Cheers

The year after Voldemort’s fall led to celebration after celebration in the wizarding world, most of which were gala events that every surviving Order member received invitation to. Tonight’s was particularly decadent, hosted in a ballroom in the Ministry building itself.

Remus usually politely declined his invitations, but he had been pressure by Harry to attend. So he lingered by the bar, sipping a delicate champagne and eating roasted nuts by the handfuls. He had opted to wear his finest robes, which were quite fine indeed – being a war hero somehow outweighed the threat of being a werewolf, and so Remus had found himself with a sudden wealth of opportunity for profitable jobs. It seemed the effort of his appearance was lost on most of the other guests, though, as the majority were a sea of unrecognizable faces.

He was pulled from his lull when a familiar face appeared and even came toward him. Remus had not seen Bill since… well, since the party Charlie had thrown after the Quidditch Leagues, weeks ago now. He managed not to flush at the memory. And while Bill had been delectable then, he was now stunningly handsome, with his hair neatly brushed and pulled sleekly back. He wore a striking Muggle tuxedo, and he had replaced his typical dragon fang earring with a small gold stud.

He had cleaned himself up, but he was still undeniably the same Bill Weasley, still carried himself with a confidence that threatened to spill over to cockiness with one wrong move. And now he was close, ordering a glass of champagne for himself before he turned to smile at Remus, with his wide, sensuous mouth and perfect white teeth. “Cheers?” he asked, raising his glass to Remus.

“Cheers,” Remus replied, and they both took swallows much too improper for expensive champagne.

They made small talk while they drank, though after the initial glass of champagne, Bill ordered them each a glass of scotch, declaring that it was just as gentlemanly but that it lacked the snobbery that seemed to accompany champagne. It only took the one glass – half, for Remus, who took more careful sips – before Bill had seemingly had enough of idle chat.

He leaned much too close to Remus, invading his personal space the way only drunks and aspirant lovers could; Remus wondered, vaguely, which one Bill was nearer to. Then Bill said, “I don’t like this sort of bland talk when you know full well what I want from you.”

“Do I?” Remus asked, and then took another sip of his drink, not quite turned to face him.

The tip of Bill’s nose brushed the side of his face, warm breath gusting in his ear when Bill spoke. “Coy doesn’t suit you, Remus,” he said. “I prefer those who aren’t ashamed of what they want.” Remus turned his head, eyeing him askance, and Bill grinned; he had won with that, hadn’t he? So he said, “Guess what I’ve got on under all this.”

Which was how Remus found himself in another washroom with a naked Bill Weasley trapped between himself and the sink, though this time, the room was locked and silenced for the sake of everyone’s modesty. He was delighted to find that the nipple rings that had so fascinated him before had been traded for gold hoops, and when he dragged the leather tie from Bill’s hair, he gave one a vicious twist, eliciting a sharp gasp and a rough buck of hips.

Remus leaned down to the other one and bit - hard - then tugged at the ring with his teeth. His other hand slid down to prod and pry at his entrance, only to find it slick for him already. Bill gave him that same wicked grin that had won him over in the first place. “Charmed to keep me wet just for this,” he purred, and Remus had the most glorious vision of Bill working his wand in and out of himself.

“So you expected this to happen?” he asked, plucking again at a ring, tormenting the reddened, swollen flesh. Bill only leered at him. This had most certainly been premeditated, not just an idea Bill had had, and that was enough a compliment that he ignored the insult to his willpower. Instead, he bared his teeth at him, then backed away long enough to order, “Turn around. Hands on the sink.”

Bill did as he was told, and Remus ran a hand down the crease of that gorgeous arse, slipping just the tip of his middle finger into that tight hole. He watched Bill’s reaction in the mirror, and Bill’s blue eyes locked on Remus’ reflection. Satisfied with that, Remus moved in to line his cock up, then leaned into him, prick working its way inside that grasping, clenching heat.

When Bill moaned prettily for him, Remus settled his hands at the other man’s hips and shoved, hard, viciously into him. Bill’s head fell back with a grunt, and Remus tangled a hand in that thick, glorious hair, shoving his head forward again. “Watch,” Remus growled. Bill was obedient, despite all his arrogance before, and Remus grinned, teeth bared like fangs. He reached around to flick at one of those red, raw nipples, then pinched and twisted, Bill groaning his encouragement.

Bill’s flushed cock just barely peeked over the edge of the sink in the mirror. Remus commanded, “Touch yourself,” reaching another hand up to grasp at his other nipple. Bill’s hand wrapped around his cock and fisted it roughly, messily out of sync with all of Remus’ efforts. But that hardly seemed to matter, because it only took a few more thrusts, a few more pumps of Bill’s wrist, a few more tugs and twists of Remus’ fingers, and Bill climaxed, hot spunk splattering the mirror, his body tightening fantastically around Remus’ cock.

Bill slumped, arms weakly balancing himself against the sink, still watching just as Remus had commanded. Remus’ fingers pinched sharply and Bill very nearly whimpered, the abused flesh looking dark and swollen. Then Remus shoved hard into that arse and pressed Bill forward, almost into the mirror, as he came in long, thick spurts.

They collapsed against the sink like that, Remus’ hands smoothing gently down Bill’s sweating chest. Remus had to wonder what Bill might be like in a normal place – say, a bed – and reminded himself to ask about a next time. …After he caught his breath.