FIC: Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep? 4/? (WIP, Potterverse, Remus/Sirius)
Do Wizards Dream of Magical Sheep?
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17 (I'm starting to earn the rating with this one. ;)
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
~*~
Remus left again the next morning. This time, he had the grace to come into Sirius's room, shake him gently awake and actually tell him he was going, rather than leaving a note. Even managed to sound apologetic about it, the git. Sirius just grunted and rolled back over into his blankets, burying himself into the warmth.
A useless effort. He heard Remus floo out and by then he was well and truly awake, too tired to consider having a wank, and he stumbled out of bed to see what offerings the plates had brought this morning.
Remus hadn't eaten before he left and Sirius ate his portion along with his own, scraping both plates clean far too soon and leaving them stacked in the sink.
Then there was nothing left to do but wander into the sitting room for a read and a nap, and nothing fucking else to do until Remus came back.
Joy.
The sound of the floo jerked him awake late in the afternoon, nearly sending him tumbling off the sofa in his mad scramble to his knees, words of greeting dying on his lips as he saw who was standing on the hearth.
Tonks was brushing off her robes, clearing them of the worst of the ash. She looked as she had in Dumbledore's office, which meant she looked like shite, her hair a short, nondescript brown. Her cheeks and ears were flushed pink, like she'd had to walk through the cold to get to the floo network. Not all that peculiar, he supposed, it was April. Or was it May? What the bloody hell did it matter, anyway, it wasn't like he was carving notches into his door to mark the days. That was an idea to consider, though.
A few stray sparks leapt from Tonks's robes and back into the fireplace and as he watched, she stomped her boots clean. He did notice she never let go of her wand.
She saw him staring at her and straightened up, her fingers clenched to white around her wand.
"Remus asked me to stop by," she said stiffly. "He was concerned about leaving you alone for so long." Well, that was just lovely, wasn't it? Hadn't taken Remus long to clue in the rest of the Order that Sirius was one spaghetti noodle short of mental, had it.
He realized he was still staring at her and managed a feeble smile. "Come in, then. I'd offer you some tea but I'm not allowed to use the stove."
She frowned at him. "Remus has a magic-heat kettle; all you need to do it put water in it."
Oh. Well, that was information he could have done with weeks ago. He brightened his smile until he was sure he looked like just the sort of mad killer they were all thinking he was and sent a promise of retribution in the direction of Remus's underclothes.
"Besides, I wasn't sure what kind of nosh Remus was keeping for you, so I brought some with me."
She held a sack out at arms-length and when Sirius opened it, he promptly forgave Remus for all his sins today, and a few from last week. Pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and even a few bottles of butterbeer.
He felt his smile relax into something a bit more genuine. "That was a kindness, ta."
She shrugged, "I was in Hogsmeade, just thought that-" She trailed off, pursing her lips like she'd been saying something she shouldn't. "Anyway, have one while they're still warm."
That seemed to mark an end to any conversation. Sirius went back to his book, nibbling on a pasty and Tonks spent her time prowling the room, tripping twice on the rug behind the sofa. She acted a few times like she wanted to speak, to ask something about one of the odd little baubles Remus kept in his sitting room. Every time she held it back, poking with vague interest at the books and doing little more than breathe in the musty air that had taken on a hint of sweet spiciness from the pasties.
The light behind the shades had taken on a reddish glow when Sirius realized he'd been reading the same page over and over for ten minutes. This was intolerable. Worse even than their first meeting after Azkaban. She'd been curious then, brilliant pink hair, and bubbling with questions that she tried not to pester him with. He rather wished she would pester him now, wide-eyed questions about the other prisoners and whispers about dementors that he'd barely been able to answer.
It was bloody well worse than being alone and he slammed his book down on the coffee table in frustration. "Look, you-"
Pain, diamond-hard and brutal, a hard punch of it that sent him flying off the sofa, a cry caught in his throat as the world dimmed behind his eyes.
