A/N: This is complete, but not completely posted-- it will be 4 chapters in all, and should be up within the next week. Happy reading! (and reviews are made of awesome)
"Siriuuuuuusss," Remus groaned loudly as the bed indented beside him, causing him to slide into Sirius's lap.
"Comeon, Moony, someone's got to entertain me!"
"No. Sleeping. Tired. Find James."
"He's off impregnating Evans."
"Wormtail. Go. Leammelone."
"Argh, Wormtail's passed out in the common room. Had about a barrel of firewhiskey and Richards punched him in the mouth. Says Peter insulted his mum, but personally, I think he was being overly sensitive, his mother does have a bit of a beard," said Sirius, making himself comfortable.
"Sirius, the full moon was only the other night and I'm still exhausted. Clear off and find someone else to play with, will you?" pleaded Remus, shoving his head beneath his pillow.
Remus groaned once more as Sirius slid under the blankets and sidled up to the tired werewolf. This was very irritating. It had been a particularly violent change, and with his fellow Marauders in detention, a lonely one as well. They were always worse when he was alone. Without the others, Remus tended to wake up cold and bloody and confused, and the recovery period was always days rather than hours. When they were there though, waking up was generally a matter of tangled limbs and sometimes a large black puppy snuggled against his chest. All this notwithstanding, Remus didn't mind Sirius being in his bed nearly as much as he let on. He really wanted to want Sirius gone, but he didn't, and that annoyed him.
"Poor, poor Moony. All alone in that pitiful shack. I'm so sorry we couldn't be there to keep you company, but McGonagall didn't take kindly to our little prank in the Great Hall. Kept going on about "thousands of galleons of damage" and "disrespecting the ancients" or some shite. I think she was overreacting—" Sirius usually thought others were overreacting, "—but she didn't let us out till damn near morning."
Remus grunted noncommittally. He'd known from the moment James got that look in his eye that not only were they actually going to try and turn the whole of the Great Hall red and gold and musical, but that they were going to be flayed for it. He hadn't even asked them to come, knowing they couldn't, but it bothered him a little that Sirius made it sound like he was being a nancy for wanting company. It bothered him a lot, actually, and few things truly bothered Remus Lupin, besides Sirius Black, of course.
"Was it really so terrible? Had to sleep on the ground, no one to romp with, I can see why you're pouting—"
"I'm not pouting!" Remus shouted, throwing his pillow aside violently and looking up at Sirius.
"Calmdown, Moony. Christ, don't hurt yourself," Sirius said, looking infuriatingly calm.
Remus wanted to say something smart, but the rapid movement really had hurt, and he worried the largest of his cuts might have reopened. Not that Sirius needed know as much.
"Honestly, Moony, it's not like we wanted to be in detention. We're the ones who got screwed, where do you get off sulking?" said Sirius, with a crookedly charming half-smile, signaling he was mostly joking. Remus didn't care.
"Sulking?! You think I'm sulking? You ridiculous, arrogant twat! Yeah, some big sacrifice- it's your own bloody fault for trying such a stupid prank. Honestly, did you think they weren't going to notice the whole hall singing the Gryffindor Quidditch song that you wrote?! Meanwhile, while you're off writing lines or scrubbing cauldrons or whatever-the-blazes, I was busy tearing my own fucking skin apart! Sulking, honestly." and with a huff, Remus turned his back on the other boy, but not before appreciating the look of shock and disbelief on Sirius's face.
The Marauders in general were a loud bunch. James never stopped boasting, Peter never stopped joking, and Sirius just never stopped—but Remus was never like them. In fact, he could track on one hand the number of times he'd truly shouted at any of his friends, and none of those fingers would stand for Yelling At Sirius Black. It simply wasn't done.
There was a lengthy silence, during which Remus wondered if Sirius had fallen asleep. Part of him hoped so, as he didn't particularly feel like dealing with whatever Sirius was going to say, but another part of him was going to be supremely annoyed if Sirius had gone and dozed off while Remus worked himself into a genuine rage. Finally, the bed shifted once more until Remus could feel the heat coming off Sirius's body, centimeters away.
"Moony?" a voice whispered in Remus's ear.
"Yeah?" Remus sighed.
"How… how bad was it?"
"What? My err—transformation? It was, erm…" he could feel himself blushing in the dark, certain that Sirius would take the mickey out of him if he made it sound too dramatic. "It was worse than usual," he said levelly.
"How much worse?" said Sirius, sounding honestly curious. Remus could practically feel him cock his head to the side in his most adorable innocent puppy impression. Again, the mattress moved and this time Sirius's right arm pressed against Remus's own.
