FIC: In Three Moons by GatewayGirl, Harry/Remus (2 of 2) Title: In Three Moons Author: GatewayGirl Pairing: Harry/Remus Rating: NC-17 Canon-compliancy: HBP Notes: Written for elucreh, for merry_smutmas 2006. Thanks to Lore for consulting work on what elucreh would like, and sociofemme for beta reading. Summary: At the last battle, Harry is saved by a group of werewolves, with some unexpected consequences
Moon the Third
As the full moon approached, a deep and constant tension came with it. Harry wasn't sure to what extent it was anticipation and uncertainty, and to what extent it was the moon itself. The evening before, he suddenly started to notice scents -- the grass in the park, cooking in the houses he was passing -- and at first thought that it was his imagination. When he looked up at the clock by the refreshments stand, he realized that the moon had just risen, and was less certain. He needed to ask Remus, he thought, if anything happened to him the day before, but the truth was that Remus was continuing to make it difficult to ask him anything.
He was still wondering what he had done to drive Remus away, and how he could fix it, and if, perhaps, he should screw up his Gryffindor courage and ask outright, when a thunder of running footsteps slowed at his side. Harry shifted defensively to face the newcomer, but it was only Ron.
"H'lo, mate. Look, I just talked to Hermione, and you're coming out with me tonight."
"I'm not sure --"
"Well, I am. Look, I know you're worried about tomorrow -- anyone with half a brain can tell that. You need to forget about it, and I know just the thing." Ron flashed him a confident smile and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go eat, right? -- And I'll come by your flat at eight sharp. Normal clothes." Without waiting for a reply, Ron jogged off again, the reflective strips on the genuine Muggle trainers that Hermione had bought him shining in the failing light.
Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but a strip club wasn't it. He didn't feel any better when Ron assured him that it was all right with Hermione, and he flinched back when he stepped through the door. Ron had to push him from behind.
"What is wrong with you? I thought you were just solitary, not prissy!"
Harry let himself be maneuvered to a table with a view. The girl on the stage was beautiful, and far more athletic than he would ever have dreamed, but that didn't keep everything else from overwhelming her. The room was raucously noisy, and it reeked of beer, and some girl thing, and.... He drew himself up straight and sniffed at the air, distaste turned suddenly to curiosity. Not Remus, but the scent that had overlaid Remus's own, when Harry was settling him into bed. He looked at Ron.
"Yeah, it's, um..." Ron reddened. "Well, you know, there's beer, but I think the rest is just a lot of men, y'know, wanting her." He gestured to the stage, where the girl was now shimmying up a vertical pole. As Harry watched, she turned upside down, hanging on with only her legs while her torso continued to move to the music. The sight distracted him.
"How is that possible? Shouldn't she be in the Olympics, or something?"
"Harry! Look at her!"
"I am. She's really pretty. But I couldn't hang from a pole like that."
"Yeah, well you're not 'pretty' either."
But I apparently turn Remus on, Harry thought bemusedly. Or something else did while I was there.
That was sort of ... weird. He vaguely watched the new girl on stage while he thought about it. She was even prettier than the last one, but her taste in music was horrible and she didn't do anything impressive with the pole, just curled one leg around it and rubbed. I wonder if he's been attracted to me before? Of course.... Remembering how he had curled up close to Remus, one arm wrapped around him, Harry blushed. God. Or it could be how I was behaving, that morning. I just felt so physical. No wonder he doesn't want to be alone with me. He's probably afraid I'll jump him.
Two girls later, it occurred to Harry that perhaps the problem was that Remus wanted to jump him, and he brightened. After all, that was better than not being trusted. A hand moved up and down in front of his face.
"Huh?" The blaring music had been replaced by rather quieter old rock, and the room was a little brighter. After looking around for a moment, Harry noticed there was no one on stage.
"Is it closing time?"
Ron slapped his forehead with one hand. "No! Harry, it's not even ten o'clock! It's a break."
"Oh. Okay." Harry looked down and noticed that he had a beer. It was full. When he tried a sip of it, he remembered why.
"Have you seen any of this?"
"Um, sure. There was the impressive girl in blue, and then the boring one in the feathers, and then, um, one with a cowboy hat and tassels....
"And your mind's been on the moon."
Harry twitched before realizing how innocuous that statement would sound to anyone who didn't worry about werewolves.
"Yeah, well.... I've been thinking about Remus."
Ron threw his hands up, nearly upsetting the tray of a waitress behind them. "I give up! I'm going to have a good time; you can stay or not, as you please."
