o f f . t h e . w r i s t

Off the Wrist
[by victoria p.]

Rating: R

Summary: "Remus wondered how two people who used to be able to finish each other's sentences couldn't even look each other in the eye anymore."

Spoilers: Minor OotP spoilers.

Notes: Thanks as always to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. And to Pru for the title, the beta, and the invaluable assistance.

Date: December 25, 2003

Sirius woke slowly, warm and comfortable. He breathed deep, eyes closed, letting the air fill his lungs as he snuggled down into the covers and the hard body behind him.

That's new. Who--

His eyes flew open and he turned his head to see Remus, still asleep, spooned around him. He took in the dark, dusty bed curtains and the cracks in the ceiling and realized he was in his old room at Grimmauld Place.

The bed, the room, the house -- it was all closing in on him. He pushed at the warm hand resting on his belly.

"Remus. Remus, wake up."

Remus's eyes fluttered open, soft and dark in the dim light. Sirius half-remembered mornings in the Shrieking Shack, the two of them curled up together, unselfconscious about the way their bodies tangled, seeking heat in the cold dawn air.

"Sirius."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, hearing the panic in his voice but unable to hide it.

"You seemed in need of--" Remus hesitated, "comfort last night."

"I had nightmares again."

"Rather loud ones, I'm afraid."

Sirius swung his legs to the floor and rose from the bed. "Thanks, then." He frowned at the petulance in his voice.

Remus smiled, that damned patronizing smile he always smiled, the one Sirius had always thought of as his "I'm harmless, please don't be mean to me" smile. He hated it, hated that Remus was turning it on him, of all people. Hated that Remus felt the need to be placating, comforting, False, his brain insisted. They'd once known each other as well as any two people could who weren't lovers, and now they were strangers again, pretending an intimacy that didn't exist anymore.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, more brusquely than intended. "If you want to have a lie in, that's fine. You can stay."

Remus's eyes were already closing when Sirius turned to the bathroom.

He stood under the hot spray of the shower for a long time, luxuriating in the sheer excess of it. Hot water was something the house had never been in short supply of, and Sirius took advantage of it every morning, and sometimes at night, as well. Being clean and warm was something he'd never take for granted again.

He'd certainly been warm when he woke up -- warm and comfortable, safe -- in Remus's arms.

He almost laughed at that. If there were any place he wasn't safe, it was there. Because it brought back all the old, inappropriate thoughts and feelings, things he'd thought he'd left behind when a long time ago.

Still, it had been more years than he cared to count since he'd woken up in someone's embrace. He'd never been the type to stay the night as a young man -- it had been part of his mystique, the carefully cultivated reputation of Sirius Black. His façade said, "I'm cool and I'm dangerous," while inside he'd always been a mess. Though in those days, he couldn't even admit it to himself.

Funny how that worked out. Remus was the dangerous one -- confident, clever, powerful -- and Sirius nothing but a pretender, so much less than his name let on. Never had the contrast been so clear to him as it was now. Remus had grown into himself while Sirius had stagnated, and in some things he'd never catch up.

He wrapped a towel around his hips, noting how thin he still was, a little upset at the changes in his once beautiful body and ashamed because of it. Even if he weren't a fugitive, who would want him, looking like that?

He'd just finished with shaving and brushing his teeth when he heard it.

A low groan from the bedroom sent a shiver down his spine. Was Remus having a nightmare? Was something wrong? The groan was followed by a muffled grunt.

The bathroom door was ajar, and Sirius peered around it into the bedroom, ready to leap to Remus's defense if he was being attacked, or to wake him if he was having a nightmare.

Remus was neither.

The sight that met Sirius's eyes was one that made his hands tighten on the door and his breath catch in his throat. He blinked to clear his vision, but it was still there when he opened his eyes again.

Remus was still lying on the bed, but he was no longer curled up under the covers. The blankets hung drunkenly over the foot of the bed -- probably kicked off -- and Remus's pajama bottoms had been pushed down over his narrow hips, exposing his cock. Remus's long, callused fingers were curled around the shaft, stroking quickly; his head was thrown back, and he was making the growling-grunting noises that Sirius had mistaken for sounds of pain.

