced this bit in his head, he’d merely gone through all the possible reasons and excuses for Remus’ behaviour, he hadn’t even bothered to realise that if you needed such weird and wonderful excuses then maybe the simplest answer was the truth.
And Remus Lupin was a homosexual.
Shouldn’t have needed a shrug to tell you that. And what now? Ignore it? Ask what it’s like? Console him? Reassure him? Hate him? ‘You don’t have to be,’ Sirius blurted unexpectedly, and was unexpectedly grateful because it made Remus shut his book and look him in the eye for the first time.
‘I have to be a werewolf,’ he answered, pale, his gaze so calm that it felt eerie.
Sirius opened his mouth to point out the differences, but when his brain kicked in the feeling of shock knocked the air out of his lungs and the words wouldn’t come. To Remus it wasn’t different; he couldn’t stop his transformation each month, and he couldn’t stop fancying boys. ‘So you don’t have a choice.’
‘No.’
‘Is that why you don’t like to be touched?’
Remus smirked, and it was almost nasty. ‘Because I’m gay, or because I’m a werewolf?’
‘I- sorry, that was a stupid question.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, do you -ah- do you touch other boys like that? I mean, like you touch me?’
Again, Remus was calmly expecting the question, and there was even a smidgeon of amusement in his demeanour. ‘I think that’s one you have to work out for yourself,’ he replied, and then his attention was back on his book.
#
It made sense, Sirius knew, that Remus should have a crush on him in particular - after all, he was the obvious candidate. James may have slightly more defined arm muscles -only due to his intensive masturbatory habits, Sirius liked to point out- but Sirius Black was definitely the handsome one; he was the taller (the Blacks were all tall and lean; one of the few desirable family traits in Sirius’ opinion), had much nicer hair, and was generally lusted after by the lower school. The whole thing was perfectly understandable.
But weird all the same.
#
They were both panting for breath; hidden in an alcove whilst on the run from Filch, and then Sirius found himself shuddering at the sudden pressure of Remus’ robe-covered arm against his. It felt odd, he knew, only because he’d never felt that before; a touch from Remus, voluntary, even purposeful. A sideways glance as they stood, backs to the wall, revealed that Remus had obviously noticed what he’d done, had obviously intended it. After all, Sirius always ensured to stand distance enough from Remus that they’d never touch accidentally.
And so there they were; side by side, Remus’ eyes lowered (almost reverently) as Sirius watched him carefully, watched him still breathing a little too fast, even though they’d been still for a while now. He looked as if he was totally absorbed too, as if this intentional contact needed intense concentration and complicated thought. But his eyelashes kept fluttering, and his breath came in short, nervous pants, lips slightly parted yet also slightly curved into an almost-smile.
#
After a time it did get annoying, and in the end Sirius got fed-up with the vagueness and pithy-ness of it one day, Remus’ fingers tentatively brushing his own as they waited outside Professor McGonagall’s office for questioning.
‘She’s going to kill you,’ Remus reminded him -with an unwelcome amount of glee in his voice- for the third time.
‘Yes, I know, thank you,’ and Remus’ fingers slid past his again, a quick wriggle of smooth knuckles against his own.
‘Okay.’
‘Well how about pissing off?’
‘In a minute,’ Remus replied serenely with another brief fluttering of fingers.
Sirius turned suddenly, needing the element of surprise, and roughly grasped Remus by the shoulders, backing him against the wall. ‘What the hell do you want from me, Lupin?’
He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected, but all he got from the endeavour was a vicious snarl and some sort of complex wrestling move that culminated in him being sprawled inelegantly on the floor, in a manner hardly befitting a Black.
So if Remus wanted him, why did he react that way? Surely that was exactly what the poof wanted; to be clutched passionately against the object of his affections? It made no earthly sense that Sirius could determine, chin propped on his palm, frowning eyes surveying the skirting-board as Remus stormed self-righteously off down the corridor.