Harry shrugged, and pushed the full glass at him.
"Yeah, well, the beer tastes like piss, and I don't want any, so why don't I stay, and I'll see to it that you get home in one piece, okay?"
"Fine." Ron muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "unappreciative prat," but Harry ignored him. Remus wasn't angry at him; he wanted him. Despite being weird, that was starting to sound pretty good.
The high moon shone off the windowsill and made the curtains glow. Harry stared at them as he lay, sleepless, in bed, trying to make what he knew fit together. When he had lain down with Remus, Remus had responded with hidden lust, and since then, Remus had avoided being alone with him. So, was the problem that Remus wanted him and was afraid he'd be offended? he wondered. Or that he wanted him and felt guilty about it? Or maybe he'd just wanted him at that single moment -- he had said he was sensitive, after the moon. In that case, though, there wouldn't be any reason for him to avoid being alone with me -- unless he thought I knew, and was afraid I'd use that, somehow.
That was a worrisome thought. Harry wanted to think that Remus trusted him more than that. But he doesn't completely, or he wouldn't worry about how I'd react.
Though, after all, how would he react? Harry wasn't sure he knew. It was fine with him in theory; any tendency that he might have developed to be repulsed by homosexuality had been thoroughly destroyed by Dudley's loud and sniggering disgust and boasting threats of assault. Inevitably, Harry felt some amount of kinship for any group that Dudley regarded as prey. Nonetheless, how he would react if Remus, specifically -- an older man and former mentor -- showed that he wanted him, specifically, was hardly covered by some vague feeling that attraction between men might be no more disgusting than getting sparks out of a wand.
Oh, and that was an inappropriate comparison -- or too appropriate.
He tried to imagine Remus telling him. Harry, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. Things have become ... complicated. He couldn't picture it. Remus wasn't that forthright -- not when he was unsure of his reception.
He remembered lying behind Remus, one arm around him. Remus could have shifted closer. He pictured that, and himself trying to breath in that enticing scent without actually nuzzling at Remus's neck.
Remus, in his fantasy, lifted the covers. You must be cold, Harry. Come warm up.
He moved close again, now without the thick covers in the way, and his hand slid further down, until the side of it bumped against the wet tip of a hard cock. Remus froze. Slowly, Harry slid his fingers over it, curling them around to grip gently.
Remus nodded silently. The way he pressed back against Harry was more of an answer.
At this point in the fantasy, Harry was naked. He momentarily tried to think of a reason, and then decided to just ignore the incongruity, as he was ignoring that he was pulling on his own cock, not someone else's, and that he had no idea how it would actually feel to have Remus rubbing up against him. The one time he had actually taken his clothes off with Ginny, they had been following up on a decision to go all the way before he took off again, and they had got right to it with very little intermediary action.
He shook off the thought of that as well, and went back to imagining Remus panting under his touch.
Yeah. You are.
Remus moved in little pulses, wordlessly urging him to go faster, and Harry obliged.
God, yes! Remus gasped. Want you.
And just like that, at the mere thought of the words, he was coming hard, near paralyzed and blinded beneath the tidal wave of orgasm. In long, pure seconds, his body relaxed, until he was lying limp on the sheets.
"Remus," he murmured.
Against all reason, Harry woke early the next morning. He ought, he supposed, to feel guilty, or at least confused, but it was more a combination of anxiety and excitement that made him miss his mug on the first attempt to pour tea, and then add sugar to the replacement cup twice. He worried about his suppositions. What if he was reading this all wrong? What if Remus had been attracted to him only momentarily, and simply been upset about it since? What if Remus had actually been thinking of something else, and it had never had anything to do with him in the first place? What if Remus did want him, but was going to refuse him because he was James's son, or young, or inexperienced?
He wished he knew someone who was gay. He might at least be able to get enough information to fake experience until he had some. If he did, though, they hadn't admitted it. Ron thought Charlie was gay, but Charlie had never let on anything about his love life, if any. He might have some weird flame fetish that didn't involve people at all, rather than the male lovers that Ron suspected.
Harry set down his tea. After all, Ron was never going to ask. It would be doing him a favor to find out.
Ten minutes later, he Apparated to the dragon preserve.
Charlie was leaning against a clear section of the thick stone wall, watching two dragons ... something. Harry wasn't quite sure what the creatures were doing. It involved a lot of rearing up and ducking down and extending wings, but whether it was dominance, courtship, or an elaborate "how's life?" he had no idea. Rather like people, actually.