Sirius felt his body respond, heat rushing through him, groin tightening, and he remembered the real reason Remus was so dangerous. Because Sirius loved him, and while he was sure Remus cared about him, he knew Remus would never feel the same way, would certainly never imagine the hand on his cock was Sirius's. Sirius, however, watched Remus and wished he was there on the bed beside him, licking, kissing, stroking, sliding over and under, the glide of skin on skin driving them both mad with need.

Sirius watched as Remus came with a low moan, spurting over his hand and belly, and then closed the door to the bathroom with a soft click.

He dropped the towel and took his cock in hand. It didn't take much, and he came quickly, gasping in shock and almost collapsing onto the tiled floor at the pleasure coursing through him. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good wank. He hadn't been able to while he was on the run, and it hadn't been possible in Azkaban, but his body seemed to have recovered at last.

Still breathing heavily, he washed up again. When he finally left the bathroom, Remus was gone, the bed was neatly made, and only the lingering hint of sex in the air remained to assure him it hadn't been a dream.

Sirius sank down onto the bed, rested his head in his hands. Living with Remus was going to drive him insane.

***

It had been a mistake, Remus reflected as he made toast, to leave before Sirius finished in the bathroom. Actually, it'd probably been a mistake to jack off right there with Sirius in the other room, but a man could only take so much, and Remus had found his breaking point to be sleeping curled up against the man he'd loved in one way or another for almost as long as he could remember. The scent of Sirius on the pillows, still warm from his body, was heady; it had gone straight to his prick. He'd come up with the ridiculous plan of confessing his feelings as soon as Sirius finished his shower, and instead he'd ended up acting like a randy, guilty schoolboy.

And once he'd come down off the rush of his orgasm, he realized that if Sirius wasn't, in fact, interested, he'd have made a very large fool of himself, and quite possibly ruined a friendship that was only beginning to recover from almost irreparable damage.

Because while they could apparently forgive betrayal and death, Remus wasn't so sure they could survive sex and its inevitably sticky aftermath. Then he groaned at the unintended pun.

"You all right there, Moony?"

Sirius had snuck up on him while he was lost in thought, and while Remus had grown to hate his own nickname in the years when it had symbolized all he'd lost, he had to concede that Padfoot had always been an apt name for Sirius.

"I burnt the toast," he responded with a rueful smile.

"Where is that damned house-elf?"

"Would you really eat anything he prepared?"

"No, but that's not the point," Sirius snapped. Remus opened his mouth to comment on Sirius's bad temper then closed it again. Probably best not to mention that, either. Sirius noticed, though. Sirius always noticed, even when he chose to act oblivious. "What? What were you going to say?"

Remus shrugged. "You seem a bit grumpy this morning. I'm sorry if I overstepped, but I didn't intend to crawl into bed with you," liar"I just fell asleep."

"Of course you did," Sirius said skeptically.

Remus wanted to panic but he forced himself to remain calm. Had Sirius seen right through him? His feelings had never been a secret when they were younger, though Sirius had been a good enough friend to pretend they didn't exist when he didn't reciprocate, instead of just ending the friendship altogether.

He turned back to the toast, breathing deeply to calm himself. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, bollocks. I'm just in a rotten mood. Not your fault, Remus. This damned house."

Remus nodded, breathing out slowly in relief.

They ate toast with jam and drank tea with lemon and honey, and Remus wondered how two people who used to be able to finish each other's sentences couldn't even look each other in the eye anymore. He wondered if he could still renew the lease on the flat he'd left to live here with Sirius, because he didn't think he could take living in this mausoleum without the assurance that Sirius really wanted him there.

"Molly and Arthur said they'd be joining us in a few days," Sirius said, the sound of his voice startling after the long quiet broken only by the clink of silverware on plates and the crunch of toast being eaten.

