[hp fic] Happy To Be Your Fool (Remus/Sirius, NC-17)
Happy To Be Your Fool
Rating: NC-17
Ships: Remus/Sirius, James/Lily
Summary: Sometimes Sirius has trouble sharing.
Notes: Thank you, sheafrotherdon for the beta read. 5,000 words.
Two weeks after moving into Sirius Black’s Yorkshire flat, Remus Lupin had an epiphany. It hit him as jarringly as the floor hit his arse the third time a slumbering Sirius unwittingly pushed him out of bed. The trouble with living with another person, Remus thought, gazing at the ceiling, while his head, shoulders, and arse registered pain, is that you’ve got to live with another person.
Not that life in the Lair - as Lily had dubbed it - was always bad. It was fine most of the time, and sometimes it was nearly as wonderful as Remus had fantasized. He loved falling asleep with his head on Sirius’ shoulder, and waking in the morning with Sirius’ hand on his belly, and Sirius’ whuffling snores stirring the hair at the nape of his neck. He loved seeing two of almost everything: two toothbrushes in the plastic cup by the sink, two Shakespearean Insult mugs from their trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, two pairs of wellies in the closet in the front corridor. He loved finding the messages Sirius left for him with the bathroom mirror:
Violets are purple
Your eyes are brown
You are the fellow
On whom I go down
Moony, if you buy more shampoo, I’ll wash your hair tonight!
Certain aspects of their shared existence were certainly less than ideal. Sirius typically forgot to clean up after himself. He left dishes in the sink, the drain in the bathtub was constantly clogged with black hairs, and Remus was forever finding his books and LPs out of alphabetical order.
It took little more than a flick of his wand to fix these things, and Remus didn’t mind that, but he was beginning to resent Sirius’ carelessness, and the fact that he seemed to confuse Remus’ fondness for order with willingness to perform most of the household chores, which it was not.
And the fact that he hogged the bed.
“What were you expecting?” Lily asked when she met Remus for tea in London, the afternoon after Remus’ epiphany. Lily dropped another sugar cube into her teacup and glanced up. “And why are you twitching like that?”
Remus shifted uncomfortably. “These seats are hard. And I’ve got bruises the size of Bludgers. The thing is,” he said, breaking off a corner of shortbread, and twiddling it between his thumb and forefinger, “he doesn’t mean to be an arse. It’s been his flat for a whole year. I just moved in three weeks ago. He’s not used to sharing.”
Lily raised her eyebrows. “And you’re surprised?”
Remus grinned. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sirius is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. Especially,” he had to add dryly when Lily’s eyebrows shot up further, “when he knows people are watching. He shares everything. I mean, he won’t let me so much as glance at the crossword puzzle until he’s had a go at it, and he did his nut when I almost washed the t-shirt he wore to that last match against Slytherin last spring, but aside from that. When I said I could afford either half this month’s rent or half this month’s food shopping, he said not to worry about it. When I didn’t have anything smart to wear to the Tonkses’ anniversary party last month, he lent me one of his dressrobes. He’s always getting me things. Just things he sees while he’s out, that he thinks I’ll like. I wish he wouldn’t sometimes. What I meant was, he’s not used to living with another person. He’s used to having the whole bed to himself at night.”
Lily sipped her tea. “I kick James when he hogs the blankets. In the shins. Hard.”
“And what happens?” Remus asked.
“He wakes up, apologizes, hands back the blankets, and…”
“And?”
Lily shrugged. “We go back to sleep. If he hogs them again, I kick him again. If not…”
“That wouldn’t work with Sirius.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing,” said Remus, “it’s hard to kick someone when he’s in the bed and I’m on a floor. And for another…”
…Sirius almost invariably woke up horny.
The fourth time Remus was pushed out of bed - two nights after his tea with Lily - he could not bite back a shout of surprise and pain when his still-tender arse hit the hardwood floor. Next thing he knew, Sirius was peering over the edge of the bed at him.
“What’re you doing down there, Moony?” he mumbled, smiling sleepily.
Remus scowled up at him. “You bloody pushed me out of bed, you sodding bastard!” In the darkness, he could not see Sirius’ eyes, but somehow he was quite sure his lover was blinking at him slowly.
“No, I didn’t,” Sirius said at last.
“Oh no?” Tiredness and irritation made Remus sarcastic. “Then what am I doing on the floor?”
“Buggered if I know,” replied Sirius. “You fell.”
“I did not fall,” Remus said through gritted teeth. “I mean, I did because you pushed me. This is the fourth time. I know you’re used to having this place all to yourself, but I’m living here now, and this bed is big enough for the two of us, so you can keep your gangly limbs-“
There was a soft thud, and then Sirius was sprawled beside him on the floor. Sirius fumbled in the darkness with his fingers, found Remus’ chin, his lips, and finally his cheek, which he cupped tenderly. “Moony…”
“Geroff.” Remus shrugged him away.
“Moony,” Sirius tried again, wriggling closer.
“Don’t touch me,” Remus snarled. “I bloody ache. My bloody arse is completely black and blue. I look like you’ve been beating me.”
“You do not,” Sirius retorted, sounding truly offended. “I saw you naked tonight. When you were changing into your-“
“I kept my back to the wall.”
“And last night, when we shagged-“
“You didn’t see my arse. I fucked you against the wall in the pantry.”
“I would never hurt you. Not on purpose. Ever. I’d do everything I could to keep from hurting you by accident.” There was a note of distress in Sirius’ voice and hearing that, Remus softened.
“I know,” he said, turning back toward Sirius.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said. “Really. I never did that at Hogwarts, did I?”
“You didn’t. And I know,” Remus said again. He laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder and pressed a light kiss against his neck. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something. Obviously, we can’t have this.” In an entirely different tone, Sirius said, “Is your arse really that badly bruised?”
“Yes,” said Remus. “And what’s with that voice?”
“Can I see it?” asked Sirius, ignoring Remus’ question.
“No. You can’t. It’s dark.”
“Can I kiss it?”
No, Remus tried to say, but Sirius was already kissing his mouth. Sirius’ breath was still minty like his toothpaste, his tongue hot and insistent as it worked its way between Remus’ lips. This, Remus thought, bunching Sirius’ flannel pyjama top in his fists, and running his tongue along Sirius’ own lips and teeth, is why it’s no good waking him up. It inevitably leads to this.
Which was all right, really, despite the fact that they both had work the next morning. Sirius was gentle, and Remus was more than willing. He rolled over when Sirius put his hands on his waist, and got up onto his hands and knees. By the time his pyjama bottoms were off, he’d forgotten about the bed and Sirius’ tendency to hog it. The only important thing about his arse was how Sirius’ cock fit inside it.
