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wildestrangerI'm sorry it's taken me so long to finish this, my laptop was stolen a few weeks ago and I lost all that I'd written before. But here it is!
Title: The Law of Seduction 3/3
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3691
Summary; The law of seduction takes the form of an uninterrupted ritual exchange where seducer and seduced constantly raise the stakes in a game that never ends. Jean Baudrillard
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns these characters, I have no permission to use then and I am making no money out of this. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kabeyk and pre_raphaelite1 for answering my question of what should Remus do with himself while deciding what to do about Sirius. The answer can be found in the last scene of the story.
Part one can be found here
and part two here
Both characters are over 18 here.
The Law of Seduction
Remus watches Sirius flirt with strange men in pubs, being playful and dangerous and seductive, both the performance and its audience being generally captivating. He doesn’t even have the option of pretending not to notice, as James keeps talking to him about it.
“This is all your fault.”
“How is it all my fault? Surely it’s always all you fault? Or always Sirius’ fault?”
“It’s all your fault because you broke his heart!”
Remus sighs. They’ve had this conversation a few times, and it doesn’t get any less frustrating.
“Sirius doesn’t really want me, James, if he did he wouldn’t have left…”
But James clearly enjoys his part. Lily doesn’t usually allow him to swear.
“You bloody coward, it isn’t about what Sirius wants; he’s made himself clear! It’s you who won’t make up your bloody mind. Sirius laid himself out for you and you didn’t have the guts to tell him that you wanted him! You’ve been giving him those moony eyes for years…”
“I have not!”
“…but you can’t handle it when you get what you want.”
Remus makes a good impression of shocked outrage, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on James, who patiently stares at him until he deflates.
“Sirius doesn’t want me now.”
James sighs in turn and speaks as if to a toddler, or a Sirius.
“Well, you need to convince him otherwise, then, don’t you?”
They turn to look at Sirius. He is standing by the bar, talking to a young man with impossibly blond hair who is almost as beautiful as Sirius himself. As they watch, Sirius grins, lowers his eyelids and bends to whisper something in the other man’s ear. Sirius is all moving hands, suggestive eyebrows, smirks that make you want to slap him and kiss him and turn the sarcasm in the corner of his mouth into real joy. The blond man leans back with a different kind of seduction. There is a challenge, to unsettle him, to cause a reaction and make him look less cold. Remus smiles absent-mindedly and thinks about how very good Sirius is at doing just that. But the nausea swells in his stomach, once again, when he remembers that this is what happened. And then didn’t.
“Go speak to him.”
It takes a moment for Remus to realise James is talking to him, and to remember who James is.
But it isn’t the stern look James gives him or the poking in his ribs that makes him stand up and move carefully towards the bar.
: :
“Hello, Sirius.”
The blond man turns around, looks up and down at his body, and turns back. Remus smiles with his teeth at Sirius over the other man’s shoulder. One thing you can count on is Sirius’ loyalty to his friends and his intolerance of any perceived insults to them. As Sirius leans and whispers something to the other man’s ear, Remus is pleased to see that the cool composure can be shattered. But he won’t ask what Sirius said; it will be more enjoyable to imagine it, later, in detail. The blond man leaves, and Remus steps up as Sirius moves closer.
“How’s it going, Moony?”
There is no calculated seduction in Sirius’ pose. His smile is easy, and he is leaning forward in a way that disrupts the perfect line of his posture. Remus grips the counter of the bar a little harder.
“I’m sorry to see your friend leave. Did he not want to stay longer?”
Sirius leans closer with a look that says he knows just what Remus has done, and that he only allows it because he has thought of something better to do.
“Did you like him? I could call him back, if you like.”
A delicate black eyebrow is raised and Remus feels more comfortable at this sign of Black superiority.
“I’m surprised you told him to go in the first place. You made a pretty couple.”
Sirius smiles, slowly, and this is dangerous no matter what his intentions.
“You enjoyed watching us, didn’t you? What more would like to see, Moony? Would you like to see me fucking him, bending him over this nice barstool here and see how red that pale skin could go? Or would you prefer him on his knees, taking my cock in his mouth?”
But Sirius’ words don’t have their usual effect of making Remus blush and squirm and want to bend Sirius over a barstool. Instead there is the now familiar unsteadiness in his stomach, an emptiness that no amount of healthy food and tea can fill. He doesn’t want to see Sirius fucking another man. The idea of Sirius with anybody else makes him feel sick, no matter how often he tries to get used to the idea and become prepared to handle it in public.
However, there is no need to learn to handle it just now, as Sirius is looking at something over Remus’ shoulder and frowning and biting his lip. The sight of him makes Remus’ blood flow again.
