“Of course you pick Truth.” Sirius rolled his eyes.
“After seeing what you did to poor James, I think I have a right to be wary,” Remus replied smoothly.
“Eh, this is nothing!” James said, tossing his head, which was currently adorned with his full rack of antlers. The partial animagus transformation might have looked impressive if it wasn’t for the slightly damp toilet paper fluttering from the ends. Remus was fairly sure James had no idea it was there. No one had said anything to him yet. “And now we know my rack actually can fit into a bathroom stall! That could be useful!”
“How?” Peter asked, his tone less skeptical and more curious, as if he had complete faith that James was already plotting something. Which wasn’t such a stretch, really.
“I’ve got one for you, Moony,” Sirius said, around a rather large handful of popcorn, which he was currently attempting to eat while lying down with his head in the middle of their little circle of four. He did like to be the center of attention. It was endearing, and also rather convenient, because it made it much easier for Remus to excuse the fact he tended to pay more attention to Sirius than would usually be considered platonic. Sirius had turned the twin lamps of his eyes on Remus, who resolutely ignored the way the sparkling mischief there made his stomach swoop. He was used to swooping by now.
“What’s the weirdest kiss you’ve ever had? And I’m talking weird, like you turned around and found out Professor Slughorn had been staring at you the whole time, or your tongue turned into a vegetable mid-snog.”
“Hey, that wasn’t funny!” Peter protested. “My wand was broken—”
“Quiet, Wormtail!” Sirius imperiously waved him into silence. “Remus has a Truth to cough up.”
Remus was already shaking his head and smiling. “You just completely wasted a Truth, Padfoot.”
“Cocky bastard,” Sirius sighed. “If none of your snogs have been as weird as poor Peter can lay claim to, then you still have to tell us about the most marginally strange one. Or, if you insist that they have really all been just utterly exquisite, then you’ll have to tell us about one of those.”
“No, I won’t, because I’ve never kissed anyone. Unless you want me to tell you about my granny kissing me on the cheek or—”
Remus never got to finish because Sirius had lurched upright in a small explosion of popcorn, his face shocked. “What?”
“What?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never kissed anyone. You know this.”
“I do not!” Sirius shouted. “You would have told me!”
Remus felt his other eyebrow go up. “Not being kissed is by definition a non-event and therefore not something I would tell stories about. Were you expecting me to update you every Sunday evening? ’Nope, no one has kissed me yet.' Honestly, who does that?”
Both Peter and Sirius pointed to James, chorusing, “He does.”
James winced. “It’s not my fault, guys, I’ve been trying, but she just won’t even look at me, no matter how many times I throw notes and stuff at her in class—”
Sirius made a dramatic shushing motion with his hand. “This is not the moment, Prongs!”
He turned back to Remus, obviously ready to continue the argument, but Remus was tired of having his blush-resistance—an ability carefully cultivated over many years of exposure to these three—tested.
“Peter!” he said loudly, covering up Sirius’ continued grumbles that someone should have told him, “Truth or Dare?”
Remus nodded approvingly at this wise choice. His dares were always a bit more reasonable than ones from James or Sirius, and Peter had already used up several of the Marauder’s-Rules limit of ten Truths per game.
“Finish your transfiguration homework right now—”
Remus had to raise his voice to be heard above James’ and Sirius’ sudden, loud chorus of “Boooooring!”
“—and at the bottom, add a detailed love note to Professor McGonagall…”
Sirius and James shut up immediately.
Remus grinned and finished, “…in ancient Elvish.”
James crooned with appreciation. “Ooooh, that’s good, Moony. It’s hilarious and difficult.”
“I am so getting detention,” Peter groaned, but he went to get his copy of Tolkien’s languages primer and his homework. They all ended up crowding around him to provide laughing suggestions. Once the deed was done, the game passed to James, who chose Dare, as usual.
“Compose a limerick,” Peter said and James cackled with delight.
“Oh, boy are you in the right place!”
“It has to be dirty or funny or both,” Peter specified.
James rolled his eyes. “Well, of course, Wormtail, who do you think you’re talking to?”
He made a show of cracking his knuckles and then held his hands up in the air, eyes closed. They all waited obediently while he drew dramatic patterns in the air in the manner of one conducting music. After a minute or two of this, he said, “All right, mates, I’ve got this.”
He cleared his throat, eyes still closed, and began to recite. “There once was a pretty young redhead—”
“Of course,” Sirius snickered, leaning in to confide in Remus’ ear. “Who could have predicted that.”
“Bet you he’ll incorporate ‘giving head’ by the end,” Remus replied, stoutly ignoring the heat of Sirius’ breath on his ear. He was so good at ignoring things.
“Ahem!” James opened his eyes to glare at them over the top of his glasses. “Silence during the presentation of my masterpiece, please!”
They all giggled but allowed him to continue.
“There once was a pretty young redhead,
who looked lovely even with bedhead.
She will not come near me,
but I love her so dearly—”
He stopped suddenly, eyes wide with panic and darting from side to side. Clearly, he had forgotten whatever final line he had composed. “…Fuck.”
“So say the stains on your bedspread,” Remus finished with signature deadpan.
“HEY!” James lurched forward, tackling Remus to the ground. Meanwhile, both Peter and Sirius collapsed into laughter.
After a brief tussle, the game continued, and by the time Sirius had finished hunting down and devouring all the popcorn that had fallen on the floor earlier (“What? I’m a growing boy!”), James had been made to go down to the common room to recite the limerick to Lily’s face, last line hilariously included. His antlers also gained a few layers of ornamentation, some intentional, like the several pairs of “lucky” socks, and some, like the cobwebs and torn pieces of bed curtains, less intentional. None of this deterred him in the least.
“Dare,” he told Sirius, his eyes full of challenge.
Sirius tugged on his lower lip thoughtfully, and then glanced at Remus. It was a very quick thing, but Remus—having been watching the lip-pulling with expertly camouflaged interest—saw it.
“Right. Prongs, you are dared to kiss Remus—”
James burst into movement before Sirius could even finish talking—their dares usually had several contingencies, to prevent chickening out—and lunged across the circle, grabbing Remus’ hand and kissing the back of it.
“Hey!” Sirius shouted, slapping both hands onto the floor.
“I did it!” James yelled back with equal energy. “I did the dare! Peter, Truth or Dare?”
“I wasn’t done daring!” Sirius protested.
“Too late! I did the dare, I kissed Moony! Peter!”