"Charlie!" he called, and when Charlie whipped around, panic clear on his face, Harry smiled openly, as if he hadn't noticed the reaction. He did the same himself, sometimes. Ginny had dropped by his flat, unannounced, the other day, and the first words out of his mouth had been "what's wrong?"
"Harry." Charlie stepped forward and greeted him cordially enough, grasping his hand and slapping his shoulder with careless force. He had a muscled, compact body that couldn't have been less like Ron's, but confusion drew his eyebrows down in just the same way. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting?" Harry said tentatively. He really shouldn't, he thought, act on impulse before breakfast. What on earth could he say? "Er, I have a rather personal question. Or maybe a -- Well. Don't be offended?"
The eyebrows lifted now, in an expression more like Bill than like Ron. "I'm hard to offend, I'm told," Charlie said cheerily. "Go on."
Harry could feel his face burning.
"I ... Ron thinks you're gay," he blurted out. Mortifyingly, Charlie choked, and then burst out laughing.
"Does he, now?"
"Because, you know, you never...."
"Perhaps I enjoy my privacy."
"Did he put you up to this?" Charlie demanded.
"What? No. Um, I didn't tell him. I was just wondering if I knew anyone...." Harry wondered if could Obliviate Charlie without hurting him any.
"Ah." Charlie softened somehow, with the sound. "If it helps," he offered, "some of my lovers have been men."
"Sit down, Harry. I've seen you look calmer going into battle." Charlie took Harry's arm and steered him a few steps to a low boulder and sat down with him. "Now," he said, "what I tend to like is strong and rough and carelessly bold. There've been two women on the list, but more men suit, if you know what I mean. So if you had designs on me...."
"No. I ... you're no more my type than it sounds like I'd be yours."
Charlie grinned. "Well, you're bold enough -- usually -- but yes." He nudged Harry. "Who's the bloke, then?"
"None of your business!"
Charlie laughed, and Harry realized that had been as good as a confession, and he grinned back. "He seems to really want me, but I'm afraid that if he realizes I have no experience, he'll bolt."
"Ah. Older, then."
"A bit." A bit over twice my age, that is.
"So do you want --" Charlie leered at him. "-- experience?"
"God, no! No, I just want enough information to fake it until it's too late."
"You don't have the vaguest idea what men do, do you?"
"None!" Charlie was amazing, Harry thought, in being able to make that funny, rather than insulting. "I mean, I just had one of those really vague fantasies, you know, where your mind doesn't know what to fill in, just 'and something intense happens here', like before you've ever had a girl's clothes off, and don't quite know what it will feel like, touching her?"
Charlie laughed. "Well, you should be better off with a man, for that."
"Well, yes, but with a girl, I at least know that I'm supposed to stick it in to her, and I should be able to do it facing her, because people claim to be able to kiss at the same time."
Charlie, still grinning like a maniac, rubbed his forehead. "Harry ... have you ever had sex with anyone?"
"Um, yeah. Once." Harry looked at him nervously. "Ginny wanted to."
"Ah." Charlie settled, but didn't look upset. "And did it ... clarify things?"
"A little. It was kind of fast. We didn't want to get caught."
"And it was in the dark."
"Yes." Harry hoped Charlie wasn't angry at him. "I don't think she enjoyed it much, but I couldn't ask."
"Understood." Charlie shrugged. "It sounds rather typical, actually. First times are wildly over-rated." For a moment, he stared at the distant slopes, apparently lost in thought, but then he shook himself and looked back at Harry. "So. You want this man, but have no idea what your options are for getting both of you off, is that the problem?"
"All right, then." Charlie stood up and dusted off his dragonhide breeches. "I think this calls for Kelly's collection of porn mags. Follow me." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Come on, now! I'll stick to the mild ones."
Harry decided he would show up to Remus's place early, with enough time before moonrise to make his move -- whatever seemed appropriate once he was there -- but not so much time that the awkwardness could congeal between them if he was wrong.
Uncomfortably aware that he returned from the dragon preserve with his own scent broadcasting "Hi -- wanna fuck?" he spent an hour flying, and then cleaned the living room, something he had previously done only for company, in an attempt to calm raging desire down to a politer level of interest.
Mindful of last moon's activities, he wore sturdy jeans and a denim jacket to protect himself from branches, and comfortable trainers for a night on his feet. He chose the same shirt that he'd worn last time, even though it was an old T-shirt, worn thin. There wasn't anything sexy about it, as far as he could see, but perhaps Remus liked it.
