From The Cupboard

He stares at Sirius.

Sirius can’t see him. But, oh, Remus can see Sirius. From the cupboard in the bathroom, he watches the water running over Sirius’ naked body, like rivers, travelling over taut muscle and exquisitely perfect skin.

Remus is always the first awake in the dorm. He knows the routine; James is the first in the shower, followed by Peter. Sirius is always the last to wake, and he doesn’t hear them up and about. Remus waits until the door closes when his other two friends leave and then makes a dash to the bathroom, where he slips into the cupboard. Sirius is usually in the bathroom not long after. From the cupboard, Remus watches Sirius go to the sink, study his tired face and then move to the toilet and take a leak.

It is then that Remus very quietly plucks his pyjama bottoms open and lets them rumple down around his feet. He eagerly watches Sirius flush the toilet and then sluggishly walk to the shower, reach in and turn the taps on and then, oh, he strips. Remus sees clothes fall from Sirius’ lean frame and then he steps into the shower and submerges himself under the stream of hot water.

Yes, Remus stares at Sirius. Unblinkingly.

Oh, god, Sirius is a sight.

Remus bites his lip and places his palm on the doorframe, pressing his sweaty forehead against the door. He peers through the slats and licks his lips. His other hand is on his prick, stroking it slowly but firmly. In the musty darkness of the cupboard, he breathes shakily, gazing at that body, watching Sirius lather his skin with soap.

Oh, god. Look at how the soap bubbles glide down Sirius’ arms, down his lean legs. How those hands, those shapely amazing hands slide across Sirius\' chest, fingers skimming over erect, pink nipples.

Remus knows he shouldn’t do this; he shouldn’t watch his best friend shower. But he can’t help it, he just can’t. He can’t get enough of that body or that face, how incredible Sirius looks as water drenches him. He loves how Sirius sensually rubs soap into his skin and, sometimes, travels his hands down, down to his cock and—

Remus takes in a sharp breath as Sirius turns around, facing him. His neck is arched and his face is under the hot, steamy spray of water, raking his black hair back with his fingers.

Remus digs his fingernails into the wood of the doorframe and glides his palm up and down his prick faster. He imagines touching that chest himself, swarming his hands over it, licking it with his tongue. He imagines stepping into the shower, submerging himself under the blast of water, feeling it soak his hair as he leans in and meets Sirius’ lips. He thinks about how his friend’s mouth would taste, how his tongue might snake in and entwine with Sirius’. Water would cascade down their faces and run into their mouths as they kiss and moan against each other’s lips. Maybe he’d push Sirius back against the tile wall and sink to his knees, take Sirius’ cock in his hand and gaze up at him before swallowing his mouth around that beautiful prick. Perhaps Sirius would grasp his hair and push deeply in. Would he moan and softly utter Remus’ name, or would he cry out as he comes? Would he be as silent as he is when he masturbates under the heated water?

God, the thoughts drive Remus wild. His breath picks up as he fantasises, while Sirius scrubs his chest with soap. The white, glistening soapy bubbles wash down his muscular stomach, down over his bush of dark curls and along his cock.

Oh, god, that cock. Remus groans softly. He instantly tenses up – he can’t make noise. He might get caught. What if Sirius hears him? Of course, that is part of the thrill, knowing that he might accidentally make a loud enough sound for Sirius to hear, that Sirius might come to the cupboard and open it. It makes his heart accelerate, knowing that he could be found in the act, his pyjama bottoms down around his ankles and his prick erect, thumping, pulsing.

He drops his hand from the doorframe and moves it to his balls. He touches them, fondles them, feels the softness and smoothness of them as he watches Sirius slowly turn around again. The way the light plays over his firm back and the shape of his perfect arse… Remus swallows and licks his lips feverishly, cupping his palm over his balls and he squeezes them gently.

God, that arse… He thinks about sliding his hands over the swell of them, feeling muscles twitch under his touch. He imagines being in that shower, pressed up against Sirius, wet and hot, soapy and slippery, caressing those cheeks, perhaps pressing kisses to his shoulder. Maybe Remus would lean in and press his cock against the cleft of Sirius’ buttocks. What would Sirius do? Would he lean back? Would he lift an arm and reach for Remus’ head, clutching his hair? Maybe he’d whisper something naughty, something teasing. Maybe he’d whisper for Remus to fuck him as he moves forth and presses his hands to the cold tile wall, glancing back at him imploringly.

He groans again and glances down at his prick. Through the darkness of the cupboard, he can see it is livid red, the head swollen and glistening with a smear of precome. He watches his hand slide up and down it, teasing it to release as he thinks those thoughts, those tantalising fantasies.

Looking back up, his breath catches in his throat again; Sirius has turned back around, facing Remus once more. He is… Oh, god, Sirius is touching himself. He is stroking his cock, squeezing it, his soapy hand moving up and down gracefully. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted, his head tilted to the side.

Oh, god.

Water trickles from his dark hair down his face, down his chest, his body. Steam billows around Sirius as he lags his head forward and lets out a faint moan. Sirius\' prick is tight, hard, perfect in his hand. His strokes are quick, swift and delicate. His face is that of pure bliss, his brows furrowed as he concentrates deeply on the sensation, the act.

Remus doesn’t realise it, but his movements over his cock have matched the rhythm of Sirius’. His breath is fast and ragged, and his forehead is shimmering with sweat. Remus wonders what Sirius is thinking, what might be going through his mind as he strokes that delicious cock. God, Remus wishes it was him taking that prick in his hand, maybe in his mouth, plunging up and down the hot, hard shaft. How he would love to walk out of the cupboard and peel his pyjama top off, step into the shower and push Sirius back as he curls his fingers around the other’s cock.

He can’t, though. He has to stay quiet and he can only watch. Oh, what a show, what a sight to feast his eyes on. Sirius is rocking his hips slightly, his eyes now open and gazing down at his cock. Remus can see, from the way that Sirius’ body is stiffening up, that he is close, that he is moments away from coming.

He bites on his lip again, holding back another groan as he watches Sirius throw his head back. A spray of water flicks back and Sirius gasps loudly through his parted mouth. His lips are moving, as though forming a word and Remus wishes, wishes that he was near enough to hear what Sirius is saying, what he is uttering. Through the beat of his pulse in his ears, he tries to hear, hoping to catch that lustful sound of Sirius’ voice as he comes.

Oh, Sirius groans. He groans loudly. He utters something as he comes that throws Remus off entirely, something he doesn’t expect to hear at all.

“Moony…”

Remus gives his prick a final jerk and, as he comes, he peers at Sirius through the slats in disbelief. He watches Sirius shake and tremble with his shoulders hunched over and his hand furiously milking his prick.

Gasping, panting, Remus shuffles backwards and slumps back against the wall, gulping. He can’t see Sirius now; the slats are too thin for him to see out of unless he is up close. But he hears the water stop and, after a few moments, the door creaks open and then slams shut as Sirius leaves.

Sweating, shaking, Remus wipes his perspiring brow and glances down at himself. His prick is spent and he is holding it in his hand. His heart is thumping. His head is swimming. Licking his lips, he unsteadily crouches down and grasps his pyjama pants and pulls them up over his hips, tucking himself in. Sirius said his name. Sirius came, uttering his name, thinking about him.

He waits another five minutes before he opens the cupboard door and steps out. The steam and cool, fresh air greets his sweaty skin and he takes a deep breath.

He smiles as he glances at the shower.

Maybe next time, he will join Sirius.