Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2009 Word count: 625
Warning: Unbeta'd
“You look quiet peaceful lying there. Sometimes you shift a little or turn a full ninety degrees. It is like watching you sleep. Did you know I did that? Did you know that you mutter in your sleep? It gets louder toward morning; nothing intelligible mind you just noises. I always wondered who you are talking to. Sometimes I would pretend it was me, and you were murmuring sweet nothings in my ear; other times I imagined it was you telling Dumbledore or Malfoy senior to fuck off. Either would have been completely acceptable!”
Remus got up chuckling to himself. He started pacing the circuit in the small room. Surprisingly, he was not ready for sleep. Well, perhaps it wasn’t that surprising at all. He was worried about Severus; how could he not be? There was another factor as well. Apparently, he had been amongst the living again long enough for his desires to reawaken. He was an idiot to think he could recite their sexual encounters to Severus and remain unaffected. A cold shower was out of the question, since he really didn’t want one, and he wasn’t going to leave Severus alone.
Merlin, he was a pervert to even think about wanking in here. In the infirmary, granted he’d done it as a teenager under the covers and the cover of darkness, and certainly no one else had been in the ward at the time. Now, that the thought had crossed his mind, his cock started to weigh in, in its own inimitable way. He was an adult; he could control his baser urges, couldn’t he? Remus dropped himself back into his chair with a frustrated huff worthy of Severus.
He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. His fingers beat a primal rhythm on the arm of the chair; an overstuffed chintz chair did not make for great drumming. He continued for fidget. Whistling might work; he stopped his fingers and started whistling a catchy tune. Granted ‘God Save the Queen’ wasn’t really catchy. While he attempted some swing music his wand found its way from the table to the chair, jammed upright between its arm and Remus leg. During the second chorus of Benny Goodman’s ‘Sing, Sing, Sing’, Remus discovered his hand stroking his wand in the same way he wanted to stroke his cock.
Enough was enough. He could celebrate being alive, and really no one was going to be the wiser. Certainly, he would have a better night’s sleep; even if he was still sleeping in a chair.
Remus tossed his wand back onto the table, before unfastening his trousers and shoving them and his pants down past his arse. His half-hard cock reacted enthusiastically to the freedom, and swelled farther. Oh, yes. This was it. He settled back into the chair and grasped his cock.
Mmmm. Nice slow strokes. Remus rolled his head against the chair back. The pressure built. He swirled his thumb across his cock head taking the clear fluid and spreading it over his cock. The slipperiness was most welcome. A long tug and then five quick strokes. Another long tug and ten quick strokes. He kept increasing the number of fast strokes after every long slow one. The last set left him panting. He was so close. When he stopped the next time his cock was throbbing in his hand. This time he didn’t count, didn’t slow down and he cried out as rivulets of cream poured over his hand.
After a long moment, he reached for his wand and cleaned himself up. Severus remained undisturbed. Apparently, the obviously slapping of flesh against flesh hadn’t brought him any closer to waking. Remus yawned. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day.