InsaneJournal

FIC: "What's Your Problem?" (Remus/Sirius, NC-17)
Title: "What's Your Problem?"
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Characters: Remus/Sirius, with side dishes of James, Peter, and McGonagall's knickers
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dirty Talk. Drunkenness. Exhibitionism. Ridiculous Marauders. More drunkenness.
Themes/kinks chosen: Masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, fisting.
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Remus shrugged a little before continuing. “But regardless, James is right. Your arse is, so far, very useless. I think that needs to change.”
“It is not! It does perfectly normal arsely things. There is no need for change. None at all,” Sirius asserted with a slightly uncordinated flail of his arms and some odd curling of his hands which Remus took to be Drunken Black Sign Language (By no means Universal) to mean “arsely”.
Author's notes: Oh to be ficcing again after hp_april_fools! This was one of those fics that did its own thing and used me as its typing bitch. So all silliness is the fault of the fic. And the drunken Marauders. *nodnod* Okay- it's totally my fault but at least it's not Hagrid/Fang snot fic? Again.



“-because he's too damned stuck on his poncy, smarty-paged books, that's why.”

James laughed and shook his head. “He's going to shove one of those poncy, smarty-paged books up your useless arse before much longer. And what the fuck is smarty-paged?”

Sirius just waved a dismissive hand. “Don't ask me questions. It's all making sense right here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Your problem... Do you know what your problem is, James lad? Anyone know what James' problem is?”

“You're not pissed enough to know when to shut your Black mouth?” James asked before taking the bottle of whiskey away from Sirius and taking a healthy swig of the amber fluid inside.

“Actually, I think that's all of our problems,” Remus said calmly.

James and Sirius turned to look at Remus who had, until this point, said nothing once Sirius started pontificating about the wrongs of the world- moving from the political views of parents to the style of McGonagall's knickers to the behavioral failings of dorm-mates with a blatant lack of segues that Remus found distinctly cringe-worthy.

The Black mouth in question was open but soundless for all of three seconds before he responded with a very dignified, “Oh yeah?”

Remus raised an eyebrow at that and was rewarded with a clear sighting of the elusive Sirius Black Blush, a phenomenon hitherto only seen on eight occasions: two of which were caused directly by Remus, three of which involved copious amounts of alcohol, while the others were the product of either a Muggle appliance, the phrase “A Healer really should look at that”, or Sirius' relationship with his brother.

James was sniggering into the bottle- Peter had long since slid down the wall by his bed in a stupor, one eye partially open- and Sirius gave him a sharp thwack on the head. “Lot of support you are. Best mate, my arse.”

“Speaking of arses...” Remus began.

“Oh Merlin in a pair of pink wellies, no.” James pleaded.

Remus turned the raised eyebrow on James.

“These are those awkward ways that end up with you borrowing my invisibility cloak and all of us being in detention for a week.”

“No, James. That's Sirius' line when he's trying to get into the girls' dormitories again.”

“Or McGonagll's bedroom!” Sirius defended. “And that was worth every pile of thestral shite.”

“Damn invisible shit,” James muttered.

“Precisely. But as I was saying, I think James is right.”

“Of course, I am. Wait- about what?”

“About Sirius' arse.”

James blinked rather owlishly and looked from Remus to Sirius and back. “I don't think I made any comment about his arse. Sure it's fine for an arse... on a bloke. Not that I'm looking. At blokes' arses. Or Sirius' arse, Just that- being a mate an all. But- I don't want to be that right about it, unless being right makes looking at his arse wrong.”

It was Sirius turn to stare at James. “And you call me pissed?”

Remus chuckled quietly. “Actually, you both are pissed.”

“Thank you, Mr Voice of Reasonable Reason Lupin.”

Remus shrugged a little before continuing. “But regardless, James is right. Your arse is, so far, very useless. I think that needs to change.”

“It is not! It does perfectly normal arsely things. There is no need for change. None at all,” Sirius asserted with a slightly uncordinated flail of his arms and some odd curling of his hands which Remus took to be Drunken Black Sign Language (By no means Universal) to mean “arsely”.

James shook his head violently. “M'not pissed enough for you to have one of those kind of conversations where you talk about... you know... gay things.”

“Planning on never talking about Sirius again?” Remus queried with a wicked smile. “Or just his arse?”

“Har har. Bad form, old man. To inplay... employ... to say that I'm gay just after all that about girls and knickers and McGonagall who is definitely not gay or a man and has lacy knickers- as I proved last week.”

Neither James nor Remus commented to this but for a slight rolling of their eyes, because while it may not be obvious to Sirius, his interest in girls was far too determined to be entirely natural and no one who used Tropical Rainshower (sic) Conditioner for Full Body and Natural Shine could possibly be arrow-straight. Luckily, Sirius was too drunk to notice or understand the long, telling silence that followed his also revealingly defensive claims.