"Worse. It was worse, alright?" Remus whispered tiredly into the mattress.
Again, silence stretched between them, and this time, Remus hoped Sirius had dozed off. Remus never was terribly lucky.
At first, he thought he was imagining it, but there was definitely a hand on the small of his back and it seemed to be lifting his shirt ever so gently. At the same time, Remus felt the covers being pulled away.
"Padfoot… what are you doing?" asked Remus cautiously, his voice about an octave higher than normal.
"I just wanna see, that's all."
"How bad it was—is."
Remus panicked. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his scars, per say, but he didn't particularly enjoy showing them off, especially like this. Feeling very exposed, Remus tried to sit up, tried to cover up, but Sirius held him down.
"Relax, I'm not the one that bites," Sirius said with a laugh riding his voice.
This did not help Remus relax, but he submitted, knowing better than to argue. When Sirius Black wanted something, there was no dissuading him. James and Dumbledore were perhaps the only ones in history to exert any control over Sirius's whims, though the former exercised his power far less frequently than the latter would have preferred. Remus on the other hand was probably a foot shorter than Sirius and not the most forceful of souls, so he lay still and made a valiant attempt at auto-asphyxiation with his remaining pillow.
For a second time, Remus felt his nightshirt being lifted and the cool night air rushed against his skin. He gave a shiver, only partially due to the cold. It seemed to take hours, but finally, Sirius had Remus's shirt pulled up to his shoulders. It wasn't so bad, really, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he wanted to ever ever do this again, but it wasn't quite as humiliating as he'd expected. At the very least, Sirius wasn't making any snide remarks just yet.
"Oh, Moony…" Sirius breathed. If he hadn't known better, Remus would have thought he heard sympathy in his voice, but sympathy was well outside Sirius's emotional range, which basically consisted of mischievous and horny.
Almost imperceptibly, fingertips began roaming over Remus's exposed skin, touching and tracing the scratched and scars. Remus bit down on his pillow and silently prayed for it to end. As though reading his thoughts, Sirius suddenly stopped, but before Remus had a chance to be appreciative, Sirius was on him, straddling his back, sitting on the backs of his thighs.
The weight forced Remus's groin into the bed, and it was then that he realized with creeping horror that he was more than a little interested. Not that this was unusual. In fact, almost any time Sirius landed in his bed, Remus found himself a bit too interested. The only comfort in any of this was that once or twice, Remus could have sworn Sirius was hard too, although for Sirius it was probably some weird biological reaction, while for Remus these inappropriately timed erections were often accompanied by equally inappropriate thoughts—like about scenarios quite similar to this one.
"Siriuuuuusss," Remus whined into the bedding.
"Shhhh… I just… I wanna look, 'right?"
But he wasn't just looking. The weightless touches had turned into strong, smooth caresses, following the lines on Remus's flesh like a map. Sirius's hands were sweaty and hot and felt surreal on Remus's cool skin, contrasting the chill in the air. Soon, fingers became open palms, and Sirius was running his hands up and down Remus's spine, warming the skin and teasing the muscles. Remus felt as though his body was melting as all his muscles unwound; however, every time Sirius shifted forward, Remus's cock rubbed against the bed, the friction doing nothing to dissuade his erection.
"Wha?" said Remus, drifting back to consciousness.
"Roll over, yeah?" Sirius said, a little impatiently. Remus was about to be annoyed by his tone when he noticed something that made his blood still—something hard brushing the small of his back every time Sirius rocked forward.
Before Remus could move, Sirius was rolling him onto his back, still straddling his waist. When they settled back in, Sirius was very nearly sitting on Remus's cock, and there was no way he could overlook Remus's arousal. Too embarrassed to breathe, Remus lay still, waiting for the biting comment that doubtlessly come. No matter that Sirius was hard as well, he could be quite the hypocrite. Strangely though, the comment never came, and soon Sirius was unbuttoning Remus's shirt, which had fallen back into place when they moved.
When Remus finally dared open his eyes, Sirius was staring down at his chest with painful intensity. His fingers glided over the buttons on Remus's nightshirt with a proficiency that reeked of hands-on experience, which he certainly had plenty of. His eyes though, stormy and grey, didn't show disgust or even heat, but deep, crippling sadness. Remus's breath caught in his throat as he watched Sirius undress him, gentle but hurried. When at last all the buttons had been undone, Sirius slowly separated the shirt, pushing it off Remus's bony shoulders. Those grey eyes went immediately to the most recent set of cuts, four or five deep gashes across Remus's chest, running from his left shoulder nearly to his bellybutton.
