pre_raphaelite1 (pre_raphaelite1) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2008-05-07 18:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2008, author: pre_raphaelite1, kink: voyeurism, remus/sirius |
LMoM: Scentillation (Revisited) #7 [Remus/Sirius, PG-13]
Title: Scentillation (Revisited): Eve (#7)
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13
Kink(s): Hand!Kink, voyeurism
Challenge: LMoM 2008
Word Count: 650
Notes: All subtitles and summaries are names and descriptions of perfume oils from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and therefore belong to the BPAL powers that be. I'm merely fangirling them with Remus/Sirius pron. And HP belongs to JKR, of course. Click on the pervy_werewolf tag of my username for previous entries.
Today's Scent Description/Summary: The spirit of temptation, the essence of lost innocence.
Scentillation(Revisited): Eve (#7)
“What are you staring at, Sirius?”
“Huh? What? Oh- er- nothing. Just thinking, you know?”
James scoffed, “Think, Sirius? You do that? Didn't know Blacks could.”
Sirius threw a wadded up piece of parchment across the common room. “More than blood traitors like the Potters,” he sniffed haughtily.
“Reckon all of you purebloods have inbred enough to manage well at all,” Peter quipped. For his trouble, he was hit on both sides of the head by parchment bludgers.
Remus just rolled his eyes, the only outward sign that he had any awareness of what was going on outside of the essay he was writing.
Sirius breathed a silent sigh of relief as everyone returned to their various tasks: Peter to his Herbology book, James to his supposed outlining of Brownstone's Theories of Transfiguration (however, Sirius had seen the doodles that looked more like hearts and snitches than notes), and Sirius to his staring.
Sure, he had a book in his hand, though bugger-all if someone asked him what it was. He had checked to make sure it was right-side up. He wasn't stupid. He'd learned to check after their last study session. But the pages held no interest for him, the words were merely black scribbles on yellowed pages. But he was looking over the top of the book, studying a subject that was far more fascinating and rewarding than... whatever the topic of the book was. Potions? Defense? It didn't matter.
All that mattered was the elegant hand across from him: the way it moved over the page, graceful; the lines of the fingers confidently holding a worn quill. Sirius could watch Remus' hands all day. And he often had. He began to think that he'd memorized every inch of them, seen every gesture they could make, but then Remus' wrist would shift just so, or his wand would be swept in a new spell, Sirius would wonder how he'd missed the small scar on the base of his thumb or how a teen-aged boy's movements could be so inherently beautiful.
Sometimes he'd pretend to sleep in just so he watch Remus through his lashes as he buttoned his shirt, deft fingers manipulating the buttons through their holes, one after another, from collar to stomach and that last one just below his waist.
And Sirius would catch himself wondering how his fingers would look if them were to brush over the front of his pants, over that bulge there that promised so much. He'd feel his cheeks heat, because he was thinking about another bloke like that. Not just any other bloke, but Remus- his mate and fellow Marauder. Sirius sure as hell didn't think of Peter that way. Or James- well, okay- maybe once or twice about James, but in that general way of curiosity that stems from listening to the slick, grunting sounds of wanking barely stifled by the bed curtains. But this- these hands were Remus' hands. And Sirius wanted them.
He wanted to see Remus' long fingers dancing over his flesh, sweeping over his chest and stomach with the same practiced touch that he used on the Potters' piano. God, Sirius could hardly think of that night Mrs Potter had enticed Remus to play something- some Muggle composition, something Sirius would never dream of listening to, and yet he watched transfixed as Remus' fingers caressed the ivory keys in a way that made Sirius stare with parted lips and blush-stained cheeks.
The way he was doing now.
Remus' hand paused, quill lifting up from the parchment. Sirius darted a quick glance to Remus' face, only to find Remus staring back at him. Sirius swallowed roughly as Remus raised one eyebrow at him and asked, “Want me to give you a hand, Sirius?”
Sirius' heart lept and he breathed out his reply, “Yes.”
First person to leave feedback gets to choose the BPAL scent as the prompt/inspiration for the next day’s ficlet! Should this not work out, I'll pick a reviewer at my discretion. Thanks to ponderosa121 for this one.