To his surprise, Sirius went slowly, teasing him with licks and kisses. “Does it hurt when I do this?” Sirius murmured once, and Remus had to admit that it did, though there seemed to be a thickening haze between him and his bruises.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, moving his hands from Remus’ buttocks to his thighs. “I can’t see. I don’t want-- What if I just-?” He never completed his sentence, just pushed in with his tongue, and the shudder that tore through Remus almost carried him over the edge. He clenched his teeth, and raked the floor so hard with his nails that some of them bent and broke.
“You’re so…canine,” Remus grunted.
Sirius pulled back slightly. “I’m your bitch,” he chuckled, then went back to work in earnest, licking and laving, reaching between Remus’ legs to stroke his erection.
It was Sirius’ lashes that did Remus in, finally. Those ridiculously long, curling lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings against his tender skin. He came, and collapsed against the floorboards, breathless, and too weak to so much as turn his head when Sirius settled beside him.
“I should push you out of bed more often,” Sirius murmured as he gathered Remus close. His hand brushed Remus’ arse, which elicited a wince. “Or not,” he said. “We’ll figure this out, Moony. Don’t you worry.”
They did not climb back into bed, but spent the rest of the night on the floor, arms and legs entangled.
____
Two nights later, Remus found himself back on the floor. “Fuck!” he shouted. His shoulders and arse throbbing, he jumped to his feet, grabbed a corner of the blanket, and yanked it off the bed.
“What the fuck?” Sirius spluttered, recoiling. It was a cold night, yet he was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He lunged and made a grab for the blanket, but Remus held it out of his reach.
“You did it again. This is the fifth time. Out!”
Sirius gaped at him.
“Out,” Remus said again. “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight. I’m tutoring five kids tomorrow, and my first lesson is at nine. I need to sleep. Come on. Up.”
He grabbed Sirius’ wrist and pulled him roughly off the bed. “Take this.” He pushed the blanket into Sirius’ arms. “And go sleep on the sofa. We’ll talk in the morning. Out.”
He shoved a dumbfounded Sirius out of the bedroom, pulled another blanket out of the wardrobe, wrapped it around his shoulders, and flopped face-first against the pillows. He wished he’d kept the other blanket and given Sirius this one; the other blanket was still warm from their body heat, and smelled of Sirius. Remus grabbed Sirius’ pillow and switched it with his own, but it was still a long time before he fell asleep.
He woke to find Sirius sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled and contrite, with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. The morning sunlight was weak and watery, but Remus could still see the shadows under his eyes. Chagrined, he opened his mouth to apologize, but Sirius cut him off.
“Look,” Sirius said, “I know this is a problem, and I’m really sorry about it. I’ve been trying to get you into my bed forever, I’d never intentionally push you out. Or hurt you. Ever.”
“I know,” said Remus quietly. “I’m sorry about last night. I was an arse. It’s just…Padfoot, I can barely sit. The people whose kids I tutor…some of them are getting suspicious. What are they going to conclude? That someone’s beating me up? That I take it up the arse? I hate lying, but there’re things I don’t want them to think or know. I can’t tell them my boyfriend doesn’t know how to share his mattress. I can’t tell them I’ve fallen down the stairs five times.”
“Is that what you told them?”
“Once, yes.”
Sirius nodded, and looked down at the coffee mugs. His shoulders sagged, and Remus wanted to reach over and touch him. Before he could, Sirius sucked in a ragged breath and said, “All right. I’ve got a solution. You won’t like it, but I was up all night thinking about it, and it would work.”
“What is it?”
“Put me in a Full Body Bind when we go to bed.”
Remus stared at him.
“After sex, of course,” Sirius continued. “But before we go to sleep. It would work.”
“It wouldn’t work.” Remus climbed to his knees, and crawled over to Sirius. He put his arms around him, and dropped his chin onto his shoulder. “It wouldn’t work,” he said again, squeezing tightly. “Idiot. How can you even suggest that?”
“It was all I could think of.”
“I’m not going to do that to you,” Remus said firmly. “Did you really think I would? That’s what your parents did to you when they wanted you to be still. I’d never do that to you. I love you. Idiot.” His head suddenly began to ache, as though in protest of the idea. “No. We’ll think of something else.”
____
“Make him sleep as a dog,” James suggested, when they consulted him. He jabbed his sandwich in Sirius’ direction. “His dog-legs are short. He can’t push you, then.”
“I can’t fuck him then, either,” Sirius grumbled.
James blanched slightly. “That,” he said, “is something you can figure out without my help, mates. However…” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, put down his sandwich, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You might try withholding sex,” he whispered to Remus.
“What?” Sirius demanded very loudly.
“It’s amazing,” James confided unhappily, “the concessions men are willing to make when they haven’t gotten laid for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Sirius said incredulously to Lily when he and Remus met her at the Ministry later that day.
Lily rolled her eyes. “James can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who won’t open up.”
To forestall a retort, Remus said quickly, “I thought you were kicking him to make him stop stealing the blankets.”
“I was,” Lily said, unzipping her rucksack and beginning to rummage through it, “and it worked. But he snored, too. As I’m sure you know.”
“Snored. Past tense?” said Sirius.
“Yup,” said Lily, withdrawing that day’s edition of The Daily Prophet. “It’s amazing the concessions men are willing to make when they aren’t getting laid.”
“You had leverage we never did,” said Remus.
“But…you’re not still depriving him…are you?” asked Sirius, frowning.
Lily shook her head, causing the red hair to bounce about her shoulders. “Nope. We shagged each other senseless last night.” She pushed the newspaper into Remus’ hands.
“Then why did he let us believe…?” Sirius began.
“Because I suspect he wanted us to feel sorry for him,” said Remus. “Lily, what’s this for? I’ve already read-“
“It’s for him,” she said, pointing her chin at Sirius. When they both looked at her blankly, she explained, “He turns into a dog, doesn’t he? Whenever he misbehaves, roll the paper up and…” She pantomimed a rather violent swat.
Sirius took an involuntary step backward.
“Thanks, Lily,” Remus said, grinning.
“We could ask Peter tomorrow,” he said as he crawled into bed that night. “He might have a better idea.”
“Any idea,” grumbled Sirius, “is better than depriving me of sex.”
“I agree. Depriving you of sex means depriving me of sex. And frankly, I like getting laid.” He drew the blanket up to his chin.
“Peter won’t have anything useful to say, though.”
“What makes you say that? He’s got a girlfriend. They sleep together.”
Sirius pulled a face.
“Well, they do.”