“What the hell is he doing here? Did you ask him to come?”
Remus turns around and sees Tom Dearborn, looking at them with a slight smile on his lips. Tom winks at them, and Sirius swears.
: :
Tom’s hands are still warm and strong and his mouth is hot and eager on Remus’ body, but there is something wrong. There is satisfaction in having Tom here and knowing that Sirius knows it, but his smile doesn’t make Remus dizzy and his hair isn’t dark enough. The contrast with his skin doesn’t make Remus press his face into his neck, breathless before such beauty. And his voice doesn’t make Remus hands tremble; instead they lie cold and unmoved on Tom’s back.
“Tom. Tom. I’m sorry. But this. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Tom lifts his head, and Remus almost feels regret when his mouth leaves Remus’ cock. But Tom smiles.
“I thought as much. It’s Black, isn’t it? I knew he was always making eyes at you, but I reckoned that as long as he just ogled you from behind Potter’s back and gave me filthy looks, I stood a good chance. So you finally figured out that he fancies you?”
Remus opens his mouth and closes it. He watches Tom’s eyes move down and back up.
“I see you have some things to sort out still. If it doesn’t work out, let me know, yeah?”
Tom presses his mouth to Remus’, soft and slow and almost chaste, and then gets up and walks out.
Remus is getting tired of staring at the door after people have left.
: :
Sirius comes to pick up his stuff and smiles when he sees Remus waiting on the sofa, almost hidden in books.
“I thought you didn’t like Dickens.”
“I don’t. I just thought I’d better make sure I know precisely what I don’t like about him.”
“I see.”
Sirius goes to his room, and Remus is careful to turn a few pages so that he looks like he is reading rather than listening to the noises coming from the other room. He used to be more dignified about things like that, wouldn’t allow himself to be so desperately eager for Sirius’ attention. Now he settles for trying to hide his anxiety. He can hear clothes flying though the air and boxes being transfigured smaller. Then footsteps. Remus begins to move his eyes on the page.
“Are you going out with Tom?”
Remus looks up, stares at the wall and remembers what happened with Tom. He finds he doesn’t want to look at Sirius.
“No.”
“He’s in love with you.”
The familiar bitterness shakes Remus out of his memories, and he turns to face Sirius who is standing in the middle of the living room, holding a motorcycle helmet against his hip.
“He’s deluded, then.”
This he knows how to say, knows what it means and takes comfort in it. Sirius steps forward, but is still to far to touch. Remus makes sure his hands are still in his lap.
“You think love is a delusion? Not that you’re deluded yourself, of course. Or care too much about your delusions to actually. Fuck.”
“My delusions? Like you’re. What. How.”
Sirius tilts his head and watches Remus spluttering, disinterested curiosity evident on his face. But his fingers are stroking the helmet in a rapid movement and there’s alertness in his pose, a readiness to pounce or explode. His voice is clear and steady, and successful in slowly unravelling Remus.
“But you care too much about your pride to admit that, don’t you?”
They stare at each other for a few moments. Then Sirius shakes his head, and starts to walk away. Remus struggles to stand up, books falling down all around him. He shouts after him, voice cracking and showing far too much.
“And what about your pride?”
Sirius doesn’t turn and his words aren’t loud, but, nevertheless, Remus finds he has to sit down when Sirius speaks.
“I gave it up for you.”
And then he’s gone, and Remus is staring at the door and thinking about throwing Dickens across the room.
: :
Remus finds he no longer cares about what James and Lily tell him. There’s only so much they can say, and he says it better himself. He has long been familiar with rhetorically charming statements about his inability to speak honestly to his friends. And he has never cared that much about what Peter says; he is a friend, a fellow Marauder, but not someone whose opinion Remus would value that much. And yet it is a shock to realise that it’s Peter who makes him understand what he must do.
“Well, you know. That’s just Sirius. That’s what he’s like.”
They are sitting at the pub and Peter is telling him about another bloke that Sirius is supposedly seeing. Remus is momentarily shocked that Peter would be tactless enough to be telling him that, but then remembers that he told Peter to behave as if nothing had happened. And he rather wants to know.
“I mean, he’s always had lots of girlfriends. Now that it’s boys, well, it makes sense that there’d be many. It’s not like he’d be happy with just one.”
Peter’s pale eyes are staring at him, suddenly worried that he might have said something wrong. But that’s not why Remus is angry.
When they were…whatever they were, Sirius was happy. He didn’t go out without Remus, in fact he avoided going out when Remus was home. And he wasn’t Sirius Black, the seducer of innocent hearts and less innocent bodies. He wasn’t looking for attention or for the adoration due to Sirius Black because of his beauty or his charm or his heritage.
