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Sunshine	By : ElectricAndroid Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2392 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sunshine
- 1
Title: Sunlight

Author: Electricandroid

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Remus/Harry

Word count: 2500

Warnings: Mild AU, Student Teacher Relationship, Chan (13)

AN: Beta'd by the lovely not_sally.
For the wonderful switchknife
in honour of the many wonderful fics which (he/she/it) has graced us with
recently, and all the work (he/she/it) does for the fandom. Thank you. As per
your request ;-).

Sunlight

The attic was checkered in beams of light. Harry knew he ought not be up there,
ought not be foraging for half broken rocking horses as props. Ought not be
trawling through suitcases belonging to former masters, that their wives,
mistresses and partners had mislaid.

But professor Lupin had never really told him that he could not come up here.

He had discouraged it, strongly, with the bittersweet smell of cologne on his
collar, crossing over Harry�s lap to pour the tea in their weekly meetings. But
he had never prohibited it. And Harry would just have to make sure that his
tutor would not find him up here. After all, cup quaking, cake sliding of
platters, so sweet at this latter day Dothebys Hall, Harry Potter would do anything
to please his professor.

Harry had come to the school a charity case. There were no other words for it,
and with its reputation as one of the less well respected public schools, never
fact, always innuendo, no real Englishman would send their son there.
Shirtlifters, pansies and profligates. But Harry had no choice, a biannual
stipend from the local priesthood and the school took the view that a bed
occupied was worth more than one empty.

Real friends were never something that Potter had had, and those who would have
befriended him soon steered clear of him. His tutor, Lupin, had taken one look
at him and asked for his services as his personal fag. And as such, most
students assumed that he was better on his knees than he was in class. As
Lupin�s possession, Potter escaped the undercurrents, the threads which would
have lead to his soft pants or heartrending screams in the dorms at night. No,
Harry was sacrosanct, and over the first year he spent blocking his ears at
night, all of twelve, he learnt to value Lupin�s guardianship.

It did not hurt that the professor was handsome. Maybe not in a conventional
sense, with his worn robes, and his tattered gown and mortarboard, but there
was a certain animal magnetism which drew Harry, and many of the younger
students, into his protection.

And sometimes, hearing the soft pants one thin piece of plywood over, he would
roll onto his back, hard, and think of Professor Lupin and his yellow eyes.

Coming back to school after summer he was half-heartedly hoping that maybe
Professor Lupin would keep him as his fag this year, though for the most part
the first years were fags, and the seconds more than happy to be let off that
responsibility. So when he saw another name on the list he was not that
disappointed. Really. And if he cried himself to bed that night, well, he was
merely homesick for the orphanage.

The orphanage; where every night a pair of yellow eyes would flash before him
as he was coming.

The next day he found his name under Lupin�s on the Tutor�s sheet. If he had
had any friends, they would have noticed the difference as a shy smile, a pale
red blush suffused his face. Most would have taken it as pleasure in getting
one of the more lenient Masters as his tutor; there were few beatings, hand or
ferulae, from Professor Lupin. But Harry moved quickly away from the board as
he hardened under his grey twill. Rushing to the dorms, he stripped and made
his way to the showers. Luckily they were empty, he would not have wanted anyone
to see him scream �Remus� and fall to his knees.

The first tutorial session passed as the second and all subsequent ones did, in
a crash of falling crockery, upturned cups of boiling tea, and the beet-red
flesh of Harry reacting to the proximity of his professor. And Lupin seemed not
to note that the cup would crash, the tea would spill, or the cake would fall
each time he poured tea, reaching across Harry even though there was a
perfectly good tea table to his left. Harry presumed he left it that way from
his previous group of students. There was no way Professor Lupin would do
anything special just for him.

And then this, the penultimate tutorial of the year. Harry was involved in the
play put on by the second years and had pleaded with Remus to let him know
where he could find props. Remus had appeared not to hear, but half an hour
later he was musing about the attic, where the teacher�s trunks were stored.
How he had found a particularly rare globe, and several sets of cartography
parchments layered between the shirts of a former master.