“I know they do,” Sirius said, sliding under the covers beside him. “I don’t have to think about it.”
“You’re a silly twat, you know.”
Sirius’ teeth flashed in the darkness. “So,” he whispered, plucking at the elastic waistband of Remus’ pyjama bottoms. “I heard this rumor you like getting laid.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“I suspect this particular rumor is true.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Empirical evidence.” He tugged Remus’ pyjama bottoms down and wrapped his long fingers around his erection. “How’s your arse?” Sirius muttered, rolling on top of him and kissing his neck. He’d already pulled off his boxers, Remus discovered.
“Bit sore,” he admitted. But he slid his fingers into Sirius’ hair, and thought about other things while Sirius kissed his way down his body.
“Am I hurting you?” Sirius asked a few moments later, his lips brushing Remus’ belly.
“No,” Remus lied. Fireworks were beginning to go off behind his closed eyelids, and that was infinitely more important than any discomfort. He spread his legs wide, withdrew one hand from Sirius’ hair, and ran it over his own body. His nipples were still hard and slick from Sirius’ tongue.
Sirius kissed his belly again, then took his cock in his mouth, and the whole world exploded.
Remus ended up on the floor again that night. This time he said nothing. He only picked himself up painfully, got the spare blanket out of the wardrobe, and walked to the door. When he reached it he stopped, turned, and gazed at Sirius for a long time.
He looked like a puppy, Remus thought, all rumpled and gangly. His hands and feet were too big. Puppies were supposed to grow into their paws, but Sirius hadn’t. His lashes seemed too long as well, but that was because of the shadows on his cheek. There was a spot of drool on his lower lip.
You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, Remus thought. You’ve tried to change, and it’s not your fault if you can’t. You paid the rent this month. This is your flat. Your bed. I wish there was room for me in it, but if there isn’t, there isn’t.
Remus went into the living room and lay down on the sofa. He spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling; his chest, he found, hurt far worse than his arse.
____
He must have fallen asleep at some point because he had no memory of the sun rising, or of Sirius leaving. He simply opened his eyes, and there was the sun, painfully bright, and no Sirius to be found. There were dishes in the kitchen sink, a half-finished crossword puzzle on the table, and message for Remus with the bathroom mirror.
“I’m supposed to tell you,” the mirror said while Remus brushed his teeth, “that the other one is sorry.”
Remus spat into the sink and reached for the plastic cup. He rinsed his mouth, then said to the mirror, “We’ve got names, you know. We’re not just you and the other one.”
“He also,” the mirror said irritably, “left another poem for you. Please tell me you don’t want to hear it.”
“Let’s have it,” Remus said. Sirius had been using his comb, he discovered; there were black hairs between the teeth. Remus tugged one free and twined it around his finger. “Well?”
The mirror heaved a sigh, and recited:
“Roses are red,
My eyes are grey,
Wouldn’t you hate it
If I weren’t gay?”
Remus smiled, and shook the hair off his hand and into the rubbish bin. “Yes, I’d hate it. More than I hate being pushed out of bed. But look at this…” He shrugged out of his pyjama top and showed the mirror his bruised shoulder. “I mean, look at that. What am I supposed to do?”
The mirror was quiet for a moment. Then it said brightly, “Have you considered a Full Body Bind?”
____
Remus went to the Tonkses’ house in Clapham that afternoon. At four years of age Nymphadora hardly required a tutor, but Remus needed the Sickles, and as long as everyone understood that he was a tutor, not a nanny or a babysitter, he was willing to pretend that the Tonkses hadn’t hired him because Sirius asked them to.
Remus spent about twenty minutes reading to Dora. Then he sat her down at the kitchen table with a jam sandwich, a cup of chocolate milk, a box of crayons, and some parchment, and let her entertain herself while he scoured the Help Wanted adverts in The Daily Prophet.
A café in Quizzik Alley, up in Hogsmeade, was looking for waiters. Remus highlighted the advert with his wand, though he had no desire to wait on anyone, and if hired, would doubtless be sacked within two months. Falling ill the day after the full moon could be seen as coincidental. Two full moons in a row was suspicious.
Dora spilled her chocolate milk, as Remus had half-expected. Barely looking up from his paper, he cleaned the table, and floated the cup over to the sink. “Want any more?” he asked, running his finger down a column of adverts.
“No,” Dora said.
Someone in Knockturne Alley - no name given - was offering twenty Galleons for a handful of werewolf fur. Remus wondered if the Galleons went to the werewolf or to the madman who attempted to collect its fur.
“What?” said Remus. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No thank you,,” the girl huffed.
Remus heard her push her plate away, and drag the parchment closer. He continued to scan the newspaper. Some place in a very disreputable section of wizarding Manchester was looking for male escorts. Remus raised his eyebrows, but read the advert anyway. Young and pretty…
Well, Remus was young. He wasn’t sure about pretty, though Sirius called him beautiful. Sirius was delusional, Remus thought, but his delusions were good for Remus’ ego. Most of the time. He turned the page.
“Remus?” said Dora.
“Yeah?” He could sell some of his books, he thought a little wretchedly, looking at a list of used book dealers. Better not let Sirius know; he’d just buy them back while Remus was out.
“What color are your eyes?” Dora asked.
“Brown,” said Remus. “Why?” He looked up.
The girl was staring at him intently, her lips set in a determined line, the tip of her tongue poking between them. Like Sirius, Remus thought, and wondered what Dora was up to.
“Don’t move,” the girl instructed, jabbing at the parchment with a dark brown crayon. “Your nose is strange,” she commented.
“Sorry,” said Remus.
“I don’t like your nose. I’m not drawing it.”
“Er.” Remus folded his newspaper, and pushed it aside. “Why are you drawing me?”
Dora frowned, made another mark on her parchment, then said patiently, “I did Mummy and Daddy and Cousin See-rus. My black crayon’s almost gone,” she complained.
“May I see?” Remus asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
Dora snatched the parchment away, but not before Remus caught a glimpse of her drawing. Two stick figures, who were probably Ted and Andromeda, dominated. Beside them stood a grey-eyed stick figure with what looked like a black storm cloud attached to his head. Beside him stood a slightly shorter stick figure with brown eyes, and no nose.
“Why don’t you draw yourself?” Remus asked quietly. He picked up a purple crayon, and held it toward her. “You can use this one for your hair. It’s still sharp.”
Dora shook her head, and clutched the parchment against her chest. “There’s no room.”
“Of course there is. You’re small. There’s room next to me.” He hesitated, then said, “There’s plenty of room if you take me out. Then you could stand next to your cousin.”