“Argh, Prongs! That’s not the game! Come on, someone has to do it!”
“Thank you, James, darling, that was everything I had ever dreamed of,” Remus said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He made a show of wiping off his hand and then crossing his arms over his chest. “You two are both so sweet to me.”
Sirius and James had stopped arguing aloud by now and had taken their disagreement to the nonverbal world of glares and significant looks. Remus was capable of deciphering their brotherly eye-code some of the time, but it was a bit beyond him today.
“Um…” Eventually Peter made a timid attempt to intervene. “James? I-I choose Truth.”
“Right you are, Wormtail.”
James smirked at Sirius one last time and then turned away, leaving Sirius to growl in frustration and slump back against the foot of the nearest bed, sulking.
The game lurched onwards, but Remus was starting to feel done with it. Sirius kept glancing over at him at random moments, scowling, and looking away. Remus wasn’t sure what this fixation was about, but he didn’t like it. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t kissed anyone yet. He honestly didn’t understand how the others even managed to find time to date at all, what with the way the professors were piling on the homework lately. Although, he supposed the rest of them didn’t have to deal with being partially or fully unfunctional for several days every month.
Besides, aside from a brief obsession with Ahmud in Ravenclaw, Remus had only ever wanted to kiss one person, and that had never seemed likely to happen.
Or at least, that’s what he thought, right up until it was James’ turn to choose a person again, and he chose Sirius, and Sirius chose Dare.
James sighed in premature satisfaction and took a moment to think. “Alright, Padfoot, you are officially dared to, in the same manner that you would do so with a person you are about to have sex with, for a duration of at least two minutes and with great sincerity…”
He paused for dramatic effect, taking in Sirius’ expression that was gradually growing more and more horrified.
There was a long, unearthly moment of silence where one could not only have heard the drop of a pin, but also the echoes of that sound bouncing off the walls. Sirius was once again communicating with James via his eyes, in a series of expressions that flickered by way too quickly for Remus to translate. James’ answering message, however, was very clear. He was not going to back down.
“Fine,” Sirius snarled at last. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, repeating to himself more quietly. “Fine.”
If someone had asked Remus yesterday—fuck, if someone had asked him two minutes ago—how he felt about the prospect of Sirius Black kissing him, that hypothetical person would have gotten quite the earful about how completely and enthusiastically Remus would allow such a thing. Sure, getting kissed on a dare wasn’t exactly his top fantasy…but that didn’t mean the idea didn’t have a volume in the vast library of Remus’ imagination, a large portion of which, to be honest, was dedicated to installments of Sirius-fantasies. He was under no illusions about the chances of anything meaningful ever coming out of his crush, so he would take what he could get.
That was before he had seen Sirius’ reaction to actually being dared to do it, though. Sirius looked…very unhappy. His eyes remained closed for several long moments, and his expression vacillated between looking frankly ill and even—Remus wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself—like he was trying to fight back tears. And this from the boy who had streaked naked through the castle bellowing the lyrics to an inappropriate Bowie song not half an hour ago.
“All right, this is officially not funny,” Remus said at last, fighting to keep the miserable, disappointed miasma in his chest from rising up far enough for the others to see.
“Just do the standing dare,” Peter whispered, eyes wide.
The “standing dare,” was a Marauder invention meant to cover exactly this kind of situation. It involved, as the name implied, standing in one place for an entire hour, the place to be assigned by the person who had given the original, unacceptable dare. It wasn’t a difficult substitute dare, but it was boring and usually meant the end of the game, so it was infrequently called upon.
“Don’t you dare, Padfoot,” James growled warningly, inadvertently creating a dare-paradox. “Like you said, someone has to do it.”
“I'm not a pity project!” Remus snapped. He was about to declare the game officially over when Sirius spoke up.
“Will you all please just shut the fuck up?” Sirius’ voice was desperate and impatient, but his eyes were still closed. He sounded unstable enough that the rest of them actually listened, and silence reigned. Still, Sirius didn’t move.
Remus watched with miserable fascination as Sirius composed himself over a span of a dozen or so slow, deep breaths. His shoulders, which had been hunched up defensively around his ears, relaxed. The lines of anxiety in his face smoothed out, to be gradually replaced with an expression of complete peace, a look Remus wasn’t sure he had ever seen on Sirius’ face.
When Sirius opened his eyes, he was already gazing right at Remus. He looked completely calm, and there was an undeniable and apparently entirely sincere expression of intimacy there that instantly made Remus so lightheaded that he actually reached out to touch the floor with both hands, making sure he was still balanced.
Fuck, Sirius was a really good actor.
Remus was officially, thoroughly back in the camp of being in favor of this dare, so he didn’t move at all as Sirius slowly leaned in until their faces were so close, he could smell the popcorn on Sirius’ breath. It took every ounce of Remus’ self-control—years of practice in the making—not to lean in and seal the deal, but this wasn’t his dare. He was just the object of the dare—a shaky, increasingly desperate object whose heart rate was rather out of control.
He swallowed but made himself stay still, even when Sirius’ hand came up to rest against his jaw, just the tips of his fingers. The touch finally pushed Remus past his blush threshold, and his cheeks went so warm that Sirius’ fingers suddenly seemed as cool as the pane of a window on a cold day. Remus felt his lips part and a small puff of breath escaped as his body betrayed him, probably making it ridiculously obvious to Sirius that he was already way too into this.
Sirius didn’t smirk at his reaction like Remus might have expected. He just looked into Remus’ eyes for another long moment, as if searching for something, and then his eyes darted down to Remus’ mouth.
Remus watched, amazed, as Sirius slowly and subtly licked his lips. Then Sirius’ eyes fluttered closed, and he brought their lips together.
Immediately, Remus’ breath caught in his throat. This was nothing like he would have expected from a truth or dare kiss at all. Sirius’ lips moved against him so slowly, so gently, Remus felt tears of yearning spring to his eyes.
Remus had heard a theory that if you practiced something in your mind often enough—for example, scoring a goal in Quidditch—when the moment came, your body would just follow through without any extra effort. This theory apparently applied to kissing, because Remus had mentally rehearsed the concept of kissing Sirius countless times—usually with one hand around his cock—and the result was that he was already kissing Sirius back, without any hesitation whatsoever.
Sirius took this as encouragement and kissed him more deeply, but still with the same almost excessive gentleness and a touch that was obviously intended to make Remus feel cherished, adored, and willing to fuck right here on the bedroom floor.
