Title: Closet Case
Author: ceredwen
Characters/Pairings: Remus, Sirius, Filch, Dumbledore; Sirius/Remus
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Claustrophilia
Other Warnings: Intercrural sex, wanking
Word Count: 1806
Summary/Description: Remus and Sirius are in a tight jam.
Author's Notes: Let us pretend Mrs. Norris was in the bloom of her youth. She’s clearly ancient in the books, yes? Please assume an established relationship between Remus and Sirius. Many thanks to my beta museme87.

Mods, can I get a tag for content: intercrural sex?



Pelting down the dark castle corridor, Remus labored to keep up with Sirius and prayed to any deity that would listen for a quick escape. Filch couldn’t run as fast as Sirius or even Remus, but he hadn’t needed much of a head start, had he? Bloody Padfoot never bloody listened and now they were in quite a jam. After six years of running after the Marauders, Filch was nearing the end of his tether. If he got his hands on them this time, the consequences would definitely be unpleasant. Remus scanned the hall as he ran, searching for somewhere to hide. He saw a door coming up on the left, but it belonged to a small supply cupboard. It would never hold two teenage boys.

“Here! Here! In here! Quick!” hissed Sirius, attempting to hold his voice to a whisper, a feat made impossible by spiking adrenaline and hard panting. Sirius’ trainers squeaked like tortured mice against the stone floor as he came to an abrupt and breathless stop.

The narrow wooden door opened up directly in front of Remus as he nimbly side-stepped Sirius’ sudden halt, almost smacking him dead in the face. He was saved by strong fingers around his wrist that yanked him into the cupboard the offending door belonged to, a miserly affair of shallow interior with rows and rows of shelving to the back and either side. Remus yelped as his back made solid contact with a thud and light chatter of clinking glass, a dull ache installed in strips across the breadth of his back.

“Fucking ow, you ox!”

Said ox threw himself in after Remus and pulled the door shut dousing the cramped quarters in total darkness. In the corridor beyond, fast and heavy footfalls approached and closed in. Remus was uncomfortably squashed between the shelving and a hot, sweaty body, his breath still not caught up with him.

“Stop breathing so hard, you clod, he’ll hear us,” said Sirius, breathless himself, excitement lacing his voice.

“You stop breathing, you pillock! You’re the reason we nearly got caught.”

“Shut it, Lupin!”

The footsteps, uneven from a bruised hip courtesy of James and Sirius’ pranking, fell closer to the cupboard, but were not yet upon them.

“Show us where those brats went, precious. Filthy mongrels always messing up the castle and leaving things about for me to clean up.”

“Obscuro,” whispered Sirius, and then, “Muffliato.”

“He’s still cross from last week,” said Remus quietly.

“Yeah,” said Sirius. He sounded pleased with himself.

“Prat. He’s ready to ignore Dumbledore and get on with those toe tortures he’s forever blathering about and just my luck to get caught out with you hiding in a cupboard.”

This was their tightest squeeze and narrowest escape - if they managed to escape - by a wide margin, and in a career full of near misses, that was saying something.

“Nasty, filthy rodents, they are. Where have they gone, my sweet? Can you sniff them out?”

A soft thump against the door was followed by the susurrant slide of fur on wood and a trilled, purring meow. A trickle of sweat slipped from Remus hair, down his neck, and into his shirt as the temperature in cupboard rose markedly.

“There is nothing there,” said Filch, though his tone was considering. “Bleeding castle is always changing on me. Are they hiding in the wall, poppet?”

The footsteps drew away heavily, the irregular steps echoing in the corridor. Just as Remus was ready to sigh in relief, his hope for liberation from the tight confining space was dashed by the heavy scraping of wood against stone.

“Oh, bugger,” said Sirius. “He’s dragging that chair from under Sir Willoby the Witless’ portrait.”

Remus groaned and tipped his head back, bouncing it sharply off a shelf and giving the whole cupboard a quiet, tinkling rattle.

“Keep quiet!” hissed Sirius. “Muffliato only works on voices!”

Outside the door, Mrs. Norris meowed her agreement.

“He can’t hear us over that interminable racket he’s making,” muttered Remus sourly, the screech of the complaining chair louder as it was pulled directly across from the cupboard.

“Now then, I’ll just have myself a sit and wait for those little beasts to come out. Come here my sweet and sit in my lap. When I get my hands on those hooligans, I’ll--”

“He should just get on with it and have himself a snog with that wretched cat of his,” griped Sirius sullenly over Filch’s vivid, vicious fantasies.

Remus could have reminded Sirius that the entire reason he was stuck in a tiny, airless cupboard while Filch spun sadistic sonnets, was entirely his own fault. Sirius had ignored Remus’ repeated attempts at leaving and not staying to watch the fruit of their mischievous labor. In fact, it was practically expected that Remus commence with said reminding presently. However, other more immediate concerns had taken precedence.

Close was a poor descriptor for how he and Sirius were currently mashed together; the hard, firm lines of a well-toned body all warm and sweaty against his own was fantastically distracting. The heat from Sirius’ skin heightened the scent wafting off him. Sirius’ aroma held a light trace of soap from his morning shower, a bit of salty, musky young male, and a hint of the expensive cologne he liked to wear. Remus could almost taste the smooth, long neck hidden in the dark but just inches from his tongue.