Dora shook her head again adamantly. “No,” she said. “No, no.”
“Dora doesn’t like drawing herself,” Remus reported to Sirius when he returned to the flat that evening.
Sirius, who had been lounging on the sofa, a book on his chest, frowned up at him. “Why’s that?”
“I suspect it’s because her appearance changes, and she hasn’t quite got that under control yet.” Remus dusted the Floo powder from his sleeves, and went to lean against the arm of the sofa. Sirius tilted his head back. “I was the same way after I was bitten,” Remus said, stroking Sirius’ hair. “I didn’t know my body anymore, so I didn’t like drawing it.”
“So?”
“So,” said Remus, “your cousin’s a bit like me in that respect. Also, she seems to think we belong together.”
“You and Dora?”
“You and me,” said Remus. “Although I think Dora considers me almost-family, and that’s…” He lacked the words to describe the way that made him feel, but that was fine because Sirius was his primary concern at the moment. “So I’ve decided I’m not going to let you push me away.”
Sirius started up, knocking Remus’ hand away from his hair. “Moony, I never--“
“I know, not on purpose. But I think that on some level you’re not ready to share yourself completely and-“
Sirius stared at him, hurt in his winter-grey eyes. “You’re thinking too much,” he said gruffly, and rose, grasping Remus’ wrist. “C’mere.” He started to drag Remus toward the bedroom. “Something I want you to see. I’ve been doing some thinking, too,” he said. “Saw Peter this afternoon. And amid his usual nonsense was one worthwhile thought, and that was maybe the problem isn’t us. Maybe it’s the bed.” He paused in the doorway, and grinned mischievously. “We need to do this properly.”
“Um - “ Remus began, but Sirius silenced him with his mouth, and with his hands on Remus’ waist, pulled him into the bedroom.
The dark air was sharp with the scent-taste of new wood and new linen, something Remus did not understand fully until Sirius turned him around and tumbled him backward onto a mattress that was not the one he’d been pushed off last night.
“What-“ he tried again, but Sirius was already on top of him, dropping haphazard kisses all over his face and neck, and pawing greedily at his clothes.
“It’s our new bed,” Sirius breathed, getting his fingers around the bottom of Remus’ jumper and pushing it up over his chest.
“I gathered that.” Cold air hit Remus’ nipples, but then Sirius’ lips were on them, kissing and tugging. “I-“ New bed reverrated in his head. New bed, he thought giddily. The springs did not even squeak when Sirius pressed against him, pushing him into the mattress. “Ow.”
Sirius lifted his head. “Arse?”
“Still hurts. What did you-“
Sirius rolled off him, took him by the waist again, and pulled him up against him, so that they lay on their sides, chest to chest.
“This is the plan,” said Sirius, playing his fingers along Remus’ collarbone.
“A new bed?”
“Yes,” said Sirius, as though Remus had just reminded him that the full moon was a week from tomorrow. “Listen. I was used to the old bed. I was used to sprawling all over it. But this is a new bed, Moony. I’m not used to it at all. It hasn’t got my scent all over it. The mattress hasn’t even got a dent in it, yet.”
“But,” Remus protested, covering Sirius’ mouth with his palm, “this is mad. I can’t afford a new bed.”
“I can.”
“Yes,” said Remus, “but-“”
“No buts,” Sirius said. His lips and breath tickled Remus’ skin. “Unless it’s your butt, which I’m trying to protect.” He reached around Remus and cupped his arse lightly. “I have a deep, long-standing interest in the wellbeing of your arse. And I don’t like seeing it bruised.”
“The thing is,” Remus said, then stopped and left it at that. Sirius’ hand slid down his thigh, hooked itself under his knee, and drew his leg up over Sirius’.
“The thing is,” murmured Sirius, “we do belong together, and I’m not going to let you think I’m trying to push you away, subconsciously or not. This is going to work.” He shifted slightly, and Remus felt his erection through his jeans.
“It might not,” Remus whispered back, overwhelmed. “It’s a bed, Sirius. And a mattress. It’s much too dear.” But his qualms were beginning to falter in the face of his desire, and delicious little thoughts were stealing into his mind. Thoughts like, This is our bed. It’s going to start out as our bed. It’ll smell like both of us. Equally. He made one last, half-hearted attempt at dissuasion: “What if it doesn’t? This is-“
Sirius rotated his hips, and Remus moaned. “It might. Let’s try it. And if it doesn’t… We can at least put a dent in this mattress.” He kissed Remus again, and busied his fingers with Remus’ flies.
Remus’ hands moved of their own volition, their objective to get Sirius out of his jeans and underwear as quickly as possible. His mind shouted protests for a while, but gave up and stalked away when Sirius pushed his chin back and buried his nose in the hollow between Remus’ neck and shoulder.
There were lips and teeth, fingers splaying over his ribs, cool linen beneath his writhing body. There was Sirius’ cock sliding against his own, and friction, and the heat between them, so much heat that the night seemed to peel away, leaving only suns, stars, and supernovas.
Sirius rolled onto his back, gathering Remus on top of him. His fingers dug into Remus’ thighs, but it was Remus who controlled their movements, who bucked and thrust, and thought, Right here. Like this. My space.
The clean, sharp scent of the linen and the wood was intoxicating. More overpowering still was the sweaty, heady, well-worn scent of Sirius, whose groans and shouts would easily have drowned out the squeaking of their old mattress. Remus curled over him, framing his face between his hands, and kissing daft, beloved mouth, his nose, his ears, even his lashes. It was really pity that his arse hurt and the lube was out of reach, because he would have liked to plunge into Sirius and feel that heat all around him, and claim it as his own.
They came almost simultaneously, and sagged together, spent. “I think,” said Sirius hoarsely, “that this bed is officially broken in.”
Remus swiped lazily at his lips with his tongue. “We can’t take it back, now.”
“Well, the sheets we can’t. I love you, Moony.”
“I love you, too,” Remus said. “At least let me-“
“No.”
“I can pay for a little of it. I can pay for the sheets, at least.”
“No, you can’t. They’re five hundred-count Egyptian linen, or something ridiculous like that.”
“Sirius!”
“Nothing but the best for your precious arse. I’m kidding. I got them at Marks and Spencer’s. Peter dragged me there. Just shut up and be loved, all right?”
“All right.”
That night they fell asleep under their new duvet, with Remus’ head on Sirius’ shoulder, and Sirius’ hand on the small of Remus’ back. In the morning Remus woke in the middle of the mattress, with Sirius hand on his belly, and Sirius’ whuffling snores stirring the hair at the nape of his neck. That was how Remus woke the next morning, and the next morning, and almost every morning for a very long time.