And fuck was it working. Remus was so thoroughly swept off his feet that he didn’t even need feet anymore, he was just going to fucking fly for the rest of his life. No wonder Sirius had no problem getting laid, fuck.
Sirius’ hand had slid into his hair by now, and Remus had leaned so far into the kiss that there was no way he would ever be able to pretend he was straight after this. He would be lucky if he could convince Sirius he was just gay as opposed to severely gay and also in love. God, he was so screwed.
Since he was screwed anyways, Remus decided to go all in. He let go of the floor and steadied himself on Sirius instead, draping one arm over his shoulders. He pushed his hand through Sirius’ hair, nails trailing along his scalp at the back of his neck.
Sirius made a small, almost startled noise, but he didn’t pull away, and his breathing was as fast as Remus’ own. Remus’ eyes fluttered open for a moment in surprise. Surely no one was this good of an actor. And hadn’t it been more than two minutes already? He felt like he had been kissing Sirius for an eternity.
Sirius wasn’t stopping them, however, and like fuck was Remus going to be the one to pull away. After all, he thought smugly, it wasn’t his dare.
So he continued kissing Sirius, and Sirius continued kissing him. It was probably all just a game of gay chicken, or so Remus kept telling himself in an effort to keep himself a teeny bit grounded. Any second now, Sirius would pull away and proclaim that that was how it was done, and they would all laugh it off—except for Remus, who would laugh it off in the moment but then also wank it off later.
They had somehow scooted quite close to each other on the floor, and Remus almost, almost moaned into Sirius’ mouth when his hand moved from his hair to trace the shape of his ear. Then it trailed softly down his neck, down his chest, and over his hip. From there it brushed down his leg and wrapped around his knee, and Sirius lifted Remus’ leg and swung it over his lap in the graceful manner of one who had practiced this maneuver many times, which he probably had. Pleased with this development, Remus brought his other leg around too, so that he was basically sitting across Sirius’ lap. The side of his chest was pressed against Sirius now, and he twisted as much as he could, trying to get as much out of this as possible.
The gays never lose at gay chicken, he was thinking with satisfaction, but then Sirius’ hand found his and he twined their fingers together. Remus gasped into Sirius’ mouth. Sirius’ hand wrapped around his own somehow felt just as good as Sirius’ tongue in his mouth, and when Sirius folded their arms so their clasped hands were pressed between them—right over their fucking hearts—Remus suddenly wondered if this was just a game after all. Sirius’ hand was warm and real, his lips were soft and real, his heartbeat under Remus’ hand was fast and real. Sirius was doing way more here than could be explained by any dare. This had to be real.
The side of Remus’ leg was only a few inches away from Sirius’ crotch, and he was entirely done with wondering. He pushed in a little closer, trying to see if he would feel—
Sirius gasped and jerked away, scooting backwards and dumping Remus unceremoniously onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and looking at everything in the room except Remus.
“All right!” Sirius said, too loudly, voice cracking. “Game over!”
“Fuck,” Remus whispered, glancing over at James and Peter, whose faces were frozen in identical expressions of extreme shock and looked like they had been that way for a while.
He was such an idiot. Of course it had been a game! It had just been a game that Sirius had taken too far—which Remus should have expected, but no, he had gotten sucked in and he had taken it way too far. He was going to have to do some serious damage control, right away.
“Sirius—” he started to say, although he had absolutely no plan for how to fix this, but Sirius wasn’t done talking.
“You. And you.” Sirius pointed to James and Peter in turn, his voice firming up into one that would tolerate no talkback. “Go to bed, right now. Remus and I are going to-to take a shower.”
Remus’ ears perked up so much that his whole head jerked up, eyes locked on Sirius’ face to see what the fuck that meant, but Sirius just snatched up his hand and led him into the bathroom, then whirled and locked the door behind them.
Remus’ heart was pounding so hard that under other circumstances, he would have considered calling for medical assistance. Sirius was trying to get him alone…and into the shower? Where they would be naked…or, no, maybe he was just trying to get Remus alone so he could threaten him to make sure they would never speak of this again…or maybe—
“All right, Remus.” Sirius dropped his hand and took a step backwards, running both hands through his hair as if to steady himself. “Truth or Dare?”
Sweet fucking Merlin, was this still a game? Remus’ head was spinning. He had never wanted to hear the truth so much in his life, but if Sirius wanted to keep playing, well, fuck. Remus could take it.
He didn’t think he could stand another dare at this point, however, so he took a deep breath and said, “Truth.”
“The truth is,” Sirius said, talking so quickly his words almost tripped on each other, “I've fancied you for quite a while now, and I'm gathering from that” —he pointed to the bathroom door, presumably referring to the explosion of snogging that had just occurred—“and that”—he pointed down, and Remus actually looked down at his own crotch, like an idiot, and, yes, of course he was hard, and of course it was entirely obvious, but he had no time to work himself up into proper mortification because Sirius was still talking—“that you fancy me too. So, Truth, would you or would you not like to take a shower together, for the express, specific, and definitely explicit purpose of sex?"
Remus’ mouth fell open, and he didn’t say anything for what seemed like a very long while. This was nowhere even near what he had been expecting. His wildest fantasy at this point was that Sirius had, thanks to the opportunity to actually snog a boy for the first time, just had a little bisexual awakening and might, perhaps, someday, be open to the idea of going out.
That in and of itself would have been a fantastically amazing prospect. Remus had never thought it very likely that Sirius would turn out to be bisexual. He was very obviously into girls and had never dropped a single hint about being attracted to boys (Remus definitely would have noticed). Nevertheless, Remus had contingency plans filed away in his brain, just in case the bisexual awakening thing ever happened. The plans mostly involved pretending to be entirely aloof and increasing the amount of time he was conveniently naked and/or shirtless in Sirius’ presence until the attraction had been confirmed, then cornering Sirius somewhere small and private…somewhere like this bathroom, actually.
But hearing that Sirius apparently already fancied him…oh, this was much better. The only problem was, the situation was so unlikely that Remus actually didn’t have a single contingency plan. The frazzled librarian that managed the shelves of Remus’ mind was rifling through the ideas he did have and throwing an overabundance of contradictory advice at him. He should be aloof. He should be sexy. He should laugh and then press Sirius into the wall and kiss him. He should strip and casually walk into the shower. He should…
Fuck, he should say something.
