rosie_rues (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosie_rues) wrote2006-01-29 04:49 pm
rosie_rues) wrote2006-01-29 04:49 pm
Entry tags:
- blanketforts,
- moody,
- remus,
- sirius,
- ted
Nor Made To Court An Amorous Looking-Glass (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blanketforts Day 23)
Title: Nor Made To Court An Amorous Looking-Glass
Rating: R/NC-17 for mature themes and bad behaviour in a public place.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 2498
Prompt:
Say even that this complete simplicity
Stripped one of all one's torments, concealed
The evilly compounded, vital I
And made it fresh in a world of white,
A world of clear water, brilliant-edged,
Still one would want more, one would need more,
More than a world of white and snowy scents.
- The Poems of Our Climate, Wallace Stevens
Notes: Back to the Alan Radcliffe case. Remus and Sirius misbehave in a ministry loo. *throws hands in the air* They weren't supposed to do that today. Title from Richard III.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
The four of them met in the depths of the Ministry. Sirius stopped to wait but Moody walked off as soon as they arrived, barking at them to follow.
“Aren’t we waiting for the others?” Remus asked.
“We’re the only ones working on this,” Ted said shortly. “There’s a leak somewhere. You two haven’t been here long enough to be responsible.”
“And if Tonks or I are the traitor, we’re all fucked,” Moody said with relish.
“I do like a bit of fresh optimism in the morning,” Sirius muttered, and Remus elbowed him. He was still smirking, the git. There had been nothing wrong with barricading himself in the shower. The only tactical flaw had been not been checking whether Remus had been in there first.
That, of course, led him to the image of Remus in the shower, naked and soapy, laughing so hard he had to support himself against the yellowed tiles.
Work. He was working and it was important. He had to concentrate.
Remus was smirking even more.
Ted unlocked the door in front of them, and ushered them in, muttering a spell over them. Sirius felt something cold ripple over him and shivered.
“Stops you from leaving traces on anything you touch,” Ted said. “Right, now we’re down here and away from anyone who might be listening, I’d like to go through the case with you.”
Sirius looked around the room, hunching his shoulders. It was white from floor to ceiling. One wall was lined with metal cabinets and the whole ceiling glowed white with a light spell. On the block in the centre of the room, a floating blanket hid the shape below. The chilling spells were fierce.
“Let’s get on with it,” Remus said, shuffling closer to Sirius. The light from above bleached all the colour from his face, leaving him pale and ghostlike.
“This goes back to last June. Jack Yarwood and Alan Radcliffe were the leaders of the team who tackled the Hexcombe coven. You won’t have heard about it – hushed up. Nastiest bunch of dark wizards I’ve seen yet. They’d disguised themselves as Muggles and were taking kids. They went for city kids – the ones with no friends, the rebels, the angry children. Then they took what they wanted from them, blood and bone, to summon dark things. Terrible things. Eventually a teacher noticed that too many kids were disappearing for it to be just a bunch of teenage runaways. Luckily for us, his sister was a Muggleborn witch and she knew enough to alert the ministry.”
He took a breath, glancing at Moody, who was staring down at the covered body, lips tight.
“I put together a team of six to uncover them. Jack Yarwood, Alan Radcliffe, Oliver Sugden, Lucia Peverell, Daffyd Powell and Hester Entwhistle. Oliver was killed in the showdown with the coven. Lucia is still in St Mungos – she’ll never get her mind back. Daffyd was killed in August. Hester and her family was tortured and murdered in November. That’s when Radcliffe and the Yarwoods went into hiding. Nobody should have been able to find them.”
“But someone did,” Moody growled. “Someone knew.”
“Radcliffe?” Remus asked, his voice very quiet. “But he’s dead, too.”
“Maybe he sold them out, hoping to buy his own safety,” Ted said. “Maybe he was killed by someone else. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe there’s someone else out there who knows.”
“So now what?” Sirius asked. His palms had gone wet and clammy. Things weren’t supposed to be this complicated.
“We go over everything again,” Moody said. “The four of us. Every single detail.”
“First, we need to go through Radcliffe’s things. See if there’s anything which might indicate that this man is not Alan Radcliffe.”
“Body first,” Moody said, and removed the cloth.
