All Things

Pairing: Sirius/Remus, implied Sirius/Remus/James
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all other characters from the popular series are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling and like all other authors, I\'m merely borrowing them for my own satisfaction. Enjoy.
A/N: Summary is the last stanza of \"Song for a Girl\" by John Dryden. (1631-1700)

Sirius tossed the mirror aside. “You know, we almost made it too.”

Remus gave a soft snort from behind his book.

“If it hadn’t been for Snivellus…”

“You can’t always blame him, Sirius. Face it, this plan was not one of your better ones.” Or one of his brighter ones, for that matter.

His reply was an indignant snort, the animagus tossing himself chest first into his bed.

Remus tucked his feet under him, and closed the book he’d been reading – The Mystical Guide to Everyday Things – and looked at his friend.

“Can I help it if I’m bored?” said Sirius, voice muffled by the bedsheets.

“Yes,” replied Remus, flippantly.

Sirius rolled over unto his back, arms above his head and stared up at his canopy. “What now then?”

“What do you mean?”

“James is in detention. Peter is off somewhere. You’re reading-”

“Was reading,” he corrected.

“Was,” amended Sirius. “And I’m bored!”

“Well, I’ve put down my book now. Any ideas forthcoming?”

“No,” replied his friend, shaking his head, obsidian strands falling hither tither in a soft array of shadow and light.

Remus sighed. He wasn’t very good with plans.

For a while, they just sat there. Remus was astounded at how long Sirius was holding out, quite frankly. Sirius, for his part, continued to stare blankly up at the canopy. A far away look in his eye if you were near enough to see. And then he blinked.

“I’ve an idea.”

“Oh good. I was beginning to worry,” replied Remus, only half-serious.

“Shall we play a game?”

“Does it involve glue? Because the last game was awfully messy and-”

“No, no glue.”

“Is there a chance we’ll get detention?” After all, he was a Prefect, and it looked bad.

Sirius thought it over, catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “Possibly,” he finally replied.

Remus frowned. “Possibly?”

“Only if we get caught.”

Because they had such a grand record.

“How much detention?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On how far we get before someone catches us.”

Sighing, Remus got up, and looked around. “Does James still have the map?”

“Oh, we don’t need it.”

“How about the cloak then?”

“Nope?”

“What exactly do you have planned?” asked Remus, folding his arms and quirking an eyebrow.

Sirius sat up. “Don’t be so paranoid, Moony. We won’t even be leaving the dorm.”

“We…won’t?”

“No, we won’t,” he replied, moving to ward the door.

“Oh…Oh! We’re not going to…do stuff to Prongs’ bed again, are we? That rash he got from the last time-”

“No, we’re not going to magic his sheets again. Although, you must admit, that was rather funny.”

“You didn’t seem to think so, when he was trying to hex your bollocks off, did you?”

Shifting uncomfortably, he placed his hand to himself in memory. “No, maybe not then.” His voice sounded a bit strained, and Remus followed the curve of his arm down. Across his delicate wrist, and over long fingers, and Oh God-!!!

He took an unconscious step back, and Sirius frowned, before looking down at himself. Breaking into a smile, he looked to Remus. “That’s the game.”

“Is it now?” Remus replied, somewhat brokenly. Dear Gods, he was in trouble!

“Hmm,” remarked Sirius.

Stepping up to him, he gently eased Remus back into his bed and sat him down. The werewolf watched, as he padded back into the center of the room, and flicked his wand, turning down the lights. Remus looked around, before settling back on Sirius. The Animagus was arrayed in pretty tones of gray and green. Giving off an almost visual heat, a soft radiant glow about his skin.

And Remus was aware of the pulse in his neck. And the movement of every limb. And he thought it was rather dangerous, Sirius’ little game, and was about to tell him so when the darker boy began to sway. Remus was instantly enthralled. Staring at him, as he moved and breathed. Long limbs in a graceful dance of swiveling hips and ribbon like arms. A slender neck, and smooth shoulders.

Sirius’ game took a turn now. Lovely hands, and experienced fingers plucking at buttons and ribbons. Drawing at knots. His tie, his belt. He kicked off his shoes.

Like a snake sheds it’s skin, Sirius slithered free of his entrapment. Every little piece of constricting clothing. Every string and chord that concealed his beauty, pulling free in surrender.

Remus watched in awe, as succulent, tanned flesh was barred, inch by inch. Down tumbled each piece, like the crumbled walls of his resolve. He watched, as they - every last piece - puddled on the floor. Until at last, the very object of his most fervent desire was lain completely bare to him.

He wasn’t aware of licking his lips, but when Sirius smiled triumphantly, he knew immediately he’d lost. Sirius swaggered over playfully, seductively, triumphant. Carefully, deliberately, he settled in Remus’ lap, looping his arms about his neck. Remus swallowed reflexively.