He Apparated in, nervous and uncomfortably aware of his own persistent lust scent. With a clatter, Remus darted in from the kitchen and then stopped abruptly, staring at Harry over his wand.
"I wanted to see you." As Remus tucked the wand away, Harry walked closer. When he was a few steps away, Remus's nostrils flared for a moment, and then his eyes closed. Harry stopped within arms' reach.
"Harry...." Remus didn't seem to know what to say. His eyes opened, but Harry could see him shaking. Tellingly, the scent from last moon was rising again.
"I had a question."
Harry stepped intimately close, and when Remus tried to step back, caught at his arms. Remus did not pull away, only stood there, trembling under Harry's hands. "Yes?" he asked, his voice strangled.
"Do your senses rise before the moon?" Daringly, Harry set his face against Remus's neck and nuzzled, inhaling the scent there. Remus made a slight sound that could only be described as a whimper. "You want me, don't you?" Reluctantly, Harry lifted his head to look Remus in the eyes. "You smell of it. It smells good."
With a hoarse cry, Remus descended on his mouth, taking it in a fierce kiss. Harry found himself pushed against the back of the couch, and for a moment he thought they would go at it right then, but Remus kept his hands fisted in Harry's shirt, and after a few minutes, recovered enough control to step back.
"Tease," he panted. "It's too close -- the moon will rise in minutes."
"Which gives you all night to think better of it. I'm warning you -- break through my restraint, and it's gone." In two backwards steps, he moved out of reach. "I'm going to my room to undress, now. Consider your position."
After a moment's lustful stare, he turned and left the room. Harry suspected he was supposed to feel menaced, but instead he was left taut with anticipation. Moonset felt like years away.
The night, however, passed quickly. Harry's desire was banked by the steady animal presence of the wolf, and their night run sent him straight into exhaustion, so once again, he slept solidly upon their return. Again, he woke to sounds of pain, and again, he instinctively curled around Remus, warming and comforting him for a moment before casting a Pain Abatement charm.
"Thank you." Remus looked at him in gratitude for several seconds, but then his eyes flicked uncertainly away.
"No problem. I'll get you settled in bed again, shall I?"
As Remus closed his eyes, a trace of a smile crossed his face. "I can walk, Harry."
"I know." Harry floated Remus into the bedroom and folded back the covers before settling him down. With more contact than was necessary, he dragged the covers slowly up his body, letting the side of his hand stroke along skin. It was nowhere that he would have hesitated to touch Remus before, if he had a reason, but now, even that slight contact excited him. Remus was breathing audibly under the touch.
"Harry." The word was rough with strain, a reminder of the ordeal that Remus had just been through, but Harry could still hear the humor in it. "Haven't thought better of playing with wolves?"
Harry left the covers where they were, deliberately extending his fingers and sliding them across Remus's chest to pull him possessively closer. "Not wolves, Remus. You."
"Damn it, Harry, I'm trying to keep this light! I'm exhausted, you're perfect, and I already love you. I could go head over heels if you don't back off, and you're young, James's son, for God's sake...!"
Harry couldn't help feeling delighted at this rather hysterical string of objections, none of which implied any reservations about him. The tip of Remus's collarbone looked too prominent, so he leaned forward and left a soft kiss there.
"Would he be angry at you, do you think? My dad?"
Remus let out a strangled moan. "The prat would probably laugh himself silly and call me a prissy little prefect."
Harry nodded. "Quite right. I'll have to see if I can loosen you up." He shifted down to kiss one tiny nipple, and then paused to run his tongue around it. Remus arched up for a moment, but then collapsed back.
"Harry ... the change. I can barely move."
"'S'alright." Harry moved down. Remus might be exhausted from the moon, but that wasn't stopping his body from responding. The tip of his cock reached up his abdomen, and a drop of moisture welled at the tip, just like in Harry's fantasy. He lowered his mouth to it quickly, afraid of losing his nerve. At the first touch of his tongue, Remus cried out.
"Why -- God, Harry!"
Harry wasn't sure he needed Remus to move. He felt about ready to explode just from having Remus there, under his mouth, making desperate noises. He shifted forward, rubbing his erection along Remus's leg, just in case the other man had failed to notice the effect he was having, and lifted his head briefly.
"I'm making sure you can't convince yourself that you misunderstood. Lie still. I don't need you to do anything to me, and I don't believe you'd be able to sleep if I stopped."
With that, he started sucking Remus in earnest. It was much more enjoyable than he expected, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from rocking his hips forward every time he dipped his head.