“And you’ll meet up with someone new. Someone more…quiet, less demanding. Someone who likes books, like you do.”
Peter is smiling at him, and it is entirely possible that he doesn’t realise how insulting he is.
Remus is quiet, often. But there are times when he needs not to be. And he reads books, loves them but that is not a sign of his quietness, or something that separates him from people like Sirius. Sirius reads, and not just to tease Remus with pornographic extracts from his favourite poets. But there is something else in what Peter has just said, something that disturbs him far more.
What Sirius demands from him. What he demands from Sirius, and from himself.
: :
He knows there’s a good chance Sirius might not be alone, but when a strange man, wearing nothing but a towel, opens the door he is still flabbergasted. Fortunately, the other man seems equally surprised, which gives Remus time to collect himself.
“Is Sirius here?”
The man gives him a once-over and moves away. A minute later, Sirius appears.
“Moony? What are you doing here?”
Remus swallows, but forces himself to keep looking at Sirius.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Sirius stares, but the casualness of his pose suggests less casual thoughts. He turns away, looks back inside the flat.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”
Remus puts his hands in his pockets. He could walk back home, and spend the next three weeks picking up the courage to try again.
“Right. Should I come back later, then…”
“Just give me a minute.”
Sirius has disappeared behind the door. Remus hears muffled voices, a crack of Disapparating, and then Sirius comes back.
“Come on in.”
They walk through the hallway into the living room. This flat is bigger than the one they used to share and the furniture is new and expensive. Remus doesn’t sit down.
“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Sirius stares at him. Remus knows better than to expect to see anything, but he can’t help looking at the straight line of Sirius’ mouth and the unmoveable curve of his eyebrows. There is a long silence.
“You. What?”
Sirius voice is an incredulous whisper that breaks at the end.
“I’m in love with you.”
Remus keeps his eyes steady on Sirius’ face, but can’t help loosening his lips at the look of helplessness on his face.
“I thought you said love was a delusion.”
Remus can hear that Sirius is careful to control whatever emotions his words might have caused. But this isn’t about what Sirius is prepared to do.
“Perhaps it is. But I…”
Remus pushes his nails into his palms.
“I love you.”
Sirius’ eyes are wide and his lips are dry. Remus watches as a pink tongue licks the lower lip, and Sirius coughs.
“Right.”
Sirius blinks and makes a few hand movements that Remus can’t see because he must keep looking at Sirius’ face.
“Wait here.”
Sirius’ voice is sharp and reveals nothing. He walks out into the hallway with careful steps and goes into one of the other rooms. There are noises, but Remus can’t bear to pay attention, the blood in his ears is too loud.
“Come here!”
Remus walks across the corridor and through an open door. There is a huge wooden bed in the centre, pine cupboards and bookshelves covering the walls. And Sirius, sitting on the bed. His eyes are hard.
“Take your clothes off.”
Sirius voice is quiet, but his enunciation is clear and there is no shyness in what he says.
“Take them all off.”
Remus closes the door behind him and steps forward. He lifts his hands to his collar and starts to undo the buttons.
It’s easy, really. It’s easy because Sirius is in front of him, looking like he can’t quite believe Remus is doing this. And because he knows he must show something, offer something to Sirius that he would not do for himself. A thing that demands something from him, action rather than passivity, movement rather than stasis.
Remus drops his boxers on the floor beside him and looks at Sirius. There is no smile on his face.
“Touch yourself. And tell me what you’re thinking about.”
Remus’ hand on his hip jerks and he closes his eyes. This, of course, is what Sirius wants. And what he has to give. Words rather than silence.
But when he opens his eyes he sees such longing in Sirius’ eyes, such uncertainty, and something else that he’ll have to learn to talk about.
He puts his hand on his cock, strokes a few times. His fingers are unsteady but when his thumb slides along the vein underneath his cock, he shivers.
“What are you thinking about?”
Remus licks his lips and moves his hand in a leisurely rhythm.
“I’m thinking about how you looked like the first time I fucked you. My fingers were inside you and you were so tight, and you were biting your lips and groaning. I could see that my fingers were hurting you, but that you wanted it too, wanted it more, and you were sweating and trembling and moaning my name. And all I could think about was how your fingers would feel inside me, how you’d feel inside me. Looking at you, I could feel it.”
Remus’ hand is slippery on his cock, he’s hot and sweaty and losing control of his hand, but he can’t stop now. And he’s remembering Sirius, what it felt like, and looking at Sirius now. Sirius who hasn’t moved except to grab the sheets more tightly in his fists.
“What else?”
Remus stills his hand.