02/17/05
Rating: NC-17
Ships: Remus/Sirius, James/Lily
Summary: Sometimes Sirius has trouble sharing.
Notes: Thank you, sheafrotherdon for the beta read. 5,000 words.
Two weeks after moving into Sirius Black’s Yorkshire flat, Remus Lupin had an epiphany. It hit him as jarringly as the floor hit his arse the third time a slumbering Sirius unwittingly pushed him out of bed. The trouble with living with another person, Remus thought, gazing at the ceiling, while his head, shoulders, and arse registered pain, is that you’ve got to live with another person.
Not that life in the Lair - as Lily had dubbed it - was always bad. It was fine most of the time, and sometimes it was nearly as wonderful as Remus had fantasized. He loved falling asleep with his head on Sirius’ shoulder, and waking in the morning with Sirius’ hand on his belly, and Sirius’ whuffling snores stirring the hair at the nape of his neck. He loved seeing two of almost everything: two toothbrushes in the plastic cup by the sink, two Shakespearean Insult mugs from their trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, two pairs of wellies in the closet in the front corridor. He loved finding the messages Sirius left for him with the bathroom mirror:
Violets are purple
Your eyes are brown
You are the fellow
On whom I go down
Moony, if you buy more shampoo, I’ll wash your hair tonight!
Certain aspects of their shared existence were certainly less than ideal. Sirius typically forgot to clean up after himself. He left dishes in the sink, the drain in the bathtub was constantly clogged with black hairs, and Remus was forever finding his books and LPs out of alphabetical order.
It took little more than a flick of his wand to fix these things, and Remus didn’t mind that, but he was beginning to resent Sirius’ carelessness, and the fact that he seemed to confuse Remus’ fondness for order with willingness to perform most of the household chores, which it was not.
And the fact that he hogged the bed.
“What were you expecting?” Lily asked when she met Remus for tea in London, the afternoon after Remus’ epiphany. Lily dropped another sugar cube into her teacup and glanced up. “And why are you twitching like that?”
Remus shifted uncomfortably. “These seats are hard. And I’ve got bruises the size of Bludgers. The thing is,” he said, breaking off a corner of shortbread, and twiddling it between his thumb and forefinger, “he doesn’t mean to be an arse. It’s been his flat for a whole year. I just moved in three weeks ago. He’s not used to sharing.”
Lily raised her eyebrows. “And you’re surprised?”
Remus grinned. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sirius is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. Especially,” he had to add dryly when Lily’s eyebrows shot up further, “when he knows people are watching. He shares everything. I mean, he won’t let me so much as glance at the crossword puzzle until he’s had a go at it, and he did his nut when I almost washed the t-shirt he wore to that last match against Slytherin last spring, but aside from that. When I said I could afford either half this month’s rent or half this month’s food shopping, he said not to worry about it. When I didn’t have anything smart to wear to the Tonkses’ anniversary party last month, he lent me one of his dressrobes. He’s always getting me things. Just things he sees while he’s out, that he thinks I’ll like. I wish he wouldn’t sometimes. What I meant was, he’s not used to living with another person. He’s used to having the whole bed to himself at night.”
Lily sipped her tea. “I kick James when he hogs the blankets. In the shins. Hard.”
“And what happens?” Remus asked.
“He wakes up, apologizes, hands back the blankets, and…”
“And?”
Lily shrugged. “We go back to sleep. If he hogs them again, I kick him again. If not…”
“That wouldn’t work with Sirius.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing,” said Remus, “it’s hard to kick someone when he’s in the bed and I’m on a floor. And for another…”
…Sirius almost invariably woke up horny.
The fourth time Remus was pushed out of bed - two nights after his tea with Lily - he could not bite back a shout of surprise and pain when his still-tender arse hit the hardwood floor. Next thing he knew, Sirius was peering over the edge of the bed at him.
“What’re you doing down there, Moony?” he mumbled, smiling sleepily.
Remus scowled up at him. “You bloody pushed me out of bed, you sodding bastard!” In the darkness, he could not see Sirius’ eyes, but somehow he was quite sure his lover was blinking at him slowly.
“No, I didn’t,” Sirius said at last.
“Oh no?” Tiredness and irritation made Remus sarcastic. “Then what am I doing on the floor?”
“Buggered if I know,” replied Sirius. “You fell.”
“I did not fall,” Remus said through gritted teeth. “I mean, I did because you pushed me. This is the fourth time. I know you’re used to having this place all to yourself, but I’m living here now, and this bed is big enough for the two of us, so you can keep your gangly limbs-“
There was a soft thud, and then Sirius was sprawled beside him on the floor. Sirius fumbled in the darkness with his fingers, found Remus’ chin, his lips, and finally his cheek, which he cupped tenderly. “Moony…”
“Geroff.” Remus shrugged him away.
“Moony,” Sirius tried again, wriggling closer.
“Don’t touch me,” Remus snarled. “I bloody ache. My bloody arse is completely black and blue. I look like you’ve been beating me.”
“You do not,” Sirius retorted, sounding truly offended. “I saw you naked tonight. When you were changing into your-“
“I kept my back to the wall.”
“And last night, when we shagged-“
“You didn’t see my arse. I fucked you against the wall in the pantry.”
“I would never hurt you. Not on purpose. Ever. I’d do everything I could to keep from hurting you by accident.” There was a note of distress in Sirius’ voice and hearing that, Remus softened.
“I know,” he said, turning back toward Sirius.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said. “Really. I never did that at Hogwarts, did I?”
“You didn’t. And I know,” Remus said again. He laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder and pressed a light kiss against his neck. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something. Obviously, we can’t have this.” In an entirely different tone, Sirius said, “Is your arse really that badly bruised?”
“Yes,” said Remus. “And what’s with that voice?”
“Can I see it?” asked Sirius, ignoring Remus’ question.
“No. You can’t. It’s dark.”
“Can I kiss it?”
No, Remus tried to say, but Sirius was already kissing his mouth. Sirius’ breath was still minty like his toothpaste, his tongue hot and insistent as it worked its way between Remus’ lips. This, Remus thought, bunching Sirius’ flannel pyjama top in his fists, and running his tongue along Sirius’ own lips and teeth, is why it’s no good waking him up. It inevitably leads to this.
Which was all right, really, despite the fact that they both had work the next morning. Sirius was gentle, and Remus was more than willing. He rolled over when Sirius put his hands on his waist, and got up onto his hands and knees. By the time his pyjama bottoms were off, he’d forgotten about the bed and Sirius’ tendency to hog it. The only important thing about his arse was how Sirius’ cock fit inside it.
