Disclaimer: I own nothing. The song is 'Mouth' by Merrill Bainbridge. If you don't see how it fits, listen to the song and pay attention to the lyrics. (If you want to see the lyrics at the beginning and end of each part, visit my lj account.)

Warning: Underage wizards. Proceed with caution. Slash. SBRL. Get used to it, I'm a faithful shipper.

Dedication: To Leighanne, thanks for the wonderful idea! Sorry it's been so (so, so, so) long in coming. I hope you like it. ::big hug::

Part One

Brown hair shines silver in the moonlight, golden-brown eyes glinting amber. Exquisite lips brush kisses whisper-soft against warm skin that burns deliciously at the slightest contact.

Heated breath lightly stirs his black hair and dances over one ear, sending pleasurable tingles along every nerve. The tip of a tongue reaches out and traces across his lips, teasing them apart even as a knee gently nudges between his thighs. More tingles dart through his body as a shudder spreads outward from his spine. His black-haired head tilts back, exposing his throat, grey eyes rolling shut, and a low moan escapes his throat.

He's panting now, groaning slightly, fingers clutching at the smooth skin of the other's back, pulling that warm weight closer, closer, always closer, never close enough. Grinding, friction, heat, mouths devouring mouths, tongues twining, teeth clicking, nipping, biting, frantic, faster, faster.

The heat builds.

Sweat, bodies sliding, hands gliding, touching, nails on backs, sides, thighs. Grip, hold, tight, move, closer, faster, harder, hotter. Heat. Building. Building. Closer, faster, harder, hotter, more, more, more.

His breath comes in gasps, words tumble incoherently from his lips, swallowed by the other who responds in kind, unintelligible sounds pouring out disjointedly between hungry kisses.

They're moving together, together, faster, more, harder, more, more, so close… He forces his eyes open, desperate to see the other, and the face above him is one he knows, and it's beautiful in pleasure. Those almost-amber eyes look back at him as their slick bodies writhe in sync, faster, more, so close…

"Sirius," the husky voice breathes against the black-haired boy's mouth.

"Remus," he gasps back, the name barely articulate, and he whimpers, so close…


"So close…" he whispers, but…

"Sirius." The voice is harsher this time, more commanding.

"So close…" he moans, and…


Sirius's eyes snap open, then immediately try to close again as bright light burns them. There is a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, but as he peers through slitted eyes the shaking stops. His eyes slowly adjust to the light and he realizes it's coming from the tip of a wand that is being held scarcely a foot from his face.

Sirius reaches out to grab the wrist holding the wand and moves it away from his sensitive eyes, towards its owner.

"Sirius?" the owner of the wand asks as his face is lit in turn.

He knew it. He knew it. He'd known it from the moment he'd realized he was awake, from the moment he'd felt that hand on his shoulder – the hand that is still against his bare skin. The last person in the world he wants standing over him with a lit wand at this moment in time. If Sirius were the type of person who blushed when embarrassed, he would rival a tomato. As it is, all his blood stays a little south of his face, making the situation even more awkward.

"Remus," he croaks. "What's the big idea?" his voice cracks halfway through, and he would wince if he weren't already mortified beyond belief.

"I could ask you the same thing," the brunet responds and one of his eyebrows twitches, as though it's fighting to lift in amusement and is being forcefully controlled.

"What?" Sirius's voice cracks again, and this time he does wince, because now he's really hit rock bottom.

"You woke me up," Remus informs him. The corners of his lips are now twitching as well. "If you're going to be so loud, you ought to learn to cast a proper silencing charm."

"I wasn't – I wasn't –" Sirius stutters. Unfortunately, his near panic isn't helping his problem. It can't possibly get any worse.


"Yes, you were loud. Loud enough to wake me up, at any rate, this close to the full moon."

"I…" Sirius tries, but can think of nothing to add.

"I thought you were having a nightmare," Remus continues blithely. "You were positively writhing and making quite an impressive range of sounds."

"I…" Sirius tries again, then, latching on to the fragile lifeline Remus has thrown him, "Nightmare. Yes."

"It must have been dreadful," the brunet remarks, voice vaguely resembling something sympathetic. "Your sheets are soaked through with sweat."

"Dreadful," Sirius echoes, desperate enough to believe that his friend actually thinks he's had a nightmare that he ignores the positively wicked glint in those almost-amber eyes as a trick of the light.

"Was something chasing you?" Remus inquires.

Sirius blinks. "What?"

"You kept saying, 'so close, so close,'" he explains. "So I was wondering if you were being chased."

"Oh." Sirius lets out a shuddering breath. "Yes. Chased." Then, feeling as though he might head off the next question, he adds, "Filch."

"Filch?" Remus raises an eyebrow, then settles down on the bed, rather closer to Sirius than the grey-eyed boy is comfortable with at the moment. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Er… no?" Sirius carefully draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

"It often helps, you know, to relieve the stress."

Sirius starts. "What?"

"Talking about your dreams," Remus clarifies, tone completely innocent.

But Sirius can no longer pass off the gleam of evil in his friend's eyes as a trick of the wandlight. "I don't want to talk about it," he says in a tone he means to end the conversation and send the other boy back to his own bed.

The brunet doesn't move. "Are you sure?" he inquires, still the ever-helpful friend, but with a slightly pointed note in his words.

Sirius shifts uncomfortably. "Why should I want to talk about it?" he asks, and it comes out more defensively than he'd meant it to.

Remus leans in slightly. "Because I heard you," he whispers, and there is now an undeniable smirk on his face.

"You never! It's a lie!" (1) emerges as an undignified squeak before Sirius can prevent it. His eyes go wide and both his hands leap to cover his mouth.

Remus chuckles low in his throat and, in the corner of his mind not preoccupied with panicking, Sirius wonders how a boy that age could possibly make a sound like that. "No lie. I heard you."

"I –"

"You were moaning." A pause, then the ax fell. "My name."


(1) A line of Rosencrantz's from Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

A/N: So, I know y'all are waiting (not so) patiently for me to update ToTP, HLtW, RKoW, and FM, but it's easier to work on smaller pieces at work, so this is what I've got at the moment. Hopefully, the next chapter of ToTP will be up soon. And, hopefully, I'll be able to finish this piece quickly, as well. Hope you like this bit! Please review and let me know!