“Just that. Just you.”
Sirius stands up, stretches out a hand.
“Come here.”
Remus doesn’t move. Sirius steps closer, trails a hand on Remus’ shoulder.
“Moony.”
Remus lets out a breath and then Sirius is kissing him, licking the corner of his mouth and dragging his teeth over Remus’ lips. One of his hands is on Remus’ neck, pulling him closer, and the other one is stroking his stomach, tiny circles calculated to make him grind desperately against Sirius. Sirius’ fingers slide casually over Remus’ cock, catching the slit in a movement that makes Remus twitch and bite Sirius’ neck. And then his hands are tearing at Sirius’ clothes, buttons flying everywhere and fingers forgetting their purpose as new flesh is revealed, dearly memorised and beloved flesh that is begging to be touched again.
Sirius pulls him backwards into the bed and their teeth clash against each other. Then Sirius turns them over and pushes Remus on his back. He lifts Remus’ legs over his shoulders. They stare at each other.
“All right, Moony?”
Remus nods and licks his lips. He hopes Sirius isn’t going to ask him to speak now.
“I’m going to fuck you. But first I’m going to have my fingers inside you. Then you can see. What it feels like.”
Sirius’ hands are stroking Remus’ thighs, but Remus doesn’t stop shaking, not when Sirius’ fingers are spreading a cold liquid over him or when Sirius presses kisses on the sensitive skin behind his knee, inside his thighs, on his belly. But as Sirius moves up his body, his face eye level with Remus as one long finger enters him, Remus stops breathing. Sirius’ lips against his mouth aren’t calm, but they make him loosen his hold on Sirius’ arms and turn the grip into a caress.
“Remus.”
Sirius’ fingers are stretching him, and there is pain and fullness and want as Remus bucks against him. He can taste Sirius’ breath on his mouth, lust and fear, sweet and heavy on his tongue.
“Want you.”
Remus’ whisper is quiet but Sirius hears it and looks shattered, like he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he pushes on regardless, and when Remus’ harsh breathing turns into ragged moans, he pulls out, and pushes back in. Every time Sirius moves Remus lets out an incomprehensible noise, a whimper of something that he can’t control, drawn out by Sirius’ fingers on his hipbones and Sirius’ cock filling him. Sirius’ mouth is on his neck, unsteady and leaving a wet trail. But as Remus gasps and twitches, his cock jerking untouched against his stomach, Sirius licks the long shuddering line of his neck and kisses him.
: :
There are a few words muttered into sweaty skin, but mostly they are silent between the tangled sheets. Now that he has learned to speak Remus is scared to say anything. It could and will mean so much. But Sirius saves him the trouble.
“I’d say this has been a successful seduction.”
Remus freezes. And tries not to unleash all the doubt that until now he has kept carefully under control.
“Nothing like that. Silly Moony.”
Sirius’s mouth is soft against his cheek. The blood that hasn’t yet settled starts moving again in his veins.
“But you know. You’re hard to get. Hard to get to bed, although, actually…well, anyway, but harder to get to admit anything. Like what you want. Or even that you might want something. You’re a difficult man, Moony. So I had to be stealthy.”
Remus starts to feel dizzy again, but bites his lip to gain control of his thoughts. Sirius watches with interest and bends down to lick Remus’ abused lip.
“Since when have you been planning this?”
Remus is pleased to hear his voice doesn’t waver that much.
“Since Prongs’ engagement thing. When I first saw you with dear Tom. Reckoned you wouldn’t respond well to me just hauling you over my shoulder and having my wicked way with you there and then. So I had to think of something else.”
“Are you saying that all the time that you were accusing me of taking advantage of you, of leading you on, you were actually…”
Sirius grabs him by the waist as he tries to get up. Remus lifts his hands to push Sirius away, but Sirius takes hold of his wrists, presses them to his lips, and leans forward so that Remus and his hands are trapped beneath Sirius.
“No. Not like that. But I had to do something, something to shake you up so you wouldn’t just decide you were misunderstood and unloved like you usually do, and you do do that Remus so don’t give me those reproachful Prefecty eyes. And the only way to get you out of yourself is to make you angry, which, ok, I do fairly well, but also to make you feel guilty. And you seemed quite eager to take advantage of me. Who knew, all those years of pent up frustration…”
“Bastard.”
Sirius is serious for a moment, but then his mouth begins to curve and Remus knows he’s not going to be able to resist that open, delighted smile.
“What would that make you then?”
Remus decides he’s not going to say another word that night. But there are other ways of saying what he wants, and from the way Sirius’ breath catches when Remus reaches up and drags his teeth along Sirius’ collarbone, he knows that Sirius understands what he means, and that he means to say it.