"Oh Moony," Sirius said, his voice barely audible. His hands remained pinned at his sides, and Remus chastised himself for thinking that Sirius would even consider touching him once he saw the mess of red lines on his skin.
"Couldn't… Why didn't Pomfrey mend you?" Sirius asked, his voice more steady but still cautious.
"She can't. Not when I've done it to myself," Remus said, matter-of-factly.
Sirius's eyes widened. "Yourself? But you've never done anything like that before. What in the hell happened?"
Remus smiled a sad little smile. "I have. Dozens of times. Just—just not with you all around. As long as you're there I… I don't know. I don't understand how it works, I doubt anyone does, but when you're with me it's not as bad. I feel a little more human and… and it's not as violent. Before—when I was a kid— I nearly killed myself about twenty times. This really isn't so bad," he finished, offering another half-smile.
For a long while, Sirius just stared. His eyes roved the landscape of Remus's chest. "I didn't know," he said simply. "You never told me. You never once told me. Damn it, Moony, if you'd told me I'd have been there!" said Sirius, eyes flaring with anger as his voice rose to a shout.
Remus trembled, startled by Sirius's outrage. "I… I never thought… You couldn't have come, Pads, you had detention!"
"I'd have skipped it, you idiot!"
"I know, but you can't just go skipping out on McGonagall on my account. She's more likely to eat you alive than I am!"
"Of course I can, you think I'd have just left you to die in some stupid shack? I'd have been there, Moony, I swear I would have," Sirius said, less angry this time. "What if you'd bled to death or something? Did you even think about that?"
"I… well, I thought about it, but… but it didn't seem like there was anything for it. I couldn't ask you to come."
"Fuck, Moony, if I'd known, you wouldn't have had to ask," said Sirius solemnly.
Then there was nothing else to say. Remus just stared at the boy above him, a surge of affection and appreciation rushing over him so powerfully that he had to grip the sheets to keep from flinging his arms around Sirius's neck. Almost hesitantly, Sirius placed his right hand on Remus's chest, covering the worst of his wounds with his palm. Right over Remus's heart. For a moment, the werewolf worried that his speeding heartbeat would give him away, but he then discovered he didn't care. He wanted Sirius to understand exactly how much he loved him at that moment, even if the feeling wasn't reciprocal.
Slowly, Sirius resumed tracing the marks on Remus's body, gentle and careful and tender. When he brushed Remus's already-hard nipple, Remus gasped sharply.
"What? Did I hurt you?" Sirius asked, looking legitimately concerned.
"No… I—no," Remus replied articulately.
It was too intense, and when Remus finally could take no more, he shut his eyes and focused solely on the sensation—sweat and skin on skin, brushing, touching, caressing. The sting of injury and the sweet, perfect feeling of fingertips and palms.
And then Remus thought he must have fallen asleep, because there was simply no way that Sirius could be doing what it felt like he was doing. Remus opened his eyes cautiously, afraid he might wake up. Before him, a head of black hair was bent over his chest, moving slowly from left to right. Lips brushed against Remus's cuts, so soft, it might have been accidental, were it not for the slight sound of kisses being pressed to his skin. Suddenly, Sirius was looking up at him, eyes narrow and questioning, as though asking for permission. And Sirius Black never asked permission.
Careful of Remus's chest, Sirius drew himself up, so that his face hovered but a few inches above Remus's. The smaller boy opened his mouth several times in rapid succession, searching for something to say that might adequately express his feelings at that moment, but there was nothing. There were no words. And then it didn't matter, because Sirius was getting closer and closer and there was no distance between them and his lips were on Remus's lips, and there was breath in Remus's mouth that was not his own.
In the mad dreams Remus had had about kissing Sirius Black, it was always frantic and rough. Hard lips and punishing tongue. There was always a sense of urgency and need and Sirius always moved just a bit too fast and pushed just a bit too hard, but that was alright, because that was how Sirius did everything.
This was nothing like that. For a long time, neither moved. They simply sat there, lips touching, breathing against one another's skin. No pressure, no movement, just contact. Hand to chest, lips to lips, legs to legs, skin to skin, flesh to blood. At some point, Remus realized his eyes were shut, but it hardly mattered, he was accustomed to picturing Sirius's face at moments like this. When he looked up, Sirius gazed down at him, unblinking, eyes awash with something soft and warm that Remus didn't recognize.
Then their lips were moving, pressing and pushing against one another, hot and damp and slow. Sirius's tongue darted across Remus's bottom lip, and the werewolf opened his mouth in a plea that never came. More contact, more heat. Slowly, their tongues intertwined, Sirius's dragging along Remus's, while Remus explored every inch of Sirius's mouth, memorizing it, just in case he woke up.