Somebody had closed Radcliffe’s eyes. Sirius wasn’t sure if he looked more or less terrible now. There was no more blood but already his cheeks had begun to fall in, his skin tightening around his skull.
“Alan had a Quidditch scar on the back of his left shoulder,” Ted said. “Bludger sent him into the commentary stand in his fifth year.”
“Turn him,” Moody snapped.
Sirius hesitated. He didn’t want to touch that cold, dead skin.
Remus stepped forward, face set. He and Moody lifted the body, turning it gently before they set it down again. A line ran across the shoulder blade, puckered against the pale skin.
“That’s it,” Ted said, and frowned. “What’s that on his lower back?”
Moody squinted, and Sirius leant forward. There was a circular red patch at the base of the corpse’s spine, where all the skin had been scraped away.
“Doctor’s report,” Moody said.
Ted flicked through it. “Bit vague. He reckons it was done shortly before death but can’t tell much more.”
“Polyjuice,” Sirius said flatly.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Moody said. “Whoever killed him could him wanted proof to take home.”
“But polyjuice is most likely, yes?” Remus said.
“Yes,” Moody said, and there was a note of ferocity. “Somebody’s playing games with us.”
They spent the rest of the morning down there. Once Moody and Ted had finished with the body, they moved on to his clothes and belongings, checking for anything which might not have belonged to Alan Radcliffe.
There was a wand (“Hawthorn, unicorn hair. Registered it myself. It’s his.”), a handful of sherbet lemons (“Bit of sweet tooth, Alan.”), a bus ticket from Newport to Cardiff, dated eight days ago (“Interesting. You two can get your arses over to Cardiff this afternoon.”), some coins, mostly Muggle, a tin of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers.
“Did he smoke?” Remus asked.
“Twenty a day,” Ted said. “Didn’t usually roll his own, though.”
Sirius walked over and lifted the blankets a bit. “His fingers are yellow.”
“Safe to say if that’s not him, it’s a permanent transfiguration, then,” Remus said, frowning slightly. “That’s an odd design on the tin.”
Sirius came back over to look at it. At the first glance he thought it was a pierrot smoking but when he looked again he saw it was a pipe rather than a fag. Remus was right. There was something odd about it, and he couldn’t work out what.
“Right,” Moody said. “You two get moving. Report on my desk by the end of the day. Find out what the fuck he was doing in Wales.”
Almost as soon as they left, Remus swerved away. “I need to wash my hands.”
Sirius sighed in relief. He’d thought he was the only one who felt marked, despite the spell. “Me, too.”
There was coal tar soap in the loos, orange and foul-smelling. Sirius lathered his hands with it, rinsed them and washed them again, trying to get rid of the hidden stain. That done, he dried them on green paper towels, and turned to Remus.
He was still washing, and he still looked pale.
“You alright?” Sirius asked.
He nodded sharply and bent over the sink, leaning on his hands. “I haven’t seen someone laid out like that since – since my Mum died.”
“Fuck,” Sirius said and dragged Remus into his arms, cradling him tight. “You should have said.”
Remus shoved his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck and twisted his hands under Sirius’ robes, clinging to skin with soapy hands. “I’m okay. It’s just – you forget. You think you’ve healed and then something reminds you. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Sirius pressed his lips against Remus’ hair, rocking him. “It’s okay.”
“I know. I know. It just shook me. Poor bastard.”
His hands were relaxing, smoothing from claws pinching, to flat fingers spread across Sirius’ hips as they swayed together.
“Think it is Radcliffe, then?”
“Looks like it. So who’s pretending to be him?”
Sirius shrugged. “No idea.”
Remus sighed, and then said apologetically, “Sirius?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to be manipulative right now so I’m going to warn you. You really should stop moving like that.”
“Eh?” Sirius said, still rocking.
Remus twisted his hips slightly and Sirius felt the line of his erection press against his own. The heat rushed through him and he threw his head back. “Oh.”
“If you want us to stop, you’re going to have to stop yourself. Because I don’t want to. I don’t think I can. Oh, fuck, Sirius, you’re alive.”
That stopped Sirius. “Moony?”
“Don’t die. I don’t ever want it to be you down there.”
Sirius shoved him back against the wall, pressing against him. “It won’t be. I promise. You’ll never have to see that. I’ll outlive you, you scrawny little git.”