The office door opened and McGonagall glared down at him, a look of pure disdain plain on her features as she stepped gingerly over his feet. ‘I know you’re in trouble, Black, but grovelling won’t get you anywhere.’
#
Sirius watched Remus as he curled over the desk in their room (intent on some essay or other) because his shirt-tail was tucked under his ghastly home-knitted jumper, and was therefore offering an open view of a good two inches of pale, freckled back. Sirius had found he was becoming unprecedentedly interested in his friend, but merely in simple, brotherly sympathy for Remus’ crush.
Some form of vengeance was necessary, so he decided this time to go with the feather-end of his quill as he crept closer with stealth learnt through years of dedicated practice.
Remus twitched himself a good six inches off the seat of his chair as the fine, white fronds traced across his skin, and a satisfyingly agitated yelp tore involuntarily from his throat. ‘Why,’ Sirius asked after he’d resettled, eyes lowered and whole body trembling. They were no longer touching, but Sirius leant in with lips very close to Remus’ ear, ‘why is the reaction to that so different from yesterday’s rather more aggressive reaction?’
‘I don’t like to be touched,’ Remus replied primly, eyes, as ever, still resting on his textbook.
‘But…?’ Sirius carefully applied the feather to skin again, just the slightest of touches, as warning and encouragement.
‘I’m very- very, very ticklish,’ Remus confessed, his voice hitching again as the feathery threat was removed.
And Sirius smiled; a gorgeous, slow-bursting smile, both gleeful and intensely predatory. He was ecstatic to have discovered that gem of valuable information; oh, the things he could do with such knowledge! ‘So… you like to be tickled…?’
‘Yes- no! But, not- really, always.’ Remus paused, presumably searching for a more descriptive, more academic answer. ‘Sometimes, in a way.’
‘I see.’ Actually, Sirius could understand that description of tickling, as he himself was susceptible in one particular area of his body, and he knew all too well the desperate bubble of pleasure it caused, simultaneously accompanied by intense, fidgety irritation.
‘Don’t you- please don’t-‘
‘Take advantage? Now if you hadn’t wanted me to know, then you’d hardly have mentioned it.’
Sirius placed the quill very precisely on the desk, then let his body crumple neatly to the floor, to his knees. ‘What are you doing?’ Remus asked, voice vaguely panicked.
‘It’s what you want, isn’t it? To be able to touch and be touched, without it causing you pain?’
‘But-‘
‘Hush now,’ Sirius murmured, but knowing (and, unnervingly, hoping) that Remus would be unable to remain silent for long.
To commence he tenderly trailed a fingertip along the same route the quill had followed, but it wasn’t quite the gentle beginning he was planning, as it caused Remus to jump almost as badly as before; his head tipped forward, eyes scrunched, and fingers clutched into the desk-top.
‘Is that bad?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes-‘ Remus whimpered again, one leg jiggling uncontrollably, as Sirius ran his fingers down the brief section of spine that the gap between hem and waist-band afforded.
‘Bad in a good way?’ Sirius asked in an almost-whisper, surprised by how eager and intense his own voice sounded.
‘Mmh-‘ was the only sound Remus managed as he shivered again.
Sirius gladly took that as an affirmation, and slid his fingers round to Remus’ side, stroking the soft flesh above his hip with the back of a curled forefinger.
‘Ah!’ Remus made a noise that was both a cry and a squeak, and his left hand twitched down to push Sirius away.
‘No,’ Sirius admonished, keeping his voice kind and patient, and with only an hint of warning. ‘You wouldn’t want me to have to bind your hands, now, would you?’
Remus looked down at him then, for the first time, he realised, since he’d walked into the room. Remus’ features were an intriguing sight; cheeks flushed, lips open, and his eyes big and wild, showing something that was almost, but not quite, fear.
