The Proud Man's Contumely: Alternate Scenes: Remus
Harry pulled his invisibility cloak closed under his chin and knocked on Remus' door. Not timidly. He'd come for a purpose, and if he hesitated he knew he'd lose courage.
Remus answered with a cheerful expression. "I was starting to think you wouldn't be coming tonight." Harry tried not to think about all the ways that comment could be interpreted. But then he couldn't stop.
He looked at Remus; really looked. There was The smile: The crinkle at the corners of his eyes. The kind sparkle of dark amber. There were the tawny hair and thin lips, the graceful nose and narrow cheeks. There was the sharp angular jaw Harry had fantasized about running his lips across all day now. Remus really was handsome. It was the kind of handsome that wasn't necessarily apparent straight away but that nonetheless revealed itself to one slowly over time with looking. Harry's breath caught in his throat and his doubts evaporated. Of course he wanted this man, and it seemed now he had for such a long time. How had it taken him so long to realize it?
"Come in, the tea's ready," Remus invited, oblivious to the hope written on every plane of Harry's face. And his voice. Gods. So smooth and soft, so guileless. No wonder Harry always came here to be comforted by it. Now he imagined it saying things to him that were less innocent and comforting, and the contrast made Harry's head swim.
He followed Remus inside without a word. His own voice would have been worthless just then; a squeak if it came out at all. Closing the door firmly behind him, Harry leaned back against it for support. He realized he was trembling uncontrollably and steeled his will. But his heart was beating so hard he felt almost certain Remus' lupine senses would notice. Harry tried to slow his breathing and focus. Of course, he really had no idea what he was doing, but when had that ever stopped him from anything?
When Remus reached the couch and realized his ward had not followed he turned to look for him. "Harry? Are you alright?" he asked, coming closer, unsettled by the unfamiliar expression of wide-eyed determination on Harry's face. "What-?"
Harry chose that moment to straighten and, still shaking, remove his cloak; discarding it at the doorstep to reveal himself in little but his thin robe which hung open unambiguously. Remus froze, alarm and confusion chasing each other across his face.
And Harry waited. The look he wanted hadn't yet come.
Remus swallowed hard. Then again. "Harry, I don't understand. Has something happened? Are you...okay?" Remus' voice shook. His words sought to comfort but, as Harry hoped it would, his gaze became keen and drifted away from Harry's eyes. Instead of rushing forward to console him, Remus took a small step back, one hand half-raised at his side as if it could not decide whether it wanted to reach for Harry or else shield Remus from him somehow.
It was what Harry had been waiting for, as clear as a spoken admission. Remus wanted him.
Too, Harry added in his head, pulse racing. Too.
He could find no words appropriate for the situation, so he simply fixed Remus with an intent look and stalked unsteadily forward until he was scant inches from him. There Harry stood...waiting. Hoping. Willing the ambivalent hand to reach out and seize what it so obviously desired and what Harry so obviously offered.
But it refused, as he supposed he knew it would. And Harry, impatient, took hold of it by the wrist and gently forced Remus' palm flat against the bare skin of Harry's chest. An invitation. A request.
Remus' inhale was a hiss, his face a riot of conflicting emotions: need and revulsion, desire and horror. He stood stock-still, glaring at the appendage as if it did not belong to him and was no longer under his control. Then carefully, Harry released Remus' wrist. Relief flooded him as, instead of disappearing, the pressure under Remus' palm increased. It was as if Remus were trying to attain as much contact as was possible with just this body part. Harry dared to breathe for perhaps the first time since shedding his cloak.
Remus' eyes closed momentarily, as if he were committing the sensation to memory. And then slowly and possessively, the hand slid up toward Harry's neck. Harry threw his head back to accommodate it with an encouraging sigh. Remus gently but meticulously searched its contours, drinking in the sight before running a reverent thumb down the side of Harry's jaw, making Harry shiver. Remus' eyelids fluttered as he found his hand sliding over to Harry's shoulder...parting his robe further to reveal more of Harry that the hand might visit...then down again, splay-fingered, over Harry's pectoral where surely Remus could feel the pounding of Harry's heart.