To his surprise, Sirius went slowly, teasing him with licks and kisses. “Does it hurt when I do this?” Sirius murmured once, and Remus had to admit that it did, though there seemed to be a thickening haze between him and his bruises.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, moving his hands from Remus’ buttocks to his thighs. “I can’t see. I don’t want-- What if I just-?” He never completed his sentence, just pushed in with his tongue, and the shudder that tore through Remus almost carried him over the edge. He clenched his teeth, and raked the floor so hard with his nails that some of them bent and broke.
“You’re so…canine,” Remus grunted.
Sirius pulled back slightly. “I’m your bitch,” he chuckled, then went back to work in earnest, licking and laving, reaching between Remus’ legs to stroke his erection.
It was Sirius’ lashes that did Remus in, finally. Those ridiculously long, curling lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings against his tender skin. He came, and collapsed against the floorboards, breathless, and too weak to so much as turn his head when Sirius settled beside him.
“I should push you out of bed more often,” Sirius murmured as he gathered Remus close. His hand brushed Remus’ arse, which elicited a wince. “Or not,” he said. “We’ll figure this out, Moony. Don’t you worry.”
They did not climb back into bed, but spent the rest of the night on the floor, arms and legs entangled.
____
Two nights later, Remus found himself back on the floor. “Fuck!” he shouted. His shoulders and arse throbbing, he jumped to his feet, grabbed a corner of the blanket, and yanked it off the bed.
“What the fuck?” Sirius spluttered, recoiling. It was a cold night, yet he was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He lunged and made a grab for the blanket, but Remus held it out of his reach.
“You did it again. This is the fifth time. Out!”
Sirius gaped at him.
“Out,” Remus said again. “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight. I’m tutoring five kids tomorrow, and my first lesson is at nine. I need to sleep. Come on. Up.”
He grabbed Sirius’ wrist and pulled him roughly off the bed. “Take this.” He pushed the blanket into Sirius’ arms. “And go sleep on the sofa. We’ll talk in the morning. Out.”
He shoved a dumbfounded Sirius out of the bedroom, pulled another blanket out of the wardrobe, wrapped it around his shoulders, and flopped face-first against the pillows. He wished he’d kept the other blanket and given Sirius this one; the other blanket was still warm from their body heat, and smelled of Sirius. Remus grabbed Sirius’ pillow and switched it with his own, but it was still a long time before he fell asleep.
He woke to find Sirius sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled and contrite, with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. The morning sunlight was weak and watery, but Remus could still see the shadows under his eyes. Chagrined, he opened his mouth to apologize, but Sirius cut him off.
“Look,” Sirius said, “I know this is a problem, and I’m really sorry about it. I’ve been trying to get you into my bed forever, I’d never intentionally push you out. Or hurt you. Ever.”
“I know,” said Remus quietly. “I’m sorry about last night. I was an arse. It’s just…Padfoot, I can barely sit. The people whose kids I tutor…some of them are getting suspicious. What are they going to conclude? That someone’s beating me up? That I take it up the arse? I hate lying, but there’re things I don’t want them to think or know. I can’t tell them my boyfriend doesn’t know how to share his mattress. I can’t tell them I’ve fallen down the stairs five times.”
“Is that what you told them?”
“Once, yes.”
Sirius nodded, and looked down at the coffee mugs. His shoulders sagged, and Remus wanted to reach over and touch him. Before he could, Sirius sucked in a ragged breath and said, “All right. I’ve got a solution. You won’t like it, but I was up all night thinking about it, and it would work.”
“What is it?”
“Put me in a Full Body Bind when we go to bed.”
Remus stared at him.
“After sex, of course,” Sirius continued. “But before we go to sleep. It would work.”
“It wouldn’t work.” Remus climbed to his knees, and crawled over to Sirius. He put his arms around him, and dropped his chin onto his shoulder. “It wouldn’t work,” he said again, squeezing tightly. “Idiot. How can you even suggest that?”
“It was all I could think of.”
“I’m not going to do that to you,” Remus said firmly. “Did you really think I would? That’s what your parents did to you when they wanted you to be still. I’d never do that to you. I love you. Idiot.” His head suddenly began to ache, as though in protest of the idea. “No. We’ll think of something else.”
____
“Make him sleep as a dog,” James suggested, when they consulted him. He jabbed his sandwich in Sirius’ direction. “His dog-legs are short. He can’t push you, then.”
“I can’t fuck him then, either,” Sirius grumbled.
James blanched slightly. “That,” he said, “is something you can figure out without my help, mates. However…” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, put down his sandwich, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You might try withholding sex,” he whispered to Remus.
“What?” Sirius demanded very loudly.
“It’s amazing,” James confided unhappily, “the concessions men are willing to make when they haven’t gotten laid for two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Sirius said incredulously to Lily when he and Remus met her at the Ministry later that day.
Lily rolled her eyes. “James can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Sounds like you’re the one who won’t open up.”
To forestall a retort, Remus said quickly, “I thought you were kicking him to make him stop stealing the blankets.”
“I was,” Lily said, unzipping her rucksack and beginning to rummage through it, “and it worked. But he snored, too. As I’m sure you know.”
“Snored. Past tense?” said Sirius.
“Yup,” said Lily, withdrawing that day’s edition of The Daily Prophet. “It’s amazing the concessions men are willing to make when they aren’t getting laid.”
“You had leverage we never did,” said Remus.
“But…you’re not still depriving him…are you?” asked Sirius, frowning.
Lily shook her head, causing the red hair to bounce about her shoulders. “Nope. We shagged each other senseless last night.” She pushed the newspaper into Remus’ hands.
“Then why did he let us believe…?” Sirius began.
“Because I suspect he wanted us to feel sorry for him,” said Remus. “Lily, what’s this for? I’ve already read-“
“It’s for him,” she said, pointing her chin at Sirius. When they both looked at her blankly, she explained, “He turns into a dog, doesn’t he? Whenever he misbehaves, roll the paper up and…” She pantomimed a rather violent swat.
Sirius took an involuntary step backward.
“Thanks, Lily,” Remus said, grinning.
“We could ask Peter tomorrow,” he said as he crawled into bed that night. “He might have a better idea.”
“Any idea,” grumbled Sirius, “is better than depriving me of sex.”
“I agree. Depriving you of sex means depriving me of sex. And frankly, I like getting laid.” He drew the blanket up to his chin.
“Peter won’t have anything useful to say, though.”
“What makes you say that? He’s got a girlfriend. They sleep together.”
Sirius pulled a face.
“Well, they do.”
“I know they do,” Sirius said, sliding under the covers beside him. “I don’t have to think about it.”