Sirius was watching him, worrying his lip between his teeth, his eyebrows drawing together at Remus’ silence and shellshocked expression, and Remus should absolutely say something right away before he somehow fucked this up, because, yes, of course he would like to have a sex shower with Sirius. He really, really would, he definitely would, he—
“Would,” he finally said, just that, just a single word that was perhaps one of the most unhelpful actions his stupid, lust-addled brain could have chosen in that moment.
“Wood?” Sirius’ eyes darted around the room, including down at Remus’ crotch in desperate confusion. “Wood? What is ‘wood,’ Moony?”
“Would,” Remus clarified. “Yes, would, I would. Shower. Yes.”
It was probably the most unclear clarification Remus had ever made, but it worked. Sirius’ face shifted from panicked bewilderment into delight, and he lunged forward, grabbing both of Remus’ hands and kissing him quickly on the mouth. “Oh, thank Merlin, all right, come on!”
He tugged Remus over to the shower and Remus watched for a moment as Sirius removed his clothing with the efficiency of someone who had already gotten naked on a dare more than once in the last few hours. Remus had watched then, too, but this was different. He didn’t bother to be covert this time, and instead of thinking wistfully about where he wished he could put his hands, now he was thinking, with dizzy eagerness, about where he was going to put his hands. Very soon. Also, Sirius was more than halfway hard, and as far as places to put his hands…well, Remus had a few ideas.
“Come on,” Sirius insisted when he saw Remus was still fully clothed. “Admire me once we’re in the shower, Moony!”
Remus quickly got rid of his own clothes, although, by this point, he rather thought the shower was an unnecessary intermediate step, but that was before Sirius turned on the water and stepped under the spray. Remus watched the water sluicing over Sirius’ shoulders, down his back, finding every crevice and curve, and changed his mind. He was on board with the shower plan.
When Remus stepped into the shower, Sirius grinned and shook his head vigorously, making water fly from his hair like Padfoot after a swim. Remus laughed and held up his hands against the spray, and then suddenly Sirius ducked under his arms and kissed him.
“Mmmm!” Remus let his arms fall down around Sirius’ shoulders, his own arousal going from noticeably present to fan-fucking-tastically overwhelming in just a couple of heartbeats, which he really should have expected more than he did, because Sirius was kissing him like he had been craving it for years, and his whole, naked, smooth, shower-wet body was pressed right up against Remus’ own in what had to be the most exquisite sensation that he ever had, or ever would feel.
With no other Marauders or even clothing to tell him what he couldn’t do, Remus’ hands were now free to do whatever they liked, the result of which was that he only took about two and a half seconds to work up his courage enough to grip Sirius’ arse. Which was amazing.
“Fuck, Moony,” Sirius said, his voice half-muffled until he backed out of the kiss a bit. “What do you want to do?”
Remus’ brain was apparently not capable of talking and groping Sirius’ arse at the same time—and sacrificing the latter was not a viable option—so he just shrugged, leaning in to kiss Sirius’ cheek, and then—because he was in the area anyways, so why not—to trace the curve of Sirius’ ear with his lips. To his credit, his brain did manage one word, “Anything.”
“Come on,” Sirius insisted, his voice gratifyingly breathy. “When you fancy someone you have wanky fantasies about them. Tell me one of yours, and I’ll make it come true.”
That stopped Remus right in his fucking tracks. Not because he didn’t have any fantasies…nope, that was definitely not a problem. The library of Remus’ brain was—as the shellshocked but undeniably very excited imaginary librarian in charge of these things indicated with a flustered gesture at the tall shelves surrounding him—absolutely full of fantasies about Sirius. But as for choosing one…that would require a lengthy process of consideration.
“Remus?” Sirius pulled back a bit, and Remus realized he had been quiet too long.
“Sorry,” he blurted. “I do, I mean—it’s just kind of hard to pick amongst four years of material. Honestly I don’t care. We can do anything.”
He closed his mouth before it could elaborate further on the subject of how very willing he was to do anything and everything Sirius might ask. Surely he should maintain a semblance of dignity. Although the desperate appeals of Remus’ dignity were admittedly a bit hard to hear considering how incredibly, distractingly soft the skin at the back of Sirius’ thighs was.
Sirius smirked, his eyelids lowered into a come-hither look that Remus would have instantly obeyed if he wasn’t already as hither as he could get. “Well, in that case—wait, what?”
“What?” Remus asked, alarmed by Sirius’ alarm. Guiltily, he let go of Sirius’ arse, sliding his hands up to the more socially acceptable middle of his back.
“Did-did you just say four years?”
Fuck. He was supposed to be playing it cool, not confessing undying love. Fuck.
“No,” Remus tried, but lying while naked in Sirius’ arms proved to be just too much for his conscience to handle. “Maybe.”
Sirius’ mouth opened and closed two or three times, and then he managed to say, “How?”
“What do you mean, how?” Remus’ face was on fire. So much for a semblance of dignity.
“How…” Sirius let go of Remus—a supremely disappointing turn of events—and rubbed his hands over his face. “Remus, I do not understand.”
“I don’t understand your nonunderstanding,” Remus said curtly, suddenly wishing he was not quite so naked. But then again—he glanced down at Sirius’ damp body—perhaps not. Being mortally embarrassed and confused in front of Sirius while naked was still preferable to pretty much any situation where Sirius was also clothed.
“How can you fancy someone for four years and not do anything about it?” Sirius held his hands out beseechingly, clearly completely unable to relate.
“It’s called impulse control,” Remus said primly.
Sirius stared at him for another long moment. Remus could practically see him mentally reviewing all the times they had casually undressed in front of each other, clearly wondering if Remus had been checking him out this whole time. The answer was yes. Yes, he had been.
“Remus,” Sirius said at last with a completely straight face. “Impulse control is stupid. We could have been fucking this whole time. This is your fault.”
“We could be fucking right now,” Remus pointed out hopefully. “You yourself are exacerbating the situation.”
“That is an excellent point.” Sirius grabbed Remus’ hands, helpfully placing them back on his arse. “Please, continue.”
Remus did, pulling Sirius forward enough that they were once again fully in contact. Sirius leaned their foreheads together. He was smiling, lower lip held between his teeth in the manner of one about to do something very clever. The reason for this expression became apparent only a moment later as he rolled his hips, letting Remus’ cock slide against his.
“Fuck,” Remus gasped, as his hips immediately began moving as well, reflecting the pattern in another incidence of excessive-mental-practice-making-perfect. So perfect. “Fuck.”