Sirius watched him closely as his fingers reached for skin again, and listened eagerly to Remus’ anticipatory breaths; each breath in was a series of jerky gasps, and each breath out separated into short, panting shudders. Sirius reached round to his stomach, realising that he actually didn’t know if Remus had belly-freckles or not. Definitely on nose and cheeks, and even shoulders, but really, fancy not knowing that.
He stroked the back of his finger further round Remus’ front, lifting his jumper and shirt discretely as he worked, and Remus’ breaths got stranger at that. Upon tipping his head sideways to attempt to get a peek of belly he realised why; Remus was definitely enjoying this far more than he should have been.
And Sirius smiled even wider, because he made Remus Lupin hard.
Remus’ eyes closed when his skin was touched again, though his lashes continued to flicker against his cheeks, and Sirius’ discovery made the sexual nature of his gasps and moans easier to discern. He learnt that Remus’ sides were the most sensitive, caused the more powerful reactions -louder cries, more violent twitching- and that his soft, fine body hair was standing receptively on-end.
‘Okay Lupin?’ Sirius asked, mouth moving against the shoulder of Remus’ jumper.
‘I think- that’s enough for today.’
‘Yes.’ Sirius stood slowly, not wanting to acknowledge his own sense of disappointment at having to stop the attentions for today.
‘Sirius, why-‘ Remus asked, still shuddering a little (but more relaxed now), his eyes round and curious as he gazed up at Sirius standing over him.
‘S’good for you.’ Sirius grinned, reality rushing back and making his grin wider and more careless. ‘Better get on with that essay, eh?’ And he gave Lupin’s hair a good scrubbing (ignoring the way he flinched) before he left.
#
Remus Lupin was a strange creature, and was getting stranger by the day. Sirius knew he should be doing something constructive to try and hide Remus’ increasingly erratic behaviour, but what was the point in that when it was far more pleasurable (and mutually rewarding) to encourage it?
Remus’ breathing would quicken immediately whenever Sirius got within a couple of feet of him, eyes flickering to and from him, occasionally daring to stare a little longer if no-one was about. The brushing of fingers increased, as did other accidental contacts; arms, shoulders, elbows, knees.
But when Remus shifted to rest their thighs together during History of Magic, Sirius found that he was the one whose breathing was the most laboured, feeling the warmth of Remus’ thigh through their robes and he found himself paying attention to the lesson just to distract himself from making a total twat of himself.
#
There were tight-clasped fingers around his wrist for a good hour during Care of Magical Creatures, but he was pretending not to notice as it was rather pathetic really; the way Remus would look at him, follow him, cling to him. Holding his wrist was practically like holding hands (but with the subtle difference that there was no contact of skin as Remus held on over his robes) and Sirius found himself rather annoyed; that Lupin dare hold him so possessively (and in public too, though it would have gone unnoticed), that he dare believe that Sirius was now his to touch whenever he wanted.
But when he turned to finally admonish, the look of pure, terrified lust on Remus’ face made all coherent thoughts fall immediately out of his head.
#
If you’d asked Sirius to describe his friend Remus, the answer would have been something along the lines of ‘well he may be a bit odd-looking, but he’s a nice enough bloke’. And it was true enough; Remus was definitely a bit of a freak. Especially now, as he played some childish sort of game with Sirius’ left hand under the desk during Transfiguration. What was weird about it was that Remus didn’t seem to care that they might be caught, was just making notes from McGonagall’s lecture quite normally, and Sirius was the one wriggling as his hand was stroked and massaged and pinched at.
But Remus was vaguely attractive in an unusual sort of way, if you liked boys who were pale and delicate, with long pale limbs, thin pale-brown hair and matching eyes. But he was fun; quiet yet stubborn, calm yet wicked, and Sirius always felt a rush of glee when Remus’ features took on that expression of supreme angelic goodness as he was one of only three people on earth that knew it meant something evilly wonderful was about to happen.
Remus turned Sirius’ hand over and placed it palm-down on his own leg.