Fin
Title: The Law of Seduction 3/3
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3691
Summary; The law of seduction takes the form of an uninterrupted ritual exchange where seducer and seduced constantly raise the stakes in a game that never ends. Jean Baudrillard
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns these characters, I have no permission to use then and I am making no money out of this. No infringement of copyright is intended.
Notes: Thanks to
kabeyk and pre_raphaelite1 for answering my question of what should Remus do with himself while deciding what to do about Sirius. The answer can be found in the last scene of the story.Part one can be found here
and part two here
Both characters are over 18 here.
The Law of Seduction
Remus watches Sirius flirt with strange men in pubs, being playful and dangerous and seductive, both the performance and its audience being generally captivating. He doesn’t even have the option of pretending not to notice, as James keeps talking to him about it.
“This is all your fault.”
“How is it all my fault? Surely it’s always all you fault? Or always Sirius’ fault?”
“It’s all your fault because you broke his heart!”
Remus sighs. They’ve had this conversation a few times, and it doesn’t get any less frustrating.
“Sirius doesn’t really want me, James, if he did he wouldn’t have left…”
But James clearly enjoys his part. Lily doesn’t usually allow him to swear.
“You bloody coward, it isn’t about what Sirius wants; he’s made himself clear! It’s you who won’t make up your bloody mind. Sirius laid himself out for you and you didn’t have the guts to tell him that you wanted him! You’ve been giving him those moony eyes for years…”
“I have not!”
“…but you can’t handle it when you get what you want.”
Remus makes a good impression of shocked outrage, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on James, who patiently stares at him until he deflates.
“Sirius doesn’t want me now.”
James sighs in turn and speaks as if to a toddler, or a Sirius.
“Well, you need to convince him otherwise, then, don’t you?”
They turn to look at Sirius. He is standing by the bar, talking to a young man with impossibly blond hair who is almost as beautiful as Sirius himself. As they watch, Sirius grins, lowers his eyelids and bends to whisper something in the other man’s ear. Sirius is all moving hands, suggestive eyebrows, smirks that make you want to slap him and kiss him and turn the sarcasm in the corner of his mouth into real joy. The blond man leans back with a different kind of seduction. There is a challenge, to unsettle him, to cause a reaction and make him look less cold. Remus smiles absent-mindedly and thinks about how very good Sirius is at doing just that. But the nausea swells in his stomach, once again, when he remembers that this is what happened. And then didn’t.
“Go speak to him.”
It takes a moment for Remus to realise James is talking to him, and to remember who James is.
But it isn’t the stern look James gives him or the poking in his ribs that makes him stand up and move carefully towards the bar.
: :
“Hello, Sirius.”
The blond man turns around, looks up and down at his body, and turns back. Remus smiles with his teeth at Sirius over the other man’s shoulder. One thing you can count on is Sirius’ loyalty to his friends and his intolerance of any perceived insults to them. As Sirius leans and whispers something to the other man’s ear, Remus is pleased to see that the cool composure can be shattered. But he won’t ask what Sirius said; it will be more enjoyable to imagine it, later, in detail. The blond man leaves, and Remus steps up as Sirius moves closer.
“How’s it going, Moony?”
There is no calculated seduction in Sirius’ pose. His smile is easy, and he is leaning forward in a way that disrupts the perfect line of his posture. Remus grips the counter of the bar a little harder.
“I’m sorry to see your friend leave. Did he not want to stay longer?”
Sirius leans closer with a look that says he knows just what Remus has done, and that he only allows it because he has thought of something better to do.
“Did you like him? I could call him back, if you like.”
A delicate black eyebrow is raised and Remus feels more comfortable at this sign of Black superiority.
“I’m surprised you told him to go in the first place. You made a pretty couple.”
Sirius smiles, slowly, and this is dangerous no matter what his intentions.
“You enjoyed watching us, didn’t you? What more would like to see, Moony? Would you like to see me fucking him, bending him over this nice barstool here and see how red that pale skin could go? Or would you prefer him on his knees, taking my cock in his mouth?”
But Sirius’ words don’t have their usual effect of making Remus blush and squirm and want to bend Sirius over a barstool. Instead there is the now familiar unsteadiness in his stomach, an emptiness that no amount of healthy food and tea can fill. He doesn’t want to see Sirius fucking another man. The idea of Sirius with anybody else makes him feel sick, no matter how often he tries to get used to the idea and become prepared to handle it in public.
However, there is no need to learn to handle it just now, as Sirius is looking at something over Remus’ shoulder and frowning and biting his lip. The sight of him makes Remus’ blood flow again.