Remus snorted a half-laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You will. I swear it to you.”
Remus blinked across at him and then glared, his brown eyes fierce. “Tell me a secret.”
“What?”
“Tell me a secret. Tell me something I can ask you to be sure it’s you and not polyjuice.”
“Fuck,” Sirius said. He’d never worried about it. Thoughts swirled through his mind - I broke my mother’s wand when I was three; I was the one who gave James green spots in first year; I love you. At last he said, “The shape of your right ankle.”
Remus looked confused. “What?”
“The shape of your right ankle.”
“Are you going to explain that one?”
“No,” Sirius said, and grinned. “It’s a secret.”
Remus’ smile twitched and he leant forward to whisper. “The eighteenth of November, nineteen-seventy-five.”
Sirius blinked and did some frantic maths. “Fifth year. Just after we did the animagus transformation, right?”
“The morning after the first moon we went out together,” Remus said softly, beginning to rock again. “I woke up, and for the first time, I barely hurt. You were fast asleep in the chair beside me, this big, stupid grin on your face, and you were snoring. That was when I realised I was in love with you.”
Sirius felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him. “Moony, I- Fuck- I… Remus.” How did he do it? How did Remus steal all his eloquence without even trying?
Remus smiled and reached under his robes. He began to undo the buttons on Sirius’ shirt, lips pursed with concentration. Sirius felt his eyes widen in panic.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m touching you,” Remus said patiently, and slid his hands up Sirius’ bare chest.
“You haven’t touched me all morning.” Damn. He hadn’t meant it to sound like that.
Remus’ expression sobered again. “I didn’t want to. I had death on my hands.”
“Fair enough,” Sirius managed. Every time Remus rocked against him, the world went a little more blurry around the edges. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”
“No,” Remus said, smiling. “I am seducing you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are not.”
“Am too.”
“Not.”
Remus slid his hand down, stroking Sirius through his trousers. “Am.”
Sirius moaned, thrusting forward into that warm touch. “Door. Anyone could come in.”
“Good point,” Remus said, still stroking, and fumbled his wand out. “Supplemora.”
The lock clicked shut. That had not been what he meant.
Remus slid his hand up, fingering the buttons on Sirius’ fly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Stop? Yes. No. Fuck.
Remus leant forward and said again, his breath brushing Sirius’ lips, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Nuh- No?” Sirius asked, without the words passing through his brain first.
Remus moaned, a low sound of pure relief, and kissed him. His hands shook and fumbled on the buttons, and then he was shoving Sirius’ trousers down. He wrapped his hand around Sirius’ cock with a breathy sigh, and began to pump it slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, teasingly slow.
Sirius couldn’t keep the noises from spilling out of him; couldn’t stop his hips from rolling or his breath from breaking into Remus’ mouth. Fuck it. He gave in. He slid his hands inside Remus’ robes, dragging Remus’ trousers down, snapping the button off. His hands ran across stripes of warm skin and rough scars and then he found Remus. He closed his fingers around the hot, soft weight of him, remembering, and Remus wailed, his hips jerking.
“Ssh,” Sirius murmured, rubbing circles with his other hand. “Mine.”
“Mine,” Remus said fiercely, and pushed forward until their cocks pressed together.
Sirius threw his head back, gasping for cooler air, and Remus wound their fingers together, moving their hands.
“Sirius,” he gasped. “Been too long. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.”
“Remus,” Sirius breathed. “We shouldn’t. Oh, Remus. I’m a bad person. We shouldn’t. Oh, Remus. Please. Remus.”
“You’re wonderful,” Remus murmured, pressing kisses to his neck. “Beautiful. Wonderful. Mine, all mine. Mine.”
“Yours,” Sirius murmured, heat surging through him as he came.
Remus cried out and then sank his teeth into Sirius’ neck, spurting over both their hands.
Sirius sighed and sank against him, pressing his sweaty hands against the cold wall. Remus’ arms wrapped around his waist, tightly. After a few moments, he said, “Padfoot?”
“Mmm?”
“Cold tiles.”
Sirius stepped back reluctantly, pulling Remus with him.
Remus sighed and nuzzled his neck. “Did we just…?”
“I think we did.”