Harry was being lulled to sleep by the tea and cake, the soothing sound of
Professor Lupin talking to him, but his ears perked up at this. It was nothing
as compared to what came next, with Professor Lupin dragging his hand across
his lap, gentle and firm, and asking if Harry had enjoyed his years with him.
If Harry would like to find another Master next year, or if he would like to
continue to be with Professor Lupin.

The insinuations were so subtle that Harry may have imagined them. He begged
leave to think on it, and stuttered his way out of the sun-drenched room as
quickly as he could, his cock aching and his heart pounding against his
breastbone. The last image he had was of Lupin, staring at his neck, mesmerized
by the pulse point, as if he could see Harry�s lifeblood throb against the
surface.

Back to the dorms, another midday shower, and Harry was off to investigate the
attic and its prison of sunbeams.

Harry had already created quite a pile of props, piling them up by the
trapdoor, and was now standing mesmerized, looking at the broken landscape
through the gaps in the slate, motes of dust swimming in and out of his vision.
He was enchanted by the swaying trees, the moors which stretched out for miles before
him green, lush, and fragmented. They reminded him of Lupin, Lupin to whom he
had to return an answer about next year, Lupin who he did not think he could be
with if he did not touch him like that again.

So enrapt was he; that he did not hear the staircase creak, did not hear the
slightly labored breathing of his professor as he mounted the treads. He did
not hear the paces on the floor, disturbing dust which had lain quite for many
a decade. He watched the countryside, and as Remus stared at the halcyon boy,
suddenly so still, worn twill trousers half an inch too short, and white shirt
untucked, his breath caught in his throat.

Beautiful, beautiful crazy boy. Up here in the rafters surrounded by the sins
of previous masters.

It was not stop animation, nor was it normal speed. Rather it was like watching
a scene refracted through water, that lazy, dense light slowing down their
motions. Harry turning, opening his mouth, unconsciously running a tongue
around his lips. Remus, reaching his hand forward, eyes bright gold, pupils
like pinpricks, his breath rasping. Harry�s pupils dilating and dragging
himself forward on an invisible string made of sunbeams. Then Lupin�s calloused
fingertips making contact with that pristine skin, and everything moving back
into real time.

The shock was gone, both Remus and Harry now knew what they had hitherto only
suspected. Remus wanted his prot�g�, and Harry would allow himself to be taken.

Even Remus had heard the boy�s moaning at night. He told himself he was looking
out for the young ones, but he never interfered, and he never heard Harry gasp.
Circumstantial, but coupled with his isolation, Remus was sure that Potter was
a virgin. A virgin he would deflower in this decade old dust, this herringbone
pattern of sunbeams upon aged planks.

Remus pulled Harry into his grasp, breathing in the scent of the sun-warmed
hair, clean and sharp, wintergreen and Harry. The musty smell of mothballs
drowned out by the smell of nubile boy in his arms. And that boy arching into
him, against his chest, barely pubescent cock up against his thigh. The soft
mewls as Harry panted for breath, each exhale a plea for Remus to do more than
stand there, to grasp him and crush him and fuck him into the floorboards.

The twill was soft, Remus ran his hands down it, down coltish thighs and barely
defined calves, the disconnected joints and limbs of youth. Down to ankles, and
slipped Harry�s feet out of their leather prisons, tossing shoes and socks
across the attic and hoping whoever was downstairs would not hear the thump and
come to investigate. Staring in admiration at the perfectly formed arches, and
the succulent comma of each toe, ten staring pinkly at him.

Then up, up the Mondrain lines, feeling the electric shivers of nubile flesh
responding to touch for the first time. Dragging his hands up further and
further, catching shirt and jumper, pulling up until Harry�s moans turned to
gasps, and then hastily fumbling with the tie until both it and the shirting
lay bundled upon the floor. Remus, falling to his knees, breath ghosting,
tongue mere millimeters from that fresh hot skin. Face to face with a train of
gossamer hair leading downwards, a signpost to a treasure clearly delineated by
the twill. And Remus, raising his eyes, trying to see if his permission extends
this far.

Harry was in a daze until those yellow eyes rose to meet his. Remus had
stopped, on his knees, asking permission to go where Harry�s hand had taken him
each and every night. There were no words, no breath for words and no thought
for them either. Harry just arched his hips forward in a silent plea. Fumbling,
and the twill fell away, leaving Harry in a pair of worn under-shorts with a
crotchful of Remus, breathing his scent.

