From The Cupboard

He is staring at Sirius again.

Remus is peering through the slats in the cupboard, his eyes wide, his mouth dry, his pulse racing and his cock hard and throbbing. In the tiny, enclosed space, musty and dark, his breath is fast and shaky.

He watches Sirius, oh god Sirius under the spray of hot water in the shower. That body, that incredible body, how perfect it is. Remus has thought of nothing but that body, about how it looks when water is cascading down it. He couldn’t sleep the night before. He just couldn’t, not when images of Sirius soaping himself up permeate his mind, not when memories of Sirius touching himself consumes his every thought.

He had lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling, running the visuals over and over in his head. The sight he had seen the morning before was breathtaking. Even more enrapturing was how beautiful Sirius looked as he stroked his prick, as he stood under the stream of water, swept up in the blissful sensation of his hand running up and down his cock. And then he had come and Remus’ name had spilled from his lips and, oh god Remus wants him.

He wants him. He wants Sirius. Just look at him. He is the most incredible sight Remus has ever set his eyes upon. Imagine if Sirius was his, if he could not only look at that body and taste it and kiss it and worship it, but if Sirius was actually his.

All through the night, he fantasised about stepping into the shower, of creeping up behind Sirius and placing his hands on Sirius’ back. He thought about what he would say. He played in his mind how Sirius would react. Perhaps Sirius would lean back against him and let his head fall back against Remus’ shoulder. Perhaps he would utter ‘Moony’ just like he had the morning before. Perhaps he would turn around to face Remus and lean in and kiss him.

God, Remus had stroked himself furiously, coming in heated waves, biting his lip to stop himself from groaning as he dreamed up the scenario in his mind. As the night crawled on, he lay there and listened to deep snoring and breathing as the others slept on, while he lay there and ached for morning to come. As the hours dragged on, he grew more and more nervous, and when James and Peter got up, showered and left the room, Remus almost changed his mind.

However, he didn’t, and just before Sirius stirred, Remus quietly and shakily got out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. He slipped into the cupboard and closed the door behind him and, moments later, the bathroom door creaked open and Sirius walked in, yawning and scratching his head. As Sirius made his way across to the toilet and took a leak, Remus pushed his pyjama bottoms from his hips with trembling fingers and tugged his shirt off, and stood naked in the tiny dark cupboard. He watched Sirius strip, watched him turn the shower on and gasped as his friend submerged himself under the spray of water.

And so here he stands, in the cupboard, his prick in his sweaty palm, stroking up and down as he stares at Sirius. Only this time he is not going to simply play voyeur. No, this time, he is going to go to Sirius.

He sees Sirius arch his back as he lifts his hands to his head to wash his hair. Wet black tresses, curly and thick, whorl around Sirius’ elegant, noble fingers as soapy shampoo suds glide down his cheeks and drip on to his chest. His eyes are closed, his face upturned to the light and water splashes over his full lips and catch in his dark eyelashes.

Remus whimpers softly. He presses his forehead against the cupboard door, gazing longingly at him. God, he craves Sirius. Remus squeezes his prick and gasps. He wants to stroke himself here, now, to release, the arousal is building up so much. But, no, he will wait.

Sirius tilts back under the hot spray and thick foamy shampoo pours down his body, pooling around his feet. Remus almost shoves the door open then and there. The sight of glistening bubbles trailing down Sirius’ body fills Remus with awe.

He presses his palm against the door, about to push it open when Sirius takes up the bar of soap and begins to wash himself. His broad hand, smothered in soap, glides over his firm chest, his fingertips running over his nipples. His other hand is on his stomach, smoothing over taut muscle and perfect tanned skin. Remus wants to be those hands; he wants to touch Sirius like Sirius is touching himself now. He wants to be pressed up against him, wet skin against wet skin, lips grazing over earlobes and over Sirius’ long, elegant neck. No, he not only wants to be pressed up against Sirius, he is going to be.

Remus’ breathing accelerates. But, oh, he is so nervous. The thought of opening this cupboard door and stepping out into the steamy bathroom both excites and terrifies him. What if Sirius is horrified? What if he pushes Remus away, disgusted that Remus not only got in the shower with him, but had watched him the whole time? What if? What if? What—

He freezes. Sirius has turned around. He is facing Remus and his hand is wrapped around his prick. Oh, god, he is touching himself again! He is delicately sliding his fingers up and down his hard prick, his eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration.

