HP fic "Mouthing Platitudes" (R? maybe strong M)
Title: Mouthing Platitudes Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters. I just borrow them on occasion for nefarious purposes. Summary: Supposing that Sirius and Remus had nothing other than friendship throughout their years at Hogwarts, this offers a suggestion as to how their relationship might have come about... and how awkward it might have been. Rating: strong M A/N: The italics are meant to be flashbacks. I only mention this because I'd had someone once tell me it was confusing. Also, this was actually the very first Remus/Sirius fic I ever wrote -- the first slash, too! -- so it', erm, well... *hides*
Mouthing Platitudes
... oh, yes ...
... there, yes, right there ...
... more ... more ...
Everything is sweat-damp hair and tangled sheets and impossibly articulated limbs.
This, this is mine, he says, tracing skin with teeth and tongue. And this, and this.
Featherlight kisses.
Gasping, grasping.
... don't stop, never stop ...
And the aftermath like so many dying embers floating back exhausted to the earth.
~ ~ ~
He awakes much later, with the sun all wrong and a promise of rain scenting the air. A bit of a breeze wafts in through the open curtains, chill and damp despite the apparent sunshine. He doesn't remember leaving the window open. Sliding his lean self from between the twisted sheets, he pads naked to the window. Shuts it.
Behind him, Sirius mumbles in his sleep and nestles more firmly into the pillows. He does not wake even when Remus retrieves the discarded duvet from the floor and wraps it around Sirius's sprawled form, nor at the sharp click of the door as Remus closes it behind him a few minutes later.
~ ~ ~
"You didn't wake me."
Sirius is standing halfway down the hall, fresh from the shower and wearing Remus's bathrobe, lean muscled grace wrapped snugly in tatty terrycloth.
Remus takes in the still-damp tousled black hair, the clear gray eyes still muddled with sleep, and wants nothing more than to ravish him where he stands.
"Yes. Well," Remus says, pushing his chair back a bit from the table. "I thought you could use the sleep, actually." He swallows back the rest of his words, covering the abrupt silence by taking a minute sip from his mug. Grimacing, he sets it down with unhurried distaste. Somehow he has been sitting here lost in thought long enough for his tea to have grown absolutely stone cold.
"I just thought..." Sirius begins. "That is... I mean... So, I'll just be on my way then, shall I?"
Part of Remus dies a little as he hears himself say, "Yes, maybe that's best." He picks up his cold tea and stares intently into its muddy depths. His hair falls forward just enough that Sirius cannot see his stricken face.
After an eternity, there is a soft click at the door of the flat as Sirius lets himself out.
~ ~ ~
"You're imagining things, Remus,"
Remus rifles his hands through his already disheveled hair. Miraculously he hasn't managed to tear any out yet. "James, you didn't see him. He didn't want to stay."
James peers owlishly at his friend from behind his lager. "Did you want him to stay?"
"Yes. I think so, anyway. Oh, fuck," moans Remus, slumping over the table and burying his head in his arms. "Why oh why do I take your advice when common sense tells me not to?"
"I don't get it, Moony, not at all. Why didn't you just ask him to stay?"
Remus opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it again just as quickly.
James arches a questioning eyebrow at him.
"Honestly," Lily breaks in, "you and Sirius are just a pair of bloody idiots."
~ ~ ~
The music in here is thrumming so loudly that it drowns out the nervous hammering of his heart. It is impossible to think here, but Remus doesn't want to think anyway.
He is acutely conscious of Sirius next to him, dressed all in black to match his name, tight Muggle t-shirt and tighter jeans that inevitably draw Remus's eyes to an area of Sirius's body he has only wondered about in his most private of dreams. He tears his eyes away with no little difficulty.
And Sirius is watching him, watching Remus, his expression unreadable. He leans close to Remus's ear. "Knut for your thoughts," he says, his breath warm and somewhat ticklish. He smells of firewhisky and cigarettes and something else that is just uniquely Sirius. The combination is dizzying, heady.
Although words seem to have left him, Remus opens his mouth to say something, to say anything. Then suddenly Sirius's lips are on his and there doesn't seem to be much need for words after all.
Remus's eyes widen.
~ ~ ~
"No, really," says James. "You should tell him."
Remus stares, incredulous. "Tell him? Tell him? Tell the great Sirius Shags-Anything-In-A-Skirt Black that one of his best friends fancies him? Are you mad?"
James shrugs. "Well, it's not much of a secret, now, is it?"
"What's not a secret?" asks Sirius, banging the door open with his hip, his arms occupied with bottles of lager and firewhisky. There is a sprinkling of rain caught in his hair and in his eyelashes. Remus wants very badly to lick it away.
Instead Remus licks his suddenly dry lips and says brightly, "Nothing, Padfoot. No secrets here." Then he breaks into a wide, helpless grin and races down the hall to lock himself in the bedroom before the hysterical fit of giggles can quite overtake him.
In the kitchen, Sirius looks questioningly at James and Lily cuddled snugly, albeit wholesomely, at the table.
"Don't blame me," says Sirius, shaking rain out of his hair. "He can't possibly be legless yet. I've only just got here with the booze."
Lily snorts in a most unladylike fashion. "Idiots, the pair of you!"
The ensuing awkward silence is punctuated occasionally by the broken-glass sound of Remus's distant laughter.