The look on Remus' face as he explored was the most erotic thing Harry had seen in his entire young life. It was feral, hungry, intense. Nothing like the Remus he knew but exactly as Harry had suspected he could be. His top lip actually curled back slightly, baring his teeth as if he would like nothing more than to taste Harry. Remus had never looked more the wolf than he did in that moment. He bit his bottom lip as his thumb carefully and intentionally grazed Harry's hardening nipple as it passed.
That sent an electric shock through Harry and he gasped, pressing himself into the touch. Tired of being a passive participant, Harry abruptly closed the distance between them, practically launching himself at Remus, who was still immobile save for the rogue hand, and grasped the back of the man's neck to pull his face to Harry's own and press their lips together.
Harry was awkward and inexperienced but decisive. He could feel Remus struggle within himself but refused to relent. And finally, as if some inner levee had been breached, Remus opened his mouth to Harry, pushing past Harry's lips with a ravenous tongue as he brought a hand up to cradle the back of Harry's head, his other hand skating knowledgeably over Harry's torso.
Harry was in raptures. Never had it been like this with Cho. There was nothing timid or soft about this deep plundering of Harry's mouth. Nothing clumsy or hesitant. And it felt so right to Harry. Remus' lips weren't soft and full, didn't mash the kiss into him like plush velvet pillows. Remus' lips carved the kiss from him, so that Harry felt himself slowly and deliciously devoured. He was on fire. Every place where the two touched was a spark, lighting a fuse that lead directly to Harry's groin.
And he wanted more. Harry moaned into Remus' mouth and reached to draw him closer, wanting to feel the fullness of him against his skin. And Remus stepped into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Harry and pressing their bodies together, causing Harry to involuntarily break off their kiss with a contented gasp, as if some missing part of himself had suddenly been driven home.
Remus's body was warm and yielding, even as his arms were covetous. The soft, well-worn feel of his cardigan on Harry's skin was pleasing. Not what Harry had wanted, not the smooth brush of Remus' own skin, but somehow almost as satisfying.
Remus looked down on Harry with wonder in his eyes, bringing a hand almost worshipfully to Harry's face to memorize its contours. Harry's own eyes fluttered to a close. He was overwhelmed. Not just with desire, but with a sense of completion, and gratitude.
"Remus," he said in a trembling whisper, throat thick with emotion.
"No. No tears, my darling," Remus gently forbade, wiping them tenderly from the corners of Harry's eyes even as his own watered.
"I was afraid..." Harry began with a shuddering breath. "I was afraid you might not want me."
"Oh Harry," Remus said with a soft laugh of disbelief. "There are very few things I have ever wanted more." Harry gave a small sob and reached his hand again to the back of Remus' neck, but imploringly this time, mouth open to receive him, and Remus lowered his lips to his.
The kiss was slower this time; still deep but achingly tender. Hands roamed lazily up backs and down arms. But eventually Remus pulled back, eliciting a whimper from the boy. He held Harry slightly away from him, cupping Harry's cheek in his hand, his expression searching.
"Are you certain you want this, Harry?" he asked him seriously. "Consider it before you answer. You must tell me if you really chose this." Harry could hear the hope straining Remus' voice, and the promise that Remus would respect Harry's decision, whatever it was.
Harry's decision had been made before he'd left Gryffindor Tower, but he studied Remus anyway, reaching up a hand as Remus had to him before, finally feeling for the first time the shape of the crow's feet he so loved. Remus was still waiting for Harry's answer, but sighed and lay his cheek in Harry's hand despite himself. Questioning golden eyes met fascinated green ones, and Harry smiled.
"How could I not, Remus?" Harry said softly with a shake of his head, sure the man could hear the quiet confidence in it. Still, Remus hesitated, as if this was exactly what he had wanted but couldn't immediately accept that it was truly his. Then he swept Harry up in an embrace that lifted Harry temporarily to his toes, burying his face in Harry's neck.
Harry thought Remus might be speaking, but the words were unintelligible between Remus' trailing kisses and Harry's resulting gasps. Then Remus kissed him on the mouth again and brought both hands to the sides of Harry's face, lingering there as if he knew the kiss would have to end eventually but was reluctant to let it. When their lips finally parted, sweetly, Harry's head was swimming, and he had to cling to Remus' wrists to keep himself from tipping over.