“What the hell is he doing here? Did you ask him to come?”
Remus turns around and sees Tom Dearborn, looking at them with a slight smile on his lips. Tom winks at them, and Sirius swears.
: :
Tom’s hands are still warm and strong and his mouth is hot and eager on Remus’ body, but there is something wrong. There is satisfaction in having Tom here and knowing that Sirius knows it, but his smile doesn’t make Remus dizzy and his hair isn’t dark enough. The contrast with his skin doesn’t make Remus press his face into his neck, breathless before such beauty. And his voice doesn’t make Remus hands tremble; instead they lie cold and unmoved on Tom’s back.
“Tom. Tom. I’m sorry. But this. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Tom lifts his head, and Remus almost feels regret when his mouth leaves Remus’ cock. But Tom smiles.
“I thought as much. It’s Black, isn’t it? I knew he was always making eyes at you, but I reckoned that as long as he just ogled you from behind Potter’s back and gave me filthy looks, I stood a good chance. So you finally figured out that he fancies you?”
Remus opens his mouth and closes it. He watches Tom’s eyes move down and back up.
“I see you have some things to sort out still. If it doesn’t work out, let me know, yeah?”
Tom presses his mouth to Remus’, soft and slow and almost chaste, and then gets up and walks out.
Remus is getting tired of staring at the door after people have left.
: :
Sirius comes to pick up his stuff and smiles when he sees Remus waiting on the sofa, almost hidden in books.
“I thought you didn’t like Dickens.”
“I don’t. I just thought I’d better make sure I know precisely what I don’t like about him.”
“I see.”
Sirius goes to his room, and Remus is careful to turn a few pages so that he looks like he is reading rather than listening to the noises coming from the other room. He used to be more dignified about things like that, wouldn’t allow himself to be so desperately eager for Sirius’ attention. Now he settles for trying to hide his anxiety. He can hear clothes flying though the air and boxes being transfigured smaller. Then footsteps. Remus begins to move his eyes on the page.
“Are you going out with Tom?”
Remus looks up, stares at the wall and remembers what happened with Tom. He finds he doesn’t want to look at Sirius.
“No.”
“He’s in love with you.”
The familiar bitterness shakes Remus out of his memories, and he turns to face Sirius who is standing in the middle of the living room, holding a motorcycle helmet against his hip.
“He’s deluded, then.”
This he knows how to say, knows what it means and takes comfort in it. Sirius steps forward, but is still to far to touch. Remus makes sure his hands are still in his lap.
“You think love is a delusion? Not that you’re deluded yourself, of course. Or care too much about your delusions to actually. Fuck.”
“My delusions? Like you’re. What. How.”
Sirius tilts his head and watches Remus spluttering, disinterested curiosity evident on his face. But his fingers are stroking the helmet in a rapid movement and there’s alertness in his pose, a readiness to pounce or explode. His voice is clear and steady, and successful in slowly unravelling Remus.
“But you care too much about your pride to admit that, don’t you?”
They stare at each other for a few moments. Then Sirius shakes his head, and starts to walk away. Remus struggles to stand up, books falling down all around him. He shouts after him, voice cracking and showing far too much.
“And what about your pride?”
Sirius doesn’t turn and his words aren’t loud, but, nevertheless, Remus finds he has to sit down when Sirius speaks.
“I gave it up for you.”
And then he’s gone, and Remus is staring at the door and thinking about throwing Dickens across the room.
: :
Remus finds he no longer cares about what James and Lily tell him. There’s only so much they can say, and he says it better himself. He has long been familiar with rhetorically charming statements about his inability to speak honestly to his friends. And he has never cared that much about what Peter says; he is a friend, a fellow Marauder, but not someone whose opinion Remus would value that much. And yet it is a shock to realise that it’s Peter who makes him understand what he must do.
“Well, you know. That’s just Sirius. That’s what he’s like.”
They are sitting at the pub and Peter is telling him about another bloke that Sirius is supposedly seeing. Remus is momentarily shocked that Peter would be tactless enough to be telling him that, but then remembers that he told Peter to behave as if nothing had happened. And he rather wants to know.
“I mean, he’s always had lots of girlfriends. Now that it’s boys, well, it makes sense that there’d be many. It’s not like he’d be happy with just one.”
Peter’s pale eyes are staring at him, suddenly worried that he might have said something wrong. But that’s not why Remus is angry.
When they were…whatever they were, Sirius was happy. He didn’t go out without Remus, in fact he avoided going out when Remus was home. And he wasn’t Sirius Black, the seducer of innocent hearts and less innocent bodies. He wasn’t looking for attention or for the adoration due to Sirius Black because of his beauty or his charm or his heritage.