He woke to her crouching over him anxiously, paler than ever and dripping a wet cloth over Sirius's face. He snatched it away, scrubbing his face himself so he didn't have to see her concern. He rather doubted it was because she'd hexed him; she was probably more worried about pissing off Remus, if he'd caught her right. She read more like Dr. Seuss than Shakespeare and she knew that Remus had an enchanted kettle but Remus's sheets had still smelled more like his socks than anything else.
Really, a little warning before they cursed him sideways wouldn't be untoward. He hadn't even growled at Tonks, although he'd be setting his books down lightly from now on, that was certain.
"Just go," he mumbled, brushing off her feeble attempts at apologizing, her words as clumsy as she often was.
She did.
So much for that visitor. He wondered who Remus would try next. Probably Snape with his luck, and he wouldn't even be able to kill him and plead insanity, not if he ever wanted outside again.
He wondered sourly if it was possible for a man to slit his wrists with an electric razor.
~*~
"How did your visit with Tonks go?" Remus asked him the next morning. He looked tired and let Sirius filch the uneaten sausages off his plate without complaint.
"Fine, fine," Sirius mumbled through a mouthful of sausage and eggs. "She brought food."
"Always the best way to endear you." He propped up his head on his chin, considering. "I suppose the Attonitus hex didn’t do quite as well."
"Now see?" Sirius waggled a finger at him. "These young people have no concept of proper honour these days. Probably thought she'd better confess before I told on her, eh? As if I would."
"I'm afraid that Aurors aren't trained in the ways of honour as taught by Sirius Black, no," Remus's tone was as dry as the toast.
"Corrupted youth," Sirius muttered. He leaned back in his chair and propped his bare feet on the edge of the table, curling his toes over the edge and ignoring Remus's glare. "Well, since you were out and about yesterday, maybe you can give me an update on what is going on with the world these days? Since I seem to be months out of the loop, I daresay I could use a review."
"You know I can't tell you," Remus said mildly. He sipped at his tea, eyes never leaving Sirius's.
"No, you can't tell me anything, can you. Nothing about the war, no, nothing about my godson, but I'll excuse you that one since you probably like your throat where it is." Sirius laughed and it sounded ugly to his ears. This morning he'd woken up cold, his blanket kicked to the foot of his bed, and the ache of it seemed bone-deep, lingering even after a scalding shower. He'd wandered around the flat restlessly, just needing to move and he hadn't sat down until Remus had stepped from the fireplace with tired eyes and flushed cheeks, smelling like the wind.
"What can you tell me, Remus," he asked, idly. "Can you tell me the latest Quidditch scores, is that available? What team looks likely this year, eh?" He slanted Remus a look, catching his tongue lightly between his teeth before he added, "Can you tell me what colour knickers Tonks prefers?"
Another slow sip of tea, Remus's throat working as he swallowed. "No, I can't," he said, clearly.
Remus didn't flinch when the teacup hit the wall next to his head. A thin, perfect line of red showed on his cheek from a flying piece of pottery, a droplet of blood creeping downward. His wand stayed wherever it was that Remus was keeping it these days, the shattered cup remained shattered. Remus never did magic around him but whether it was because he couldn't through the wards, didn't want to taunt Sirius with spells he couldn't do, or he was afraid Sirius might try to wrest it away from him, he wasn't sure.
Remus just sat there calm as can be, sipping his tea and for just a moment, Sirius hated him more than anything ever before in his life, could taste it acidly on the back of his tongue where it couldn't be swallowed away. The plate was next; Sirius picked it up with two fingers and dropped it on the floor, his eyes never leaving Remus's steady ones as it shattered. The sugar bowl, just brushed off the table with the back of his hand and scattering glittering whiteness.
"Sirius, stop." Still mild, but there was a hint of warning now. These were old dishes; perhaps they'd belonged to his mother. A saucer this time, a harsh punctuation of noise on the floor.
"Or what?" Sirius asked, idly fingering another saucer. "You'll lock me up in a bad place?" He stood up and violently swept all the dishes to the floor. Only the cup in Remus's hands was spared, pale, floral china against his skin.
"Sirius, that's enough!" Sharper now.
"Really?" he asked softly, hating the mostly calm of Remus's eyes, hating this place with its groaning pipes and faded wallpaper. There were cupboards of dishes left, crockery and china itching for his fingers. "What will you do if I don't stop?"