“You talk. I'm taking Mr Ogden here and going on the roof.” And with that James stood up, with only a slight sway and headed for the window that faced the roof of the common room a few feet below. If James was less inclined to go climbing about on roofs when drunk or more inclined to fall from them, Remus might have stopped him.

But as it was, he said nothing as James gave the bottom of Peter's foot a few kicks. “You're in the way, Pettigrew--” But all Peter did was mutter and switch which eye he had opened. Or was it switch which eye he had closed? It was at this point that Remus conceded he might be ever so slightly intoxicated because he normally didn't ask himself rhetorical questions.

“Oi. Petey. Your mum wants to suck my wand,” James goaded. Sirius sniggered. Peter grumbled and leaned forward to grab at James' leg. James easily sidestepped the attempt and Peter went face first into the floor with a loud thump. He didn't move as James climbed over him and out the window.

“Now, where were we?” Remus asked casually.

“Apparently in some horrible Muggle movie where that's an acceptable transformation?”

Remus figured he deserved that one. “Transition.”

“Whatever.” There was the dismissive wave of the hand again. Remus contented himself for a few moments with imagining that hand tied up in red and gold stripes and then for a few more minutes with forcing that hand up Sirius' own arse, shoving it in past the tight ring of muscle, fingertips, knuckles, palm, wrist, all in while Sirius moaned like one of Rosmerta's well-paid whores.

“-and that's really want your problem is, isn't it?”

So it might have been more than a few...

“Take your clothes off.”

“What?” Sirius stared proverbial holes into Remus who hated to repeat himself but did so anyway. “Take your clothes off.”

“And you whinge about my lack of transpossessions.” Sirius snarked but his hand was still reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Remus wasn't entirely sure Sirius was aware of his obedience, but he was obeying nonetheless so Remus wasn't about to complain.

Though he was about to correct him. “Transitions, Sirius. They're called transitions. Honestly what is your problem?”

“Inbreeding,” came a cheery shout from the window.

“Shut it, Potter. Or by Merlin I'll come out there and- oi, what was that for?” Sirius' tirade and threat were rendered ineffective by the close of the window. Remus kept his wand in his hand, just in case he needed any further magical insurance.

“Off.” Remus gestured at Sirius' chest with his wand, a faint flicker of golden brown sparks at the tip. Sirius shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it behind him. It landed on Peter's head. Peter didn't move though he did let out a soft snore.

Sirius scratched at his belly, the soft rasp of sparse nails over even sparser hair. “There. Happy? Got your fill of making me your visual whore?”

That was surprisingly well put together for as drunk as Sirius was and Remus had to resist the simultaneous urge to applaud him and to ruffle his hair, which would no doubt have ended in a too brisk pat on the head when the conflicting gestures combined. Again.

“Not yet,” Remus answered as he settled more comfortably in his chair- then had to push himself back onto it when he found the edge more edgelike than he expected. “Trousers off.”

Sirius' arms crossed over his chest. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. Why should I go about being... whatever it is I'm being with nothing in return?”

“Because I said so? And you like being told what to do.”

Sirius' mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. And closed for another few seconds before he finally manged, “Still. I think you should take your shirt off too. Or at least open it. Show some skin, Lupin. You have it, don't you? Not all bone and guts and nothing covering it but some fabric and buttons?”

“I have skin and fur,” Remus commented dryly. “But fine.” His fingers rose, then fell as he had to lay his wand on his thigh before he could unbutton his shirt. It wasn't quite as smooth task as usual... must have been a stray engorgment charm that affected his buttons... Eventually he managed and spread the white fabric open to reveal his chest, paler than James the sun-worshipping bastard, but more tan than Sirius who never seemed to be anything other than ivory. Unless he was blushing- or coated in mud or lovebites or pudding.

“Now drop your trousers.”

With hands that moved with only partial hesitation, Sirius unzipped his fly and let the trousers slip down over his arse- still useless- and with a quiet hush they hit the ground. He wasn't wearing pants.

“Always drink without pants?”

“Always everything without pants.”

“Always everything with an erection?”

“Err... not so much? It's drunk, you see. It doesn't know what it's doing.”

Remus smiled then, an uncharacteristically easy curve of his lips. “How about your right hand? Does it know it's doing?”

“Trying to give my cock some help with being drunk?”

“Your hand is redundant? Does this mean it's drunk too?” Remus teased as he looked only briefly up to meet Sirius' grey eyes before his attention returned to the tight stroking of Sirius' almost delicate fingers over his flushed cock.

“Rewhatsit?”

