A New Routine

It had been three weeks, one day, eight hours and so many minutes since Remus had stopped inventing new fantasies about Charlie Weasley – mostly because Charlie had filled them all, some of them more than once, and Remus had run out of ideas.



He had stopped wanking to his imagination, instead calling on delicious memories of Charlie’s lips and tongue and hands, the feel of his scars under Remus’ fingertips – slick ones from burns, welted ones from scratches and one strangely puckered from a vicious bite – and the play of muscles under his skin, the way they tightened or relaxed, depending on just how Remus touched him.



He didn’t see Charlie every day, as Charlie did have work in Romania, but it seemed Charlie was willing to Apparate back, most nights, and return to work early in the morning. He had not come last night, though, or at all yesterday, or the day before, and Remus had to wonder if Charlie had stayed away due to the full moon.



It was a rather distressing thought, that Charlie might have finally recognized him for what he was and wanted to avoid him. The wolf inside him reared up at it, sure that Charlie needed to be claimed as his, needed to be shown who made the rules, but Remus wearily shoved that down and went about his day the best he could in his weakened condition.



It was when the sun had just begun to kiss the horizon that Remus finally retired to his room again, settling down with a book to wait for his potion and then for the moon. He had only read one page when the knock came at his door; Snape was unusually early. He pushed himself weakly out of bed, and he went to answer the door.



On the other side stood Charlie, holding the steaming goblet of Wolfsbane with a wary smile. “Told the grumpy old bugger I’d gladly deliver this for him. He didn’t seem too upset by it.” Remus let him in without a word, and Charlie shut the door behind himself, then locked it for good measure.



Charlie went to set the goblet on the nightstand, leaving Remus by the door with the same vague expression he’d worn since he had opened it. He watched Charlie sit on the bed, one leg propped on it and the other still planted on the floor. Charlie looked at him curiously for a moment before he said, “After last night, I was afraid you might have this funny idea that I wouldn’t want you now that the full moon's here. I meant to be here yesterday to see you, but there was an accident in one of the camps.”



When Remus still was too unsure to say anything, Charlie pulled off his protective dragon-hide vest, then the black Muggle t-shirt beneath it, and he twisted on the bed to let Remus see the new, red skin that slashed across his back, disrupting Charlie’s lovely tattoo. “This is what kept me away.”



Remus moved then, settled on the bed to examine his back, pressing his fingertips to the edge, where Charlie’s golden skin met fresh pink and then the darker red. Charlie tensed, hissed a little, but he didn’t stop him. “That bad?” Remus asked quietly.



“It’s pretty raw,” Charlie admitted, “but the blistering has already gone. We had a mediwitch on site, thankfully. She did a good job, all things considered. And Snape gave me this.” Charlie twisted a little to pull a vial of oil from his pocket. “Says it will barely even scar, if I apply this daily until it runs out.”



“Lie down,” Remus told him, taking the vial from Charlie.



Charlie gave him a funny look, then did as he was told, though he pushed himself up on his elbows and craned his neck to look at Remus. As Remus carefully uncapped the oil and began to very delicately spread it, just around the edges to begin, Charlie laughed softly. “I meant to come keep you company yesterday. Maybe give you a good shag, if you were up to it. Now you’re the one taking care of me.”



“You wanted to take care of me?” Remus’ fingers stopped for a moment, then resumed when he realized that perhaps Charlie might read something into that.



“Not that you need it, I guess. You’ve spent most of your life going through it by yourself, but I thought maybe –” Charlie hissed through his teeth when Remus touched what seemed to be an especially sore area. “– maybe you’d appreciate it.”



Remus capped the vial again, set it down on the nightstand, then wiped the oil off on his trousers. He sat back against the headboard, a pillow propped behind him, as it had been when he’d been reading. Charlie sat up, then, looking at him quietly. “I… I’m a dark creature, Charlie. It seems a great deal to ask of you. And do you really want to spend three evenings out of the month taking care of an old werewolf?”



Charlie smiled, then crawled over to him, resting a hand gently on Remus’ hip. He laughed when he said, “Because you’re so old, of course. Practically ancient.” When Remus only looked at him, he sobered, but his tone was gentle. “It doesn’t bother me, I promise. I take care of dark creatures every day; it’s what I do. I like it. And even Snape admits that with the Wolfsbane, you’re as harmless as a kitten, unless you decide to be otherwise.”



Remus sighed, and Charlie kissed his jaw. He said quietly, “I don’t want you to have to see—”



“I won’t watch you transform, if that would upset you.”



Charlie was staring up at him now, eyes a dark blue for now, and Remus finally gave in. “If… if you’re willing to stay, you may.”



Charlie smiled, his hand running up Remus’ side, under Remus’ jumper. “I’m willing,” was all he said before he tipped his head up to kiss Remus.



It was slow and calm, softer than Charlie’s usual kisses, more careful. Remus relaxed into them, and Charlie guided him down, until Remus was lying fully on his back, Charlie easing between his spread knees. Remus’ hands grasped at Charlie’s shoulders, careful not to slide them too far down, careful not to dig his fingers in too hard.



Charlie used his wand to disrobe Remus, under the excuse that he wouldn’t want to ruin his clothes with the transformation, though Charlie’s half-smirk gave away his true intentions, even if they weren’t already obvious. Charlie had no excuse when another flick of his wand removed all of his own clothing.



They moved slowly then, Charlie’s injury and Remus’ general weakness keeping them from moving too quickly. Charlie wrapped a wide hand around both their cocks, pulling slowly as they moved against one another, his lips pressed into the crook of Remus’ neck. His other hand stroked the inside of Remus’ thigh, and Remus draped an arm across Charlie’s shoulders, the other smoothing over his hair.



Charlie was young and impulsive and full of urgency, usually, but every move he made now was made with care, gentle and thoughtful, and he seemed to keep himself in check. His mouth moved up and over Remus’ jaw, back down to the hollow below Remus’ ear, over his throat, and the movement of his hips against Remus’ was slow, steady.



Remus came with a sigh across his belly, and Charlie pushed himself against Remus’ hipbone, following him soon after. Even that held no urgency, only the slow, hot swirl, finally released like an unfurling of wings.



Later, the wolf watched over Charlie while he slept, sprawled on his belly and an arm curling around his pillow, rather than allowing his head to rest on it. Moony climbed onto the bed and gave a lick to the bottom of Charlie’s foot, which earned him a curl of toes. The second time, Charlie jerked away from the sensation with a grunt. Moony huffed, then curled there at the foot of the bed, with the taste of Charlie’s skin on his tongue, and even as he fell asleep, he left one ear raised, just in case.