“So…” said Sirius.

“So…” echoed Remus, slightly strangled. He counted himself lucky that he could form the sentence though. At least he wasn’t a complete idiot.

Sirius smiled at him.

Yes, he wasn’t doing that bad; for a teenage werewolf, with a lapful of aroused best mate. Nope, not at all.

“So…” said Sirius, and leaned in to kiss him.

It was soft and gentle. Deceptively so. Sirius was mapping him out, he knew. Working his way around him, as his tongue danced softly over lips, and into Remus’ mouth. Feeling out his foundation, as long fingers threaded through light hair. Creating a blueprint of him, as he pressed closer.

Remus surrendered - willingly mind. Letting Sirius lower him, lay him back against the bed. Let him undress him, watched him carefully. Strong, knowing hands, and sure, confident smile, and burning, needy eyes. All of him.

All he was, and all he’d grow to be, right here, in this one perfect moment. And then Sirius was moving down his body. Flutters of tongue and licks. Pleasurable sucks. Deep probes against his abdomen, tongue thrusting and wiggling in and around his navel.

Remus sighed. He groaned. He moaned and writhed. Sirius always excelled at something, once he set his mind to it. Always gave his all. He was so passionate in every little thing. And not even this could demand any less or more, than his every attention. This discovering Remus. This claiming him. This completing of him.

He swallowed, throat stretched and bared. Fingers lost in dark strands, that swallowed his every caress, just as Sirius’ mouth devoured him. Every last bit.

They’d both come twice, by the time Sirius looked him in the eyes, his own light ones flashing, and a cocky grin on his face. Remus didn’t have time to analyze the look, as fingers pressed against him. He moaned, drawing Sirius closer as he arched into the touch. Needing more. Needing him.

As a finger slipped into him, he gasped, legs falling apart, body tightening around it. Sirius swiveled it about; getting him used to the feeling. One finger became two. Two became three. And before he knew it, Remus was begging, and not in a very flattering manner, he thought.

But, Sirius drank it in, trembling with power. As his fingers crooked to one side, Remus saw stars. Shockwaves throbbing within him, rockets of sensation shooting up his spine, to pool in a pleasant buzz at the base of his head. Sirius was drugging him, with his body.

With the tongue in his mouth. With the lips that murmured endearments against his skin, breathing life into his mouth. Life that his lungs soaked up most happily.

Long fingers gliding in and out, stroking him to his very core. And Remus let him. Every step of the way. Let him lead. Let him want, and take. Overpower, dominate, whatever you’d like.

Sirius tensed, as Remus clawed eight perfect marks into his back. Sighing, gasping, spouting pretty expletives, as he was sucked into the tight, welcoming heat of the werewolf’s body. Straining, bleeding, thrusting against him, atop him, all over him.

His legs wrapped about Sirius’ hips, locking at the ankles. Thighs to thighs, and arse to pelvic bone. Arms about his shoulders. Teeth to his neck and ear. Drawing him in deeper and deeper, until Sirius couldn’t stand it. Bracing himself and thrusting to his demise.

Remus traced pretty lines of pearlescent blood, licking and lapping, and making new ones. Sirius’ breath a harsh ragging sound in his ear. Hearts pounding. Against one another, beside one another, within one another. The world tipped over, and Remus arched, inhaling for all that air was worth. A long gasping wheeze, as he was pushed. Pushed, pushed, pushed. Over and under and around, and finally, finally over.

He screamed. Sirius riding out his pleasure, and meeting up with him. Spilling between them, within him. Sharing their secrets with one another.

Gasping into one another’s faces, they locked eyes. Harsh breaths falling away. Hearts catching up, clinging, beating in harmony.

Remus arched again, only half-sure why. Sirius dipped forward to trail a fiery path of devotion across his skin. Down his neck and over his collarbone. Remus’ hands, clutching tightly. Blood stained and tangled in dark, dark hair.

James stares, and clears his throat, and they turn to look at him.

“Oi, Prongs, how long have you been standing there?”

James doesn’t answer. Shocked and still. Frozen, as burned images replay in his mind. Over and over. Limbs and lips, and tangled bodies. Whispered words, and feverish kisses. And his bed beneath them.

“Prongs? Oi, Prongs!”

And so perfect. Their union, so perfect. Beautiful, and musical. And all things light and dark.

“James!”

Everything he wanted.

“JAMES!”

James started, as the fog lifted, momentarily lost for breath. His chest feels tight, and the pillow bounces off, and makes a soft ‘thump’ beside him.

Sitting up, he rubs at his chest. “Oww…”

“About bloody time!”

James looks up at Sirius, poised to toss another pillow at him. Behind him, Remus, watching them, half interested, as he does up his school shirt. His robes, hanging open, and his hair tousled from sleep.