"That's nice." If Molly and Arthur come to stay, he won't be alone. I don't have to feel bad about leaving.

Sirius threw his knife down and stood. "You were having a wank in my bed this morning. I watched you."

"I-- Yes."

"Why?"

"Why?" He almost laughed at the question, though from amusement or surprise, he wasn't sure.

"Why were you having a wank in my bed this morning?"

"Why do people usually?"

"Remus." A warning.

"Sirius." He cocked his head, smiled. "Why did you watch me?"

"I--"

He let the silence stretch for a few moments, watching Sirius shift uncomfortably. Finally, he said, "The notoriously glib Sirius Black at a loss for words? I never thought I'd see the day." He kept his tone deliberately light.

"Remus." This time it was a growl, and it sent a shiver of delight down Remus's spine.

"Shall I list the reasons for you, then?"

"Please do."

Remus laid his knife down neatly across his plate and sat back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him. "Because I was imagining it was you. Your hand on my cock. Your hair brushing my thighs. Your mouth on my skin." He was getting hard again just thinking about it.

He'd never had a successful, lasting relationship -- not directly after Hogwarts and not in the twelve years he'd spent alone. No one had ever measured up to the phantom of Sirius always hovering over him, unattainable and then unforgivable. For years he'd had to put away his fantasies of Sirius, written them off as the vestiges of a childhood infatuation, believing the love -- the friendship -- had all been a lie in the end. Now that he knew it was the truth, he could let his imagination roam free.

And maybe, if he were lucky (he'd never been lucky, but wasn't it time for that to change?), he could have more than just his imagination and his right hand.

Sirius stared at him, eyes wide and dark with something that looked almost like desire. Remus couldn't be sure. It had been too many years, and he'd misread Sirius before.

"Me?"

"Don't be modest, Sirius. It's always been you. You know that."

"No, I--I never did, actually."

"Really?" It was Remus's turn to sound skeptical. He rose and moved toward Sirius. "Well, it's true. Nobody ever came close to you."

Sirius reached out a hand, then let it drop. "I never knew that. I-- The past few years must have been hard."

Well, that was the understatement of the year, but Remus knew his suffering had been minimal compared with Sirius's, and he didn't want to waste time playing "Can You Top This" over their misery.

"Let's not discuss the past, Sirius. It's gone, and can't be changed." As he advanced, Sirius backed up against the counter, and Remus smiled. "I never took you for the shy, virginal type."

"I just-- Merlin, I never thought you'd actually be interested in me. I never thought I had a chance."

That stopped Remus in his tracks. "You never thought--" he broke off, laughing. He laughed so hard he had to hold onto the counter to keep from falling over.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is, rather." Remus got himself under control. "I'm not going to lie, Sirius. I've done all right over the years, but people aren't exactly tripping over themselves to shag a scrawny, out of work Defense professor. Especially once they know I'm a werewolf."

"You're not scrawny. You just need to eat more. And those people are daft. Don't know what they're missing."

Remus brushed his fingertips over Sirius's cheek. "So why were you watching me?"

Sirius took a deep breath, and Remus could see him gathering his courage. "Because I was imagining it was me. My mouth on your cock, my hands on your body," he said, low and urgent.

Heat fired in his veins, warmth in his chest at Sirius's words. He had to swallow hard before he was able to speak again, and his voice was hoarse. "Well, then, I think we can come to a suitable arrangement, don't you?"

"A suitable arrangement? Do you have to sound like a damned... professor when you're propositioning me?" But the edge was gone from Sirius's tone; he sounded amazed and amused all at once.

"I am a damned professor, and don't you forget it," Remus replied, smiling. "You've been a naughty boy, Sirius, but I think we can work out an appropriate punishment." He touched Sirius's elbow then began walking toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

Remus turned to look at him. "Don't you want to finish the, er, negotiations in private?"

"Oh. Yes."

Remus headed upstairs and Sirius followed.

Remus had never been lucky before, but that was about to change.

end

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