“Fuck, do I love hearing you say fuck,” Sirius groaned. “I had the best fucking wank the other day after you cussed out Huxley, you know.”
That threw Remus off for a second, and he laughed breathlessly. “Sirius, what? I-I was covered in blue boils!”
“Not your best look,” Sirius admitted. “But you sounded hot as all hell.”
“You’re crazy!” Remus grinned, unable to pretend he was anything other than gleefully excited that Sirius had actually been wanking over him, boils or no.
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed easily, smiling back. “Speaking of wanky fantasies. Want to hear one of mine?”
Instantly, Remus’ internal librarian whipped out a notebook and pen, giving Remus a frantically waved gesture indicating, yes and there was no need to worry, this would indeed be recorded for posterity. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
“You.” Sirius paused to kiss him again, still making Remus’ cock go insane with the moment of his hips. The water rushing over them provided just enough slickness to make it truly unbearably good. “Fucking my mouth…right here in the shower.”
As far as wanky fantasies went, it wasn’t a very detailed one, but that was irrelevant because for one thing, Remus was entirely capable of filling in all the decadent details himself, and for another, Sirius was already kissing his chest and stomach, getting down onto his knees. Details were forthcoming.
“Fuck!” Remus gasped again. Things were moving along very quickly and yet not nearly quickly enough, because even the concept of what was about to happen was pushing him dangerously close to orgasm. He didn’t get a breather, though, because no sooner had Sirius’ knees touched the tile floor than his lips touched the head of Remus’ cock, and then there was—oh god—so much mouth and tongue and Remus was dying, actually dying, and also keening so loudly that he could see his breath making eddies in the clouds of steam around them.
He was also about to fall over. The shower wall behind him and the floor under his feet was just as slippery as everything else, and his knees were in danger of forgetting their primary function. His arms were splayed out against the tiles in a desperate search for balance, but that wasn’t doing much. He’d had a wank or three (a week) standing up in the shower before, but that was nothing compared to this.
Well, at least he wouldn’t have to stay vertical very long. He was fairly sure he had seconds, not minutes, so he did as he assumed Sirius wanted, considering the wording of the fantasy, and started pushing forward and then withdrawing, fucking in and out of Sirius’ mouth. Sirius groaned and his hands gripped Remus’ hips in a way that was clearly encouraging rather than panicked. He was basically the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen, with his mouth stretched wide and the spray from the shower running over his hair and face, down his jaw and throat.
Everything was coming to a crux satisfyingly, alarmingly quickly when suddenly Sirius jerked back, gasping and growling with frustration.
“Sorry!” Remus panted. “Too much?” He had been thrusting pretty hard.
“No,” Sirius grumbled. “It’s just that in my fantasy I never realized I would be drowning while I did this.”
He lunged to the side and yanked on the taps, turning the shower off.
Remus laughed. The constant beat of the shower on one side of his body had been getting a little annoying, and he was grateful for the breather, too. He probably had minutes now, not seconds.
He took advantage of the pause to do the smart thing and slide over a few inches until he was braced in the corner of the shower instead of against one wall. He could probably stay up like this.
His eyes flicked briefly around and then landed on the bottle of Sirius’ conditioner. One of thousands of entries in the card catalog of his mental library—helpfully indexed with both “fucking, mouth” and “setting, shower”—began to glow.
“Here,” he snatched it and passed it down to Sirius. “For-for your fingers.”
Sirius smiled appreciatively and gave himself a generous handful, but to Remus’ dismay—a feeling he was shocked could be present considering the fact that Sirius had just started licking the head of his cock—Sirius proceeded to use that slippery hand to wank.
“No, Sirius…” Remus swallowed, desperately gathering words from the erotically overstimulated corners of his brain. “For your other hand.”
Sirius stopped licking him in order to respond, eyebrows lifted in an unimpressed way. “I’m left-handed, Moony. You should know this by now.”
“No, I mean—” He gasped as Sirius leaned in to mouth the tip of his cock again in the sullen manner of one who really didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “Sweet fucking Merlin, Sirius, so you can fuck me with your fingers!”
“Oh!” Sirius’ face lit up like Christmas was here early, with bells (and nothing else) on. “Oh, fuck yes! What a good idea, Moons.”
He reached for the conditioner again and Remus tilted his head back into the corner of the shower as he felt Sirius’ hand easing its way up between his legs. He bit his lip and carefully shifted his feet apart, making space. Then Sirius’ finger was there, pushing in without any fear or hesitation. The conditioner wasn’t the perfect lubricant, but it would do the job well enough.
Remus made himself take deep breaths, trying to compose himself. He had fingered himself before, but it felt different standing up. He was a lot less relaxed for one thing, but that didn’t actually seem to be a problem. Nothing was hurting, but it was definitely a lot more intense this way than lying down in the tub or in bed. He could feel Sirius’ finger, exactly as it was, every shape of it.
Remus’ air left him in a breathy moan as Sirius started to thrust in and out, and below him, Sirius cursed.
“Fuck, Moony, you look so fucking hot,” Sirius groaned.
Suddenly recognizing that he was being watched, Remus looked down in time to see Sirius lean in to rub his lips over the head off his cock briefly before pulling back to say, “I definitely want to fuck you later.”
Remus nodded shakily, pressing himself hard into the corner as Sirius started licking his cock in slow, unrhythmic strokes. He was wanking again, although with his right hand this time, so the movement was a bit clumsy. Apparently he was willing to switch hands given the right incentive.
“Just to be clear, I want you to fuck me too,” Sirius added after a moment, making Remus’ knees threaten to buckle once more. “Fuck, I want that.”
“Yeah,” Remus agreed, his voice pitching mid-word as Sirius unexpectedly drew his cock into his mouth again. He thrust forward, breath hitching as he felt Sirius moan around him, and then pushed himself back onto Sirius’ finger, the sensations lining up like the most perfect beat and downbeat ever composed. Fuck, he was so close already.
“Wait.” Sirius pulled off again, making Remus gasp at the sudden absence of stimulation. “This is one of yours, isn’t it?”
“What?” Remus panted, confused.
“This is one of your wanky fantasies, isn’t it?” Sirius pushed his finger in again. “Getting finger-fucked? With the conditioner?”
Remus didn’t answer at first, although he was sure his blush spoke for him, but then Sirius curled his finger, brushing right over his prostate with the expertise of one who had been teasing before, not missing as Remus had assumed.
“Yes! Oh fuck, yes, all right?”