“You’re a silly twat, you know.”
Sirius’ teeth flashed in the darkness. “So,” he whispered, plucking at the elastic waistband of Remus’ pyjama bottoms. “I heard this rumor you like getting laid.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“I suspect this particular rumor is true.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Empirical evidence.” He tugged Remus’ pyjama bottoms down and wrapped his long fingers around his erection. “How’s your arse?” Sirius muttered, rolling on top of him and kissing his neck. He’d already pulled off his boxers, Remus discovered.
“Bit sore,” he admitted. But he slid his fingers into Sirius’ hair, and thought about other things while Sirius kissed his way down his body.
“Am I hurting you?” Sirius asked a few moments later, his lips brushing Remus’ belly.
“No,” Remus lied. Fireworks were beginning to go off behind his closed eyelids, and that was infinitely more important than any discomfort. He spread his legs wide, withdrew one hand from Sirius’ hair, and ran it over his own body. His nipples were still hard and slick from Sirius’ tongue.
Sirius kissed his belly again, then took his cock in his mouth, and the whole world exploded.
Remus ended up on the floor again that night. This time he said nothing. He only picked himself up painfully, got the spare blanket out of the wardrobe, and walked to the door. When he reached it he stopped, turned, and gazed at Sirius for a long time.
He looked like a puppy, Remus thought, all rumpled and gangly. His hands and feet were too big. Puppies were supposed to grow into their paws, but Sirius hadn’t. His lashes seemed too long as well, but that was because of the shadows on his cheek. There was a spot of drool on his lower lip.
You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, Remus thought. You’ve tried to change, and it’s not your fault if you can’t. You paid the rent this month. This is your flat. Your bed. I wish there was room for me in it, but if there isn’t, there isn’t.
Remus went into the living room and lay down on the sofa. He spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling; his chest, he found, hurt far worse than his arse.
____
He must have fallen asleep at some point because he had no memory of the sun rising, or of Sirius leaving. He simply opened his eyes, and there was the sun, painfully bright, and no Sirius to be found. There were dishes in the kitchen sink, a half-finished crossword puzzle on the table, and message for Remus with the bathroom mirror.
“I’m supposed to tell you,” the mirror said while Remus brushed his teeth, “that the other one is sorry.”
Remus spat into the sink and reached for the plastic cup. He rinsed his mouth, then said to the mirror, “We’ve got names, you know. We’re not just you and the other one.”
“He also,” the mirror said irritably, “left another poem for you. Please tell me you don’t want to hear it.”
“Let’s have it,” Remus said. Sirius had been using his comb, he discovered; there were black hairs between the teeth. Remus tugged one free and twined it around his finger. “Well?”
The mirror heaved a sigh, and recited:
“Roses are red,
My eyes are grey,
Wouldn’t you hate it
If I weren’t gay?”
Remus smiled, and shook the hair off his hand and into the rubbish bin. “Yes, I’d hate it. More than I hate being pushed out of bed. But look at this…” He shrugged out of his pyjama top and showed the mirror his bruised shoulder. “I mean, look at that. What am I supposed to do?”
The mirror was quiet for a moment. Then it said brightly, “Have you considered a Full Body Bind?”
____
Remus went to the Tonkses’ house in Clapham that afternoon. At four years of age Nymphadora hardly required a tutor, but Remus needed the Sickles, and as long as everyone understood that he was a tutor, not a nanny or a babysitter, he was willing to pretend that the Tonkses hadn’t hired him because Sirius asked them to.
Remus spent about twenty minutes reading to Dora. Then he sat her down at the kitchen table with a jam sandwich, a cup of chocolate milk, a box of crayons, and some parchment, and let her entertain herself while he scoured the Help Wanted adverts in The Daily Prophet.
A café in Quizzik Alley, up in Hogsmeade, was looking for waiters. Remus highlighted the advert with his wand, though he had no desire to wait on anyone, and if hired, would doubtless be sacked within two months. Falling ill the day after the full moon could be seen as coincidental. Two full moons in a row was suspicious.
Dora spilled her chocolate milk, as Remus had half-expected. Barely looking up from his paper, he cleaned the table, and floated the cup over to the sink. “Want any more?” he asked, running his finger down a column of adverts.
“No,” Dora said.
Someone in Knockturne Alley - no name given - was offering twenty Galleons for a handful of werewolf fur. Remus wondered if the Galleons went to the werewolf or to the madman who attempted to collect its fur.
“What?” said Remus. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No thank you,,” the girl huffed.
Remus heard her push her plate away, and drag the parchment closer. He continued to scan the newspaper. Some place in a very disreputable section of wizarding Manchester was looking for male escorts. Remus raised his eyebrows, but read the advert anyway. Young and pretty…
Well, Remus was young. He wasn’t sure about pretty, though Sirius called him beautiful. Sirius was delusional, Remus thought, but his delusions were good for Remus’ ego. Most of the time. He turned the page.
“Remus?” said Dora.
“Yeah?” He could sell some of his books, he thought a little wretchedly, looking at a list of used book dealers. Better not let Sirius know; he’d just buy them back while Remus was out.
“What color are your eyes?” Dora asked.
“Brown,” said Remus. “Why?” He looked up.
The girl was staring at him intently, her lips set in a determined line, the tip of her tongue poking between them. Like Sirius, Remus thought, and wondered what Dora was up to.
“Don’t move,” the girl instructed, jabbing at the parchment with a dark brown crayon. “Your nose is strange,” she commented.
“Sorry,” said Remus.
“I don’t like your nose. I’m not drawing it.”
“Er.” Remus folded his newspaper, and pushed it aside. “Why are you drawing me?”
Dora frowned, made another mark on her parchment, then said patiently, “I did Mummy and Daddy and Cousin See-rus. My black crayon’s almost gone,” she complained.
“May I see?” Remus asked, leaning forward on his elbows.
Dora snatched the parchment away, but not before Remus caught a glimpse of her drawing. Two stick figures, who were probably Ted and Andromeda, dominated. Beside them stood a grey-eyed stick figure with what looked like a black storm cloud attached to his head. Beside him stood a slightly shorter stick figure with brown eyes, and no nose.
“Why don’t you draw yourself?” Remus asked quietly. He picked up a purple crayon, and held it toward her. “You can use this one for your hair. It’s still sharp.”
Dora shook her head, and clutched the parchment against her chest. “There’s no room.”
“Of course there is. You’re small. There’s room next to me.” He hesitated, then said, “There’s plenty of room if you take me out. Then you could stand next to your cousin.”
Dora shook her head again adamantly. “No,” she said. “No, no.”
