Quiet Night

He knew they’d cast a silencing charm. It was obvious by the way he could watch the soft sway of the bed curtains, the gentle rock of the bed. And when the moon slid out from behind the clouds and shown its pale light through the open window he could see their silhouette, faintly cast through the slit where the panels of fabric didn’t quite meet. It faded into the surrounding darkness and then was gone as the moon discovered that there was no use to playing voyeur tonight and hid itself once again.

He knew they’d cast a silencing charm, and yet he could still hear them. The scene brought back memories of those nights when they had escaped to the dormitory, too eager for one another to think of precautions, and he had made his way into the room serenaded by their whimpers and moans, howling and whining. Every time this happened he would cast the spell himself, assuring their privacy from any prying ears that might approach the door. Why he felt he had to guard even Peter from this, he didn’t know. Or perhaps he did. It just bothered him to think of it as greed. When he chose to be honest with himself, however, he was forced to admit it. Every time he caught them in the act he would listen to them, chancing fate, daring the gods to let someone, anyone, catch him. But no one ever did, and he would tap the curtains with his wand and merely recall the things he had heard as he lay alone at night.

Tonight was a quiet night anyway, he decided, watching the delicate motion. It was slow, rhythmic, and romantic. Their passion was there, but it was more subdued, calm, loving. For some reason he couldn’t quite place, it was these nights more than the wild ones that got to him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that what they had was what he wanted. He was no virgin, having been with many of Lily’s friend in the past two years in an attempt to get closer to her. There had even been a series of drunken escapades with a Slytherin boy, which he was sure he would regret for the rest of his life. But no matter what it was or who it was with, it was always fierce and often rough. The elusive kisses and tender penetration, soothing caresses and hushed orgasms – those were the things he wanted to share.

Biting his lip, he turned his head away and closed his eyes. They were moaning in his mind and he could picture them perfectly, too. The glimpse he had caught of their joint shadow had shown the larger of the two on top. Quiet night – Sirius inside of Remus – and here he lay cold and alone with visions of it dancing behind his eyelids. Well, alone at least. He was far from cold at this point, as his hand slipped past the waistband of his shorts. It was wrong to think of two of your closests friends this way, or so he had always tried to tell himself, but he always failed in stopping his fingers from wrapping tight around his growing erection.

He hadn’t realized he’d been sweating, from the early summer night or strastrain of controlling himself he wasn’t sure, until a dimming corner of his mind registered that he wasn’t getting the friction of a dry palm. His tongue flashed out across his lips and he left them parted slightly as he rolled his head back to face the bed his friends were sharing. Eyes falling open again, he let the sounds in his mind synchronize with the movement before him. A blush touched his cheeks as he stroked himself almost lazily, debating over which of the two he wanted to try to match. It didn’t take long for him to decide on Sirius. His best friend was the one person he could tie with on almost anything. So he pumped himself harder, tighter, trying to catch up as if it were a race. Teeth sank into a soft lower lip, breath hissing in and out, and eyes slipped to half mast behind the flash of his spectacles.

Once he could feel the shiver in his own limbs that he couee iee in the upper form in front of him, he slowed his hand to match the others’ pace. Either he was too eager himself, or Sirius was practically torturing himself for Remus’ sake. But the pleasure was drawn out with it as the slickness of sweat was replaced by the lubrion oon of pre-cum. His teeth worried at his lip and he struggled to keep his eyes open, his ears ringing with moans and whimpers, the ghosts of past encounters. He lost himself to it, rocking with the silhouette that blurred in his dying vision. Everything around him lost all meaning and coherency, and all that existed in his world was that shadow. As it quickened, so did he, and he bit down harder to fight the high whine that threatened to rise from his throat.

He ended with a whimpering shudder, back arched sharply, lip bloody, and hand sticky. His sheets were drenched, clinging to his skin, and he would need a new pair of shorts if he was going to sleep comfortably. For now, however, he merely lay shivering, one hand keeping a lax grip on his penis while the other loosened its hold on the mattress.

He didn’t realize his eyes were closed until he heard a soft snicker. They shot open then, just in time to see Remus blushing over a slightly amused as as he jabbed Sirius sharply in the ribs. The latter had pushed the curtains aside and was watching his best friend with a wicked smirk and a quirked brow. A barking laugh followed as he pulled his own curtains closed tight.