Sirius smirked and licked his cock with ostentatious flair, eyes hooded and tongue out, a show which Remus’ pride would have liked to say he was unaffected by, but that would have been an incredible lie. He was deeply affected.
“Have you done this before?” Sirius asked.
Remus whimpered, shifting his hips forward, but Sirius cooly moved his mouth out of range, raising his eyebrows. His other hand was still moving over his own cock, and Remus found himself watching jealously. He had hardly touched Sirius’ cock yet, and it was a crime.
“Remus?” Sirius prompted, going so far as to still his finger.
“Sirius, if I’ve never even kissed anyone before tonight, do you really think I’ve had someone’s fingers up my arse?” Remus growled at last, shamelessly shifting his hips, trying to get Sirius moving again.
“No, I mean, yourself. In the shower. With my conditioner.”
It really was very warm in here, Remus reassured himself. He could blush all he liked. It didn’t have to mean a thing. He might have gotten away with that, might even have come up with some flippant, distracting thing to say, but Sirius still wasn’t moving his finger, and he was just close enough that Remus could feel his breath on the head of his cock. He was still wanking too, his pace gradually getting more determined. His eyes were fixed relentlessly on Remus’ face, dark and hungry. Remus’ resolve crumbled, a landslide of pride coming down like an avalanche into the steaming pool of his desire, raising the water levels as it did so.
“Maybe,” he admitted at a last, and then gasped with relief when Sirius immediately started moving his finger again, rubbing against his prostate the whole time.
“Filthy, Moony. Filthy.” Sirius’ voice was low with approval. Then he grinned, a sight far too attractive to be bearable, especially in Remus’ current state. “I had noticed you smelled like my conditioner sometimes. I had assumed you were just being cheap...”
He glanced down, locating the bottle again with his eyes. He removed his finger, got another serving of the stuff, and brought his hand back, this time with two fingers ready. “But, as it turns out, you’re actually a pervert. I love it.”
Leave it to Sirius to make an insult like that sound like the hottest, most admiring compliment Remus had ever received. Humiliation didn’t actually feature prominently in his vast fantasy-collection, but suddenly his internal librarian was cracking his knuckles and getting ready to build some new shelves.
For now, though, Remus couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response, so he let his body speak for him, pushing down onto Sirius’ fingers with a gasp. Sirius started to move his fingers again, and the sensation was even more overwhelming like this, with two fingers in him. Remus’ legs were shaking, and his heart was beating so hard he could feel it in every inch of his body, even all the way in his fingertips.
His other hand relinquished its steadying grip on the still-damp shower wall to land on Sirius’ head, finding a fistful of hair and pulling him forward. Despite how ridiculously hot this was, Remus knew he couldn’t come without direct stimulation to his cock (he had given the method several determined trials in the past, for Science). He wanted—needed—Sirius’ mouth back.
Sirius’ eyes widened at the pull on his hair, and he moved forward willingly, eyes drifting shut as Remus’ cock pushed into his mouth once more. The abrupt shift from smugly teasing to submissively pliant was very interesting, and even now, seconds from what was definitely going to be the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, some small part of Remus made note of it. But, for now, Sirius had asked him to fuck his mouth. He had better get on that.
Sirius moaned loudly at the first thrust. The sound felt torturously good and also confirmed for Remus once more that, yes, this really was what Sirius wanted. He had no idea how deep or fast he could go, and maybe he should make Sirius stop so he could ask, but he was too close for that.
His hand in Sirius’ hair was shaking—his whole body was shaking—but he didn’t let go. He just held him in place, letting his hips create the movement, pushing forward into Sirius’ mouth and back onto his hand, over and over. Sirius didn’t resist him at all, not even when Remus was sure he should be gagging, and his fingers continued to meet him at the perfect angle, thrusting in time with each one of Remus’ movements.
“Fuck—oh, fuck,” Remus gasped. Sirius moaned in response, and Remus could see his other hand moving quickly over his own cock down below. The sight made him buck forward again, farther this time.
He could feel Sirius’ breath rushing over the base of his cock in a fast, stuttering pattern, as if he couldn’t quite get his breath properly like this. There was a small, worried voice in Remus’ head chanting that this was probably too much—he was pulling Sirius’ hair too hard, fucking into his mouth too deep, letting all of this move too fast. But the voice was so far away, and Sirius was so clearly into this, that the messages only filtered through in the most encouraging way: hard, fast, deep—so, so much, too much—
Gasping and cursing, Remus pulled Sirius forward as far as he dared, his whole world narrowing down to the heat around his cock and the divine pressure and friction of Sirius’ fingers as every organized part of him came crumbling, swirling down, down through his body and into Sirius’ mouth as he came. Every fantasy, every contingency plan, every bit of it dissolved away, meaningless in the face of this perfect reality.
For one eternal moment, that was all he was. He was just a feeling, just an instant in time, like a flower pressed between two pages and left to dry, strung out between Sirius’ mouth and his hand. He was just energy and moaning breaths and desire that, eventually, came to a slow and gentle resolution, leaving him leaning against the wall of the shower and trying to remember how to breathe.
It was only then, as Sirius’ fingers were slipping out of him, that he remembered that he was probably supposed to have warned Sirius he was about to come, but of course it was way too late by then. Sirius hardly seemed offended anyways. He was only now releasing Remus’ cock with a reluctant air, despite the fact that Remus had already let go of his hair.
“Merlin, fuck, Remus,” he gasped. He was wanking with a will now, a sight that, while still worth seeing, made Remus quickly slide down the wall of the shower to grab his hand.
He found Sirius’ other hand as well—both of them were still a bit slippery with conditioner—and sat with him on the floor of the shower. Their legs tangled together, and Remus leaned his face against Sirius’ shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin, admiring the shivering tension in his limbs. He had still hardly caught his breath, and he was torn between staying like this and doing whatever he could to make Sirius come.
Sirius, of course, was clearly in favor of the latter.
“F-fuck, Remus, you had better be grabbing my hands because you’re about to touch my cock yourself, or I swear…”
Instead of finishing off his threat, he pressed his lips against Remus’ neck in a gesture that was both surprisingly tender and unsurprisingly needy.
“Yeah,” Remus breathed, tilting his head back as Sirius’ lips and gently scraping teeth sent a flurry of aftershocks through him. “Yeah, I’m going to touch you.”
