Waiting

Harry waited for him. Harry always waited for him here, in this room. This was where they met, where Remus made him forget that he was the Boy Who Lived, the boy on whose shoulders rested the fate of the entire wizarding world. So Harry waited, and night after night, Remus came to him, drawn by Harry’s need even more than his own.

Tonight Harry waited with his hands bound to the headboard, black silk knotted tight about his wrists, another bolt of it wrapped as his blindfold. He didn’t like to see, said it helped him forget who he was that much easier, and Remus allowed this, though it was hard not to wonder what Harry did see in his mind’s eye.

Harry had to have heard the door shut behind him, had to have heard him casting wards and silencing charms on the room, had to have heard Remus approaching, but he said nothing. Remus shed his clothes in silence, eyeing Harry’s lean body. Harry was already hard, his cock flushed dark red as it jutted out from the thatch of black curls. His cheeks were pink, and his tongue flicked out to wet his slack lips frequently, his breaths audible.

Remus watched the rise and fall of his chest, counted his ribs as he crawled onto the bed, mattress squeaking and dipping under his weight. He knew what he wanted, tonight, and Harry never minded surprises. He knelt between the boy’s spread thighs, tracing the tip of his wand over the inside of one. Harry shivered as the wood slid over the thin flesh. “Spread wider,” Remus said, and Harry nodded, spreading and planting his feet so his knees were high and wide apart. “Good.”

Remus reached for the jar of oil they kept in the nightstand, letting his wand tip slide through the wiry hairs at the base of Harry’s cock, before he slid it back, grazing so, so gently over Harry’s tight sac, enough that Harry squirmed. His other hand dipped into the oil, and he rubbed it over the pucker of Harry’s entrance.

He brushed the wand back, following the trickle of oil that slipped into Harry’s crease, and he pressed just the end of his thumb into Harry’s hole, watching it sink into the flesh, Harry’s muscles clenching to make it seem a suckling mouth, slurping greedily at his thumb. He slid it free again, and Harry released a small sigh. Remus pulled his wand away to dip it into their jar, then pressed the tip against Harry’s entrance.

Harry gasped, and Remus let the wand slide inside, watching the way the boy trembled from head to curling toes. He fucked him slowly with the wand, leaning down to lap the wet bead of moisture from the tip of Harry’s cock. At that, Harry moaned pathetically: “Please, Remus, oh, please…”

The wand stilled in Harry’s clenching arse, and Remus pulled away to coat his own prick with the oil, before he set it back on the nightstand. Then he slid the wand carefully out, pushing Harry’s legs ever farther up and apart, and he thrust inside him easily. Harry whined and begged, but Remus only told him, “No,” and clamped a hand tightly at the base of Harry’s cock. Remus fucked him with shallow, quick movements, and Harry’s passage was tight and slippery from the oil, hot and clenching around him. It took Remus himself little enough time to come.

When he was finished and had gathered his wits again, he pulled slowly out of Harry, who shuddered at the feel. Then he slid back down Harry’s body, smelling the filth of sex and sweat on the boy’s skin. He tongued one of the boy’s balls, tasting the salty sweat and feeling it tighten dangerously. His mouth moved farther, his tongue doing a long sweep from Harry’s crease to his sac, and Remus felt the clench of that puckered hole as he swiped over it. So he returned to it, tongue tracing the rim of it before poking inside.

Harry writhed, and Remus pushed his hips down to hold him, pressing his mouth to that pucker again. His lips fixed over it, tongue sliding as far in as it could. When Harry’s heels dug into his back, when the boy was soaking with his saliva, he finally pressed his lips tight and sucked. Harry tried again to buck, and Remus could taste the bitterness of his own come on his tongue, mixed with the musky, salty taste of Harry.

Remus took pity, wrapping his hand around Harry’s cock and pumping, finally, while Remus lapped him clean and nibbled mercilessly at that greedy little hole. It only took three strokes, and Harry came in a rush over his own belly, over Remus’ fingers.

Remus reluctantly moved his mouth away from that hole, his chin covered in his own saliva. He licked at his smallest finger, then thought twice about it. Instead, he fed his fingers into Harry’s mouth, letting the boy’s warm, wet tongue clean him off, the way he had cleaned Harry. He plucked up a corner of the top sheet, wiping Harry’s belly over, then admired the diligent swirl of Harry’s tongue before he finally gave the boy a rest. He slid his fingers free, then tapped the knots with his wand.

Harry’s arms came down with a sigh, and he pulled his own blindfold off over his head, then curled up easily against Remus. They didn’t speak, didn’t have to – and Remus didn’t want to – before they fell easily into sleep together.