The table hitting his back knocked the breath from him, his worn shirt twisted in Remus's fists. No calm in him now, dark eyes flaring with something else entirely, so close he could see his own reflection in them. His hair was getting too long, greying brown just brushing Sirius's cheeks as Remus loomed over him.
"Do you think it makes me happy to see you trapped here?" he gritted out, shaking Sirius like a terrier would shake a rat, letting his head thud softly against the table. Between the hexes and this, Sirius thought he might be able to add brain damage to his insanity quite soon. "Do you? Do you think I want this?"
Sirius laughed, tipped his head back and exposed the line of his throat to the man above him. Felt the sharp tremor that went through Remus, the heavy press of his body over Sirius's not quite enough, not this time.
"I think it's perfectly obvious what you want, old friend," he taunted, pushing his knee up between Remus's legs. Hard, yes, Sirius could feel it through both their trousers, rubbing his knee against it. There was a part of him left that was sane enough, and it was prattling in the back of his head, asking him what the bloody hell he was doing with Remus of all people.
Relatively easy to ignore it, tuck it into a little place where he could barely even hear it. It was Remus, he knew that, but he was also touching him, long press of his body against Sirius and he was hard, and he smelled so lovely. Hot and alive and they hadn't been schoolboy chums in a long, long time.
Remus hadn’t moved. His hands still knotted into Sirius's shirt. With some difficulty, Sirius lifted his head enough to let his lips brush the line of Remus's jaw, two days worth of stubble rough against his lips but it let him breathe it in, warm skin that hadn't touched water since he'd left the day before.
So still above him, frozen, his eyes too-wide and shocked. Pushed him too far, Sirius supposed, and now he'd pull away and vanish again for days, or perhaps he wouldn't, perhaps there would be another awkward afternoon in the sitting room with Remus not looking at him instead of Tonks. Merlin, he couldn't take that, he really couldn't, barely realized he was starting to struggle beneath Remus's weight because he had to get out of here, now, right now, he had to be somewhere, anywhere else.
It was his turn to be shocked when Remus slipped his hand into Sirius's hair and yanked, forcing his head back against the table. His mouth was hot against Sirius's ear, sharp edge of teeth marking him lightly before Remus whispered harshly, "You're right, I do want it."
It wasn't a choice to let himself be moved, only that he was, face-down on the table and he barely had time to brace himself on his hands before Remus was over him again, his hands brutal as they yanked on his trousers, scrabbling for buttons and zipper.
Sirius threw back his head and laughed, closer to a howl than anything else, squirming and fighting. Not that he wanted Remus to stop, oh, no, but the bastard was going to have to work for it, wasn't he? Yes, that was the way of it, knocking Remus's hands away as he struggled to get out from beneath his punishing weight, his own cock trapped uncomfortably against the table edge.
A hand caught the back of his shirt and the old fabric never stood a chance, tearing up to the back of his neck. Callused fingers swept over his bare skin, touching scars and Sirius wondered at how he looked. Bent over a table, pallid and too-thin with his hair over his eyes and a laugh strangling in his throat; close to it now, and he knew it.
He managed one good hit, ramming his elbow back and catching Remus in the face. The muffled curse and warm patter of blood on his bare back made him laugh again, twisting away from Remus's loosened grip and almost off the table, almost away. His scrabbling hands almost caught the back of one of the chairs before it skittered back on two legs, clattering loudly to the floor.
A blurred word hissed out behind him, and his wrists suddenly fastened themselves to the table, his fingers clenching uselessly.
"You cheating bastard!" Sirius gasped, struggling furiously. His wrists refused to move, the table rocking dangerously beneath them.
Remus didn't respond with words, only yanked Sirius's trousers down to his thighs, a booted foot between his own bare feet kicking them apart. There was a slick touch on his arse, a single finger sliding into him, testing. He wondered if Remus thought he was a virgin to this or if it had just been a terribly long time. It had been, so terribly long. He felt like he was a virgin to any touch at all, skin raw with sensations it hadn't felt in a decade. Longer.