"Oh wow," he breathed. And Remus laughed. Softly at first, then more fully, genuinely, as he took Harry's hands in his own and lead him to the sofa, drawing Harry into his lap.
Harry wrapped an arm around Remus' shoulder, laying his other hand against Remus' chest, realizing as he ran it firmly across it that he enjoyed the flat planes; and every fold and every valley. Remus was not a young man, and his condition left him thin but not especially fit. But it didn't matter to Harry. This was Remus, and everything about him was beautiful.
Harry could also feel the hardness of Remus' desire digging against his thigh, reminding him of his own; and the sweetness of the moment then evolved, or perhaps devolved, to the heat and passion of earlier.
No, Harry decided. Evolved. The sweetness was still there, it had simply joined the fully reawakened arousal from before.
"Harry," Remus said, breathing harder now, one hand slowly stroking up and down the leg laying across his lap while his other kneaded circles across Harry's back, so that Harry was practically too senseless to absorb what Remus was about to say. "You must tell me, instantly, if you are uncomfortable. I promise, I will not force anything on you, you need only to let me know how you are feeling."
Harry answered him by attacking Remus' mouth. What the boy lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. The hand round Remus' neck found itself burrowing through the soft waves of Remus' dusty blond hair, and this time it was Remus who moaned, clutching at Harry more tightly. Harry loved the sound and the feel of it. He wanted Remus to moan again, over and over ceaselessly; and Harry wanted to be the cause of it. He drew back to consider Remus' throat. Harry had enjoyed when Remus had kissed him there before, and he wanted to return the favour.
When Remus moaned this time it was Harry's name, and the boy moaned in response, never realizing how stimulating a single word breathed in one's ear could be. Harry shifted in Remus' lap, mouth still attached to his throat, and relinquished his hair to begin fumbling with the buttons of Remus' shirt. Remus' hand came to Harry's as if to stop him, but a sweeping brush from the flat of Harry's tongue had Remus taking over the task himself, managing it much more efficiently than Harry could have.
Once the last button been undone, Harry tugged impatiently at the layers separating them, and Remus quickly shrugged out of the cuffs so he could wrap his arms around Harry again. But Harry drew back, placing firm hand on Remus' sternum to prevent him from following.
Harry wanted to see.
Remus looked slightly embarrassed, as if the contrast of the two now-bare torsos so close to one another was too striking. But Harry simply smiled contentedly, lightly tracing a scar he found with an affectionate finger. Still, Harry could feel Remus' insecurity in the sudden timidity of his touch. To silence it, Harry burrowed his arms between Remus' body and the back of the sofa, hugging the man to him, loving the feel of the bare skin against his.
Hungry once again, Remus pulled Harry's mouth back to his own. It was glorious. But it wasn't enough. Harry didn't know how it could ever be enough...but he had an idea. As the kiss became more heated, the two so full of one another that they could scarcely breathe, Harry, ever aware of the pulsing hardness at his thigh, slowly trailed his hand toward it.
When Remus realized Harry's destination, he did stop him this time, curling his fingers around Harry's questing ones.
He shook his head. "Harry," he panted. "You...don't have to do that if you aren't ready." Though it seemed to cost him to say so. "We can take this slowly," he said, even his hand still clawed at Harry's back, as if the rest of his body hadn't yet gotten the memo.
"Remus," Harry said, breathless and frustrated, shifting himself so that he no longer sat in Remus' lap but straddled it, laying both hands on Remus' chest. "We've been taking this slowly for a while now. You just didn't know it."
Remus looked at him, puzzled. Then Harry straighten, his own erection unmistakeable through the thin fabric of his boxers. Remus' couldn't keep his eyes from falling to it, couldn't prevent himself from licking his lips.
"We've danced around this many times. At night in my fantasies, as I touch myself..." Harry explained, demonstrating by firmly petting himself through his pants. "...Wishing it was you," Harry finished with a sigh. A low, shuddering moan escaped the man between Harry's legs, and Harry bent down to kiss him once, slowly, as Remus' fingers clutched at Harry's thighs as if for dear life.
"You're sure then?" Remus said, his eyes heavy-lidded and his voice like dusk. Harry answered by slipping his hand inside his boxers, lips parting, but his eyes never leaving Remus'. He nodded.
