k (kabeyk) wrote in siriusinaskirt,
k
kabeyk
siriusinaskirt

Happy (belated) Birthday!

So, didn't know it was your birthday, but then I'm generally crap with birthdays. Half my f-list are having birthdays at the moment, so I think there must be some sort of spooky connection between being born in July and a love of Marauder porn. Oooh-eee-oooh.

Anyway, no crossdressing, I'm afraid, but here is my favourite sex-scene from that AU (that I'm still writing on and off, but god knows when it'll be finished) because you were the one that inspired the entire idea in the first place. I have removed all confusing plot elements from the scene so it's easier to concentrate on the porn.



James knelt behind Remus on the bed, pouring lotion onto his hands and pressing them to Remus' back. The feel of Remus’ burning-hot skin under his palms was always sweet, his hands slipping so smoothly with the chill of the cold lotion. Remus would always gasp at the first touch, a gentle, shuddering sigh of breath, and after a few firm strokes of James’ hands he would start to moan with relief at the coolness of the lotion and from the relaxation it gave to his twitchy, burning, aching muscles.

James had been about to say ‘I haven’t had sex for over a month’, before realising that maybe it wasn’t quite the sort of thing you should say, not while massaging your half-naked best friend’s back. Of course Remus couldn’t understand anyway, having never had sex in the last month or ever, so he wouldn’t understand the harsh burn of longing, or how easily aroused you were when you’d been starved of touches or kisses or the feel of another person’s skin.

James sighed, knowing that he was therefore only hard because of his longing for skin and touch, and it relaxed him too to rub his hands up and down Remus’ sides, feeling the soft, narrow flesh of his waist and the gentle way he rocked his body in pleasure. James watched the back of Remus’ neck, the soft, fluffy curls at the nape, slightly damp with lotion and a hint of sweat, and on a whim kissed him there, just briefly, but carefully so that he took in a long enough breath to steal two lungs-full of Remus’ scent.

Remus displayed no sign of noticing anything out of the ordinary, only continued to press into James’ hands with a soft sigh of contentment.

He could have stopped there, pretended he hadn’t done it, to the point of completely ignoring the spectre of having once kissed his friend’s neck for no sensible reason. But he had done it, and James kissed again, possibly just to get a reaction this time. He left his lips there longer, even slipping out his tongue to taste wet, silky hair and skin, and this time Remus stilled in his arms as he did so. James’ hands curled a bit tighter as he nuzzled, breathing deeply and resting open-mouthed kisses over Remus’ neck and then out along his shoulder, vaguely aware that there were times he’d wanted to do this before, fascinated by the dappled pattern of freckles Remus had there.

‘Sorry,’ James whispered, suddenly coming to and realising just what he was doing.

‘S’okay,’ Remus said quietly, but James could feel the renewed tension in his body and hear the wispy, breathless quality to his voice.

James rested his chin on a patch of freckles. ‘Yeah, but I am, though,’ he told Remus, simultaneously realising that it wasn’t at all true; he wasn’t sorry and why shouldn’t he kiss Remus?

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Remus murmured, and James wondered what exactly it was that didn’t matter, whether it was his kisses or his apology, and somehow he didn’t like either suggestion.

He should have waited, he realised, lifting his chin and again following with his eyes the maze of freckles that covered Remus, then he could have kissed more before having to apologise. ‘Moony, do you get hard when I do this?’ he asked, the innocent interest behind his comment somehow warped and distorted and lost by the pressing, urgent tone that had crept into his voice. Remus hesitated, and James felt an intense mixture of anxious surprise and shame, as well as a flash of excited anticipation that ran hot and burning through his blood.

‘When…?’ Remus asked, but then James had to admit that he didn’t usually kiss Remus and he understood that that could be confusing for someone so seldom-touched as Remus.

‘When I massage your back,’ he mumbled, a little more nervous about how distracted he could become just by breathing deeply the smell of fresh lotion and Remus’ tasty-sweet skin.

Remus sighed and, when he found his voice, sounded rather uneasy. ‘Sometimes,’ he whispered.

‘Because it feels good?’

‘Yes,’ Remus said softly, and James pushed his fingers more firmly over Remus’ hips in approval.

‘Should have said,’ James told him, rocking his own body into each firm kneading of Remus’ flesh, ‘we could have done our thing afterwards.’ And the thought of it made James harder; the thought of lying there, stroking themselves together as he whispered dirty things in Remus’ ear.

‘Yes, but…’ Remus trailed off, and the unasked question hung all too obviously in the air, swollen with it’s slightly disturbing connotations.

But how was I to know that this made you hard?

James had always known that if he was feeling prickly-skinned and needy in the days before the full moon he could always find Remus willing to join him. It was perfectly normal for Remus, the predatory instincts of the wolf made him hungry and wanting, possibly, or maybe it was a way of distracting himself from those distressing, tearing desires.

And it was obvious to James now, after he’d opened his big mouth, that there’d always been a reason he’d never mentioned that the full moon made him need it too. And what was that? Did Remus transfer some of his instincts and lusts over to his roommates by their constant proximity, or was it something more worrying? Did James get hard because he knew Remus was; was the idea of Remus, hard and needing, exciting to him? Or was it the thought of touching Remus’ skin or the actual touching; Remus shirtless and getting to stroke and feel him?

James’ breaths were shaking now, because this was utterly terrifying and he was so hard and would only need to edge an inch or so forward and then he’d be pushing into Remus’ back, and the idea may have frightened him sharply, but nothing like sharply enough to dampen the irresistible drag of excitement that ran through him just at the mere thought of it.