He squirmed desperately, flexing around the finger twisting into him and Remus's free hand slipped between his legs, squeezing his bollocks in an entirely wonderful way that was perverse mixture of warning and pleasure. Wetness between his shoulder blades, the flat of a tongue licking at his skin, surely tasting sweat and blood, and Remus was breathing like he might die right there, hot blurts of breath nearly a whine.
The finger was gone in an instant and he only had a moment to feel Remus's cock snugging in between his arse cheeks before he shoved in, brutally, the barest amount of slickness smoothing the way.
"Fucking, ow, bastard!" Sirius snarled, clawing at the air with hands that refused to move.
"I'll have you know," Panted in his ear, "That my parents were quite happily married when they had me."
The second thrust lifted him onto his toes; he always forgot somehow that Remus was taller than him, hard hands on his hips yanking him back down and into the next thrust. It forced something like a scream from his throat, unyielding pressure inside him, burning him with sensation that was almost too good to take.
A hand tangled again in his hair, jerking his head back and there were teeth at his throat, hard and symbolic and he laughed again, gaspy and wet and leaned into them, mark me, yes, bite me. The hard kiss of Remus's cock inside him, again, again, nails biting crescent-shaped bruises into his hips, and Sirius was shaking with it, needing it so much more. The burn shifting inside him to something so much deeper, hotter, the ragged edge of his sanity screaming for more, please. Yes.
"You have no idea what this is like for me," Mouth slipping wetly from his throat and moving to a slick tongue against his ear, "I watched you die you pathetic," Brutally hard thrust and the garbled sound that escaped Sirius's throat could be only be called a wail, "Stupid, selfish bastard!"
"Ah!" Nothing short of a scream, the table jumping and shuddering beneath them as Sirius came, hot sparks of white strobing behind his eyes and he could dimly taste the sweat sheeting down his face, heard Remus groan behind him and thrust in hard, again. Again.
Better than reading a fucking book.
~*~
It seemed to take a terribly long time for Remus to gather himself, shuffling movements and the sounds of clothing being straightened before he murmured the spell that let Sirius move his hands.
He rubbed his wrists a little and didn't bother moving, all his limbs deciding that they much preferred remaining sprawled across the table for the time being, on the premise that if he tried to move, they would deposit him on the floor. And the floor was cold.
It was too quiet for too long, which meant Remus was thinking. Probably wasn't a good thing but since his own brain had been long since scrambled, Sirius couldn't come up with a way to stop him.
"Sirius," Remus started, clearing his throat a little, "You really need to stop breaking things. I do understand that you're going barmy but I simply can't afford to keep replacing them."
That wasn't quite the conversation he'd expected to have while he was still sprawled across the table with his pants down. Was all right, he decided, he didn't mind improvising. He rolled just enough that he could see Remus, still flushed, his clothes done up properly but robbed of all primness as anyone with eyes could see they were clinging to him in all the wrong places, sweat-dampened patches standing out in relief along with flecks of blood. His nose was still faintly swollen.
"And what will you do to me if I don't?" Sirius said again, this time letting in a little of the bitterness he was drowning in.
A flash of anger in Remus's eyes and he snapped, "Perhaps I'll tell Dumbledore that you're too much for me to handle and that he'll have to lock you in the dungeon after all!"
Sirius didn't move. Wetness was starting to drip down his thighs in chilly streaks that were nothing like the sudden chill that went through his gut.
Remus swore softly and pushed a hand through his mussed hair. "Sirius, I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did," Sirius said calmly. He winced as he managed to get to his feet, pulling up his trousers. "You always did know the best way to bluff someone, Moony. Don't bluff at all."
He heard Remus sit down at the table as he walked out, probably to have a stupid little crisis of conscious. That was fine, just fine; he could do it on his own. The hot water should have recovered from his morning shower by now.
He didn't bother closing the bathroom door, just stripped away his torn clothes and stepped under the hot spray, letting it wash everything away in a swirl of soap down the drain.
~*~
end part 4
by Keelywolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Remus/Sirius
NC-17 (I'm starting to earn the rating with this one. ;)
Spoilers for all the books, up to HBP.
