t h e . b e s t . m a n ' s . f a l l

The Best Man's Fall
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: "As the best man, I think you might do more than glower at me and scare the bridesmaids," Remus murmurs with a wry smile.

Notes: Thanks to Mousapelli for the once-over. Prequel to One-Night Stand, with Potential. Title from Trashcan Sinatras.

Date: February 14, 2005

Sirius has always been able to tell when someone wants him. Awareness prickles along his skin -- if it's someone to whom he's attracted, the sensation is pleasant, like the slide of silk along his skin or the stroke of a feather down his spine. If it's not, the feeling is more like the cool, dry slither of a snake down the back of his neck. But he always feels something.

He can't ever recall not being wanted for some reason or another -- family connections, money, looks -- by someone or other, and most of them are willing to do something for him in return. He's rarely had to do more than smile or gesture to get what he wants, especially when the other person wants it too, so the past few months have been sheer torture, as all his smiles and gestures have been misinterpreted, or worse yet, ignored by the one person Sirius wants more than anything else in the world.

The one person who at this very moment is waltzing the just married Lily Evans Potter around the dance floor while her new husband dances with his mother-in-law.

As the song ends and another begins, Sirius takes another gulp of whisky and ignores the come hither stares of two of the bridesmaids. He contemplates ritual suicide for a moment before settling on having more whisky.

He is at the bar when a familiar body presses in behind him, smelling of Ivory soap and Sirius's own shampoo, which shouldn't make Sirius hard, but it does, every damn time. He thinks Remus must do it on purpose, taunting him.

Because he knows Remus wants him as much as he wants Remus, and yet Remus persists in acting as if it were the furthest thing from the truth.

"As the best man, I think you might do more than glower at me and scare the bridesmaids," Remus murmurs with a wry smile.

Sirius thinks of what more he'd like to do to Remus, takes another sip of whisky, and manages an inelegant, "Hmph," in response. He maneuvers himself around, making sure to keep contact with Remus's body the whole time, enjoying the way Remus's breath hitches and his eyes widen.

Before he can do anything else, though, Dorcas Meadowes stumbles into him, skillfully copping a feel before she straightens up. When he looks away from her, lip curling in disdain at the invitation in her eyes, Remus has put a good twelve inches of space between them, and got himself under control, much to Sirius's dismay. He takes a deep breath, and decides he's had enough of this subtle shite. He's going to drag Remus out of here and fuck him until neither of them can move. With that in mind, he drains the rest of his whisky and attempts to push closer to Remus, but Dorcas is still standing too close, and he trips over her.

Remus catches him, thin lips curved into a half-smile, and murmurs, "Maybe we should get you home before you do anything foolish."

Sirius, ever the opportunist, doesn't disagree. In fact, he embellishes, and pretends to have a little trouble finding his feet. Moony wraps an arm around him and presses close as they move through the crowd of dancers. He catches James's eye as they head toward the door; James raises his glass in a silent salute and Lily raises an eyebrow in amusement. Sirius smirks in response.

Remus appears oblivious to this exchange, but Sirius can feel him breathing, feel the tension in his whippet-thin body as he forces himself to remain unresponsive to their proximity.

They stumble to the Floo and when they arrive at Sirius's flat, Sirius doesn't give him a chance to get away. They stagger into the kitchen and Sirius shoves Remus against the door and kisses him.

After the first surprised gasp, which Sirius breathes in as though he's been months without air, Remus kisses him back. Sirius tastes gin and lime and underneath, something softer, wilder -- Remus. Finally.

The kiss is hot, hard, urgent, and when they break apart, Sirius crows in triumph, because he's never wrong about this. As much as Remus tried to deny it, it's arced between them for months now, possibly even years, and the fire is finally kindled. He can see it burning in Remus's eyes, feel it emanating from his body.

He runs his hands through Remus's soft brown hair, already starting to turn grey, and moves his lips down the long curve of Remus's throat, tasting soap and salt, impatiently pushing at the collar of his shirt. He yanks savagely at the buttons, desperate to feel skin and hair under the pads of his fingers. Remus moans and thrusts his hips; sound and movement together set white sparks off behind Sirius's eyes, and he bows his head to rest on Remus's shoulder.

Remus's hands, long-fingered and sure, come up and wrap around the nape of his neck, stroking circles on his skin. Remus thrusts again, and Sirius thrusts back, fingers feeling thick and unwieldy in his impatience to get Remus out of his clothes.

Sirius manages, though, removing first Remus's trousers, then his own, and now they can buck and surge against each other without anything in the way.

"Come on," he growls in Remus's ear, and then murmurs a spell every wizard learns upon reaching puberty. He reaches a slick hand between them to curl around their thrusting cocks, increasing the friction to almost unbearable levels. "Come for me, Remus."

"Fuck, Sirius," Remus answers, voice harsh and ragged as he shudders in release, head thrown back and hands clutching at Sirius's shoulders, pulling him closer.

Sirius can't catch his breath, because Remus looks beautiful like this, wanton and debauched, and it's because of him. That sends another shockwave of heat through Sirius, the high, hard ache of blissful tension unfurling in a rush as he comes, spilling himself over their quivering, still-thrusting bodies with a low, guttural moan, which Remus swallows with a kiss.

"Come on," Sirius repeats when they come up for air, and he drags Remus back into the bedroom, the two of them stumbling over trousers trapped round their ankles by shoes, too drunk on each other to care.

They kick off those recalcitrant shoes and trousers, and Remus makes him take off his socks.

"Can't stand a bloke wearing socks while we fuck," he murmurs, and Sirius obliges, too turned on by the idea of fucking Remus to mock him for this eccentricity.

He pushes Remus down onto the bed, already hard again at the sight of Remus naked and sprawled against his sheets, and covers him with his own body. Remus grins at him, and Sirius grins back.

"As the best man," he says, lips against Remus's jaw, "I'm going to do more than just glower at you."

Remus thrusts up against him and gasps, "Please. Do."

Sirius is only too happy to oblige.

end

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