Remus stares. He is completely transfixed. His mouth feels as dry as cotton balls and there is a thick lump at the back of his throat. His skin prickles as he breaks out in a sweat and his heart hammers so fast, he feels like he might pass out. God, Sirius is beautiful like that. Look at him! Look at his face, how euphoric it is, how utterly lost he is in this act! Remus forces himself to stop moving his palm up and down his cock. It is so difficult, letting his length go. It aches and throbs, pulsing against his stomach in desperation. He wipes his perspiring palm down his naked thigh and gulps.

Now is the time.

Remus pushes against the door. It clicks and then softly creaks as it opens. Remus halts, his blood running cold for a split second. The sound of the door squeaking, to Remus, is as loud as a bomb going off. He stares at Sirius, anticipating him to snap his head up in alarm.

A moment passes. Sirius is unaware that Remus is there. The hiss of the water on the shower basin must have drowned the sound out.

This momentary panic that Remus experiences almost makes him want to retreat into the cupboard again and hide. But, no. He takes another step forward, pushing the door the rest of the way open.

He is now looking at Sirius, not from behind thin slats, but out in the open. He swallows again. His pulse thumps furiously. He is shaking, utterly anxious of what he is about to do.

Remus takes slow steps, careful steps towards the shower. As he nears, he catches the sound of faint gasps and soft moans. He sees Sirius curl his lip in and bite down on it and sees the glint of perfect white teeth.

Oh, god. Sirius is stunning.

He jumps as Sirius shuffles on his feet, slowly turning around until his back is facing Remus. Now would be the perfect time to run, to escape. This is Remus’ last chance before he is seen.

But, no.

He takes another step. He is at the shower now and he reaches a trembling hand up to the touch the wall as he hesitantly steps over the basin. Hot water meets the ball of his foot and he feels a cool mist that is bouncing off Sirius’ back spray over his chest.

He is so close. He is right there. He can hear each and every breath, each and every moan and whimper. Remus travels his eyes down the length of Sirius’ body, eyeing his toned back, his shapely buttocks and muscly legs.

He hears another groan and jumps once again, snapping his eyes back up to Sirius’ head. Sirius has rolled his head back and he is stroking himself faster.

Remus gulps once more. He steps his other foot over the basin and is now standing in the shower, a mere arm’s reach from Sirius. His breath catches in his throat as he moves forward, his hand outstretched. He is getting closer, closer…

“Moony…”

Remus snaps his hand back in fright, his eyes wide. No, no he wasn’t spotted. No, Sirius was moaning, just moaning his, oh god, just moaned his name.

“Oh, god, Moony…”

Remus stretches his hand out again. He is shaking uncontrollably. He is so terrified and aroused and excited, so hard, he feels like he is going to come. He shuffles closer, closer still, and his fingertips brush against Sirius’ shoulder.

“Oh, god, Moony!”

Remus moves his other hand forward and slides them both over Sirius’ wet shoulders.

“Padfoot,” he whispers. Remus steps in and gently presses his body to Sirius’, his cock meeting the cleft of the other’s arse, his chest meeting the darker-haired boy’s back. Water cascades down his arms and sprays onto his body as he leans in. Breathing shallowly, he presses his lips to Sirius’ ear. “Padfoot.”

It’s as if Sirius has been waiting for him, expecting him. He groans and lets his head fall back against Remus’ shoulder. He turns his head slowly, arching it backwards and their lips meet. It is a brief kiss and Remus slides his hands down Sirius’ back and around his waist to his front. Slowly, his hands go lower and lower, lower until his fingers brush over Sirius’ fingers and, as Sirius takes his hand away from his cock, Remus curls his palm around it.

The boy tilts his hips up and thrusts against Remus’ grip, gasping, and with little more than three firm strokes, Sirius’ body tenses up and he comes, uttering a cry.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Sirius is coming and Remus is holding him and stroking him and kissing him. This must be a dream, it has to be. No, it can’t be! Don’t let it be a dream!

Sirius pulls away from Remus and turns in his arms to face him, panting, his face flushed. Their lips meet again, hungrily this time, and Sirius slowly pushes him backwards. Remus’ back meets the cold tile wall and he gasps, arching away from it. It is a shock, a jolt and ohh, this isn\'t a dream!

Sirius breaks the kiss. He grins and whispers, “I wondered when you would come out of that cupboard, Moony.”