Remus stroked the back of Sirius’ hand with his thumb, continuing to write left-handed (as he was), but his body rocking slightly, and Sirius bet that was because his cock was hard as could be right now.
Sirius looked sideways at his friend, cautiously, and noted the look of perfect, beatific virtue Remus wore. Oh yes; harder than he’s ever been in his life and desperate to just- Sirius dug his fingernails into his friend’s thigh to stop from accidentally sliding his hand further up his leg (just to check), and Remus squealed with quiet pain and shoved his hand away.
#
Sirius had been basking in the glorious attention from his latest escapade quite happily as his friends fawned over his injuries in the Hospital wing; James’ congratulations at finally winning one over on his cousin, Peter’s congratulations at managing not to get himself killed, and he hadn’t noticed Lupin really at all until the three were about to leave. More whoops from James, a grin and a thumbs-up from Peter, then, as they slid through the door, Remus darted back, just ever-so-briefly, and (without touching anywhere else) kissed Sirius firmly on the lips. And then was gone.
#
Sirius let the door swing shut on it’s own, the heavy weight of the oak pulling it closed slowly, the notch fitting in with a gentle, ominous click.
And he waited.
When he was sure that Remus knew it was him, reading it from Remus’ tightly-tensed body-language, he advanced, his steps measured and deliberate.
Remus was lying on his bed, stretched out on his front, facing away from the door and barefoot, and Sirius quickly took hold of an ankle to get a closer look, and indeed; Lupin had freckles on the bottoms of his feet. Remus trembled quietly, but Sirius knew that it was from a genuine fear; feet were delicate, private things and anyone who dared to touch the feet of Sirius Black would find themselves kicked solidly (and, for a change, accidentally) in the face.
And oh, there was nothing more intoxicating than this pure rush of power, Remus impatiently waiting, and, fucking hell, he’d actually closed his book.
‘Lupin,’ Sirius said, seating himself on the edge of the bed, and he wished he could see Remus’ face. Remus just waited, but the anticipation was thick and cloying in the air and Sirius wondered if Remus was hard already. ‘Take your shirt off.’
Remus’ head twitched sideways to stare at him in amazement, looking at Sirius from profile and therefore through one eye, like some alert and nervous bird.
‘Now,’ Sirius insisted, his voice a little stronger.
Remus nodded, scrambling round and up quickly to his knees, beginning on his buttons, fingers fumbling in his haste, and yes; he was actually quite obviously hard. Sirius smiled triumphantly, on the inside at least, amazed that Remus could get hard from just anticipating a touch to his skin. No, Sirius corrected himself, he’s hard from anticipating you touching his skin.
Eventually Remus managed to remove the shirt, despite his uncooperative hands, and Sirius glanced over his bare chest; pale skin, flat little belly-button and small, hard nipples. Sirius had been expecting by this point (in whatever was going on) that he might enjoy the sight of Remus’ naked chest, but he still found it disturbing just how much he did enjoy it. Remus was thin, made up of sharp corners and long slim bones, and delicate though he was, he was also clearly very male; with his flat stomach and angular shoulders, narrow, pointed hips and red-blond hair trailing his belly.
And the freckles! They were everywhere; clustering together in places and evenly spread in others. Sirius had been fascinated by them when he’d first met Remus and he realised now that nothing had changed. They were most concentrated on his shoulders and belly, and down the centre of his chest, all brown and gold and beautiful.
Remus watched himself being watched, pensive and clearly desperate for approval, his eyes bright and open.
‘Okay,’ Sirius said, ‘lie down.’
Remus nodded, an eager jerk of the head, and lay back; absolutely straight, legs together and his arms by his sides, fingers curled around thick handfuls of the duvet. His eyes were squinched closed and his deeply shaky breaths were punctuated with eager little licks of his lips. And his erection was blatant now in this position; Sirius could actually see where the tip of his cock rested, straining, against the thin fabric of his trousers.