Summary: Set during HBP. Dead is dead, unless you're a wizard. Then things can get...complicated.
Notes: Slight modifications in time and space may have been made, altering this from the books. But if you can't tell, it's already an AU, so hey, make of that what you will.
Warnings: Hey, this is sort of dark. If you don't like dark stuff? Please dial a different number. :)
~*~
Remus left again the next morning. This time, he had the grace to come into Sirius's room, shake him gently awake and actually tell him he was going, rather than leaving a note. Even managed to sound apologetic about it, the git. Sirius just grunted and rolled back over into his blankets, burying himself into the warmth.
A useless effort. He heard Remus floo out and by then he was well and truly awake, too tired to consider having a wank, and he stumbled out of bed to see what offerings the plates had brought this morning.
Remus hadn't eaten before he left and Sirius ate his portion along with his own, scraping both plates clean far too soon and leaving them stacked in the sink.
Then there was nothing left to do but wander into the sitting room for a read and a nap, and nothing fucking else to do until Remus came back.
Joy.
The sound of the floo jerked him awake late in the afternoon, nearly sending him tumbling off the sofa in his mad scramble to his knees, words of greeting dying on his lips as he saw who was standing on the hearth.
Tonks was brushing off her robes, clearing them of the worst of the ash. She looked as she had in Dumbledore's office, which meant she looked like shite, her hair a short, nondescript brown. Her cheeks and ears were flushed pink, like she'd had to walk through the cold to get to the floo network. Not all that peculiar, he supposed, it was April. Or was it May? What the bloody hell did it matter, anyway, it wasn't like he was carving notches into his door to mark the days. That was an idea to consider, though.
A few stray sparks leapt from Tonks's robes and back into the fireplace and as he watched, she stomped her boots clean. He did notice she never let go of her wand.
She saw him staring at her and straightened up, her fingers clenched to white around her wand.
"Remus asked me to stop by," she said stiffly. "He was concerned about leaving you alone for so long." Well, that was just lovely, wasn't it? Hadn't taken Remus long to clue in the rest of the Order that Sirius was one spaghetti noodle short of mental, had it.
He realized he was still staring at her and managed a feeble smile. "Come in, then. I'd offer you some tea but I'm not allowed to use the stove."
She frowned at him. "Remus has a magic-heat kettle; all you need to do it put water in it."
Oh. Well, that was information he could have done with weeks ago. He brightened his smile until he was sure he looked like just the sort of mad killer they were all thinking he was and sent a promise of retribution in the direction of Remus's underclothes.
"Besides, I wasn't sure what kind of nosh Remus was keeping for you, so I brought some with me."
She held a sack out at arms-length and when Sirius opened it, he promptly forgave Remus for all his sins today, and a few from last week. Pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and even a few bottles of butterbeer.
He felt his smile relax into something a bit more genuine. "That was a kindness, ta."
She shrugged, "I was in Hogsmeade, just thought that-" She trailed off, pursing her lips like she'd been saying something she shouldn't. "Anyway, have one while they're still warm."
That seemed to mark an end to any conversation. Sirius went back to his book, nibbling on a pasty and Tonks spent her time prowling the room, tripping twice on the rug behind the sofa. She acted a few times like she wanted to speak, to ask something about one of the odd little baubles Remus kept in his sitting room. Every time she held it back, poking with vague interest at the books and doing little more than breathe in the musty air that had taken on a hint of sweet spiciness from the pasties.
The light behind the shades had taken on a reddish glow when Sirius realized he'd been reading the same page over and over for ten minutes. This was intolerable. Worse even than their first meeting after Azkaban. She'd been curious then, brilliant pink hair, and bubbling with questions that she tried not to pester him with. He rather wished she would pester him now, wide-eyed questions about the other prisoners and whispers about dementors that he'd barely been able to answer.
It was bloody well worse than being alone and he slammed his book down on the coffee table in frustration. "Look, you-"
Pain, diamond-hard and brutal, a hard punch of it that sent him flying off the sofa, a cry caught in his throat as the world dimmed behind his eyes.
