Three Weeks Outside Time

Chapter Two

Remus kissed him once behind each ear. Then he parted his hair and pressed a kiss into the hollow at the base of his skull. From there he moved downward, planting kisses along his neck, on his shoulders, and down his spine.

Sirius was hard. In fact, lying prone was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. But he was reluctant to roll over. It wasn't because he still felt strange revealing himself entirely to Remus, revealing his want, his need. Remus wanted him. That was why he was kissing him, why his hands were on his waist...and now on his arse, kneading the firm flesh. Oh, Merlin...

This was nice, just lying like this. He was safe. Warm. He would roll over eventually, when Remus was ready for him to roll over.

Remus cupped his arse cheeks and squeezed, making him moan. Merlin, those fingers. They were so pretty to look at, he should have guessed they'd be so...skilled. One traced his cleft, and that was nice, too. Tantalising. Not too foreign. One of his girlfriends--Maddin--had had a penchant for pinching his arse. He hadn't minded. He dismissed Mads quickly, because there was only room for two in the bed, and Remus' thumbs had nudged their way between his thighs and were beginning to pry them apart. Sirius let them, although that did feel a little strange.

"You could help me, Padfoot," Remus chuckled. "Come on, I'm not going to hurt you."

No, Remus never would. So Sirius spread his legs and raised himself slightly off the mattress to accommodate his erection.

Remus knelt between his legs. Sirius felt his warmth on the back of his thighs, and shivered. He couldn't help it, and hoped Remus would not notice. This was nice. More than nice, really. It simply wasn't what he was used to.

He yelped in surprise when Remus' tongue flicked out and touched the inside of his thigh. The tongue withdrew at once, and he clutched the sheets and swallowed. All right, he told himself, all right. You've been licked and blown a fair few times. It's only a tongue. Think of where yours has been. It's just no one else's tongue has ever come at you from that angle, is all. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No, don't apologise."

Remus was so fucking polite, even when he was fucking Sirius.

"It's all right."

"We can stop..."

"No, I want you. I want this."

"Fine." This last was a whisper against his skin. A moment later he felt the tongue again, a slow swipe behind his knee (very nice) gliding slowly upward (nicer...). It reached his cleft again, and Sirius waited, but instead of doing what he'd thought he was going to do, Remus moved to his other leg and blazed a similar trail.

"How's this?"

"Nice."

"Just nice?"

"Very nice."

"Are you nervous?"

"No. Yes. It's all right. I want you."

But then Remus spread him further with his hands, and that was too much. He dropped his head heavily and shook it. "Can't," he muttered. "Moony, I-- Please."

Remus pulled back, leaving Sirius feeling oddly bereft. "Merlin, Padfoot," he said exasperatedly, "if you can't even imagine it, how the fuck are you going to do it in real life?"

The fantasy shattered. Sirius opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Merlin, what the fuck was he doing? A week ago it had been Catriona he'd ravish in his mind. Really. And he'd gotten off on those images. Usually. Long white legs wrapped around his waist, small soft breasts, long nails dragging across his back... Who in hell couldn't get off on that image? That had been a week ago. Two days ago the fantasy still began with him and Cat, but by the time he came it was clear someone had supplanted her--someone with short brown hair and brown eyes and a considerably flatter chest.

That had been two days ago. Now his fantasies usually began with him kissing Remus--yes, Remus, Catriona had vacated the premises officially--but they almost invariably ended with the tables turned and Remus ravishing him.

Not at all an unpleasant image, but considering he'd only just come to realise he fancied his (male) friend, it was a little overwhelming.

He was hard, now. Painfully so. Listening first to make sure Remus was still sleeping (he was) he slicked one hand with his tongue, then slipped it under his duvet and into his pants. That was nice...

A groan escaped his lips. Flushing helplessly, he could only force himself still, and wait. Sure enough--

"Padfoot?" Remus mumbled sleepily from his own bed. "All right?"

He didn't trust his voice, but if he didn't say anything, Remus would think he was having nightmares and come over to try and wake him. "Mmmff," he replied unintelligibly. Remus did not answer back, and after a few agonising moments, Sirius expelled a relieved breath. Not that Remus catching him wanking off would have been so very tragic, he reflected. There wasn't much Remus didn't know about his various sexual adventures, and they'd both been subjected to the sound of James groaning Lily's name behind his own closed bed curtains back in Gryffindor. Merlin, Remus even knew about his disastrous first time, although he didn't know who it had been, or why.