“And you’ll meet up with someone new. Someone more…quiet, less demanding. Someone who likes books, like you do.”
Peter is smiling at him, and it is entirely possible that he doesn’t realise how insulting he is.
Remus is quiet, often. But there are times when he needs not to be. And he reads books, loves them but that is not a sign of his quietness, or something that separates him from people like Sirius. Sirius reads, and not just to tease Remus with pornographic extracts from his favourite poets. But there is something else in what Peter has just said, something that disturbs him far more.
What Sirius demands from him. What he demands from Sirius, and from himself.
: :
He knows there’s a good chance Sirius might not be alone, but when a strange man, wearing nothing but a towel, opens the door he is still flabbergasted. Fortunately, the other man seems equally surprised, which gives Remus time to collect himself.
“Is Sirius here?”
The man gives him a once-over and moves away. A minute later, Sirius appears.
“Moony? What are you doing here?”
Remus swallows, but forces himself to keep looking at Sirius.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Sirius stares, but the casualness of his pose suggests less casual thoughts. He turns away, looks back inside the flat.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”
Remus puts his hands in his pockets. He could walk back home, and spend the next three weeks picking up the courage to try again.
“Right. Should I come back later, then…”
“Just give me a minute.”
Sirius has disappeared behind the door. Remus hears muffled voices, a crack of Disapparating, and then Sirius comes back.
“Come on in.”
They walk through the hallway into the living room. This flat is bigger than the one they used to share and the furniture is new and expensive. Remus doesn’t sit down.
“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Sirius stares at him. Remus knows better than to expect to see anything, but he can’t help looking at the straight line of Sirius’ mouth and the unmoveable curve of his eyebrows. There is a long silence.
“You. What?”
Sirius voice is an incredulous whisper that breaks at the end.
“I’m in love with you.”
Remus keeps his eyes steady on Sirius’ face, but can’t help loosening his lips at the look of helplessness on his face.
“I thought you said love was a delusion.”
Remus can hear that Sirius is careful to control whatever emotions his words might have caused. But this isn’t about what Sirius is prepared to do.
“Perhaps it is. But I…”
Remus pushes his nails into his palms.
“I love you.”
Sirius’ eyes are wide and his lips are dry. Remus watches as a pink tongue licks the lower lip, and Sirius coughs.
“Right.”
Sirius blinks and makes a few hand movements that Remus can’t see because he must keep looking at Sirius’ face.
“Wait here.”
Sirius’ voice is sharp and reveals nothing. He walks out into the hallway with careful steps and goes into one of the other rooms. There are noises, but Remus can’t bear to pay attention, the blood in his ears is too loud.
“Come here!”
Remus walks across the corridor and through an open door. There is a huge wooden bed in the centre, pine cupboards and bookshelves covering the walls. And Sirius, sitting on the bed. His eyes are hard.
“Take your clothes off.”
Sirius voice is quiet, but his enunciation is clear and there is no shyness in what he says.
“Take them all off.”
Remus closes the door behind him and steps forward. He lifts his hands to his collar and starts to undo the buttons.
It’s easy, really. It’s easy because Sirius is in front of him, looking like he can’t quite believe Remus is doing this. And because he knows he must show something, offer something to Sirius that he would not do for himself. A thing that demands something from him, action rather than passivity, movement rather than stasis.
Remus drops his boxers on the floor beside him and looks at Sirius. There is no smile on his face.
“Touch yourself. And tell me what you’re thinking about.”
Remus’ hand on his hip jerks and he closes his eyes. This, of course, is what Sirius wants. And what he has to give. Words rather than silence.
But when he opens his eyes he sees such longing in Sirius’ eyes, such uncertainty, and something else that he’ll have to learn to talk about.
He puts his hand on his cock, strokes a few times. His fingers are unsteady but when his thumb slides along the vein underneath his cock, he shivers.
“What are you thinking about?”
Remus licks his lips and moves his hand in a leisurely rhythm.
“I’m thinking about how you looked like the first time I fucked you. My fingers were inside you and you were so tight, and you were biting your lips and groaning. I could see that my fingers were hurting you, but that you wanted it too, wanted it more, and you were sweating and trembling and moaning my name. And all I could think about was how your fingers would feel inside me, how you’d feel inside me. Looking at you, I could feel it.”
Remus’ hand is slippery on his cock, he’s hot and sweaty and losing control of his hand, but he can’t stop now. And he’s remembering Sirius, what it felt like, and looking at Sirius now. Sirius who hasn’t moved except to grab the sheets more tightly in his fists.
“What else?”
Remus stills his hand.
“Just that. Just you.”
Sirius stands up, stretches out a hand.