He woke to her crouching over him anxiously, paler than ever and dripping a wet cloth over Sirius's face. He snatched it away, scrubbing his face himself so he didn't have to see her concern. He rather doubted it was because she'd hexed him; she was probably more worried about pissing off Remus, if he'd caught her right. She read more like Dr. Seuss than Shakespeare and she knew that Remus had an enchanted kettle but Remus's sheets had still smelled more like his socks than anything else.
Really, a little warning before they cursed him sideways wouldn't be untoward. He hadn't even growled at Tonks, although he'd be setting his books down lightly from now on, that was certain.
"Just go," he mumbled, brushing off her feeble attempts at apologizing, her words as clumsy as she often was.
She did.
So much for that visitor. He wondered who Remus would try next. Probably Snape with his luck, and he wouldn't even be able to kill him and plead insanity, not if he ever wanted outside again.
He wondered sourly if it was possible for a man to slit his wrists with an electric razor.
~*~
"How did your visit with Tonks go?" Remus asked him the next morning. He looked tired and let Sirius filch the uneaten sausages off his plate without complaint.
"Fine, fine," Sirius mumbled through a mouthful of sausage and eggs. "She brought food."
"Always the best way to endear you." He propped up his head on his chin, considering. "I suppose the Attonitus hex didn’t do quite as well."
"Now see?" Sirius waggled a finger at him. "These young people have no concept of proper honour these days. Probably thought she'd better confess before I told on her, eh? As if I would."
"I'm afraid that Aurors aren't trained in the ways of honour as taught by Sirius Black, no," Remus's tone was as dry as the toast.
"Corrupted youth," Sirius muttered. He leaned back in his chair and propped his bare feet on the edge of the table, curling his toes over the edge and ignoring Remus's glare. "Well, since you were out and about yesterday, maybe you can give me an update on what is going on with the world these days? Since I seem to be months out of the loop, I daresay I could use a review."
"You know I can't tell you," Remus said mildly. He sipped at his tea, eyes never leaving Sirius's.
"No, you can't tell me anything, can you. Nothing about the war, no, nothing about my godson, but I'll excuse you that one since you probably like your throat where it is." Sirius laughed and it sounded ugly to his ears. This morning he'd woken up cold, his blanket kicked to the foot of his bed, and the ache of it seemed bone-deep, lingering even after a scalding shower. He'd wandered around the flat restlessly, just needing to move and he hadn't sat down until Remus had stepped from the fireplace with tired eyes and flushed cheeks, smelling like the wind.
"What can you tell me, Remus," he asked, idly. "Can you tell me the latest Quidditch scores, is that available? What team looks likely this year, eh?" He slanted Remus a look, catching his tongue lightly between his teeth before he added, "Can you tell me what colour knickers Tonks prefers?"
Another slow sip of tea, Remus's throat working as he swallowed. "No, I can't," he said, clearly.
Remus didn't flinch when the teacup hit the wall next to his head. A thin, perfect line of red showed on his cheek from a flying piece of pottery, a droplet of blood creeping downward. His wand stayed wherever it was that Remus was keeping it these days, the shattered cup remained shattered. Remus never did magic around him but whether it was because he couldn't through the wards, didn't want to taunt Sirius with spells he couldn't do, or he was afraid Sirius might try to wrest it away from him, he wasn't sure.
Remus just sat there calm as can be, sipping his tea and for just a moment, Sirius hated him more than anything ever before in his life, could taste it acidly on the back of his tongue where it couldn't be swallowed away. The plate was next; Sirius picked it up with two fingers and dropped it on the floor, his eyes never leaving Remus's steady ones as it shattered. The sugar bowl, just brushed off the table with the back of his hand and scattering glittering whiteness.
"Sirius, stop." Still mild, but there was a hint of warning now. These were old dishes; perhaps they'd belonged to his mother. A saucer this time, a harsh punctuation of noise on the floor.
"Or what?" Sirius asked, idly fingering another saucer. "You'll lock me up in a bad place?" He stood up and violently swept all the dishes to the floor. Only the cup in Remus's hands was spared, pale, floral china against his skin.
"Sirius, that's enough!" Sharper now.