Not to mention Sirius’ perfect arse pressing into parts of Remus that ought not to be pressed on just now.

All things considered, it could be worse. It could be James pressing into his groin. He was a teenager for fucks sake! Some things can’t be helped.

A low chuckle vibrated from Sirius’ body into Remus’, a throaty, seductive sound. Bastard.

“Remus, you perv,” said Sirius admiringly, and then gave his rump a little wiggle.

“Stop that!” insisted Remus from between clenched teeth.

Sirius only laughed softly and pushed back against Remus, then slid his rear oh-so-slowly up, and back down again. “No, I don’t think I shall.”

Remus felt itchy under his skin, sweat leeching from every pore in the close, too-warm closet, making him irritable and also uncomfortably aroused. Sirius shamelessly rubbed against Remus’ cock, a prank in itself and also a challenge. The exhilaration of almost getting caught, the utter wrongness of having Filch mere feet away while Sirius coaxed Remus’ cock to full hardness, only served to heighten his ardor.

“Nng,” said Remus, the sound a small, white flag of surrender.

The fabric of Sirius’ shirt rubbed against the wood shelving to either side, and then Remus heard the light, metallic chime of Sirius’ belt being undone.

“What are you doing?” hissed Remus, alarmed. Was Sirius actually going to drop his trousers?

Sirius didn’t deign to answer him, choosing instead to lower the zip on his trousers, irritating Remus with his amused, soft chuckle. Well, at least insomuch as Remus could feel irritation. The buzz of excitement that was running rampant through his system did a fair job on his irritability. Remus was painfully hard and could almost come at just the thought of taking Sirius in this closet. A devious part of him even considered asking Sirius to dispel the Muffliato Charm.

“Oh, good evening, Argus. I see you have made yourself comfortable.”

“Dumbledore!” squeaked Remus, every muscle in his body froze.

Sirius’ trousers fell to the floor with a whisper of quiet resignation.

“Evening, Headmaster. I’m watching that wall for signs of a door.”

“Come on, Moony,” encouraged Sirius. “Doesn’t the risk just make it more fun?”

“We can’t fuck like this, Sirius, there’s no room!” Panic edged out the heady feeling of arousal almost entirely and his cock began to slowly wilt.

“Just slip your cock between my thighs,” said Sirius, adjusting his stance to accommodate such and wiggling his bottom as he slid out of his pants.

“Really? A spontaneous door sighting, how very exciting. Do you mind if I join you, Argus? I once had a spontaneous door sighting on the seventh floor. I had grave need of--”

The effect of Sirius’ wiggling arse against Remus’ groin was to perform an emergency resuscitation on his cock. His panic ebbed away and with it his ability to focus on Dumbledore and Filch. Remus snarled a small, possessive growl before hastily releasing his cock. He squeezed Sirius’ hip with one hand and with the other, slid two fingers to either side of his cock, pushing it down and guiding it between Sirius’ legs. Remus pressed his teeth into Sirius’ shirt, the feel of warm, sweat-slicked skin around his cock made his senses reel. An awkward fit to be sure in this cramped space, Remus bent his torso just so, needing to feel as much of Sirius as he could get.

Remus heard the ‘slap, slap, slap’ of Sirius wanking and snarled again, and with the hand on Sirius’ hip, followed the smooth slide of silky skin to Sirius’ cock and knocked his hand away.

Sirius swore under his breath as Remus took him firmly in hand, gliding up the hot, hard flesh, marveling as he always did at just how good Sirius felt in his hand. With every pop of his hips, Remus squeezed and jerked on Sirius’ cock, his own pleasure climbing a steady rise. It wasn’t nearly as tight as Sirius’ arse or as hot and wet as his mouth, but it was needy and wrong in all the best of ways. Sirius cursed and praised and encouraged steadily, just as talkative as he ever was during sex. Remus’ other hand left his own cock to grip Sirius tighter, pull him even closer, and soon after Remus was overwhelmed and had to bite down on Sirius once more to muffle his cries as the world narrowed to just his cock. A few more quick strokes of his hand and Sirius shuddered as a lovely, sticky warmth ran over Remus’ hand.

They slumped against each other in post-orgasmic lassitude, at least as much as the cupboard would allow for. The voices from the other side of the door droned on as a sort of merry, wholesome counter-point to the insalubrious activities of two horny teenage boys.

Remus kissed Sirius’ sweaty neck and pulled back enough so that he could disengage and tuck himself away. To his front, Sirius wriggled first this way and then that, before making a frustrated grunt.

“Bugger. I can’t get my--” Sirius grumbled again and then squirmed his way down to the floor. Remus really wished he could see because he was certain this was an amusing sight. After several moments of additional grunting and swearing, Sirius gave a sudden, triumphant, “Ha!” The next moment Remus heard the clink of metal and the sound of fabric as Sirius finally managed to dress himself.

“You are a disaster,” observed Remus dryly in wry amusement.

“S’why you love me,” countered Sirius, all cheek.

Remus supposed Sirius was right, but only smiled into the darkness before saying, “I think we are going to have to face the music, dear Padfoot.”

“We’ve never used, “the castle swallowed us up,” excuse,” offered Sirius. “Worth a try.”

Remus sighed and just hoped the detention wasn’t too horrible, and, though he told himself he should, just couldn’t bring himself to regret it.