“In a ministry loo?”
“Yeah.”
“We did check no one else was here, didn’t we?”
Sirius whipped his head around in horror but all the stalls were empty. “We’re safe.”
“I missed you. I really missed you.”
Sirius looked down at Remus, wrapped around him, his eyes heavy and full of something soft and terrifying. Shit. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He pushed away, dragging his trousers up far enough that he could march into the nearest cubicle and clean himself.
“Padfoot?”
Sirius stalked out again and went to wash his hands. Shit, shit, shit. Whatever he did now, he was a total bastard.
Remus was still leaning against the wall. He always had been warm and languid after sex. Sirius was the one who had the burst of energy.
“Being a sore loser?”
“I haven’t lost,” Sirius said, glaring at his reflection. Loathsome creature.
“I seduced you,” Remus said smugly.
“Once.”
“Once?” Remus repeated, his voice less certain.
Sirius made himself look at him, as if it would make this better. “It won’t happen again.”
He saw the hurt flood over Remus’ face. Then the expression faded, and Remus smiled, cool and unreadable. “So. The challenge is still on?”
“Yes,” Sirius ground out.
“You’re going to lose, Padfoot.”
“We’ll see.”
Remus smiled again, polite and vicious. “So, Cardiff?”
“Better get moving,” Sirius said, rinsing the soap off his hands. “Do your trousers up, Moony.”
“If I must.” Remus stepped away from the wall. Sirius turned away from him, waiting for him to clean up as he tried to steady his own breath. Fuck.
“Alohamora,” Remus murmured. He looked as if no sinful thought had ever crossed his mind. Right up to the moment he paused before the door and said, viciously, “This isn’t over, Sirius.”
That was exactly what Sirius was afraid of.
Rating: R/NC-17 for mature themes and bad behaviour in a public place.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 2498
Prompt:
Say even that this complete simplicity
Stripped one of all one's torments, concealed
The evilly compounded, vital I
And made it fresh in a world of white,
A world of clear water, brilliant-edged,
Still one would want more, one would need more,
More than a world of white and snowy scents.
- The Poems of Our Climate, Wallace Stevens
Notes: Back to the Alan Radcliffe case. Remus and Sirius misbehave in a ministry loo. *throws hands in the air* They weren't supposed to do that today. Title from Richard III.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
The four of them met in the depths of the Ministry. Sirius stopped to wait but Moody walked off as soon as they arrived, barking at them to follow.
“Aren’t we waiting for the others?” Remus asked.
“We’re the only ones working on this,” Ted said shortly. “There’s a leak somewhere. You two haven’t been here long enough to be responsible.”
“And if Tonks or I are the traitor, we’re all fucked,” Moody said with relish.
“I do like a bit of fresh optimism in the morning,” Sirius muttered, and Remus elbowed him. He was still smirking, the git. There had been nothing wrong with barricading himself in the shower. The only tactical flaw had been not been checking whether Remus had been in there first.
That, of course, led him to the image of Remus in the shower, naked and soapy, laughing so hard he had to support himself against the yellowed tiles.
Work. He was working and it was important. He had to concentrate.
Remus was smirking even more.
Ted unlocked the door in front of them, and ushered them in, muttering a spell over them. Sirius felt something cold ripple over him and shivered.
“Stops you from leaving traces on anything you touch,” Ted said. “Right, now we’re down here and away from anyone who might be listening, I’d like to go through the case with you.”
Sirius looked around the room, hunching his shoulders. It was white from floor to ceiling. One wall was lined with metal cabinets and the whole ceiling glowed white with a light spell. On the block in the centre of the room, a floating blanket hid the shape below. The chilling spells were fierce.
“Let’s get on with it,” Remus said, shuffling closer to Sirius. The light from above bleached all the colour from his face, leaving him pale and ghostlike.
“This goes back to last June. Jack Yarwood and Alan Radcliffe were the leaders of the team who tackled the Hexcombe coven. You won’t have heard about it – hushed up. Nastiest bunch of dark wizards I’ve seen yet. They’d disguised themselves as Muggles and were taking kids. They went for city kids – the ones with no friends, the rebels, the angry children. Then they took what they wanted from them, blood and bone, to summon dark things. Terrible things. Eventually a teacher noticed that too many kids were disappearing for it to be just a bunch of teenage runaways. Luckily for us, his sister was a Muggleborn witch and she knew enough to alert the ministry.”
