springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2008-03-26 08:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, remus/sirius, remus/sirius/james, sirius/james, sirius/peter, slash |
Happy Springsmut, laboratories!
Author: ladyblack888
Recipient: laboratories
Title: Friends In Need
Rating: Hard R
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius, James/Sirius, James/Sirius/Remus and Peter/Sirius (sort of. Don't be scared!)
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Sirius will do anything for his friends. Or at least Peter likes to think so…
Warnings: Fight!sex, pity!sex, breathplay, threesome and a creepy person.
Word Count: ~1700
Author's Notes: I know I was asked for J/S/R or P/S, but they just went well together. And then the J/S bit just wrote itself. And so I needed some R/S to even things out. I hope you like it. ♥ Thanks M. for the beta.
Remus lets his head fall back on the back of the couch. It's four o'clock in the bloody morning. He could have gone to James', but he and Lily already do too much as it is, and Mrs. Pettigrew would probably hex him, thinking her house was under attack.
Of course, Sirius was a perfectly good option, if he hadn't forgot that Sirius asks things, that he's always asking things.
Right now all he wants is to sleep on this shabby, yet remarkably comfortable couch, but he can't, because Sirius is walking up and down the room, asking what he's been up to to need a place to crash at four o'clock in the morning. Answers like 'secret mission' or 'Dumbledore doesn't let me tell anything' usually work on everyone.
Everyone but Sirius, that is.
'You can't tell me anything, right? Not even why you need shelter at this ungodly hour?'
'You're usually up at this ungodly hour, by the way.'
'That's not the point!'
'What's the matter, Sirius? You usually don't complain when I come here.'
'That's because you usually come here for a bit of friendly fucking. Unless you want to fuck?'
Remus isn't sure whether the smirk Sirius is giving him is provocative or aggressive, but he can't help but laugh.
'That would be great, but I'm afraid that if I lift a finger it will probably fall off.'
Sirius just shrugs and seconds later his pyjamas' bottoms are somewhere on the other side of the room.
'Who says you need to do anything?'
Remus' eyebrows fly up as he watches Sirius kneel before him. He opens his trousers, sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and all of the sudden Sirius has Remus' cock inside his mouth while fingering himself. Remus jolts with the heat of his mouth and the image before him, and that makes all his joints hurt. But he doesn't say anything, because he's afraid Sirius will stop and, really, this is just what he needs, after all.
Until Sirius lets go of his cock and raises himself. But Remus doesn't have time to complain, because the next moment, Sirius is sitting on his lap, sitting on his cock and leaning against him with a sigh.
With his heels against the couch and Remus' hand around his cock, Sirius moves up and down, faster and faster, until his whimpers are coming in a staccato and turning into one single moan that sends Remus right over the edge with him.
Spent and with all thoughts of war forgotten for now, Remus watches as Sirius pulls his bottoms up without looking at him, spunk still running down his thighs.
'When you leave in the morning please try to be quiet. I'd like to sleep in late.'
Sirius closes the door to his bedroom behind him and Remus is left alone.
---
They're running down an alley. There are many noises around them: their boots hitting the ground and echoing on the walls, curses whispering near their ears, screams, Moody's orders to flee. Someone turns around and runs backward, while aiming a spell at the Dark Mark on the sky, the only light on their path.
But the only thing James can really hear is his blood drumming in his ears and his deep breathing threatening to make his lungs explode. He knows he's afraid. Deep down inside he knows he's about to break down in tears or piss himself like a two-year old, but his legs just keep running and something amid all that noise is telling him to run, run faster, don't stop running, never stop running.
Until he stops.
He stops because suddenly he's all alone. He can still hear screams and curses and boots hitting the ground, but they're coming from every direction and he no longer knows which belong to his friends, which belong to the enemy.
And that's when fear hits him. Not fear – dread; pure panic making his heart beat faster than it already was, that makes the muscles in his neck hurt like he's being hanged, that makes his skin pull like his skull wants to jump out. He's a Gryffindor and this is humiliating, because he's never felt fear this real. Then again, the danger had never been this real.
And then there's a hand on his arm and the familiar feel of side-long Apparition. When it stops, James blinks, hearing Sirius laugh hysterically like some schoolgirl somewhere at his left, and he blinks again and they're in Hogsmeade.
'Oh, man, I'm sorry.' Sirius takes several deep breaths, but he's still laughing. 'It was the only place I could think of.'
