The big bad and the wolf *Completed*

At first, Remus thought that he imagined the sound. Just his addled brain playing tricks on him. It started the night after they returned from shopping. He tried to convince himself that he was imagining things.

But he heard the same sound a few nights in a row. Surely, even if Severus did... indulge, he would put up a privacy charm?

Then again, the man walked nearly nude for days on end. At this point, Remus wouldn’t put it past him to neglect a small detail like a sound barrier.

On the third evening he was tossing and turning, rumpled sheets twisting around him like wine. His door was closed. Severus’ door was closed. So how was it possible that he could hear...

Unless...

Maybe he’s having a nightmare?

Oddly, that thought had never crossed his mind until that moment. Detangling himself from the sheets, nearly ripping them, Remus walked across the hall and stopped. Sure enough, there it was: that sound.

Laboured breaths and low moaning followed by the occasional grunt.

His hand was halfway to the doorknob when he paused. What if Severus didn’t have a nightmare? What if Severus was doing exactly what Remus thought he was doing? And even if it was a nightmare - would Remus’ presence be welcomed?

No, he was sure that he wouldn’t be welcome in that room, no matter what. Considering everything, his brain didn’t play tricks on his mind alone. Other parts of his anatomy did some impressive tricks, too. One, in particular, tenting his briefs in an extremely revealing way. Most definitely it wouldn’t bode well if he barged into the room now.

Stifling a frustrated growl, he returned to his room. He paced around, hoping that his not-so-little problem would go away. It was too soon after the full moon and his nerves were still raw.

Remus tossed himself on the bed. Walking in circles with an erection wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. Bringing Severus here wasn’t the best idea, either. It seemed that he was full of bad ideas as off late.

But what he could do?

He owed Severus. They all were in debt to that man, yet no one wanted to help. Remus couldn’t stand aside and watch—not anymore. He’d been watching, for a good part of his life. He’d watched even when Andromeda took his son.

He’d lost everything he cared for—everything except Severus.

Admittedly, he’d never had Severus to begin with. But if he could put a damper on his own runaway hormones, he could help Severus.

He could atone for his silence.

What he certainly wasn’t expecting was that as the days passed, bit by excruciating bit, his imagination and his body rebelled. Remus couldn’t remember—when was the last time he felt like this? Randy and giddy and frustrated?

Maybe I could...but what if he hears me?

Remus had no qualms about taking matters into his own hands, but that usually didn’t involve vivid images of one Severus Snape. Now, he had very vivid images of his house guest even without the added pleasure of a wank.

With a growl, he took a spare pillow and tucked it between his thighs, attempting to squash his now painful erection. That... Did not help one bit. His pelvis worked in rhythm, grinding him against the soft surface while his brain worked overtime.

Remus imagined how it would look if he ran a tongue over Severus' oddly hairless chest. Licking, nipping and kissing the skin. He wondered how Severus' skin would taste. Judging by the smell, a bit of salty with a bitter tang. Something like pine needles or fresh herbs, maybe. Remus refused to dwell on the fact that he knew how fresh pine needles tasted.

In retrospect, humping the pillow really didn’t help his issue either. So he decided to take matters into his own hands, or hand as it happened to be. Tugging on his cock with zeal, Remus allowed his imagination to run wild.

He closed his eyes and imagined that instead of his, it was Severus' hand around his cock. His movements slowed as he imagined Severus teasing him, bringing him to the brink and then a few steps back. With another frustrated growl, he summoned a jar of lube. Remus nearly whined when he let go of his cock to open the jar and to reposition himself for better access.

Coating the fingers of one hand, he shifted onto his belly. Raising his butt high, he reached to play at his entrance, smearing the lube and probing. He didn’t do this often— after all, it wasn’t easy to finger oneself while tugging on one’s own cock, for him. Remus never claimed to be proficient at that “tap your head and rub your belly at the same time” game.

But now he fumbled and shifted until he found the right angle. Easing one finger inside he hissed slightly at the burn. That ache reminded him of how long it had been since he had any actual penetrative sex.

I guess it is like riding a broom.

Finally, settling into a thrusting—if limited depth—motion, he wiggled his free hand back to his neglected cock. Very fast, one finger turned out to be less than what his body needed. He imagined Severus behind him, thrusting his fingers in a shallow tease. He added another finger and winced slightly—at the stretch and the angle.

Remus could almost hear an order barked in Severus' cross voice ‘ Bring yourself off. ’ He resumed tugging on his prick and wiggled his fingers with heightened enthusiasm, biting his lips to prevent whimpers.

If I can hear him, he doesn’t necessarily have to hear me.

It was over too soon for him.

With a muffled yelp into the pillow, Remus rolled to the side. Muscles trembling, one hand still squeezing on his deflating cock, the fingers of the other still lodged inside him. Pain in his shoulder and the tenderness in his butt reminded him that he could disentangle himself.  

He had a few moments of bliss before the guilt crept its way into his mind. Long ago Remus had made a deal with himself—never to fantasize about unreachable blokes.

Severus... Severus was in that category. He was unreachable on so many levels that Remus didn’t know where to begin. It was an unnecessary self-punishment, but over the years he’d come to see Severus on the same level as his curse. He just couldn’t escape it, so he learned how to live with it and control it as much as it was possible.

However, recent developments—living with the vitriol-tongued source of his affections had disrupted his balance. More and more, he caught himself daydreaming about Severus' hands. Or lips. Or skin, or... Other parts. Lately, he’d thought more and more about how endowed Severus was or how would he taste.

And that irked him.

This was wrong. Maybe he could talk to Severus, point out that Remus could hear him. A complaint of sorts, perhaps.