“Come here.”
Remus doesn’t move. Sirius steps closer, trails a hand on Remus’ shoulder.
“Moony.”
Remus lets out a breath and then Sirius is kissing him, licking the corner of his mouth and dragging his teeth over Remus’ lips. One of his hands is on Remus’ neck, pulling him closer, and the other one is stroking his stomach, tiny circles calculated to make him grind desperately against Sirius. Sirius’ fingers slide casually over Remus’ cock, catching the slit in a movement that makes Remus twitch and bite Sirius’ neck. And then his hands are tearing at Sirius’ clothes, buttons flying everywhere and fingers forgetting their purpose as new flesh is revealed, dearly memorised and beloved flesh that is begging to be touched again.
Sirius pulls him backwards into the bed and their teeth clash against each other. Then Sirius turns them over and pushes Remus on his back. He lifts Remus’ legs over his shoulders. They stare at each other.
“All right, Moony?”
Remus nods and licks his lips. He hopes Sirius isn’t going to ask him to speak now.
“I’m going to fuck you. But first I’m going to have my fingers inside you. Then you can see. What it feels like.”
Sirius’ hands are stroking Remus’ thighs, but Remus doesn’t stop shaking, not when Sirius’ fingers are spreading a cold liquid over him or when Sirius presses kisses on the sensitive skin behind his knee, inside his thighs, on his belly. But as Sirius moves up his body, his face eye level with Remus as one long finger enters him, Remus stops breathing. Sirius’ lips against his mouth aren’t calm, but they make him loosen his hold on Sirius’ arms and turn the grip into a caress.
“Remus.”
Sirius’ fingers are stretching him, and there is pain and fullness and want as Remus bucks against him. He can taste Sirius’ breath on his mouth, lust and fear, sweet and heavy on his tongue.
“Want you.”
Remus’ whisper is quiet but Sirius hears it and looks shattered, like he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he pushes on regardless, and when Remus’ harsh breathing turns into ragged moans, he pulls out, and pushes back in. Every time Sirius moves Remus lets out an incomprehensible noise, a whimper of something that he can’t control, drawn out by Sirius’ fingers on his hipbones and Sirius’ cock filling him. Sirius’ mouth is on his neck, unsteady and leaving a wet trail. But as Remus gasps and twitches, his cock jerking untouched against his stomach, Sirius licks the long shuddering line of his neck and kisses him.
: :
There are a few words muttered into sweaty skin, but mostly they are silent between the tangled sheets. Now that he has learned to speak Remus is scared to say anything. It could and will mean so much. But Sirius saves him the trouble.
“I’d say this has been a successful seduction.”
Remus freezes. And tries not to unleash all the doubt that until now he has kept carefully under control.
“Nothing like that. Silly Moony.”
Sirius’s mouth is soft against his cheek. The blood that hasn’t yet settled starts moving again in his veins.
“But you know. You’re hard to get. Hard to get to bed, although, actually…well, anyway, but harder to get to admit anything. Like what you want. Or even that you might want something. You’re a difficult man, Moony. So I had to be stealthy.”
Remus starts to feel dizzy again, but bites his lip to gain control of his thoughts. Sirius watches with interest and bends down to lick Remus’ abused lip.
“Since when have you been planning this?”
Remus is pleased to hear his voice doesn’t waver that much.
“Since Prongs’ engagement thing. When I first saw you with dear Tom. Reckoned you wouldn’t respond well to me just hauling you over my shoulder and having my wicked way with you there and then. So I had to think of something else.”
“Are you saying that all the time that you were accusing me of taking advantage of you, of leading you on, you were actually…”
Sirius grabs him by the waist as he tries to get up. Remus lifts his hands to push Sirius away, but Sirius takes hold of his wrists, presses them to his lips, and leans forward so that Remus and his hands are trapped beneath Sirius.
“No. Not like that. But I had to do something, something to shake you up so you wouldn’t just decide you were misunderstood and unloved like you usually do, and you do do that Remus so don’t give me those reproachful Prefecty eyes. And the only way to get you out of yourself is to make you angry, which, ok, I do fairly well, but also to make you feel guilty. And you seemed quite eager to take advantage of me. Who knew, all those years of pent up frustration…”
“Bastard.”
Sirius is serious for a moment, but then his mouth begins to curve and Remus knows he’s not going to be able to resist that open, delighted smile.
“What would that make you then?”
Remus decides he’s not going to say another word that night. But there are other ways of saying what he wants, and from the way Sirius’ breath catches when Remus reaches up and drags his teeth along Sirius’ collarbone, he knows that Sirius understands what he means, and that he means to say it.
Fin