There was no way that pleasure like this could be equaled.

Not until the worn short made their way across the attic and Harry stood there
buck-naked, hard, silken strands of precome glistening in the light. His body
striated in patters of light and shade, almost feral in its simple lines and
ferocity.

Remus rocked back on his heels, loosened his collar, and the Harry was on his
knees, ripping and tugging at buttons and fixings and seams, until from the
waist up Remus was as naked as his student, golden-brown. Harry pushed himself
into Remus, rubbing his nipples and his cock against Remus� chest, feeling the
mat of hair bristle against such sensitive organs. He was moaning now, and it
permeated Remus� consciousness that Harry would come all over him given half a
chance. Lovely as that would be, and awful as he thought himself at this
moment, he wanted Harry to enjoy his first time. So he gently pushed the
writhing boy until Harry was lying face up on the floor, bars of sun crossing
him.

Bending over, Remus could smell the freshness of young boy beneath his nose. He
licked the head of Harry�s cock, and the squeak of pleasure, the shudder
passing through his body was certification of Harry�s virgin status. He took
Harry�s cock into his mouth, gently, all tongue and no teeth, sucking
languorously on the organ whilst his student mewled and keened and thrusted
underneath him, moving faster and faster until Remus was certain that he was on
the edge of completion.

Remus pulled back and Harry wailed. That was until his legs were parted, his
hips lifted and Remus laved his hole with a sandpaper tongue.

The pleasure was exquisite, impossible, and a dichotomy, so dirty and yet so
very clean and innocent. Harry could not help but force himself further down to
that thrusting tongue, try to impale himself upon the writhing muscle. His hand
snaked down the clean lines of his chest, his belly, grasping his cock. Only to
be batted away, and taken in hand by those work-worn fingers, cleverly working
their magic until Remus was sure that the headmaster would come running on the
basis of Harry�s sub verbal keening alone.

As Remus pulled himself back and fumbled in his trousers for a tube of
anything, Harry was so locked in a daze of pleasure that he kept on pushing
himself upwards, writhing for the pleasure so recently removed. So when Remus
placed his hot mouth around Harry�s cock, and the tip of a finger against
Harry�s entrance there was nothing more he could do to control the boy. With a
noise like a squealing shoat, Harry Potter came, opalescent drops of come being
sucked into his voracious professor�s mouth. And Remus� finger, worming its way
ever further as the spasm�s wracked Harry�s body.

When the last of the aftershocks had passed, Remus ran his spare hand up and
down Harry�s sensitive body, twisting the nipples gently, ghosting from
hipbones to armpits to cheekbones, memorizing the curves and hollows of a face
he would likely see every night that summer in his dreams.

Gradually Harry came back to consciousness, and realizing that he still had
Remus� digit impaled within him, pushed back against it in a wordless request.
It was enough for Remus, unbuttoning his fly, pushing his trousers to his knees
and the overbalancing onto Harry as the forced him forward onto his ankles, he
was faced with bare back, shoulder blades and xylophones of spine and ribs. And
acre after acre of white gold skin. Harry parted his thighs in invitation, a
virgin whore, and the pert buttocks, rounded mounds of flesh barely deep enough
to take Remus� tongue between them, surrounded the head of his cock.

It took all of Remus� self to stay there for one second, trying to catch a
breath and a smidgen of control. But when Harry moaned, pushed himself up with
one hand, down against Remus� cock, and used the other around his own, Remus
could wait no longer. With a slow, sleek thrust he impaled his student.

From there on out, there was no more control, neither�s body would allow it.
Harry pushed backwards as if he worked nights in a Soho brother, and Remus took
his charge as a starving man would a banquet. They melded seamlessly into a
writhing cornucopia of limbs and scents. The thrust shortened, the pulses
became more erratic and the moans and screams and squeals and keens from both
participants frightened away the birds in the eaves. With a harsh thrust and
pant, Remus came, and Harry�s cock leaked a few drops a mere second after.

Curled up in the sunbeams after, a puddle of spit and come and lubricant
between his legs, Harry turned to his teacher.

�I think I would like to be your student again next year.�
- 1
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Sunshine