“Dora doesn’t like drawing herself,” Remus reported to Sirius when he returned to the flat that evening.
Sirius, who had been lounging on the sofa, a book on his chest, frowned up at him. “Why’s that?”
“I suspect it’s because her appearance changes, and she hasn’t quite got that under control yet.” Remus dusted the Floo powder from his sleeves, and went to lean against the arm of the sofa. Sirius tilted his head back. “I was the same way after I was bitten,” Remus said, stroking Sirius’ hair. “I didn’t know my body anymore, so I didn’t like drawing it.”
“So?”
“So,” said Remus, “your cousin’s a bit like me in that respect. Also, she seems to think we belong together.”
“You and Dora?”
“You and me,” said Remus. “Although I think Dora considers me almost-family, and that’s…” He lacked the words to describe the way that made him feel, but that was fine because Sirius was his primary concern at the moment. “So I’ve decided I’m not going to let you push me away.”
Sirius started up, knocking Remus’ hand away from his hair. “Moony, I never--“
“I know, not on purpose. But I think that on some level you’re not ready to share yourself completely and-“
Sirius stared at him, hurt in his winter-grey eyes. “You’re thinking too much,” he said gruffly, and rose, grasping Remus’ wrist. “C’mere.” He started to drag Remus toward the bedroom. “Something I want you to see. I’ve been doing some thinking, too,” he said. “Saw Peter this afternoon. And amid his usual nonsense was one worthwhile thought, and that was maybe the problem isn’t us. Maybe it’s the bed.” He paused in the doorway, and grinned mischievously. “We need to do this properly.”
“Um - “ Remus began, but Sirius silenced him with his mouth, and with his hands on Remus’ waist, pulled him into the bedroom.
The dark air was sharp with the scent-taste of new wood and new linen, something Remus did not understand fully until Sirius turned him around and tumbled him backward onto a mattress that was not the one he’d been pushed off last night.
“What-“ he tried again, but Sirius was already on top of him, dropping haphazard kisses all over his face and neck, and pawing greedily at his clothes.
“It’s our new bed,” Sirius breathed, getting his fingers around the bottom of Remus’ jumper and pushing it up over his chest.
“I gathered that.” Cold air hit Remus’ nipples, but then Sirius’ lips were on them, kissing and tugging. “I-“ New bed reverrated in his head. New bed, he thought giddily. The springs did not even squeak when Sirius pressed against him, pushing him into the mattress. “Ow.”
Sirius lifted his head. “Arse?”
“Still hurts. What did you-“
Sirius rolled off him, took him by the waist again, and pulled him up against him, so that they lay on their sides, chest to chest.
“This is the plan,” said Sirius, playing his fingers along Remus’ collarbone.
“A new bed?”
“Yes,” said Sirius, as though Remus had just reminded him that the full moon was a week from tomorrow. “Listen. I was used to the old bed. I was used to sprawling all over it. But this is a new bed, Moony. I’m not used to it at all. It hasn’t got my scent all over it. The mattress hasn’t even got a dent in it, yet.”
“But,” Remus protested, covering Sirius’ mouth with his palm, “this is mad. I can’t afford a new bed.”
“I can.”
“Yes,” said Remus, “but-“”
“No buts,” Sirius said. His lips and breath tickled Remus’ skin. “Unless it’s your butt, which I’m trying to protect.” He reached around Remus and cupped his arse lightly. “I have a deep, long-standing interest in the wellbeing of your arse. And I don’t like seeing it bruised.”
“The thing is,” Remus said, then stopped and left it at that. Sirius’ hand slid down his thigh, hooked itself under his knee, and drew his leg up over Sirius’.
“The thing is,” murmured Sirius, “we do belong together, and I’m not going to let you think I’m trying to push you away, subconsciously or not. This is going to work.” He shifted slightly, and Remus felt his erection through his jeans.
“It might not,” Remus whispered back, overwhelmed. “It’s a bed, Sirius. And a mattress. It’s much too dear.” But his qualms were beginning to falter in the face of his desire, and delicious little thoughts were stealing into his mind. Thoughts like, This is our bed. It’s going to start out as our bed. It’ll smell like both of us. Equally. He made one last, half-hearted attempt at dissuasion: “What if it doesn’t? This is-“
Sirius rotated his hips, and Remus moaned. “It might. Let’s try it. And if it doesn’t… We can at least put a dent in this mattress.” He kissed Remus again, and busied his fingers with Remus’ flies.
Remus’ hands moved of their own volition, their objective to get Sirius out of his jeans and underwear as quickly as possible. His mind shouted protests for a while, but gave up and stalked away when Sirius pushed his chin back and buried his nose in the hollow between Remus’ neck and shoulder.
There were lips and teeth, fingers splaying over his ribs, cool linen beneath his writhing body. There was Sirius’ cock sliding against his own, and friction, and the heat between them, so much heat that the night seemed to peel away, leaving only suns, stars, and supernovas.
Sirius rolled onto his back, gathering Remus on top of him. His fingers dug into Remus’ thighs, but it was Remus who controlled their movements, who bucked and thrust, and thought, Right here. Like this. My space.
The clean, sharp scent of the linen and the wood was intoxicating. More overpowering still was the sweaty, heady, well-worn scent of Sirius, whose groans and shouts would easily have drowned out the squeaking of their old mattress. Remus curled over him, framing his face between his hands, and kissing daft, beloved mouth, his nose, his ears, even his lashes. It was really pity that his arse hurt and the lube was out of reach, because he would have liked to plunge into Sirius and feel that heat all around him, and claim it as his own.
They came almost simultaneously, and sagged together, spent. “I think,” said Sirius hoarsely, “that this bed is officially broken in.”
Remus swiped lazily at his lips with his tongue. “We can’t take it back, now.”
“Well, the sheets we can’t. I love you, Moony.”
“I love you, too,” Remus said. “At least let me-“
“No.”
“I can pay for a little of it. I can pay for the sheets, at least.”
“No, you can’t. They’re five hundred-count Egyptian linen, or something ridiculous like that.”
“Sirius!”
“Nothing but the best for your precious arse. I’m kidding. I got them at Marks and Spencer’s. Peter dragged me there. Just shut up and be loved, all right?”
“All right.”
That night they fell asleep under their new duvet, with Remus’ head on Sirius’ shoulder, and Sirius’ hand on the small of Remus’ back. In the morning Remus woke in the middle of the mattress, with Sirius hand on his belly, and Sirius’ whuffling snores stirring the hair at the nape of his neck. That was how Remus woke the next morning, and the next morning, and almost every morning for a very long time.
02/17/05