His hands were now on Remus’ stomach, for some reason; had found their way there of their own volition and he could feel wiry-soft hair around Remus’ belly button and his too-fast breaths. And bugger what they usually did, because it was only an inch or two further down Remus’ stomach if he wanted to actually—

He knew Remus liked it the opposite way to himself; instead liked to start off fast, to get himself going, then slow down as he became close, to delay the pleasure. Not that James had ever intended to watch him closely, but he knew, somehow, what Remus preferred. To draw the feeling out long with the burn of his nearness, until his hips were arched up and he was fucking his own palm with aching slowness, so that when he came it was long and so very hard, gushing forth from him and contorting his face into a beautiful mask of sheer bliss.

James shuddered delightfully at the idea, wondering just how often he actually watched Remus, and he tensed his jaw from wanting so much to bite into Remus’ flesh. And it was wrong, wasn’t it, that he not only wanted to know Remus was coming, didn’t just want to see it, but he wanted to feel it too. And not just feel the tremble of the mattress as they lay side by side, or the shake of Remus’ arm where their shoulders were aligned, but actually feel him come. The solidness of Remus’ erection grasped in his own hand for once, the push of hips as Remus fucked his fist, the thick warmth of his come as it rushed over his fingers.

The thought of it was just so achingly lovely that he immediately slid his fingers downwards, until his thumbs hooked into the waist of Remus’ pyjamas. Remus made a slightly panicked choking sound, so James rested his lips against Remus’ neck again, and whispered a comforting ‘shush’ or two as he lowered the pyjama bottoms, stretching the elastic and lifting it carefully over Remus’ erection.

‘There,’ he said softly, feeling Remus wriggle a little uncomfortably at his sudden almost-nakedness.

It wasn’t until he’d firmly wrapped his hand around, began to slide his lotion-slick fist and listened to Remus’ broken little gasp, that he realised that Remus had never really done this before, had never been touched by anyone, only by his own fingers. But why should it matter? In a day of firsts, where James had kissed Remus for the first time, was holding the weight of Remus’ very hard prick against his palm, Remus’ virginity was the least of his worries.

‘That good?’ James asked, resting his chin to Remus’ shoulder again, so he could watch his hand and Remus’ cock as they moved together. ‘The lotion’s not too cold?’

Remus whimpered, which was a lovely little sound. ‘No, it’s— it feels— it’s good like that.’

‘Really? We should have done this before,’ James mumbled, loving how Remus’ body felt, almost rested flush against his chest, and the word ‘almost’ was what made him give in. James spread his knees a little further and Remus made a gentle sigh as James squirmed and settled, letting his own erection rub up Remus’ back.

‘Jamie,’ Remus said with another sigh, pushing backwards.

‘Shh, s’okay,’ James told him, rocking himself forwards and wishing he was as naked as Remus. ‘Can I – er, well…’ The movement of his hand faltered.

‘Anything.’

James was pulling down his own pyjamas hurriedly with his left hand before Remus could change his mind, and then, at last, his cock was resting thickly against Remus’ fever-hot skin. He moaned deep in his throat, clutching at Remus’ stomach so he was pressed closer, his other hand stroking faster over Remus’ prick as he almost got carried away already just at the feel of his cock slipping over the lotion on Remus’ back.

‘Good?’ Remus asked, his voice strained and strange.

‘Yes. Moony.’

‘But— is it… working?’

James buried his nose in Remus’ hair, lips brushing his neck as he thrust more and more eagerly. ‘Yes, oh yes—‘

‘But— oh, here.’

Remus snaked his hand behind, fingers brushing tantalisingly over James’ cock before resting, pressed over him. ‘Oh,’ James said, a whimper, because if before was perfect, then this was heaven.

‘Slower,’ Remus gasped, and James was so relieved, because that meant he was close, and by god, James was very close too. There was something just so arousingly filthy about this; that his cock was slippery with cold lotion and hot with the friction of Remus’ hand and spine, that he was actually fucking himself against Remus’ back and into his palm; was fucking someone’s skin, the hardness of their body.

‘Oh god, Moony.’

‘Yes.’

‘Moony, I—‘ James whimpered again, mouth moving desperately against Remus’ neck. ‘Moony, I’m going to come over your back, oh—’

‘Fuck,’ Remus said sharply, shuddering, and then James’ palm was wet, Remus crying out softly but desperately. And it was too much for James, already on the edge and then hearing Remus for the first time, Remus who was always so carefully silent, usually, and he came too; the sensation soaring inside him, because he was coming on Remus, in long, gasping waves.

‘Oh,’ James said with a quiet sigh, sagging forwards into Remus even as Remus sagged back and his fingers dropped to his side. ‘I’m sorry, I—‘

‘S’okay,’ Remus mumbled, curling round and burying his face in James’ neck and James took the opportunity to wipe away the embarrassing stickiness on Remus’ back.

‘Sleepy?’

‘Uhmm…’

James sighed sadly, rearranging Remus’ pyjamas for him. ‘If you’d just said that was all you needed,’ James admonished gently. ‘If I’d known a quick orgasm was the one thing that would put you to sleep the night before a full moon then I would have done that ages ago.’

Remus groaned slightly and James smiled, lowering him carefully to the bed, tucking the sheet around him but not too high. ‘There,’ he whispered, quickly charming a cloth to stay cool and laying it across Remus’ forehead.

‘Am sorry,’ Remus muttered, speech very garbled.

‘It’s fine,’ James told him, grabbing a blanket because the heat from Remus’ skin wasn’t quite enough to keep him warm too. ‘Now sleep.’

‘Yesh,’ Remus slurred.
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