He took a breath, glancing at Moody, who was staring down at the covered body, lips tight.
“I put together a team of six to uncover them. Jack Yarwood, Alan Radcliffe, Oliver Sugden, Lucia Peverell, Daffyd Powell and Hester Entwhistle. Oliver was killed in the showdown with the coven. Lucia is still in St Mungos – she’ll never get her mind back. Daffyd was killed in August. Hester and her family was tortured and murdered in November. That’s when Radcliffe and the Yarwoods went into hiding. Nobody should have been able to find them.”
“But someone did,” Moody growled. “Someone knew.”
“Radcliffe?” Remus asked, his voice very quiet. “But he’s dead, too.”
“Maybe he sold them out, hoping to buy his own safety,” Ted said. “Maybe he was killed by someone else. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe there’s someone else out there who knows.”
“So now what?” Sirius asked. His palms had gone wet and clammy. Things weren’t supposed to be this complicated.
“We go over everything again,” Moody said. “The four of us. Every single detail.”
“First, we need to go through Radcliffe’s things. See if there’s anything which might indicate that this man is not Alan Radcliffe.”
“Body first,” Moody said, and removed the cloth.
Somebody had closed Radcliffe’s eyes. Sirius wasn’t sure if he looked more or less terrible now. There was no more blood but already his cheeks had begun to fall in, his skin tightening around his skull.
“Alan had a Quidditch scar on the back of his left shoulder,” Ted said. “Bludger sent him into the commentary stand in his fifth year.”
“Turn him,” Moody snapped.
Sirius hesitated. He didn’t want to touch that cold, dead skin.
Remus stepped forward, face set. He and Moody lifted the body, turning it gently before they set it down again. A line ran across the shoulder blade, puckered against the pale skin.
“That’s it,” Ted said, and frowned. “What’s that on his lower back?”
Moody squinted, and Sirius leant forward. There was a circular red patch at the base of the corpse’s spine, where all the skin had been scraped away.
“Doctor’s report,” Moody said.
Ted flicked through it. “Bit vague. He reckons it was done shortly before death but can’t tell much more.”
“Polyjuice,” Sirius said flatly.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Moody said. “Whoever killed him could him wanted proof to take home.”
“But polyjuice is most likely, yes?” Remus said.
“Yes,” Moody said, and there was a note of ferocity. “Somebody’s playing games with us.”
They spent the rest of the morning down there. Once Moody and Ted had finished with the body, they moved on to his clothes and belongings, checking for anything which might not have belonged to Alan Radcliffe.
There was a wand (“Hawthorn, unicorn hair. Registered it myself. It’s his.”), a handful of sherbet lemons (“Bit of sweet tooth, Alan.”), a bus ticket from Newport to Cardiff, dated eight days ago (“Interesting. You two can get your arses over to Cardiff this afternoon.”), some coins, mostly Muggle, a tin of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers.
“Did he smoke?” Remus asked.
“Twenty a day,” Ted said. “Didn’t usually roll his own, though.”
Sirius walked over and lifted the blankets a bit. “His fingers are yellow.”
“Safe to say if that’s not him, it’s a permanent transfiguration, then,” Remus said, frowning slightly. “That’s an odd design on the tin.”
Sirius came back over to look at it. At the first glance he thought it was a pierrot smoking but when he looked again he saw it was a pipe rather than a fag. Remus was right. There was something odd about it, and he couldn’t work out what.
“Right,” Moody said. “You two get moving. Report on my desk by the end of the day. Find out what the fuck he was doing in Wales.”
Almost as soon as they left, Remus swerved away. “I need to wash my hands.”
Sirius sighed in relief. He’d thought he was the only one who felt marked, despite the spell. “Me, too.”
There was coal tar soap in the loos, orange and foul-smelling. Sirius lathered his hands with it, rinsed them and washed them again, trying to get rid of the hidden stain. That done, he dried them on green paper towels, and turned to Remus.
He was still washing, and he still looked pale.
“You alright?” Sirius asked.
He nodded sharply and bent over the sink, leaning on his hands. “I haven’t seen someone laid out like that since – since my Mum died.”