"God, you're so hot, Harry." Remus said softly. "Humping the mattress like that -- you really want it, don't you? Give me a day, and I'll keep you in bed until you're the one who can't move. Want you so much. Haven't been able to look at you without wanting to slide your clothes off and see what you'd let me touch, if you'd let me get you off, and we're right there in the damn Minister's Ballroom, and you keep moving closer, and asking me to come places where I could...."
Harry imagined that -- Remus, in the formal garden, pulling him into a shadow, sliding a hand up his leg to grope him through his robes, and then starting to undo the layers of formal clothing. The babble of desire was as arousing as any stroke of his own hand could be, and Harry was alarmed to feel his balls tightening already. Before he could think what to do, however, his mouth was flooding with thick semen. He swallowed reflexively, surprised at how bitter the taste was in the back of his mouth, when the precome had been so pleasant on the tip of his tongue. He coughed.
"Sorry -- I should have warned you," Remus yawned. "Didn't think I could be that fast. You've had me so worked up...."
Harry left him asleep and tossed off in the living room.
Harry flooed Hermione and Ron to let them know he was okay, but he didn't leave the cottage, even though Remus was out of milk. He didn't dare. It seemed to him now that what Remus might think when he woke and what he might think after an hour to consider matters on his own could be very different things. He needed to be there. This moon, Remus seemed to have no trouble sleeping, which was both reassuring and nerve-wracking. Harry had napped and woken twice by sunset, and Remus was still asleep. Harry stole to his bedroom door and stood there, looking for the reassurance of his chest rising and falling against the light of the evening in the facing window. Seeing that, finally, he turned to go back to the kitchen.
Harry froze. Abashed, he slipped just inside the room. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake --"
Remus didn't move, but he spoke firmly, and Harry's heart sunk. He was going to be told off, obviously. He'd had probably pushed too hard and presumed too much on Remus when he was vulnerable, and Remus was upset about having said all those things. Slowly, he slunk forward to the bedside.
As soon as he was there, Remus lifted his head. "That's my boy," he said softly. "Don't make me chase you now -- I haven't the energy."
Harry smiled in relief and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "I'm right here."
"So I see."
In an unbelievable fast movement, Remus seized Harry's wrist and shoulder and yanked him down, making Harry yelp in surprise. He tumbled to his elbows and hips, only to find himself rolled over and pinned by the older man. The covers bunched awkwardly between them.
"I hope you don't mind," Remus growled. "But after a month of non-stop restraint, not to admit to the more-than-occasional guilty fantasy, I don't feel like dancing around. I want you, at least as much as you thought, understood?"
Harry nodded, squirming with pleasure at the thought of guilty fantasies. "I'm up for it," he said boldly. "Anything. Want you too."
Remus descended with a soft sigh, and kissed him with perfect care -- a lengthy, elaborate kiss that Harry thought might well have topped his previous years of sexual experience. When Remus had finished teaching Harry's lips and mouth and tongue all the things they might aspire to do, he pushed off of him. Harry found himself looking dizzily up at Remus, who was supporting himself one elbow, watching him with a hungry stare.
"What?" He can't be pushing me away, Harry thought desperately. Not now.
"Stand up. I want you to take your clothes off and show me your body." Remus made a face. "You've seen all of mine, and I expect yours is far sexier." He pushed at Harry. "Do as you're told, for once. It won't kill you."
"Oh." Relieved -- too relieved for much embarrassment -- Harry stood and pulled off his shirt. Remus let out a soft moan, startling Harry into meeting his eyes. Deliberately, Remus licked his lips, and the blush that Harry had kept away before wouldn't stay down at that.
"Oh, yes," Remus said softly. "Shyer, now that I'm more than half-conscious, aren't you? Keep going, love. Show me what you've got."
What I have is definitely ready for full display, at that, Harry thought. Deliberately, he kept eye contact as he unzipped his jeans and pushed down first on one side, then the other, to shift them off his hips. It was Remus who broke the contact, his attention visibly trailing the denim down. His eyes half-closed before rising again in challenge as Harry stepped free of the jeans.
"Excited, Harry? You want more?"
"Come here, then. Get under the covers with me."
It was oddly like his fantasy, except that he wasn't in control, now. Remus clearly had his own desires and his own plans, which made him far more thrilling than anything Harry could dream up while wanking. Harry squirmed under the covers and felt hands on him immediately, one exploring his chest while the other curled around his back and pulled him closer.