James leans against the wall of Madam Puddifoot's (of all places) and lets himself slip to the ground, his knees still shaking.
'Did you see that? Did you see what we did, James?' Sirius is pacing, hopping slightly even, and James is reminded of a puppy demanding a walk.
'What the hell are you so happy about?'
'Happy? No, I'm not happy. I'm… Fuck, it was real, Prongs! We were there. We were alive!'
'I was scared! I thought I was going to die and I'm so fucking glad I didn't. But. I'm. Not. High. Like you!'
Sirius grabs James by his wrists and pulls him up towards himself.
'No, you didn't die, mate. That was life. You were living! That's what's all about!'
James pushes him away.
'What's wrong with you?' He doesn't know why he is so angry. This is Sirius, his brother, and while he should be annoyed, everything feels multiplied by too much and James just wants to punch Sirius. 'Do you want to know what life is? We're at war. There are people dying, really dying, like forever. My parents are gone and I was left all alone! Do you know what that feels like?'
At this Sirius raises an eyebrow and James stutters, suddenly wanting to say he's sorry. He knows Sirius knows all too well what that feels like. In an entirely different way, but he knows. 'And then there's Lily. I'm going to get married, Padfoot. I'm going to start a family in the middle of hell.'
'So that's what this is all about…' Sirius is smirking. James must be going insane, because here he is, pouring his heart out, or at least all the heart a guy is supposed to pour out, and Sirius. Is. Smirking.
'Wha—'
'Your problem's not the battle we were in: you've got cold feet!' He steps closer, backing James against the wall. 'So many girls out there you could be shagging and you're about to be tied for the rest of your life to only one.' And Sirius winks. Winks!
'Are you on drugs? Or just high?'
Sirius grabs James by the collar and presses him against the wall.
'You're too. Still shaking and everything. And, sure, Lily's just lovely, but think of all you're missing: breasts of all sizes in your mouth, legs in all shades wrapped around you. Does that make you hard, Prongs, thinking about it?'
And it does make James hard. And Sirius knows that, because right now he has his right hand on James' crotch. James tries to push him away, but Sirius just presses harder.
And he's still babbling insane things about pretty girls sharing rooms and trembling curves and warm, wet places.
And James forgets about Sirius' masculine hand on his cock. But more importantly he forgets about the war, until he comes and Sirius hugs him saying, 'everything is all right' and 'you're safe, now', and James realizes he's crying.
---
Sirius is beautiful lying writhing on the bed, lips parted, a light sheen of sweat on his naked skin. He looks vulnerable, too, which is something one would think Sirius Black would never let anyone see. So vulnerable, with that feverish gaze of painpleasure, James' hand around his cock and Remus' hand around his throat, squeezing.
When Sirius comes, he tries to gasp, but no sound escapes his throat, because Remus' hands tightens more and James' hand speeds up, and he looks like he can't stop coming.
He almost passes out, but Remus is no longer thinking about his missions and James is no longer thinking about how he had to grow up so fast.
---
Peter watches while the Order's headquarters shows itself. It's too early for the reunion, but everyone else is probably there already, since there's nothing to do in between battles.
He's right, because inside what greets him is the chatter of people talking, the random laughter, two or three glasses clinking.
As he climbs to the top of the stairs, Peter sees Sirius greeting someone, laughing at someone else, generally moving like he's inviting everyone to his bed and not even conscious of it.
'Oi, Wormy! Prongs and Moony are in the back. I'm just going downstairs to bring us some butterbeers. You want one, too?'
Peter nods and pats his shoulder before heading to the back of the place. Sitting on two couches, with a small table between them, James and Remus are playing Exploding Snap, getting soot and burn marks all over the place and receiving angry looks from just about everyone not their age. When he sits down, James pats him on the knee and looks up from the game.
'Merlin, mate! What's wrong with you? You look like shit.'
Remus nods.
'You do. Something has been keeping you up at night?'
'Must be these weird dreams I've been having,' Peter says, rubbing his face.
'Yeah, nightmares can be quite shitty, especially these days.' James has an all-knowing look about his face, which seems completely out of place.
'I never said anything about nightmares, did I? You… You know those types of dreams that start up really realistic and then things just turn out so confusing, with so much going on, that when you wake up you're more tired than when you went to sleep?'
James and Remus nod. Peter puts his face between his hands, hiding the smirk that's threatening to show.
'Well, I've been dreaming I'm both of you.'