“Redundant. Your hand is giving your cock a hand.” Remus' grin grew.

Sirius only looked blankly at him, his confusion not reaching his hand or his cock as both seemed to be understanding one another perfectly.

“Nevermind.” Remus' cock also seemed to be having no confusion either, for it was very clear on its current function of being very clearly hard. “Just keep touching yourself.”

Sirius' lips twitched. “Reckon I can manage that- actually not sure I could stop it. You know how hands are. All determined and grabby and determined.”

Remus' eyes swept over Sirius' body, past the sharp jut of hipbones, over his narrow waist, up his chest to his broadening shoulders, more muscled since he started beating... for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Remus groaned, both at the elegant lines of Sirius' body and at the horrible double entendre he inadvertently made.

“It hurts less if you touch it, you know. Feels pretty damn good actually.”

“I know that, Sirius. Thanks ever so. I have wanked before,” Remus said, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Prove it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Remus asked, “What, you want me to recount all the times I have?”

“Ooh, now that holds promise. But I meant show me. You know- that you have experience.” Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

He knew he was being goaded but as he was planning on it anyway, Remus undid his flies and spread the zip wide open. He reached into his pants- which he always wore, thank you very much- and before he took his cock out, he noticed the increased speed of Sirius' hand over his cock.

“You want it, don't you?” Remus asked quietly. “You want to see my cock?”

“Fuck yes.” The questions also made Sirius wank faster, the delicate skin of cock sliding visibly up over the tip and back down again.

“Want to see me wanking too, don't you? My hand tight around my cock? Stroking it while I look at you? While you look at me?”

Sirius was groaning now, mouth parted for breath and for the needy sounds which rose up between them.

“Is that what you think about when you wank?”

And there was the ninth occurrence of the Black Blush and his mouth closed in a petulant manner that made the resemblance to Regulus unmistakable.

“Tell me, Sirius... Tell me what you think about when you have one off,” Remus commanded in a low hiss, his own hand curled tight around his throbbing cock, both still hidden behind the fabric of his pants.

“You. Oh fuck- you. Watching you watching me. Like this. Your hand on me. Touching me...” The words tumbled from Sirius' mouth, the stain on his cheeks starting to rise on his throat and chest. His feet shifted apart for better balance.

“Touching you where? Tell me where.” His own breathing was coming faster, inhales and exhales alternating in a quick succession that if he had a bit more brain he would have realised was moving in time with the rise and fall of Sirius' hand.

“Cock. Balls. Fuck, anywhere.”

“Your arse?” Remus didn't realise his hand hand started to move, but the slight scratch of elastic waistband on his wrist was a pretty clear sign, and an irritating, unnecessary one considering the ripples of pleasure making their way up his spine.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Want your fingers on me. In me. Please- fuck, Remus...” Sirius broke off into a desperate keen as his orgasm neared.

“Come for me. Show me how much you want me to touch you. How much you can imagine my fingers shoved inside you, my hand on your cock.”

Sirius' keen grew, his hand sped, and his head fell back, chin rising to the air before he finally came with a low cry, his come splattering the floor at Remus' feet. The sight of the pale fluid over the wood floor, the sound of Sirius' release echoing around him, were Remus' undoing. He shoved his pants down past his balls and fisted himself hard and fast, his hips rising up to meet every desperate stroke of his hand until his breath caught in his chest and he came without a sound, his own come hitting his bared stomach and sticking to his fingers.

The air was thick with the lingering tension, the smell of come, and a good deal of unwashed socks. Or maybe that was just the scent of Peter and his damp snores. Either way, Remus and Sirius stayed as they were, right hands snug and eyes fixed on the other's softening cock, as their breathing gradually resumed a less frantic, chased-by-angry-naked-Slytherins pace.

Sirius spoke first- sort of. “Gnghmmm...”

“Yes. That's... that's what I think too.”

Sirius gave a small bark of laughter, one which was quickly echoed by a lower chuckle from Remus. Their gazes locked, gold on grey, then there were another few quiet, not quite sheepish laughs as they did up their trousers once more, cocks tucked safely and carefully away again, away from the danger of sharp zips and easily-horrified-by-the-boy-bits-despite-having-them Potter eyes.

There was another unintelligible mumble but Sirius shook his head in response to Remus' quirked eyebrow. They turned their heads to the side to see Peter struggling back up into a sitting position, the shirt on his head until he was more or less upright. Then he tugged it off and looked blearily from Remus to Sirius to the shirt in his hand then back to Sirius' bare chest.

“Did I miss s'mthing, 'gain?”

Remus managed to control his snort of amusement while Sirius shook his head with mock sobriety- of the behavioral and the physial varieties. “Not a damn thing, Petey. And that's your problem. You never miss a damn thing.”