The memory took some of the edge off his ardour. He didn't soften, but at least his need for release diminished somewhat.

With a grunt, he sat up, swung out of bed, and went to the loo, grabbing his cigarettes from his jeans' pocket on his way and sparing no glance for Remus.

Once inside, he closed the door and locked it. Then he opened the window, stuck a cigarette between his lips, pulled down his pants, and sat on the toilet.

It had been more comfortable when he'd been supine, but he could manage this way, too. He just closed his eyes and pictured Remus kneeling between his legs. His hand was a mean substitute for the other boy's mouth--or anyone's mouth, he tried half-heartedly to tell himself--but it worked. He came, finally, and slumped, panting, against the wall.

When the stars faded and the room stopped heaving, he opened his eyes and stared glassily out the window. The sky was grey. It would rain, soon, and probably all day. Fucking Scotland. At least it had stayed nice for most of their camping trip.

It had been nice, that trip. Very nice. Remus was no athlete, but he was no wimp, either. They'd hiked over the Eildon Hills, gone swimming in the River Teviot, visited the Border Abbeys of Dryburgh and Jedburgh. The hills had been more to his liking, but he'd been able to appreciate the Muggle ruins, probably because Remus had been so bloody keen to show them off to him. They'd spent a night in the Galloway Forest Park, and there Sirius had had his epiphany.

He wondered, not for the first time, as he sucked at his cigarette, if he'd be in this position now, had he simply gone to sleep that night and not spent it gazing at Remus and thinking about the moon. He was for it now, no question. He doubted he'd be able to keep this a secret for long. Not that he fancied Remus, but that he no longer fancied girls. He'd have to break things off with Cat, and he'd have to tell James something because the bugger would wonder, when he showed up for the train completely Cat-less, why he'd found no replacement. He couldn't lie. Well...he supposed he could, but he didn't want to. Not to James.

Could he lie to Remus, he wondered? He didn't want to do that, either, although he could hardly tell the other boy how he really felt. Remus would think he was putting him on. At the very least. At worst...

Actually, now that he thought about it, Remus might understand. Perhaps not the bit about Sirius fancying boys and certainly not the bit about Sirius fancying him, but he might understand the bit about Sirius being different, now, from most other blokes. Not that a werewolf would know necessarily what it was like to be a poof any more than a poof could know what it was like to be a werewolf. But in their society, both their afflictions--Merlin, was that really what it was?-- relegated them to the outskirts of things. Really, Remus was the perfect confidant. There was no question he'd be discreet. It was so perfect it was nearly farcical, and Sirius had to laugh, bitterly.

He broke off when someone knocked on the bathroom door, and he jumped up quickly and dropped his cigarette butt into the toilet when Remus said, "Padfoot? Are you almost done in there?"

"Almost," Sirius shouted over the flush. "About to take a shower. Why? D'you need to...?" ...take one, too? I think there's room for two, here... Merlin, this is fucked up.

"Nah, I'll use the one downstairs," Remus said. "Mum's making coffee. Dad's making you a traditional Scottish breakfast. Which," he added bemusedly, "is about the same as a traditional English breakfast, only worse, probably. And I think he's planning on making you cock-a-leekie soup for lunch."

Sirius choked.

"I know," Remus went on, merrily oblivious, "that was my reaction, too. At least it's not haggis. Dad's a good cook, anyway, but... If he wants to turn you into a Scot he's going about it all wrong. I don't think anyone ever moved here on account of the food."

"It's all them fine young men in skirts," Sirius said, and then wished with all his heart that he had not.

"Kilts," Remus reminded him. "Call it a skirt in front of Dad and you'll be back on the Knight Bus in seconds. He thinks I ought to get one. You know, for social functions. Can you see me in a kilt?"

Quite the little sadist, his wolf. How had Sirius missed, for so long, this streak of absolute evil?

"Anyway," said Remus, "I'll meet you downstairs. If things get too Scottish for you, there's a curry place in town that I think you'll like. It'll be raining sideways by noon, but I don't mind getting wet if you don't."

And with that charming image, he left, and Sirius had to clutch at the sink in order to remain upright. Bugger, he thought. Bugger, bugger. He would never make it to next week, let alone September.