“Fuck,” Sirius said and dragged Remus into his arms, cradling him tight. “You should have said.”
Remus shoved his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck and twisted his hands under Sirius’ robes, clinging to skin with soapy hands. “I’m okay. It’s just – you forget. You think you’ve healed and then something reminds you. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Sirius pressed his lips against Remus’ hair, rocking him. “It’s okay.”
“I know. I know. It just shook me. Poor bastard.”
His hands were relaxing, smoothing from claws pinching, to flat fingers spread across Sirius’ hips as they swayed together.
“Think it is Radcliffe, then?”
“Looks like it. So who’s pretending to be him?”
Sirius shrugged. “No idea.”
Remus sighed, and then said apologetically, “Sirius?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to be manipulative right now so I’m going to warn you. You really should stop moving like that.”
“Eh?” Sirius said, still rocking.
Remus twisted his hips slightly and Sirius felt the line of his erection press against his own. The heat rushed through him and he threw his head back. “Oh.”
“If you want us to stop, you’re going to have to stop yourself. Because I don’t want to. I don’t think I can. Oh, fuck, Sirius, you’re alive.”
That stopped Sirius. “Moony?”
“Don’t die. I don’t ever want it to be you down there.”
Sirius shoved him back against the wall, pressing against him. “It won’t be. I promise. You’ll never have to see that. I’ll outlive you, you scrawny little git.”
Remus snorted a half-laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You will. I swear it to you.”
Remus blinked across at him and then glared, his brown eyes fierce. “Tell me a secret.”
“What?”
“Tell me a secret. Tell me something I can ask you to be sure it’s you and not polyjuice.”
“Fuck,” Sirius said. He’d never worried about it. Thoughts swirled through his mind - I broke my mother’s wand when I was three; I was the one who gave James green spots in first year; I love you. At last he said, “The shape of your right ankle.”
Remus looked confused. “What?”
“The shape of your right ankle.”
“Are you going to explain that one?”
“No,” Sirius said, and grinned. “It’s a secret.”
Remus’ smile twitched and he leant forward to whisper. “The eighteenth of November, nineteen-seventy-five.”
Sirius blinked and did some frantic maths. “Fifth year. Just after we did the animagus transformation, right?”
“The morning after the first moon we went out together,” Remus said softly, beginning to rock again. “I woke up, and for the first time, I barely hurt. You were fast asleep in the chair beside me, this big, stupid grin on your face, and you were snoring. That was when I realised I was in love with you.”
Sirius felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him. “Moony, I- Fuck- I… Remus.” How did he do it? How did Remus steal all his eloquence without even trying?
Remus smiled and reached under his robes. He began to undo the buttons on Sirius’ shirt, lips pursed with concentration. Sirius felt his eyes widen in panic.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m touching you,” Remus said patiently, and slid his hands up Sirius’ bare chest.
“You haven’t touched me all morning.” Damn. He hadn’t meant it to sound like that.
Remus’ expression sobered again. “I didn’t want to. I had death on my hands.”
“Fair enough,” Sirius managed. Every time Remus rocked against him, the world went a little more blurry around the edges. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”
“No,” Remus said, smiling. “I am seducing you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are not.”
“Am too.”
“Not.”
Remus slid his hand down, stroking Sirius through his trousers. “Am.”
Sirius moaned, thrusting forward into that warm touch. “Door. Anyone could come in.”
“Good point,” Remus said, still stroking, and fumbled his wand out. “Supplemora.”
The lock clicked shut. That had not been what he meant.
Remus slid his hand up, fingering the buttons on Sirius’ fly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Stop? Yes. No. Fuck.
Remus leant forward and said again, his breath brushing Sirius’ lips, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Nuh- No?” Sirius asked, without the words passing through his brain first.
Remus moaned, a low sound of pure relief, and kissed him. His hands shook and fumbled on the buttons, and then he was shoving Sirius’ trousers down. He wrapped his hand around Sirius’ cock with a breathy sigh, and began to pump it slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, teasingly slow.