Remus may have growled, did bring his mouth to Harry's stomach to taste the taught, Quidditch-toned flesh there, causing the boy to gasp out and grasp at the back of Remus' head.
"Then we're doing this properly," Remus insisted when he pulled back. Remus slid his hips forward to the edge of the couch and Harry found himself being lifted, clung to Remus, wrapping his legs around his hips.
Remus' bed was small, but comfortable, and it only creaked a little as Remus lay Harry down on it. Harry felt suddenly self-conscious, lying by himself in only his shorts as Remus stood to the side.
The wolf was back. Remus paced slowly at the foot of the bed, eyeing Harry like a bloody piece of meat, undoing his own trousers and dropping them to the floor, barely pausing to step out of them. Harry stared at Remus' newly freed erection with trepidation. It looked larger than it had felt against his leg. But then Harry looked into Remus' eyes. The hunger there could not completely eclipse the affection shining beneath, and Harry relaxed. He knew this man would never hurt him.
He reached for Remus, and Remus took his hand, climbing beside Harry onto the mattress and sliding the full length of his naked body against the almost naked length of Harry's. Harry turned and tangled himself in the man, not just his fingers in his hair, but his arms and legs in Remus' own, so that he couldn't tell their bodies apart any longer. They took a moment to simply lay there and feel each other.
"I think it's safe to admit now,' Remus said softly, stroking the hair from Harry's face, "that I've had a few fantasies of my own." He sighed, looking so content Harry was almost afraid he wouldn't allow them to go any further. And Harry couldn't have that.
"Tell me," Harry whispered, eyes shining. Remus seemed surprised, then aroused. He smiled, far less innocently than Harry was accustomed, and the sight gave him chills.
"I think," Remus said softly, gently pressing on Harry's shoulder to roll him onto his back, "I'd prefer to show you." He slipped atop Harry, causing the boy's head to swim. Harry could think of nothing other than how delicious was Remus' weight, his undeniable presence. Then Remus adjusted his hips and their erections brushed through Harry's boxers, causing Harry to gasp and press up into him. Carefully, Remus pressed back, sliding their lengths together until Harry's head fell back to the mattress with a moan and his hands struggled to find purchase on Remus' back.
"My gods, Harry," Remus whispered into the boy's now-exposed neck, his warm breath making Harry shudder. "You're magnificent." And then he began a long trail of ghostly kisses that started at Harry's earlobe and worked their way down toward his chest. Remus' lips paused only for a moment there to lap at the nub of Harry's nipple as they passed to his ribs and stomach.
Harry was a little embarrassed by the seemingly endless stream of involuntary sounds pouring from his lips. He cradled the back of Remus' head, wanting to neither force nor hinder, simply to ground himself as the everything in the world outside of Remus' mouth and tongue seemed to fall away.
When he reached the waistband of Harry's pants, Remus eased them off with smooth, practised movements, Harry lifting his hips to accommodate. Remus discarded the shorts, his eyes never leaving his Harry's cock as he settled in between Harry's thighs.
"You can stop me at any time," Remus said, and Harry was almost convinced Remus was simply teasing him at this point and whimpered.
Remus' lips were an epiphany, his tongue divine inspiration, but like most revelations of that kind, it was overwhelming. Remus suckled Harry gently as the boy quietly gasped and arched. Harry'd never felt anything like it before, could not believe something so simple could be so pleasurable. But after the first wave of euphoria ebbed, he was afraid the sensation would prove too intense. There was just so much. Harry couldn't concentrate, inexplicably felt himself tear up. But Remus seemed to sense the change in Harry and lightened his touch, ran the flat of his tongue up the length of Harry's cock, relaxing him, teasing the pleasure from him slowly until Harry was writhing and bucking beneath Remus' mouth, bunching the bed sheets in his fists and moaning. It seemed to go on forever. Harry would feel himself start to crest and Remus would back off and show Harry some other delight, until the boy was senseless, sweating…
And then there was Remus' finger. Harry tensed involuntarily and the man paused.