Rubbing his chest, James glares, before immediately flushing. His sheets are slick and stick to him in unpleasant places. He can’t believe he’d just been dreaming. And about his best mates! Having sex - of all things!!

“You alright?” Sirius asks, and James looks down embarrassed.

Sirius gives a snort, and tosses the pillow away. “Just, clean up, and get dressed. We’ll be late for practice.”

“Right,” mumbles James, and draws the curtains tight, blushing heavily now.

“What’s with him?” asks Peter, on his way out.

“Morning problems,” replies Sirius, with a vulgar jerking motion.

Remus thwaps him and he laughs.

“Well, hurry it on up then, Prongs! We’ll meet you up!”

“Okay!” he calls, still clutching himself in the darkness.

He hears them leave, the door closing with a defining click, and wonders if he can ever look them in the faces again. Sure, in time, he could. But, for the morning? And the next few days?! Sighing, he plops back into his pillow, and wraps his arms beneath his head. Staring up at the canopy, he’s quiet. Contemplative.

Finally, he decides he really ought to get up. Else risk them coming up after him, and he’d rather handle this on his own terms, thank you very much. Getting up, he pushes aside his bedclothes, and wiggles out of his boxers.

In the bathroom, under the hot spray of the shower, he can’t help but think of it. Of them. Remus’ sighs, and Sirius’ grunts, and how he very much wanted to be a part of it all. A part of them. A part of perfection.

His hand slides easily to the hard, insistent pulse between his legs. Closing his eyes, he braces a hand on the shower wall, the spray hitting him over the head, and rolling down his back. Over his shoulders, and down his spine, like Remus’ bloody trails along Sirius.

Warmth permeates the sensitive area between the firm globes of his arse, and he moans, pressing into his hand more fiercely. He bites his lip, thinking of Sirius’ mouth, and how well it detailed Remus’ body. Thinks of Remus’ body. So agile and pliant.

Thinks of a room heated in passion, and mingled breaths that caress lungs and throat. Passion that burns within the blood, contagious and masterful in its intent. Grinding, and twisting, and thrusting and biting, and sucking, and Gods! Gods! He’s coming, and he can’t stop himself. Doesn’t want to.

Falls to his knees because his legs won’t support him, and the tile is slippery beneath his palm. Comes with no remorse, and gasps desperately. As heated air clamps down about him. Threatens to strangle him.

He pushes the curtain back just a bit, and the cool air that rushes in is both relief and torture. He sits in the stall for a long time, under the spray.

Sirius comes in, steps around carefully. “James, are you okay?” comes his worried voice. He pads forward cautiously, finds James an unresponsive heap under an unrelenting spray.

Quickly, he turns the water off. Remus comes in as he pushes the shower curtain aside.

“James? James?” He grasps James’ head in his hands, tilting it back gently. “Did you hit your head?” And James has never seen such a look in his eyes. Such a raw, passionate look. Sirius is scared. He’s shaken his unshakable best mate.

Remus joins them, crouching down beside Sirius, who’s running careful fingers over the back of James’ head. Remus touches his shoulder, and James blinks.

“Hey,” he says, and they both stare.

“Hey?!” echoes Sirius. “I’m bloody about to keel over and all you can say is ‘hey’?!”

He releases him quickly, and James, chuckling, leans back against the tiles.

“Arse,” says Sirius, getting up.

Remus just looks at him, and James turns a smile on him.

“Are you really all right, James?”

“I’m fine. Had an epiphany is all. Knocked me off my arse.”

He chuckles, as Remus helps him up and hands him a towel.

“An epiphany he says,” Sirius goes on, tossing up his arms.

“What about?” asks Remus softly. Always supportive, Remus.

James looks them over. One, then another.

“You reckon you’d like to play a game?”

“A game?” says Remus.

Sirius looks at him through the corner of his eyes, arms folded petulantly over his chest.

James smiles. “Yes, a game.”

Remus looks to Sirius, and Sirius stares hard at James. He’s going to cave, James knows. Because he knows Sirius. Probably better than Sirius knows himself. “What’s the game then?” he finally responds. Remus looks back to James who smirks.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing each by the wrist.

“Where are we going?”

“To the room.”

“To get the map?”

“No.”

“To get the cloak?”

“Nope.”

“What then?”

“To play the game of course.”

“We’re going to play it inside?”

“Will it get us detention?”

“No. We won’t even be leaving the room, I promise.”

They look to each other, then to James.

“And what about Peter?”

“You might want a bigger towel, Prongs.”

“Shhh…” says James, and pulls them through the door.

It’s easy, because they trust him, even as they’re likely both thinking he’s a few sickles short, and needs a trip to the infirmary. And maybe he does, he thinks, as he wards the door. He turns around, finding them both sitting on his bed, looking at him expectantly. He smiles. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t.