Categories > Books > Harry Potter
"Just you and me, Rem," Sirius sighed, flopping onto his bed, limbs spread out like a grand starfish. The rest of the dormitory was empty, for Sirius and Remus were the only Gryffindor boys who opted to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.
"I suppose so," Remus said carefully, straightening a stack of parchment on his desk.
"What'll we do, Rem?" he asked, the words exiting his mouth lazily, as if he hadn't the energy to properly enunciate.
"I'm probably going to change into pajamas, then sleep," Remus said in a calculated, reasonable voice. He proceeded to pull a pair of pajamas out of his trunk, cross over to his bed, and draw the curtains. Sirius sighed and stood, waiting for Remus to change.
"But if you're in pajamas, we can't go anywhere," Sirius protested. All the same, he shed his jeans and pulled on pajama pants, leaving off his shirt because it was suddenly very warm.
Remus opened his curtains and climbed off the bed, tossing the laundry into the hamper in the corner. Sirius watched his long, languid steps with fascination. The moonlight -- a crescent moon, thankfully -- mingled with the lamplight on the desk, giving Remus's skin an unearthly glow. Remus poured himself a glass of water from the silver jug and proceeded to take a sip -- slowly, so slowly -- before setting it down on the desk. Sirius feels the blood leave his head and travel down, down... Why am I aroused by him drinking?/ he thinks, shaking his head to try and clear his mind. But it's futile -- Remus stretched his arms over his head; Sirius is half-hard and incredibly energetic, suddenly. This -- arousal -- happens every time Remus does anything; eat, drink, fix his tie, run his fingers through his hair. It's gotten to the point where Sirius has to skip lunch to get off, for the sheer pain of his constant hardness. /Which, he reminds himself, surely doesn't go unnoticed.
"Remus." His voice, low and husky, catches Remus by surprise. A flash of fear and -- hope? -- flits across Remus's face. Sirius stands and walks over to Remus, a hand on his cheek.
"Remus," he repeats, before promptly kissing him. Remus unfolds like a flower, mouth and body and soul opening slowly until he and Sirius are snogging full-out. Sirius knows what he's doing, obviously, as the well-recognized player of Hogwarts. But Remus, too, seems to be well-informed. His kisses are the right mix of tongue and teeth, nipping and licking and pressing in an overwhelmingly pleasing fashion.
Sirius is shocked.
"Rem, how -- "
"Don't," Remus begins, in a threatening tone, "don't, don't... do not stop." Then he continues, and Sirius is against the desk and Remus is in front of him, against him, on top of him. Their hips press together and Sirius gasps; Remus is enjoying this, clearly.
Then, Sirius notices, his shirt is off. How was his shirt off? Bugger it, Sirius thinks, and discards conscious thought along with his pants.
Remus's chest, bare and pale in the moonlight, is more beautiful than Sirius had ever noticed before. The two of them are naked in seconds, tumbling together onto the more comfortable bed. Remus shifts to the side, and their erections brush -- /ohgods, ohgods/, Sirius thinks, a mess of emotions. Then Remus's hand is there, stroking, gripping... and Sirius is gone. He comes moaning Remus's name, and Remus follows soon after.
It takes a few minutes for Sirius to catch his breath, during which time he lies beside Remus, tangled in a mess of limbs. Finally both are conscious again, and the silence between them turns decidedly uncomfortable.
"Remus?" Sirius asks tentatively, untwining his arm from around the other's leg.
"Don't say anything," Remus whispers, before planting a very effective silencing kiss to Sirius's mouth.
And Sirius is content.
"I suppose so," Remus said carefully, straightening a stack of parchment on his desk.
"What'll we do, Rem?" he asked, the words exiting his mouth lazily, as if he hadn't the energy to properly enunciate.
"I'm probably going to change into pajamas, then sleep," Remus said in a calculated, reasonable voice. He proceeded to pull a pair of pajamas out of his trunk, cross over to his bed, and draw the curtains. Sirius sighed and stood, waiting for Remus to change.
"But if you're in pajamas, we can't go anywhere," Sirius protested. All the same, he shed his jeans and pulled on pajama pants, leaving off his shirt because it was suddenly very warm.
Remus opened his curtains and climbed off the bed, tossing the laundry into the hamper in the corner. Sirius watched his long, languid steps with fascination. The moonlight -- a crescent moon, thankfully -- mingled with the lamplight on the desk, giving Remus's skin an unearthly glow. Remus poured himself a glass of water from the silver jug and proceeded to take a sip -- slowly, so slowly -- before setting it down on the desk. Sirius feels the blood leave his head and travel down, down... Why am I aroused by him drinking?/ he thinks, shaking his head to try and clear his mind. But it's futile -- Remus stretched his arms over his head; Sirius is half-hard and incredibly energetic, suddenly. This -- arousal -- happens every time Remus does anything; eat, drink, fix his tie, run his fingers through his hair. It's gotten to the point where Sirius has to skip lunch to get off, for the sheer pain of his constant hardness. /Which, he reminds himself, surely doesn't go unnoticed.
"Remus." His voice, low and husky, catches Remus by surprise. A flash of fear and -- hope? -- flits across Remus's face. Sirius stands and walks over to Remus, a hand on his cheek.
"Remus," he repeats, before promptly kissing him. Remus unfolds like a flower, mouth and body and soul opening slowly until he and Sirius are snogging full-out. Sirius knows what he's doing, obviously, as the well-recognized player of Hogwarts. But Remus, too, seems to be well-informed. His kisses are the right mix of tongue and teeth, nipping and licking and pressing in an overwhelmingly pleasing fashion.
Sirius is shocked.
"Rem, how -- "
"Don't," Remus begins, in a threatening tone, "don't, don't... do not stop." Then he continues, and Sirius is against the desk and Remus is in front of him, against him, on top of him. Their hips press together and Sirius gasps; Remus is enjoying this, clearly.
Then, Sirius notices, his shirt is off. How was his shirt off? Bugger it, Sirius thinks, and discards conscious thought along with his pants.
Remus's chest, bare and pale in the moonlight, is more beautiful than Sirius had ever noticed before. The two of them are naked in seconds, tumbling together onto the more comfortable bed. Remus shifts to the side, and their erections brush -- /ohgods, ohgods/, Sirius thinks, a mess of emotions. Then Remus's hand is there, stroking, gripping... and Sirius is gone. He comes moaning Remus's name, and Remus follows soon after.
It takes a few minutes for Sirius to catch his breath, during which time he lies beside Remus, tangled in a mess of limbs. Finally both are conscious again, and the silence between them turns decidedly uncomfortable.
"Remus?" Sirius asks tentatively, untwining his arm from around the other's leg.
"Don't say anything," Remus whispers, before planting a very effective silencing kiss to Sirius's mouth.
And Sirius is content.
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