He slid his hands slowly up Sirius' arms and tilted his face up to kiss him. He was definitely going to touch him—every inch of him. He let his hands go free, running over Sirius’ chest and sides, tracing the lines of his thighs. They were both still a bit damp, so his hands stuttered against Sirius’ skin, skipping and then coming back into contact.
Meanwhile, Sirius wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed him back with the same intense devotion that had made Remus fall apart back in the dorm, the same gentle, undeniable skill that made Remus want to do nothing but kiss him, touch him, fuck him, all night long. Merlin, Sirius really knew how to do this—not that Remus had any basis for comparison, but it did make sense considering how much experience he knew Sirius had.
Kissing was not, Remus realized suddenly, the only thing Sirius had seemed to know how to do.
“Have you done this before?” he pulled back to ask. Surely, surely, no one could do what Sirius had just done if it was his first time having a cock in his mouth, but as far as Remus knew, it had been. Sirius bragged about every single one of his sexual encounters, usually with a level of attention to detail that made Remus squirm and scream in his head. They had all involved women. “I mean, with a guy?”
Sirius laughed, and there was something a bit unstable in it, which was perhaps to be expected considering how close Remus’ hand was to his cock. “Yes, you-you fucker. I was pretty sure you were gay—I mean, I saw you looking at guys sometimes, and I was so sure you would know what you were doing and I wouldn’t.”
He paused, gasping, as Remus slowly, gently, wrapped his fingers around his cock and started to pull. Sirius' assumption was entirely wrong. Remus had no idea what he was doing, for the most part, but he sure as hell knew how to do this.
“So I—I thought I’d better figure it out—fuck, faster—you have no idea how much gay sex I’ve had, just trying to get good enough to measure up to Remus, the sex god, and then I find out—oh—you’re a fucking virgin. You haven’t even kissed anyone, and here I was letting random Ravenclaws and that smug bastard Ahmud fuck me in cupboards for months like an idiot—fuck, don’t stop!”
Remus had, in fact, stopped. He blinked guiltily and started moving his hand again. Still, he couldn’t help asking, “Ahmud is gay?”
“No!” Sirius glared at him for half a second before his face collapsed back into desperate arousal again. “I just convinced him to have a go, as an experiment, so don’t get any ideas—I could tell you were into him, but he’s not w-worth it, trust me, fuck.”
Remus laughed. “You have no right to be jealous of him. I only fancied him for two weeks, and you...well, I already told you how long I’ve wanted you.”
Sirius groaned, leaning in to kiss him with slightly less coordination this time. “Yes, fuck, tell me about that. Tell me all about how much you want me.”
Remus felt a shiver of blended excitement and self-consciousness run through him. Sirius wanted him to talk—while touching his cock. That was amazing and terrifying, and Remus suddenly had both a thousand things he wanted to say and absolutely no ideas whatsoever. Pages of dirty talk—whole chapters—were fluttering through his mind, but too quickly for him to focus on the words.
Fortunately, as usual, Sirius seemed perfectly capable of carrying out an entire conversation on his own. He didn’t even seem to notice that Remus had clammed up.
“You aren’t allowed to be jealous either, by the way.” He paused to kiss Remus again and then brought one of his hands down to wrap around Remus’ own, encouraging him to grip tighter. “Like I said—your fault. And I’m still so—oh god, fuck—so fucking mad at you about it. You and your-your fucking impulse control can go jump in the lake. Fuck, faster—are you-are you laughing?”
Remus was, indeed, laughing. Sirius’ voice was more moan than words by the end of this little speech, and he said it all with his lips brushing delicately against Remus’ own, with their fingers twined together around his cock, and something about being scolded in such a manner was making laughter just bubble out of him, totally uncontrolled. Sirius didn’t seem too upset, however. In fact, after just a moment, he joined in, and they were both laughing breathlessly into each other’s mouths, the urge just as unstoppable as it was at late-night prank-plotting meetings.
“Oh fuck, no,” Sirius protested although he was still laughing too, and was thus now breathless for more than one reason. His hand was gripping Remus’ tighter than ever, their fingers moving together rapidly, quickly revealing and covering the head of Sirius’ cock with each stroke, like the filthiest game of hide-and-seek ever played. “No, it’s not-it’s not funny—fuck, s-stop laughing, oh god, I’m going to come—”
Hearing that, Remus wouldn’t have stopped touching Sirius' cock for anything, especially not with Sirius' frantic grip encouraging him, and he was apparently just as helpless to stop the laughing fit. Instead, he watched through the tears in his eyes as Sirius' own laughter merged indistinguishably with throaty gasps.
Suddenly, Sirius' cock was pulsing in his hand. Remus gasped, his free hand gripping fiercely at Sirius’ hip as Sirius' head tilted back, face wide with an expression of sheer ecstasy Remus had been waiting years to see, and fuck did it live up to the hype. He didn’t even know where to look. Sirius was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. The perfect curve of his throat, the heavenly shuddering taking over his limbs, his heaving chest, the white ropes pulsing from the tip of his cock—fuck, his cock was beautiful—spilling out onto their overlapping hands...all of it was everything Remus had ever daringly hoped it would be and more.
Even more unexpected, and just as lovely, was the way Sirius melted into his arms a moment later, soft and pliant and sweet. Sirius was hardly ever sweet, but the way he smiled dizzily against Remus' chest couldn’t be described as anything else. He took Remus' breath away, and all he could do was hold him there. Sirius' breathing slowed, and what was left was silence, another unusual thing that seemed oddly precious after all the talking and moaning and laughter. Remus was hesitant to break it, but after a while, Sirius looked up at him, still smiling in that soft way, and Remus' brain managed to find words again—well, one word anyways.
Sirius’ smile spread into a grin and he pressed their lips together, unhurried and decadent.
“Wow is right,” he said after a while of this. “That was…yeah. Wow.”
Remus laughed again at Sirius’ sudden inarticulate-ness. He kissed him, grateful that he was already getting the hang of this. Sirius’ mouth was even softer now, with his eagerness now satiated, at least for the moment. Remus was just as much of a gooey, lovesick mess, as evidenced by his next words, which were far too soppy to have passed through his filters under normal circumstances. “Fuck, I could kiss you all night long.”
“I like the way you think,” Sirius murmured against him. “And I can definitely make that fantasy come true.”
He pulled back a bit to stretch, rearranging himself on the floor of the shower, which was, admittedly, extremely uncomfortable. He ran his hands through his damp hair, pushing it back over his shoulders, and gave Remus a smile completely devoid of shyness before settling back into his arms.
