Title: Under Me You
Summary: Remus is just a tad too fond of Sirius' hands.
Characters/Pairings: Remus/Sirius, assorted characters
Well, P wanted Remus perving over Sirius' hands. Since it's one of my major kinks, who am I to deny her? ::g:: (And I tried to work in your other prompt, but, uh, it didn't make it all the way?)
Sirius was beautiful.
Everyone knew that. A blind man could tell you that. It was one of the perks with having the blood from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black running through your veins, no matter how much Sirius scowled and groused about it.
Remus — who still couldn't believe that he was allowed to do unspeakable things to Sirius whenever the hell he felt like it — tended to go lyrical over that body, or sometimes just plain incoherent. But as much as he worshipped that tight arse, that wiry frame and those svelte shoulders, what really made him spout sentimental tosh like But thy eternal summer shall not fade and Of under me you quite so new, were Sirius' hands.
They were divine, those hands; carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself. The square palm, all clear angles and fine lines. The back, with its velvety skin stretched over strong, delicate veins and taught tendons and sharp knuckles. The long slender fingers, looking both powerful and fragile at the same time. Nothing was abundant; just every little detail honed to perfection. A ne plus ultra of strength and beauty.
Merlin. The mere thought of those hands made Remus feel dizzy. Oh, how he wanted to run his tongue up that palm, those fingers, feel the taste of Sirius' skin, salty and tingly on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to take those fingers into his mouth, feel their every curve and angle, suck on them till Sirius was just a writhing, moaning mess of lust. He wanted to so badly he couldn't think of anything else, only merge memories and fantasies together and wait until he and Sirius were alone again.
Which was why Remus was sitting in Charms with an unrelenting hard-on, barely able to prevent saliva and whimpers escaping his mouth as he watched Sirius rehearse the wand movements. Swish, thrust, flick, languid swirl, thrust, thrust. Obscene panting was optional.
Sirius turned to him, head cocked to its side. "You alright, Moony?" he asked with a smile. He idly ran his index finger up and down his wand, probably scratching an itch or not even aware of doing it.
Remus stared at it, the unwittingly sensual motion of it, and apparently his brain had imploded and dribbled out of his ears, because instead of groaning "Nghk," he rasped out, "I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing."
Something glinted in Sirius eyes, completely giving away how much of a poetry nerd he was. He leant forward, towards Remus, so close that Remus could feel his breath, and whispered, "Muscles better and nerves more. I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling firm-smoothness and which I will again and again and again, kiss..."
Remus had to close his eyes. The sight of Sirius molesting his wand while citing smutty poetry in a low, husky voice was too much. He needed a wank, now.
But of course he couldn't; he was in class, after all. So he had to endure Sirius' sexual harassment for another ten minutes, until class was over, and tried to keep himself from coming in his trousers by mentally ticking off the anatomy of Ogres, especially concentrating on the viscera.
When the bell finally rang, Remus shoved his things into his bag and barely let Sirius do the same before dragging him away to the nearest abandoned cupboard or classroom or whatnot. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.
[The first line ("But thy eternal summer shall not fade") is from William Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, and the rest are excerpts from E. E. Cumming's poem I Like My Body When It Is With Your.]