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Wet Soporifics	By : DictionaryWrites Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Remus/Sirius Views: 4005 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters therein belong to JK Rowling; I'm playing in the sandbox, as it were, whilst claiming no ownership and making no money.

Chapter List
- 1-Wet Soporifics
- 1
Remus sprawls on his belly in bed, face pressed into his pillow as he does his best to ignore the moonlight filtering in through the moonlight. It's only a crescent moon, but the shine of it still serves to make his skin tingle with remembered agonies, and he wishes there were curtains to drag over the Gryffindor tower's window to block it out - he hates pulling the curtains around his own bed. His sheets are tangled haphazardly around his waist and his legs: simultaneously, he is too hot and he is too cold, and he knows he's not going to be able to sleep if he keeps lying here like this.
Remus feels a depression at the edge of his mattress, a depression that slides slowly forwards, and he kicks at it.
"Ow," complains the voice the depression is attached to, more emotionally wounded than physically.
"Go back to your own bed, Sirius."
"But I want to be in yours." Remus stays entirely still as Sirius pulls the curtains closed around them, murmuring a silencing spell as the last of the moon is entirely shut out by the thick, red fabric, and he and Sirius are left in the pitch black together. Sitting alone in bed like this would make Remus feel claustrophobic, trapped, but somehow with Sirius kneeling beside his thigh, breathing quietly and evenly, he feels quite free. "You can't sleep."
Remus hesitates for a second or two, and then he says, "No." He feels Sirius lean forwards, grasping at the edge of Remus' bedsheet and peeling it slowly towards himself, baring Remus' back to the darkness, baring Remus' hips to the darkness, baring his arse and the backs of his thighs. Remus refuses to sleep with pyjamas on, no matter how much Peter and James complain about seeing his cock in the mornings - the fabric rubs at his skin when he shifts in the night, and with Remus' nightmares, he shifts a lot. "You going to bite me?"
"You wish," Sirius replies, and Remus feels the other boy's hands touch the backs of his calves. It's just Sirius' knuckles, brushing back and forth over the skin, barely even touching the flesh and just making the hairs there tickle under the touch: Remus feels himself stiffen, and Sirius brushes a little higher. The backs of Remus' knees, ghosted over one way with Sirius' knuckles, tingle. Remus feels himself twitch, blood meandering slowly southward, and he groans, pressing his face harder into the pillow. If Remus turned, he'd see nothing but darkness, but he knows that Sirius is smirking.
As Sirius's fingertips slide smoothly from Remus's mid-thighs down over the backs of his calves and to the very tip of his heel, Remus says with gritted teeth, "You're a smug bastard."
"Oh, Moony," Sirius says sweetly, "I have no idea what you mean." He knows what Remus means. He knows everything Remus wants, everything Remus could ever want, just by looking at him: Sirius teases, and he pretends not to realize, but he always knows Remus inside-out, knows what to do to make Remus scream or cry or laugh or come.
"Get to it," Remus growls, and there's a momentary silence as Sirius digests what Remus just said to him and, more importantly, the tone in which it was said. Sirius' hair brushes against Remus' thighs as he leans right down, and Remus tangles the sheet underneath him in his hands, leaning forwards. Sirius taps the backs of his knees again. Breathing in, Remus ignores him like he'd ignored the moonlight, the insidious stuff that could so easily get under his skin and tear him into pieces, building him up again piece by piece.
"Roll over," Sirius murmurs, his breath hot on the skin of Remus' thigh, his hair brushing tantalizingly over the skin there, and there's nothing Remus wants more in this moment than that hair brushing the back of his neck, the backs of his shoulders, as Sirius covers Remus' body with his own.
"Make me," Remus replies, and Sirius lets out a little laugh. Silence reigns again, seconds ticking slowly by, but when Remus finally opens his mouth to speak, Sirius has the perfect way to silence him. Sirius' tongue is hot and wet and intrusive, and Remus shudders underneath the touch, letting out a short little whine of noise and squirming into the bed, but Sirius' hands land quickly on his buttocks and spread them slightly as he pushes Remus further into the bed. Remus is hard, cock pinned underneath him, and whenever Sirius tongues over his skin he tries to shift forwards, only serving to rub himself against the sheets.