Sirius couldn’t keep the noises from spilling out of him; couldn’t stop his hips from rolling or his breath from breaking into Remus’ mouth. Fuck it. He gave in. He slid his hands inside Remus’ robes, dragging Remus’ trousers down, snapping the button off. His hands ran across stripes of warm skin and rough scars and then he found Remus. He closed his fingers around the hot, soft weight of him, remembering, and Remus wailed, his hips jerking.
“Ssh,” Sirius murmured, rubbing circles with his other hand. “Mine.”
“Mine,” Remus said fiercely, and pushed forward until their cocks pressed together.
Sirius threw his head back, gasping for cooler air, and Remus wound their fingers together, moving their hands.
“Sirius,” he gasped. “Been too long. Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.”
“Remus,” Sirius breathed. “We shouldn’t. Oh, Remus. I’m a bad person. We shouldn’t. Oh, Remus. Please. Remus.”
“You’re wonderful,” Remus murmured, pressing kisses to his neck. “Beautiful. Wonderful. Mine, all mine. Mine.”
“Yours,” Sirius murmured, heat surging through him as he came.
Remus cried out and then sank his teeth into Sirius’ neck, spurting over both their hands.
Sirius sighed and sank against him, pressing his sweaty hands against the cold wall. Remus’ arms wrapped around his waist, tightly. After a few moments, he said, “Padfoot?”
“Mmm?”
“Cold tiles.”
Sirius stepped back reluctantly, pulling Remus with him.
Remus sighed and nuzzled his neck. “Did we just…?”
“I think we did.”
“In a ministry loo?”
“Yeah.”
“We did check no one else was here, didn’t we?”
Sirius whipped his head around in horror but all the stalls were empty. “We’re safe.”
“I missed you. I really missed you.”
Sirius looked down at Remus, wrapped around him, his eyes heavy and full of something soft and terrifying. Shit. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He pushed away, dragging his trousers up far enough that he could march into the nearest cubicle and clean himself.
“Padfoot?”
Sirius stalked out again and went to wash his hands. Shit, shit, shit. Whatever he did now, he was a total bastard.
Remus was still leaning against the wall. He always had been warm and languid after sex. Sirius was the one who had the burst of energy.
“Being a sore loser?”
“I haven’t lost,” Sirius said, glaring at his reflection. Loathsome creature.
“I seduced you,” Remus said smugly.
“Once.”
“Once?” Remus repeated, his voice less certain.
Sirius made himself look at him, as if it would make this better. “It won’t happen again.”
He saw the hurt flood over Remus’ face. Then the expression faded, and Remus smiled, cool and unreadable. “So. The challenge is still on?”
“Yes,” Sirius ground out.
“You’re going to lose, Padfoot.”
“We’ll see.”
Remus smiled again, polite and vicious. “So, Cardiff?”
“Better get moving,” Sirius said, rinsing the soap off his hands. “Do your trousers up, Moony.”
“If I must.” Remus stepped away from the wall. Sirius turned away from him, waiting for him to clean up as he tried to steady his own breath. Fuck.
“Alohamora,” Remus murmured. He looked as if no sinful thought had ever crossed his mind. Right up to the moment he paused before the door and said, viciously, “This isn’t over, Sirius.”
That was exactly what Sirius was afraid of.
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Guh. This was so good. Bloody hell!
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I'm glad it worked.
Thanks for the comment :)
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I'm glad you enjoyed it :)
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Misbehaving in the loo was really great, though. Angsty sex after confronting death is disturbingly hot.
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Remus is getting rather enthusiastic about this whole seduction ploy. And the angst seemed appropriate.
Thanks for the comment :)
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*sniffle* Sirius, you bampot. Give in while you have the chance!
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Thanks for the comment :)
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On the other hand I'm oddly proud of Remus for not giving up.
Also, this was hot.
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Glad you enjoyed it :)
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Greaaaat chapter. Really. :))
“It won’t be. I promise. You’ll never have to see that. I’ll outlive you, you scrawny little git.”
Ah, I wanted to cry at that...
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I can't resist foreshadowing. I can't write R/S without being aware of how little time they have.
Thanks for the comment. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)
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And I'm so glad to see that the seduction of Sirius will continue throughout the end of the month/fic.
;-)
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Nope, Sirius isn't off the hook yet.
Thanks for the comment :)
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The moment when they're talking about the deaths is very moving...
I enjoyed the smut scene very much ;)
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