“Now that you know what you’ve been missing—what a fucking delight I am—I hope you're sorry for your shameful behavior.” He tsked in the manner of an admonishing professor. “Keeping secrets. Being so sexy I thought I had to fuck half the school to be skilled enough to impress you.”
Remus shook his head. “I refuse to take complete responsibility. First of all, that assumption is ludicrous and definitely not my fault. Second, you could have flirted with me a little.”
“I—I, what?” Sirius pulled back a bit in his arms, his expression suddenly flabbergasted.
“Remus!” Sirius groaned, his head tilting backwards. “I flirted with you all the time!”
“You did not!” Remus had been hyper-focused on Sirius for years, nonstop. He would have noticed any flirting, surely.
“I definitely did. You are so-so fucking oblivious!” Sirius lunged forward, grabbing Remus’ face in his hands and kissing him firmly. “There, is that enough flirting for you?”
“Well, honestly, yes, once you did that I started to get it!”
“All right, that’s it,” Sirius growled. “Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet.
“Come on where?” Remus asked, allowing Sirius to grab his hand and tug him up too.
“We need a second opinion.” He held Remus’ hand firmly in his own and pulled him along. They were halfway to the bathroom door by the time Remus realized Sirius didn’t plan to put on any clothing whatsoever.
“Sirius!” He planted his feet, stopping himself from being pulled along in Sirius’ wake like a very naked leaf in a very determined current.
“What?” Sirius glanced back and then rolled his eyes. “Oh, fine. Here.”
He grabbed a couple of towels and wrapped one around himself in a careless and not entirely decent fashion. He tossed the other to Remus, who did a more thorough job.
There was no cloud of steam when they emerged from the bathroom—the shower hadn’t actually been on that long—but there might as well have been for the drama that Sirius gave the act. He had once again acquired Remus’ hand, and he sauntered over to James’ bed, where both James and Peter were so deeply occupied in a game of cards that they didn’t even notice Sirius’ dramatic entrance. They were both wearing the large, fuzzy, spelled earmuffs students used for handling screaming mandrake roots, a fact Remus found at first puzzling and then abruptly mortifying.
“Oh my god, finally,” James said, voice overloud, once Sirius had entered his field of vision. He reached up to yank the earmuffs off, which was a bit of a process with the antlers still there. “You two are so loud, have you not heard of common decency?”
“That is precisely what we are here to discuss,” Sirius said, with not a single hint of a blush, one hand going to his hip.
“Watch it!” James flung his hands up in front of his eyes defensively as Sirius’ towel started to make a break for the floor.
Sirius rolled his eyes and changed his grip so he was holding the towel up in a halfhearted way. “Whatever, you’re the one who’s always daring me to get naked.”
“That was before I heard all of that—that debauchery!” James shuddered, and Peter giggled. “Never again.”
“Missed opportunity, James. We all know that hearing me have decadent sex is the closest you are ever going to get to the real thing. But we aren’t here to discuss your relentless and completely boring straightness. We need your input on something. Peter, you may contribute as well.”
James gave a long-suffering sigh but nodded, leaning back and propping himself up on his hands. “All right, talk.”
Peter nodded as well, and Sirius drew himself up tall. “Have I or have I not been flirting with Remus in a completely obvious and frankly indecent way for weeks now?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” James said immediately.
“See!” Sirius whirled on Remus, expression triumphant.
Remus narrowed his eyes, noticing that Peter also looked skeptical.
“So, you two knew about this?” Remus asked.
“Yep,” James said, popping the P at the end of the word. Peter, however, was shaking his head.
“I see.” Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius. “So was this supposed flirting by any chance based on advice and encouragement from him?” He pointed at James. “James Potter, the man whose methods of seducing the love of his life include throwing balled-up pieces of paper at the back of her head and then ducking behind his desk and pretending to be ill?”
“Hey, that almost worked!” James protested, but Remus went on.
“Because I do recall a few incidents of that general nature, but I don’t think anyone other than him could possibly call that flirting, and, indeed, it would be entirely indistinguishable from normal, friendly Marauder behavior.”
Sirius opened his mouth and then shut it a couple of times. “You know…all right. You may have a point, Moony.”
Remus smiled smugly, happy to be proven right in general, and also relieved that he was not actually such a dunderhead that he could have missed something as absolutely essential as his crush of four years coming on to him.
“Although…” Sirius squinted, screwing up his face. “I don’t know, Remus, my flirting style has worked on a lot of people. Regardless—” He yanked abruptly on Remus’ hand, pulling him out in front like he was putting him on display while tattling to a teacher. “We have another issue here. Prongs, Wormtail, Remus said—he said four years—he’s been into me for four years, and he kept it to himself! Like a wanker!”
Remus choked a bit at that, wondering if Sirius had meant to be quite that literal, but he kept his mouth shut. It was, after all, entirely true. If ever brought to trial for the crime of wanking over Sirius, he would have to plead entirely—and it must be said, unremorsefully—guilty.
“What?” James looked completely aghast. “Remus! What—what the fuck?”
“He said impulse control!” Sirius accused, complete with a shaming, pointing finger.
James gasped in the manner of a dignified lady being shown unexpected pornography. “Remus! I thought we taught you better than that!”
He shook his head in exaggerated disappointment and then abruptly dropped the game, face shifting. “Wait, can we go back for a minute? What exactly is wrong with my flirting style?”
“Oh never mind, Prongs. You’re no help at all.” Sirius sighed as if accepting he would never achieve full sympathy on this matter and turned away, taking Remus with him. “If you’ll excuse me, Remus has asked to be romanced all night long, and I intend to follow through. Come on, Remus, we can even use actual lube this time instead of conditioner.”
“You can use conditioner?” Peter asked, speaking up for the first time since they had come out of the bathroom together.
“Maybe I should try more confetti,” James was muttering to himself, clearly still deep in his own problems.
Meanwhile, Remus let himself be tossed onto Sirius’ bed, and he watched with delight as Sirius’ towel fell off completely as he reached up to tug the curtains closed, which made James yell shrilly and throw pillows at them. Sirius ignored this and flopped down on the bed with unnecessary energy, making Remus bounce on the mattress, and they both laughed when they heard James muttering about sleeping with his earmuffs on. That, maybe, was another thing Remus should have felt guilty about, but he didn’t. No, he thought, as Sirius slid into his arms and pressed himself between his spread legs. He had no regrets whatsoever.