Sirius oh-so-carefully crept upwards on the bed, swinging a leg over Remus’ prone body but deliberately not touching, and he leaned down, hands either side of Remus’ shoulders, to watch him. Remus didn’t even open his eyes, his whole body seemingly concentrating on that first touch. There was something so fascinatingly beautiful about Remus; watching his wet lips, vibrating eyelashes, and the gentle shivers moving their way through him. And there was another place that Sirius had never known you could have freckles; on your lips. How had he never noticed those before, speckled around the borders of Remus’ mouth and even in fact visible on the pale pinkness of his actual lips.
Sirius pushed himself up again, knees either side of Remus’ hips, and tried to decide where to start. He reached forwards and pressed a fingertip to Remus’ chin and felt his friend’s jaw move as he gasped. Then he slowly traced the finger down, over Remus’ jaw, throat, collar-bone, down the centre of his chest-bone, Remus writhing underneath, head tipped back and little choking noises escaping his mouth.
Sirius hadn't thought that boys could be beautiful, that he himself could find them beautiful, but Remus so obviously was, soft and freckled and perfect. He ran his fingers all over, trying to take in every last freckle, wondering if now he'd be allowed to join them up, but then joining them up with his fingers was even more fun anyway. Or with his tongue...
I wonder what freckles taste like.
‘You ready for your next lesson, Lupin?’
All he got in reply was another laboured breath in.
‘Remus?’
‘…yes, yes, anything-‘
‘Okay.’ Sirius got to his hands and knees again, crawling down, but still without touching Remus’ body, letting Remus feel hot breath against his skin.
‘Uhhh.’
‘Ready?’ Sirius whispered against Remus’ ribs.
‘Mm!’
Remus twitched violently as Sirius’ mouth pressed openly to his skin, but also moaned rather loudly too. Sirius froze in position, feeling the deep, hungry moan as well as hearing it. ‘Remus,’ Sirius hissed, letting his tongue lick a little, kissing more and dragging his lips slowly to draw out more of those moans that made his body ache and want.
The flesh of Remus’ belly felt amazingly good and Sirius was sure his own skin wasn’t this soft, this touchable, but then maybe it was different, with Remus being so sensitive and beautiful, maybe it was because he had a different type of skin or something.
Sirius was kissing and licking and lapping over Remus’ belly now, and it was making Remus crazy; twitching and wriggling, his hands reaching and trying to grab, legs kicking to push Sirius away.
Oh it was just so perfect and satisfying to watch him that way; all mad and wild and desperate and passionate. Though it was even more satisfying to… ‘Still!’ Sirius yelled, clamping his hands to Remus’ wrists, surprised at how angry he suddenly was.
‘Ah!’ Remus whinged, falling back, but his squirming ceased immediately. Sirius watched his chest rising and falling heavily as he held Remus’ wrists tightly against the mattress. Being held down made Remus worse, but in a spectacular way; all tiny whines and grunts and desperately thrusting hips as Sirius kissed all of his soft, tasty belly-freckles.
He let Remus wriggle a little, because the boy clearly needed the relief, not because Sirius in any way took pleasure from the feeling of Remus’ cock rhythmically nudging his shoulder. ‘Are you going to come?’ Sirius asked him matter-of-factly, lips brushing his side to elicit another jerk of the hips.
‘I need to-‘ he whined.
‘Really?’ Sirius asked, letting his teeth graze over Remus’ left hip-bone.
‘Yes, oh- Padfoot, you’re going to break me if you -ah!- keep on like this.’
‘Unbutton your trousers.’
‘Wh- what?’
‘Do it,’ Sirius told him, voice calmly authoritative as he sat back on his haunches, freeing Remus’ hands.
Remus stared at him but his shaking fingers managed to find his fly-buttons and prise them hurriedly open.
‘And your pants.’
There was no point pretending to himself that he wasn’t eager for this now, that he wasn’t desperate to look at Remus’ cock; to touch and lick and kiss him. Remus shuffled his trousers down a bit, then pushed at the waistband of his underwear.
