HP fic "Refuge" (NC17)
Title: Refuge Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters. I just borrow them once in a while. Summary: Sirius, lying low at Lupin's. R/S slash. Rating: NC-17
It was comforting, if nothing else, to fill his battered kettle with the flat, iron-tasting water, and light the gas flame Muggle-style. Soothing, too, it was, to rinse the morning's tea dregs out of his favourite mug, rather than magick it clean. He set the mostly-clean mug down next to the stove and dropped a slightly dusty teabag into it. There was nothing else to do now but wait for the water to boil.
Eventually, it did, the kettle whistling piercingly until he remembered to turn off the flame. Pouring the boiling water over the teabag, he stirred it idly with a butter knife - he couldn't be bothered to find a spoon - until the tea was the shade he liked. He had to drink it black, though; there was no milk in the fridge, nor lemon, nor sugar for that matter. There was nothing, in fact, except some pale, tough crusts of bread and a dish of something so darkly green and furred with mould as to no longer be identifiable.
He didn't have time to do the shopping, he told himself. He had to… He furrowed his brow. What did he have to do? He couldn't remember. But he was sure there was something. There was always something, wasn't there?
The owl's sharp tap at the kitchen window startled him badly. The bird glared at him disdainfully as he hurried to untie the parchment tied to its leg, and flew off even before he could offer it so much as a drink of water.
Remus, he read. I do worry about you alone in that cottage. Have you ever thought about getting a pet, perhaps a dog? Yours, Albus.
He let the paper flutter to the table. Sirius, he realized. It was hard to miss the thinly veiled hints.
It appeared he would have to do some shopping after all.
~ ~ ~
Four days passed, and still there was no sign of Sirius.
On the morning of the fifth day, Remus found muddy pawprints on the stone steps at the front of the cottage. He followed the prints around the side, where an enormous black dog lay sprawled in a patch of sunshine. It appeared to be asleep.
"Sirius?" he said.
The dog opened its eyes as he approached, rising stiffly to its feet, tail wagging slowly.
"Come on, then," Remus said. "I suppose you'd like a bit of breakfast."
~ ~ ~
Sirius ate voraciously of the eggs and sausages that Remus set out for him, although he tended to use his fork only when he caught Remus watching him.
"Spent most of the last year in dog form," he said apologetically. His voice was dry, raspy, as if it had become unused to speaking.
Remus waved him off. "Don't worry about it," he said. "You'll be your old self again before you know it."
"Aren't you eating?"
"I ate earlier," Remus said. He had, too. He knew he was far too thin, but he was loath to eat more than sparingly of the food in his pantry. Unemployed werewolves like himself did not usually have the luxury of stocking up on foodstuffs very often.
"You need a bath," he said, watching Sirius scoop up the last of his eggs with his fingers. "I don't mean to complain, but…"
"I know," Sirius said, and Remus flinched at the shame in the once-proud voice.
He had to help Sirius bathe, and the water was dark with filth before they were through. Remus had to keep casting cleansing charms on the water to refresh it. Sirius was compliant through all of it, protesting only when Remus insisted that the majority of tangles in his hair could not be combed out, but would have to be cut.
"I don't think it's ever been this short before," Sirius said.
"Don't worry," Remus assured him, as Sirius scowled, running a hand over his shorn head. What was left barely hung past the nape of his neck. "It'll grow soon enough."
~ ~ ~
They spent much of the day stepping in polite circles around each other, both too accustomed to solitude to be much company. What little conversation they'd had was stilted at best. Sirius had been unwilling to discuss… well, anything, really, and Remus didn't push. Remus didn't know if Sirius was uncomfortable because they'd been lovers so long ago, or if he really couldn't remember anymore. He'd heard Azkaban could do that to a person, but it hurt to see Sirius so ill at ease within his own skin.
Sirius fell asleep mid-afternoon, curled up in Remus' threadbare armchair, his long legs tucked loosely underneath him. Removing the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading from Sirius's hand, Remus tucked a blanket over the sleeping man.
He watched the steady rise and fall of Sirius' breathing, resisting the urge to kneel down next to the chair and lay his head against the too-thin chest. Sirius' lips were very slightly parted, and he muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep.
Remus laid a hand softly atop Sirius' head, gently caressing the soft, now-short hair. "Easy, Padfoot," he murmured. "You're safe here."
Sirius opened his eyes.
Remus pulled back his hand. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I need you," Sirius said abruptly. "Please. Unless…"
"Unless what?" asked Remus.