~ ~ ~
... like this? do you? ...
... yes, oh yes ...
... do you like... can i ...
... now, oh please please now ...
Sirius tastes like honey and salt and firewhisky and clouds, exactly like Remus has always imagined he would. The kiss deepens, roughens, and the world tilts on its axis until nothing exists but this pure sensation.
~ ~ ~
Remus wakes alone. His cock is achingly hard but he only rolls over and buries his face in the pillow that still holds the scent of Sirius's shampoo.
He bites his lower lip so hard that it finally bleeds.
~ ~ ~
Sirius pulls back from the kiss and says something that Remus doesn't quite catch over the pounding of the music.
"What?" he yells back. Sirius doesn't answer in words, but laces his fingers through Remus's and pulls him out the door of the club.
"I asked you," says Sirius, "if we could maybe continue this somewhere a bit more private..."
Remus is on the back of Sirius's motorbike with his arms clasped tightly around Sirius's waist before the words have completely penetrated his brain. But of course, he thinks, Sirius must already know the answer.
~ ~ ~
"Are you two still not talking?" asks Lily, breaking off a small piece of the bar of chocolate Remus holds out to her.
"We're talking," says Remus. "You've seen us."
Lily rolls her eyes. "Not talking," she grumbles. "Talking."
Remus feigns ignorance. "Yeah, talking. That's where you open your mouth and words come out, isn't it?" He doesn't know why he is being such an ass. He likes Lily, likes how at ease he can feel around her, likes the way that she can make even James make sense. He glances over at James, who is watching Lily with an undisguised mixture of admiration and lust. She pretends to ignore him, busying herself with licking chocolate slowly off her fingers.
"Depends," says Lily, after a long moment, "on the words."
~ ~ ~
They arrive at Remus's flat in a flurry of tongues and a tangle of limbs, bits of clothing strewn every which way.
"Are you sure?" gasps Remus between hungered kisses.
Sirius answers by licking his tongue down the side of Remus's throat.
"I mean," pants Remus, "have you ever? Done this?"
"A few times," says Sirius.
Remus pushes Sirius away very slightly. "I meant," he says, his voice not quite shaking, "with... with another bloke."
A rakish grin crosses Sirius's features. "I told you, Re, a few times." His lips stop talking and resume their exploration of Remus's throat.
"Uhh.... Padfoot... don't stop..."
"Don't plan to," says Sirius thickly. "Need you, Moony. Need you now."
There are no more coherent words for some time.
~ ~ ~
When Sirius leaves, Remus sits for what seems an eon at the kitchen table, cradling his cold tea.
Outside, the rain staccatos down.
~ ~ ~
"Can't you just talk to him, Padfoot?" says James.
"Are you bloody daft, Prongs?" Sirius is crouched over the motorbike, polishing it for all he's worth. He straightens up and James suddenly notices that not all the dark smudges under his friend's eyes are from dirt.
"Aren't you sleeping?" James wonders aloud.
"Well, not right this moment," Sirius says wickedly, and laughs himself silly until James throws a rag at him.
~ ~ ~
... now? ...
... oh yes, now ... please, now ...
And then it's all teeth and tongues and sweat-slicked skin until they both come so hard that it takes a long time after for the shaking to subside.
Languorous kisses and nobody really knows or cares who falls asleep first.
~ ~ ~
Sirius lets himself in and starts to make a pot of tea while he listens to Remus singing off-key in the shower. He wonders belatedly if this mightn't be a good idea after all.
The kettle whistles just as the shower turns off. Sirius grabs the kettle in the wrong place, cursing as it burns his palm. Way to go, Sirius, he thinks. What a bloody cock-up.
And then Remus is suddenly beside him, holding his arm, pulling Sirius's hand under the tap and muttering something about cold water being best for burns and anyway what was Sirius doing grabbing a boiling kettle like that with his wand hand?
I'm sorry, Sirius wants to say. But he can only look at Remus mostly naked but for the towel at his waist, hair and skin still damp from the shower.
"Oh, Moony," he says raggedly.
And Remus steps in and kisses him then, effectively shutting off the coherent part of his brain.
~ ~ ~
They lie in Remus's bed again, not quite touching. They are so close that Remus is sure he can hear Sirius's heartbeat.
Remus says, "I don't want to be another one night stand of yours, you know."
"What? What makes you think that?"
"Sirius, I mean it." Amazing, how difficult it is to say this. Remus has imagined this moment a thousand times, but never quite like this. "I ... I love you. There, I said it. I've loved you for years, but I'd rather us just be friends than fuck this up by me being just another conquest." He says it all in a rush, afraid to stop talking, afraid of the silence that is sure to follow such a statement.
"Remus... Moony ..." Sirius, unbelievably, seems to be at a loss for words. "Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
Sirius answers by kissing Remus softly yet passionately on his mouth, his eyes, his shoulders, the tips of his fingers, fluttery kisses that are more like tasting than anything else. Gradually Remus realizes that maybe this isn't just sex to Sirius, this is love, the real thing, the real deal, not just for now but for however long they might live. He returns the fevered kisses with passion of his own.
"Never been anyone for me but you, Moony," whispers Sirius. "But I was too stupid to realize it."
"Sirius..."
Sirius places a finger softly against Remus's lips. "Shh... I have to say this, Remus, because I need you to hear it. I love you too. For eternity, if I can have it."