His erection sprang free easily, and Sirius quickly reached to run the back of his finger up to the wet tip, listening to Remus actually sobbing.
Sirius gently applied his tongue to the end of Remus’ cock, then stroked back down it. ‘Tickle?’ he asked, kissing down the length of it, Remus’ cock twitching from the kisses.
‘Umm…’
‘In a good way?’ He licked again, then pressed another kiss to the tip.
‘Please -oh, I- please-‘
Truth be told, Sirius actually didn’t know how to do this, but a mental image of Remus sliding his pretty, freckled mouth down over Sirius’ own cock helped him along with the idea of it, and he closed his mouth and sucked a little, just the end and just gently. Remus made a blissful noise, part growl, part whine, and Sirius was too distracted by it even to stop him from tangling his fingers into Sirius’ hair.
‘S-Sirius, I-‘
‘Mm,’ was all the reply he got. Sirius didn’t need him to say anything because Remus was absolutely rock-solid in his mouth and it was obvious he was about to come.
When he did it was it was loud, a very intense cry of pleasure that more than made up for the rather bitter taste in Sirius’ mouth.
Sirius raised his head, dizzy with lust, and he leaned over Remus. ‘You okay?’ he asked his friend, who was watching him and whimpering, his shoulders shaking as he tried to breathe more calmly. ‘Yes?’ Remus gasped a few more times before reaching up, grabbing the front of Sirius’ robes and pulling him down. ‘Re-‘
Remus kissed him, hard, their bodies side by side and pressed completely together.
‘But-‘
‘Shh-‘ Remus’ voice and hands still shook, but he’d gained confidence from somewhere and he easily, if shakily, lifted Sirius’ robes and lowered his pants.
Sirius knew he was in trouble when he was gifted with that innocent smile. ‘Wha-‘
And then Remus was touching his cock; it was only a gentle back-of-a-finger stroke, but then no-one had ever touched him erect before, so it was perfect, and the way Remus watched him and licked his own lips as he did it could hardly have been any more erotic. Sirius reached out a hand and placed it on Remus’ front, pushing a finger into his belly button, causing a little giggle and a raised eyebrow.
Sirius looked at his friend, who was gay and beautiful, watching Remus watch his cock, watch his own fingers on it. He glanced down himself to see what all the fuss was about, and Remus’ thin freckled fingers stroking and massaging made it all too much.
‘You’re going to come?’
Sirius managed a brief nod before it was happening; orgasm bursting out of him, come spurting on Remus’ fingers and warm, freckled belly.
Sirius sighed and flopped onto his back.
Remus calmly sucked each fingertip clean and licked his own palm, before re-arranging Sirius’ pants and robe for him and rolling onto his back to begin to fasten his own shirt.
They lay, side by side, not even touching for nearly a minute, Sirius’ mind all over the place; partly shocked at what they’d done, but also, he realised, feeling rather smug and pleased with himself. After all, he was barely sixteen and he’d already had his first hand-job (which was quite an achievement) and he’d also given his first blow-job (admittedly not something he’d ever expected to do, but pretty good all the same). And Remus’ fingers were starting to tickle against his own.
He turned to smile at his friend who turned also. ‘So am I getting better?’ Remus asked with mischievous innocence.
‘Better?’
‘At the touching thing.’ Sirius found he loved the way Remus’ smile hitched sideways when amused.
‘Oh. Yes, definitely. You are getting very good at touching people.’
‘But I still need more practice?’ Remus had looked back to the ceiling to ask that question, and his too-calm tone told Sirius that he was asking an important question.
‘Well, yeah. Just think; if we practice enough, one day you might be normal.’
‘Don’t think I’ll ever be normal, I just don't like being touched.’
‘Nah, you’ll always be this funny little freak-thing.’
Remus grinned, sideways and wicked, and it took Sirius’ breath away. 'You can touch me any time you want.'