"Really?" he asked softly, hating the mostly calm of Remus's eyes, hating this place with its groaning pipes and faded wallpaper. There were cupboards of dishes left, crockery and china itching for his fingers. "What will you do if I don't stop?"
The table hitting his back knocked the breath from him, his worn shirt twisted in Remus's fists. No calm in him now, dark eyes flaring with something else entirely, so close he could see his own reflection in them. His hair was getting too long, greying brown just brushing Sirius's cheeks as Remus loomed over him.
"Do you think it makes me happy to see you trapped here?" he gritted out, shaking Sirius like a terrier would shake a rat, letting his head thud softly against the table. Between the hexes and this, Sirius thought he might be able to add brain damage to his insanity quite soon. "Do you? Do you think I want this?"
Sirius laughed, tipped his head back and exposed the line of his throat to the man above him. Felt the sharp tremor that went through Remus, the heavy press of his body over Sirius's not quite enough, not this time.
"I think it's perfectly obvious what you want, old friend," he taunted, pushing his knee up between Remus's legs. Hard, yes, Sirius could feel it through both their trousers, rubbing his knee against it. There was a part of him left that was sane enough, and it was prattling in the back of his head, asking him what the bloody hell he was doing with Remus of all people.
Relatively easy to ignore it, tuck it into a little place where he could barely even hear it. It was Remus, he knew that, but he was also touching him, long press of his body against Sirius and he was hard, and he smelled so lovely. Hot and alive and they hadn't been schoolboy chums in a long, long time.
Remus hadn’t moved. His hands still knotted into Sirius's shirt. With some difficulty, Sirius lifted his head enough to let his lips brush the line of Remus's jaw, two days worth of stubble rough against his lips but it let him breathe it in, warm skin that hadn't touched water since he'd left the day before.
So still above him, frozen, his eyes too-wide and shocked. Pushed him too far, Sirius supposed, and now he'd pull away and vanish again for days, or perhaps he wouldn't, perhaps there would be another awkward afternoon in the sitting room with Remus not looking at him instead of Tonks. Merlin, he couldn't take that, he really couldn't, barely realized he was starting to struggle beneath Remus's weight because he had to get out of here, now, right now, he had to be somewhere, anywhere else.
It was his turn to be shocked when Remus slipped his hand into Sirius's hair and yanked, forcing his head back against the table. His mouth was hot against Sirius's ear, sharp edge of teeth marking him lightly before Remus whispered harshly, "You're right, I do want it."
It wasn't a choice to let himself be moved, only that he was, face-down on the table and he barely had time to brace himself on his hands before Remus was over him again, his hands brutal as they yanked on his trousers, scrabbling for buttons and zipper.
Sirius threw back his head and laughed, closer to a howl than anything else, squirming and fighting. Not that he wanted Remus to stop, oh, no, but the bastard was going to have to work for it, wasn't he? Yes, that was the way of it, knocking Remus's hands away as he struggled to get out from beneath his punishing weight, his own cock trapped uncomfortably against the table edge.
A hand caught the back of his shirt and the old fabric never stood a chance, tearing up to the back of his neck. Callused fingers swept over his bare skin, touching scars and Sirius wondered at how he looked. Bent over a table, pallid and too-thin with his hair over his eyes and a laugh strangling in his throat; close to it now, and he knew it.
He managed one good hit, ramming his elbow back and catching Remus in the face. The muffled curse and warm patter of blood on his bare back made him laugh again, twisting away from Remus's loosened grip and almost off the table, almost away. His scrabbling hands almost caught the back of one of the chairs before it skittered back on two legs, clattering loudly to the floor.
A blurred word hissed out behind him, and his wrists suddenly fastened themselves to the table, his fingers clenching uselessly.
"You cheating bastard!" Sirius gasped, struggling furiously. His wrists refused to move, the table rocking dangerously beneath them.
Remus didn't respond with words, only yanked Sirius's trousers down to his thighs, a booted foot between his own bare feet kicking them apart. There was a slick touch on his arse, a single finger sliding into him, testing. He wondered if Remus thought he was a virgin to this or if it had just been a terribly long time. It had been, so terribly long. He felt like he was a virgin to any touch at all, skin raw with sensations it hadn't felt in a decade. Longer.
