Putting On

A hesitant initial stroke of the black pencil leaves a faint stroke of kohl across his tender eyelid. He steadies his hand and his nerves, closes the one eye, and reapplies that first stroke. This time his hand is firmer, and he produces a thin but dark line across the edge of his eyelid. Perfect. He glances in the mirror, leans forward slightly as if to kiss his reflection, and carefully touches up the corner of his eye, adding a dark accent to the crease there.

Now for the other eye. As he opens the eye he has already marked and closes the other one, his mouth falls open slightly. With his one-eyed glance he catches a glimpse of himself, half-made up, his pink lips parted just a bit - Sirius would like him like this. Does like him like this - made up and open-mouthed and ready. The thought gives Remus a little shiver all over his body, one he has to suppress so his hand doesn't slip as he tries to make his eyes match now.

He concentrates very closely on putting on his makeup. Sirius likes him like this. He says the kohl brings out the depth in Remus's eyes, but the glitter makes every take notice of how beautiful he truly is. He says it turns him on when Remus dandies up this way. He says a lot of things, but he doesn't ever say that he knows Remus is only doing this for him. He doesn't say how much he appreciates it, this drastic change on Remus's behalf, anywhere outside of his bed.

Now he lays down the pencil and opens up a small tube of gold glitter. He smears a tiny bit onto his fourth finger, then delicately traces the cool gel over one of his kohled eyelids. Eye shadow is always easier for him to put on than the kohl. He barely touches the glitter as he tries to spread it evenly across his eye, not too high, not too far across his face. Just a little smear over his eye, like Sirius likes it.

He does the same with the other eye, noticing that his mouth has fallen open again. Sometimes it makes him giggle to see his openmouthed reflection in the mirror - it makes him think that perhaps he is sexy, like Sirius sometimes tells him, that perhaps there is something natural about him that someone could like. Other times, seeing his open mouth and remembering what he has done with it makes him feel like a whore. Putting on makeup does not help that feeling at those times.

But now he is thinking of Sirius, and how he will enter the dormitory in a moment, skipping his Divination class. The black-haired boy will glide in, looking gorgeous without any effort; he will lock the door behind him with easy fingers that do not tremble like Remus's, fingers that first push back his own black hair, and then tangle in Remus's brown locks. He will smile like a predator, will capture Remus with a single touch, will devour the smaller boy upon one of their beds. And the makeup Remus applied so carefully will become smudged with sweat and caresses, but he will not be thinking of that while Sirius is making love to him. He will only think of the carelessly smudged makeup when he will inevitably find Sirius chatting up Arabella Figg or Rolonda Hooch or any of the other girls they know.

He tries not to think of all this - he looks in the mirror and bats his eyelashes at himself, admiring the newly created darkness and sparkle. Sirius has not opened the door to glide in yet, so he takes the opportunity to add a hint of lipstick to his pale pink lips. Now, when they fall open upon Sirius, they may leave a mark. Perhaps Sirius will remember and think of Remus and his makeup afterwards.

The door opens, just as Remus knew it would, and Sirius glides in. He locks it behind him and leans against the wall, cocky and beautiful and erotic and wicked all in one breath. He murmurs those familiar words about how Remus's makeup turns him on, how no one is as good as his tawny-haired, glitter-eyed friend. He captures Remus in his arms, holds him captive with a single touch, pins him upon the bed and makes love to him like he always does. And Remus does not think of makeup, but of the glittering ecstasy that they always put on each other on these occasions.

When they are done, and Sirius holds him, Remus knows his makeup is smeared. Sirius likes to see his handiwork, and Remus likes it too. When Sirius leaves, Remus always lingers a moment to examine his ruined image in the mirror; it invokes a sense of warped pride within him - pride, or shame.

Remus puts on makeup for Sirius, and Sirius in turn puts on words for him. Remus would like to believe that his words are true, that they match his actions, that all of this is not in vain but for the beauty of true love. But Sirius puts on those words like Remus puts on that makeup - it is only for the moment, and is smeared to something ugly within the instant. The only thing to do is cover it up with more.