"We can stop," he told the boy softly, voice stretched. But Harry shook his head, unable to create words, and pressed into Remus' touch. "Whoa," Remus said smiling, "let me, Darling." And Harry sank back into the mattress and gave himself over to the man. Remus dipped his head and ran his tongue over Harry's opening, slicking it, and the feeling was strange and wonderful. He wrapped his lips back over Harry's cock as the finger returned and pressed ever so slowly, and Harry felt himself stretch. It was odd, alien, but not bad; especially when Remus worked his tongue over base of Harry's cock while the rest of Harry was embedded deep in Remus' throat.
Harry barely noted that he'd been breached until he felt himself stretch further to admit Remus' knuckle, and then the other. Remus made all the strange fall away and Harry had to admit this new addition was wonderful. The movement inside him, understanding that it was inside him, was almost enough to take him over the edge. But as always, the man's expertise kept it at bay, and Harry found himself writhing, hips twisting to get more, faster than Remus was giving. Then Remus' fingers twisted within him, curled and searched, and Harry abruptly and momentarily thought he glimpsed the cosmos themselves, such were the star that exploded behind his eyelids.
Harry cried out as Remus stroked his prostate, hips rising from the bed, unable to draw breath until the finger relented. But then it was back and it all happened again. Over and over, and Harry was undone, never wanting it to end; wanting more but afraid he could not handle it. Remus, however, proved to Harry that he could; carefully pressed a second finger in with the first and Harry forgot Remus' admonition to leave things to him and fucked himself on the man's fingers, moaning almost continuously.
"Harry," Remus said, voice ragged and pleading. "I'd like...Do you think you are ready?"
"Yes!" Harry gasped in response. "More, Remus," he shuddered, panting. "I want...AH! I want you."
Remus pulled out a bit more quickly than he meant in his eagerness. But the sudden emptiness Harry felt only made him that hungrier to be filled again. The time it took Remus to apply the lubricating potion to himself seemed an eternity, and Harry squirmed the entire while, ready.
Remus placed his hands behind Harry's knees and carefully drew them toward Harry's chest. "Any time, Harry," he promised once more. "Stop me at any time." Harry answered by reaching for him, fingertips barely reaching the man's face, but enough of it to draw him down to Harry's mouth for a sweet, lingering kiss as Harry felt Remus resting on his stretched opening. The kiss deepened as Remus increased the pressure there, then froze as he breached, neither of them able to draw breath as Remus slid slowly, almost effortlessly, deeper and deeper into the boy.
Harry had never felt so full in his life; full of Remus' cock, his tongue, the man himself...his presence all around him made Harry lightheaded. In that moment, Remus was Harry's whole world, and it felt right, and oh so very good.
Remus pulled out by half and Harry mourned, but not for long, because soon he was back. And out and back again, further and deeper and faster each time. And all Harry could do was gaze up at the man on top of him, remarking to himself on the sudden, unquestionable beauty of Remus, who was destroying him sweetly; shattering him and piecing him back together with each stroke. And Harry couldn't stop the words as they spilled from him, as they dripped in shuddering streams from his lips like the sweat from his brow down his neck, "I love you, Remus. G-gods," he gasped, clawing at Remus' back. "Oh! Oh, Remus! I love you I love you I love you…"
Remus couldn't reply, but acknowledged the proclamation with a kiss, fervent and tender at the same time, before shuddering against Harry's lips, moaning as he spilled inside him; his hand wending its way to Harry's prick to wring the orgasm from the young man as well at the same time.
They were both spent, sweat-slicked and breathless. But as weak-limbed and trembling as Remus was, he still managed to ease himself carefully from Harry and lay beside him, gathering him in his arms. Harry felt foolish for wanting to weep. But he couldn't help himself. Remus shushed him, wiped the tears with a gentle hand.
"Harry," Remus panted, distressed. "What is it? Have I hurt you? Please tell me I haven't-" But Harry shook his head adamantly.
"No," he said, his voice quivering. "No, not hurt, Remus-" Harry choked. He bit back a sob. "Perfect," was all he managed. And Remus heaved a relieved sigh and held him close, clung to him as though something might snatch him away.
"You, Harry, are perfect," he whispered, stroking back Harry's sweat-soaked hair, kissing his face over and over. "And I love you, as well, my Darling. My beautiful, beautiful boy," he promised, weeping openly now himself.
Harry had never felt so whole, so perfect, as he did in that moment. And he drifted off to sleep then, with no thought of tomorrow, safe in the comfort of Remus' arms.