"You feel good." A leg hooked over his, bringing their bodies into full contact. "I'm not recovered yet, though. You're still responsible for anything energetic, and it will be at least another day before I can lend any credence to reports of the vigor and endurance of werewolves."
"Are werewolves supposed to be, um...?"
Remus chuckled. "You really should learn to research, you know."
"Oh, but I much prefer hands-on learning," Harry shot back. In recognition of the double-entendre, he reached down between them to wrap a hand around Remus's cock. Remus was facing him, and that, more than variations in shape or even the lack of feedback, made it frighteningly clear that he was touching another man.
"Have at it, then." Remus bucked into his loose grip. "But not too much. I want you in my arse when I come."
"Please, love?" Remus rolled over onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him. "I'm tired, but if you hold my legs up, I can manage it."
"Um ... sure."
Harry thought this was going to be a little harder to fake than the other way around. The magazines had showed men already doing this, so he was fairly sure he knew the position Remus intended, but Charlie had said something about men needing to be relaxed more than girls, and since Ginny hadn't required anything, he wasn't sure how that was done. Assuming a confident air, he slid a hand between Remus's parted legs and stroked the fingers up the space between his cheeks.
"God." Remus twisted to grab the lubrication potion -- in the same place as last month -- off the table, and hold it out to Harry. When Harry extended his hand, he poured a tiny amount out on to his fingers and more onto his palm. The bottle was followed by his wand, and the lotion by a quick charm. "Smoothing charm," he explained. "Odd one. Go straight to two fingers -- honestly, you can probably go right in, if you want. I've been awake for nearly twenty minutes, and just waiting for you to come back."
"Wish I'd known," Harry commented. He slid his slicked fingers back until he found where they would go in. It wasn't quite where he had expected -- angles could do that. The sides of the hole pressed hard against his fingers, but there was room. "Didn't expect you to be so eager."
"And I thought you'd be more innocent."
Harry laughed. If he says I can go right in, why don't I? Deliberately, he slid his hands up Remus's legs, raising them to settle the feet on his shoulders. He paused to brush a hand down the light curls up one shin before pushing forward to breech that opening again. He watched Remus drop his head back, eyes closing, as the tight muscle slowly squeezed down his cock. "What," he challenged, struggling to make his voice into words. "You think I've done this before?"
Remus's eyes shot open. "What --?"
"Too late now." He was all the way in, now. All the way, and starting to pump slightly, even though he knew it might be too much. "You're so good ... so tight ... smell so good...."
"Oh yes." Remus, far from being horrified, was watching him with a taut hunger. "I'll show you all sorts of good things, Harry. Anything you might want."
"Yeah?" Harry couldn't hold back a flash of resentment. "And will you talk to me at parties?"
"Be grateful if I don't pull you into the perfectly manicured bushes at those insipid parties."
"I still have an invisibility cloak."
Remus could respond to that with nothing but a wordless cry of lust. Harry thought the idea might have merit, but for now, all he could do was try to control his body enough not to leave bruises. Remus made no objection to how fast and hard he was hammering forward. Harry was in a mindless haze by the time he heard Remus cry out, and the clenching grip around his cock was the first sensation he'd distinguished in some unknown age. The next one was a pinch and twist on his nipples that should have made him scream, but instead made him scream as he went over the edge, the world blackening around the edges as he lost everything but pleasure.
A minute later, or perhaps two, Harry lay limply on the mattress. A deceptively delicate hand eased the hair back from his face.
"Stay with me, tonight?"
Harry wasn't sure he would have noticed the trepidation in that before, but he could hear it now -- the subtle uncertainty of someone who was never sure of where he stood.
"I'd love to," he said. He kissed at the fingers that were still hovering by his face. "And a lot more nights, I hope."
"You're accumulating secrets."
It took Harry a moment to understand that, and when he did, he raised himself enough to look Remus in the eyes. "Not secret," he said. "I'd hate that."
"People will give you trouble."
"I'm used to trouble." Harry glared at him. "Are you afraid?"
"Of course not!" Remus said, so indignantly that Harry grinned.
"I'll dare you to kiss me, if I have to."
"You won't have to."
They settled back on the bed, touching sleepily. Harry knew they'd need food soon, and Remus would sleep more, and there would be Ron and Hermione to deal with -- Ron, perhaps, the first time he ragged him about the strip club -- but it would all work out. For now, he would spend his first night ever sleeping with someone else. He laughed to himself at the thought of wolves. Well, the first time ever with another human.