"Unless…" Sirius' voice faltered slightly. "I mean, I know I've looked better, and… I've missed you so much, Remus, so fucking much, and…"
He was cut off by the sudden swift pressure of Remus' lips against his own. Remus' mouth was insistent yet tender, relentless yet loving. Sirius moaned slightly, one hand fisted in Remus' tawny hair, the other splayed against Remus' shoulder. Remus' tongue slipped into Sirius' mouth, exploring, tasting, and there was no way Sirius could ever, would ever, get enough of it.
Remus broke the kiss long enough to gruffly say, "I've missed you, Sirius," then dove hungrily back into Sirius' mouth. It was electrifying, really, and the hairs on the back of his neck were actually standing up. Remus wondered vaguely how on earth he'd survived the last thirteen years without this, without Sirius.
He licked along the line of Sirius' jaw, then along his bared throat, urged on by Sirius' shivers of pleasure. He'd never been so hard in his life.
"I thought you'd forgotten me," Sirius gasped, as Remus nipped at his nipple through the thin cloth of the Muggle t-shirt he wore. "I thought… oh, Merlin, do that again… Thought you didn't want me anymore…"
"You were wrong," Remus growled, and obligingly bit the hard little nipple again, harder this time.
Sirius arched up against Remus, his hands scrabbling at Remus' thin summer robes. "Remus, please… Want to touch you…"
Remus didn't answer, but instead swiftly unbuttoned Sirius' trousers, sliding them deftly over his lean hips. Sirius' cock sprang free, proud and erect in its nest of black curls. The tip was slick with pre-come, and Remus lapped at it, swirling his tongue around the head as Sirius trembled beneath his ministrations. In one quick movement he'd drawn Sirius' cock into his mouth, still swirling his tongue languorously along the underside. Sirius bucked his hips, fucking Remus' mouth, moaning uncontrollably as he was engulfed by that warm, sucking cavern. All too soon, he came, gasping Remus' name, his fists spasmodically clenching and unclenching in the fabric bunched at the shoulders of Remus' robes.
"Remus. In me. Please."
"Yes," rasped Remus, and he eased Sirius from the armchair to the floor, reaching behind him for a cushion to slide under Sirius' arse. His own cock was so hard it ached. He shrugged out of his robes, tossing them on the armchair along with his boxers. Sirius' trousers were still awkwardly puddled around his ankles, and Remus eased those off too.
He took a moment to admire the man spread out so invitingly before him, running his hands along the insides of Sirius' thighs. "Very nice," he murmured. "Very nice indeed." He bent his head to Sirius' groin once again, inhaling the rich musky scent of him. Slowly, teasingly, he slid his tongue sinuously around Sirius' balls, and down to the pucker of Sirius' arse.
"You need to relax," Remus chided gently, massaging Sirius' entrance with the tip of a saliva-slicked finger.
"Unh," Sirius said thickly. "Remus. I've been fucking celibate for thirteen years. Give me a break!"
Remus chuckled, slowly pushing two fingers into Sirius until he felt the other man begin to relax. Lightly he stroked Sirius' prostate, grinning as Sirius bucked his hips upwards.
"More," said Sirius.
"Of course," Remus said, muttering a lubrication spell and replacing his fingers with his cock. It was bliss, sinking into Sirius like this again. He'd been far from celibate himself during Sirius' stay in Azkaban, but none of his partners - male or female - had ever felt like this, never like this.
Within a half-dozen strokes he'd found his rhythm, angling against Sirius' prostate with every thrust. Sirius was hard again, fisting himself in time to Remus' rhythm. His eyes were half-slitted and his breath came in short, ragged pants.
"Gonna come," Remus gasped, and two strokes later he did, spurting into Sirius and then collapsing heavily atop him. Sirius groaned a heartbeat after, arching against Remus as his own seed spilled between their bellies.
Remus cradled Sirius' face in his hands, kissing him thoroughly. "You'll stay, of course," he whispered.
"Yes," Sirius whispered back. "Wherever you are, that's where I'll be."
~ ~ ~
The owl from Dumbledore came the next morning, the parchment containing but a single word.
Well? it said.
Remus glanced over to where Sirius sprawled in the armchair, long legs dangling over the side. He was leafing through an old Daily Prophet, snorting occasionally at the odd article. A cup of sugary tea sat cooling on the table next to him.
Remus picked up his quill and dipped it into his inkwell.
Headmaster, he wrote in his careful, precise hand. You were, as always, correct. I've recently come across a large dog who seemed to be in need of some care, and the acquisition appears to have done us both a world of good.