For a long while, they just kissed. Not even made out or snogged or anything so crude, but kissed. Finally, when he thought he might die without more, Remus reached a hand hesitantly around to Sirius's back, slipping beneath his arm. He ran his palm across Sirius's skin, marveling at the feel of smooth, unblemished texture. It had been years since he'd experienced such a thing.
As though the flood gates had sprung open, Sirius reached down with one hand and nearly lifted Remus off the bed. Still supporting his own weight and careful of Remus's injuries, Sirius pulled him in and held him very close. With this shift, Remus could feel Sirius's cock digging into his stomach, which made his own erection ache with renewed interest. With a whimper, he bucked his hips upward, grinding against Sirius before relaxing back onto the bed. Sirius took this as some kind of signal and slid down slightly, so that their cocks aligned through their pajamas.
It was intensely gorgeous, and Remus couldn't help but moan. Sirius smiled against his mouth and released his grasp around Remus's chest. Before the smaller boy could complain, Sirius was slipping his hand between them, under the waistband of Remus's pajamas and past his boxers. With one deft motion, Remus felt his cock spring free of his clothing as Sirius pushed his pajama pants down to his knees before repeating the maneuver on himself. A wave of pleasure washed over Remus when at last their cocks touched. The sensation of hot flesh on flesh was so acute, he worried he might come that instant. But then Sirius did something incredible and the sensation intensified, as though it were possible.
One arm still keeping himself elevated, Sirius wrapped his right hand around both of their cocks and began to rock back and forth with agonizing caution. Remus groaned and arched, urging him on, pleading with his body for more friction, more speed, but even as he did, he felt the wounds on his chest strain and burn. Remus let out a small cry before he could stop himself.
"Yeah… yeah. Fine—argghh!" Remus twisted a little as the aching on his skin intensified. "Don't quit… don't… stop…" he whispered between waves of pain.
"Shhh…" Sirius whispered.
Remus didn't look as Sirius pulled away. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to look, unsure whether he could stand to watch him walk away. Beneath his burning skin, a cold, heavy pain settled in his chest as the bed jostled and Sirius's heat evaporated. It had been too fucking perfect, much too perfect to be happening to him, and now it was over and fuck knew what kind of damage it would cause.
But then there was wet, hot suction on the tip of Remus's cock and he lost his train of thought. All the rejection and longing flew away at light speed and were replaced by overwhelming warmth. Sirius's tongue lingered on the head of Remus's erection before gliding along the underside, caressing the thick vein there. Now the tears streaming down Remus's cheeks had nothing to do with the pain in his chest—which was rapidly subsiding.
With each suck, Sirius took him in a little deeper, swallowing him, inch by aching inch. Swallowing all the pain and longing and desperation and loneliness. As he began to work in earnest, Remus could feel his balls constrict and the familiar warmth pool in his groin. Hastily, he reached down, brushing the top of Sirius's head.
"I'm going to—gonna… ahh…" he stuttered incoherently.
Sirius looked up at him for just a moment, eyes wide with acknowledgement, before sucking even more fiercely than before. Remus moaned, letting his head fall back, and shuddered as he gave himself over to Sirius's mouth. With one last lick, Remus came, shaking and sweating and still crying (though he'd never admit it) into Sirius's warm, damp mouth. Every inch of skin and bone seemed to dissipate, until he was nothing but warmth and wholeness. In three near-painful bursts, he shot his release down Sirius's throat, and Sirius swallowed, licking and sucking until Remus went soft.
Sirius crawled up the bed and collapsed along side the now delirious werewolf. Neither moved or spoke until finally Remus felt he should say something to show his endless appreciation.
"I—You… That was incredible."
Sirius just smiled and drew the covers over them both. Without thinking, Remus curled into Sirius's heat, fitting his back to Sirius's front. It was then that he realized that Sirius was still hard and unfulfilled.
"You—I should… You didn't, you know…"
"S'alright. Relax. Go to sleep," Sirius whispered calmly.
"Shut up, Moony. I said 'relax'. Merlin!" Sirius repeated with an air of exasperation that Remus was pretty sure was put on.
An arm found its way around Remus's waist and suddenly his eyelids grew unreasonably heavy, and he knew no more.
When he awoke the following morning, Sirius was gone, and Remus wondered briefly whether it had all been a dream—but then he noticed his shirt, still undone, and his pajama bottoms around his knees, and somehow, this was comforting. Because even if it had been stupid and potentially friendship-ending, there was no denying what he'd seen in Sirius's eyes, and Remus was sure he'd be haunted by their stormy grey for the rest of his life.