Sirius' tongue teases hot at the skin on the inside of his buttocks, feigning its way towards Remus' hole again and again, making Remus flinch repeatedly, and when Sirius finally relents, Remus suppresses the urge to hit him. Sirius thrusts his tongue right forwards, drawing it over the skin there and then pressing further, and despite himself Remus lets out a whining little noise as he feels himself clench and open again.
"You love this," Sirius says lowly, as if it's some sort of taunt, and his fingers slip between Remus' thighs, playing over the base of his cock as his thumb draws teasingly over Remus' balls.
"Sorry, Sirius, is there something about your tongue in my arse that's supposed to make me hate it?" Sirius laughs, and without another word he leans down and spreads Remus' arse as wide as it can go, circling Remus' entrance before he presses in, and Merlin, Remus has never hated Sirius Black more than in this moment. Remus grits his teeth, muffling his own moan as Sirius draws back, blowing cold air over Remus' wet skin and making Remus kick him in the side.
"Hey!"
"Don't do that," Remus hisses, and Sirius laughs, playing over Remus' thighs before grasping at his hips.
"Get on your hands and knees," Sirius says. Remus doesn't move until Sirius adds, "Please." Remus is slow about it, shifting himself forwards and putting his backside more into the air - if anything, he's on his elbows and knees, but in the dark Sirius can't see what he's doing, and Remus knows he doesn't actually care about the details of the request. He's not nearly as strict with Remus as Remus can be with him, and Remus is glad.
He expects Sirius to dive for his arse again, but Sirius doesn't - his tongue slips lower, drawing over the skin of Remus' balls, and then he sucks, making Remus pant into the pillow under his head. One of Sirius' hands settles on his hip to steady Remus, the other blindly reaching underneath him to grasp at his cock where it hangs, hard and quite neglected; Remus is dying, letting out pathetic, gasping little noises as Sirius drags his tongue over the wrinkled skin of his sac, alternating from one side to the other and then, then, the world damn him, he takes both of Remus' balls into his mouth. The position is awkward, and Remus can feel Sirius' nose against his buttocks as he cranes himself forwards, but this is the best thing Remus' ever felt.
Remus feels himself twitch and pulse in Sirius' hand, and what a stupid thing to come over but it's so good, so strange, so-
"I hate you," Remus says, trying not to moan as he says it, and Sirius laughs as he gently lets Remus go. Remus rolls onto his back to the side of the new patch of wet beneath him, and he hears Sirius mumble an Evanesco. "Weren't you boasting to me how you could Vanish things silently yesterday?"
"No, I was boasting to Peter," Sirius corrects him, shifting forwards and dropping himself onto Remus' chest, blanketing him in a far heavier, less comfortable way than his sheet would have. "Kiss me."
"No," Remus says, "Your tongue has just been in my arsehole, Sirius." Sirius lets out an indignant huff of hair.
"What's your point?"
"Not everyone's as much of a dog as you are." Remus reaches up, beginning to card his fingers through Sirius' hair. It's nice hair, Remus thinks, thicker than Remus' own and soft to the touch, and he likes to feel it between his fingers and under his palm when he and Sirius are lying together like this. "Are you going to sleep?"
"Yeah," Sirius mumbles against Remus' chest. He's wearing the stupid flannel pyjamas James' mother bought him last Christmas, covered all over with little snitches, Remus can feel by the texture of the fabric against his naked skin, and Remus still has no idea where she found such ridiculous bedclothes for an adult man. They're nearly ready to leave Hogwarts, but Sirius still wears children's pyjamas. Remus lets his eyes close, focusing on the sound of Sirius' slow, even breathing, on the feel of his hair under his fingers, and on the satisfaction of a good orgasm. "Love your cock, Moony," Sirius says sleepily, and Remus tries not to laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Sirius' head.
"Me too, Padfoot. Me too."
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Wet Soporifics