A Night Out

This is where I'll be, so heavenly,

So come and dance with me, Michael

So sexy, I'm sexy

So come and dance with me, Michael

Remus scans the crowded room, searching for Sirius's familiar, shaggy black hair among the lithe, writhing bodies of the Muggle men and women dancing frantically to some sort of odd beeping music. How Sirius has managed to drag him to a Muggle nightclub, Remus has no idea: he recalls a vague, noisy whirlwind that was Sirius, wearing an inordinate amount of leather and eyeliner, black hair flying wild about his face, looking exactly like the rebellious aristocrat he was. Come on, Remus, Sirius had said, it's great fun, and Remus had pulled his face out of his book and started to say, No, Sirius, I don't think so, and then the sight of Sirius and the way those pants were clinging to his narrow boy-hips had struck Remus's tongue dumb, and he could only nod mutely. Sirius had whooped with excitement and run off to find Remus some "suitable clothes."

Remus looks down at himself, at the odd clothes Sirius had demanded he wear; torn shirt, tight pants, overlarge boots. He has to admit that it doesn't look as bad as he'd thought it would; the young woman yammering insanely into his ear certainly approves of his attire. Her hand wanders purposefully across his stomach. Remus wonders idly where she's planning to go with it next, and how much coercion it will require to make her go away.

There, in the middle of the room, of course: Sirius, always the center of attention. Remus watches, mesmerized, as Sirius rocks and writhes in time to the horrid beeping music, his hips twisting madly, and Remus is suddenly, unbearably aroused. He finds himself hoping that the tiny blonde girl trying to wrap her legs around Sirius will sod off, because he is about five seconds from shoving his way over there and claiming Sirius as his own, there, in front of everyone. He pushes the girl's hand away from his thigh, where it has somehow drifted, and then Sirius's eyes are on him and Sirius is calling him over, and Remus slips off the stool without a word to the disappointed girl, and sets off in search of his Padfoot.

I'm all that you see, you wanna see

So come and dance with me, Michael

So close now, so close now

So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

Sirius catches Remus's eye and grins wickedly. Either Remus skipped supper or he's seen something quite amazing to give him that look of ravenous greed. He flings an arm up and beckons for Moony, come here, you, he mouths, and Remus disappears from the stool and then Sirius is off, whisked away into the crowd of which he is only a nameless face, and more pretty girls press themselves against him and he throws his head back and closes his eyes and then there is only the music, coursing through him, turning his blood molten hot, and he waits for Remus.

Michael, you're the boy with all the leather hips

Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips

Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want,

Only one I'd ever want, only one I'd ever want

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dance floor

Michael you're dancing like a beautiful dance-whore

Michael waiting on a silver platter now

And nothing matters now

Remus feels the wolf in him as he circles, looking for Sirius, hunting him down by scent and sweat and sound. That predatory feeling, that possessive feeling, mine, he thinks, and unknowingly he snarls at a young woman as she presses up against him, and he doesn't notice her sudden expression of fear but he smells it coming from her as she retreats, and the wolf rises up in him, give chase, hunt, but Remus shoves the wolf aside: his goal is Sirius. Sirius in his leatherclad hips and Sirius with his unruly black hair and Sirius with his flashing eyes and strong hands and gods, where is he, where is he?

Remus hunts through a crowd of nameless faces, not caring about the people brushing past, his mind full of the memory of Sirius.

This is what I am, I am a man

So come and dance with me, Michael

So strong now, it's strong now

So come and dance with me Michael

I'm all that you see, you wanna see,

So come and dance with me Michael

So close now, it's close now

So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

So come and dance with me

The cheap disco balls flings prisms of silver across Sirius's face, across his hands as he rakes them through his hair, across the strip of flat belly showing just above the black leather, just below his tight black shirt. He dances on a dark sky speckled with silver lights, a silver moon above him, and he waits for his Moony, the lights and the music hot inside of him, and he waits for his Moony, and then he feels hands on his hips, stroking him deliciously; he turns, and there, oh, there: Remus.

Michael, you're the boy with all the leather hips

Sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips

Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want,

Only one I'd ever want, only one I'd ever want

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dance floor

Michael you're dancing like a beautiful dance-whore

Michael waiting on a silver platter now

And nothing matters now

Sirius's skin is hot to the touch, and Remus's fingertips are burning as he runs his hands over Sirius's hips, rakes his hands over the leather, leans forward to suck at Sirius's throat, tasting the salt of sweat and desire. Sirius throws his head back to give Moony's mouth more freedom, and Remus growls low in the back of his throat, his teeth nipping skin and his tongue teasing and flicking. His hands clench Sirius's hips, nails digging into the skin, and Sirius groans as an unbearable tension begins to build inside of him. Gods, Moony, he gasps, and then he's whirled around and Moony's lips are on his, and he swears the room must be burning, because now his entire body is on fire and the whole world seems to have disappeared except for the music pounding through his body and the feel of Remus beneath his hands and lips.

Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want,

Only one I'd ever want, only one I'd ever want

Michael, you're the only one I'd ever want,

Only one I'd ever want, only one I'd ever want

Beautiful boys on a beautiful dance floor

Michael you're dancing like a beautiful dance-whore

Michael waiting on a silver platter now

Nothing matters now

Nothing matters now

Nothing matters, oh yeah

The cool night air outside of the club feels wonderful on Remus's skin; the heat that had taken over his mind has receded a bit, and he's thinking clearly again. No more wolf, or strange primitive urges. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky, full of stars, and at the thin white sliver of the waxing moon.

"Have fun?" Sirius asks, that wicked grin on his face again. Remus only looks at him and then looks down at his feet, lost inside the slightly-too-large black boots that Sirius had insisted he wear.

"Yes, I suppose I did," he said dryly.

Sirius throws his arm around Remus's shoulders. "You were excellent in there, Moony," he whispers into Remus's ear, his lips tickling the sensitive lobe. "You've got me quite worked up."

Remus glances down at the leather and grins. "I can tell," he says, and Sirius laughs delightedly.

"Perhaps we should continue that wonderfully frenzied incident back home?" Sirius inquires innocently.

Remus leans over and kisses Sirius; his lips are gentle, and full of a barely-leashed yearning betrayed by the hands that suddenly grab at Sirius's wrists; Sirius breaks free and takes a deep breath, his eyes darkening with sudden need.

"Gods, Moony," he whispers.

"I'll see you back at the flat, shall I?" Remus says lightly, and he Disapparates with a crack.

"Oh, indeed," Sirius replies to the empty night, and follows his lover home.