He squirmed desperately, flexing around the finger twisting into him and Remus's free hand slipped between his legs, squeezing his bollocks in an entirely wonderful way that was perverse mixture of warning and pleasure. Wetness between his shoulder blades, the flat of a tongue licking at his skin, surely tasting sweat and blood, and Remus was breathing like he might die right there, hot blurts of breath nearly a whine.
The finger was gone in an instant and he only had a moment to feel Remus's cock snugging in between his arse cheeks before he shoved in, brutally, the barest amount of slickness smoothing the way.
"Fucking, ow, bastard!" Sirius snarled, clawing at the air with hands that refused to move.
"I'll have you know," Panted in his ear, "That my parents were quite happily married when they had me."
The second thrust lifted him onto his toes; he always forgot somehow that Remus was taller than him, hard hands on his hips yanking him back down and into the next thrust. It forced something like a scream from his throat, unyielding pressure inside him, burning him with sensation that was almost too good to take.
A hand tangled again in his hair, jerking his head back and there were teeth at his throat, hard and symbolic and he laughed again, gaspy and wet and leaned into them, mark me, yes, bite me. The hard kiss of Remus's cock inside him, again, again, nails biting crescent-shaped bruises into his hips, and Sirius was shaking with it, needing it so much more. The burn shifting inside him to something so much deeper, hotter, the ragged edge of his sanity screaming for more, please. Yes.
"You have no idea what this is like for me," Mouth slipping wetly from his throat and moving to a slick tongue against his ear, "I watched you die you pathetic," Brutally hard thrust and the garbled sound that escaped Sirius's throat could be only be called a wail, "Stupid, selfish bastard!"
"Ah!" Nothing short of a scream, the table jumping and shuddering beneath them as Sirius came, hot sparks of white strobing behind his eyes and he could dimly taste the sweat sheeting down his face, heard Remus groan behind him and thrust in hard, again. Again.
Better than reading a fucking book.
~*~
It seemed to take a terribly long time for Remus to gather himself, shuffling movements and the sounds of clothing being straightened before he murmured the spell that let Sirius move his hands.
He rubbed his wrists a little and didn't bother moving, all his limbs deciding that they much preferred remaining sprawled across the table for the time being, on the premise that if he tried to move, they would deposit him on the floor. And the floor was cold.
It was too quiet for too long, which meant Remus was thinking. Probably wasn't a good thing but since his own brain had been long since scrambled, Sirius couldn't come up with a way to stop him.
"Sirius," Remus started, clearing his throat a little, "You really need to stop breaking things. I do understand that you're going barmy but I simply can't afford to keep replacing them."
That wasn't quite the conversation he'd expected to have while he was still sprawled across the table with his pants down. Was all right, he decided, he didn't mind improvising. He rolled just enough that he could see Remus, still flushed, his clothes done up properly but robbed of all primness as anyone with eyes could see they were clinging to him in all the wrong places, sweat-dampened patches standing out in relief along with flecks of blood. His nose was still faintly swollen.
"And what will you do to me if I don't?" Sirius said again, this time letting in a little of the bitterness he was drowning in.
A flash of anger in Remus's eyes and he snapped, "Perhaps I'll tell Dumbledore that you're too much for me to handle and that he'll have to lock you in the dungeon after all!"
Sirius didn't move. Wetness was starting to drip down his thighs in chilly streaks that were nothing like the sudden chill that went through his gut.
Remus swore softly and pushed a hand through his mussed hair. "Sirius, I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did," Sirius said calmly. He winced as he managed to get to his feet, pulling up his trousers. "You always did know the best way to bluff someone, Moony. Don't bluff at all."
He heard Remus sit down at the table as he walked out, probably to have a stupid little crisis of conscious. That was fine, just fine; he could do it on his own. The hot water should have recovered from his morning shower by now.
He didn't bother closing the bathroom door, just stripped away his torn clothes and stepped under the hot spray, letting it wash everything away in a swirl of soap down the drain.
~*~
end part 4