Nowhere Now
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Remus/Sirius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,895
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Remus/Sirius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,895
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Nowhere Now
we know we’re lost, we’re lost in nowhere now
-- The Secret Machines, “Nowhere Again”
---
Things were strained. They weren’t the same, would never be the same, but Sirius was here and he was alive and if he wasn’t exactly healthy, he wasn’t as unhealthy as Remus and maybe that should be good enough.
Sirius howled as often as he did, haunted by his demons, by dementors that weren’t there, and there were times when it was all Remus could do not to hurl whatever he was holding and tear at his hair and tear at Sirius’ hair. Perhaps Remus would soon share his madness, and then at least they’d both have some real company.
Not everyone noticed; Sirius maintained fairly well when he knew there were guests in the house, after all, or when he spoke to Harry, because, mad as he was, he still had his pride, kept his sickness buried and lurking and ready to spring again when he thought Remus was fast asleep. Albus turned a blind eye, which meant most of the other Order members did, as well. Snape saw, but took it as proof of what he’d always believed.
It was only Remus who really heard it, who really looked beneath the surface, who saw that something dreadful was coming. And Sirius, Sirius who’d always been so good at intuiting things, who’d always known when it was time to expect the worst, he knew. He was reckless and restless, determined to escape this prison as much as he had been to escape the last, and he knew what would come.
Remus understood when Sirius climbed into his bed finally, looking mad even with his freshly trimmed hair, the shadow left from that morning’s shave. His eyes sparkled with it, and his hands danced over Remus’ skin, as restless as Sirius had always been.
They moved, shaky and fumbling, over Remus’ scar, over the thin, light hair on his legs and arms and chest, never stopping, and Sirius’ eyes did the same, drinking in all of it at once, and as it had always been between them, Remus let him take what he wanted, just sat back and watched Sirius do as he pleased.
Sirius’ fingers moved erratically, fast and then slow, smooth and then jerkily, jittering down his body, but Sirius’ eyes finally fixed on his face, and Sirius kissed him, mouth pressing vacuum tight and sucking the breath from him and forcing his tongue in, and Remus did what he could to respond, though he didn’t think it mattered either way.
Even so, his cock grew hard against the knee pressed between his legs, balls drawing tight, and Sirius’ hands, fluttering, impatient, slunk and twisted around his prick, working it quickly. His mouth peeled away from Remus’, dipping down to brush his neck, his collar, his chest, and down, down, down, stubble scraping Remus’ skin, until his lips spread and stretched wide around Remus’ twitching cock.
Remus could see Sirius’ hips moving against the mattress in jagged, off-beat motions, and one hand flitted and slid over Remus’ thigh while Sirius’ mouth, his snarling, spitting, sensuous mouth, slid over and over and over Remus’ cock. Sirius’ other hand was sometimes careful, sometimes rough and thoughtless, pulling at the base and sliding over his sac and fingering at his perineum and rubbing at Remus’ arsehole.
He looked over at the window, at the waxing moon, clouds blowing past it unnaturally fast, and he bit back a sharp groan, tangling his fingers in the sheets and giving his hips a sharp thrust, flooding Sirius’ greedy mouth. Sirius’ throat clenched around him as he swallowed, and Remus let his head loll back, eyes on the ceiling and seeing nothing, until he came back to his senses.
Sirius was wanking next to him, and Remus stared, uncertainly reaching out a hand to help. Before he quite touched him, Sirius came, splashing over his belly and hand and down one thigh, one small dribble falling to the sheet. He didn’t bother to clean himself, but crawled forward, his hand resting on Remus’ chest, where he could feel the cooling spunk against his skin, and he grimaced, but he didn’t move.
He didn’t move because he understood what this was about; Sirius was growing more and more and more restless, more crazed from this imprisonment than anything else. And this, this was a sign. Sirius would get out soon, but he knew what would come when he did.
And Remus, as it had always been, would keep his feelings to himself. Sirius understood the consequences of his own actions; Remus could never prevent him from doing as he wanted, and so he wouldn’t even try this time.
-- The Secret Machines, “Nowhere Again”
---
Things were strained. They weren’t the same, would never be the same, but Sirius was here and he was alive and if he wasn’t exactly healthy, he wasn’t as unhealthy as Remus and maybe that should be good enough.
Sirius howled as often as he did, haunted by his demons, by dementors that weren’t there, and there were times when it was all Remus could do not to hurl whatever he was holding and tear at his hair and tear at Sirius’ hair. Perhaps Remus would soon share his madness, and then at least they’d both have some real company.
Not everyone noticed; Sirius maintained fairly well when he knew there were guests in the house, after all, or when he spoke to Harry, because, mad as he was, he still had his pride, kept his sickness buried and lurking and ready to spring again when he thought Remus was fast asleep. Albus turned a blind eye, which meant most of the other Order members did, as well. Snape saw, but took it as proof of what he’d always believed.
It was only Remus who really heard it, who really looked beneath the surface, who saw that something dreadful was coming. And Sirius, Sirius who’d always been so good at intuiting things, who’d always known when it was time to expect the worst, he knew. He was reckless and restless, determined to escape this prison as much as he had been to escape the last, and he knew what would come.
Remus understood when Sirius climbed into his bed finally, looking mad even with his freshly trimmed hair, the shadow left from that morning’s shave. His eyes sparkled with it, and his hands danced over Remus’ skin, as restless as Sirius had always been.
They moved, shaky and fumbling, over Remus’ scar, over the thin, light hair on his legs and arms and chest, never stopping, and Sirius’ eyes did the same, drinking in all of it at once, and as it had always been between them, Remus let him take what he wanted, just sat back and watched Sirius do as he pleased.
Sirius’ fingers moved erratically, fast and then slow, smooth and then jerkily, jittering down his body, but Sirius’ eyes finally fixed on his face, and Sirius kissed him, mouth pressing vacuum tight and sucking the breath from him and forcing his tongue in, and Remus did what he could to respond, though he didn’t think it mattered either way.
Even so, his cock grew hard against the knee pressed between his legs, balls drawing tight, and Sirius’ hands, fluttering, impatient, slunk and twisted around his prick, working it quickly. His mouth peeled away from Remus’, dipping down to brush his neck, his collar, his chest, and down, down, down, stubble scraping Remus’ skin, until his lips spread and stretched wide around Remus’ twitching cock.
Remus could see Sirius’ hips moving against the mattress in jagged, off-beat motions, and one hand flitted and slid over Remus’ thigh while Sirius’ mouth, his snarling, spitting, sensuous mouth, slid over and over and over Remus’ cock. Sirius’ other hand was sometimes careful, sometimes rough and thoughtless, pulling at the base and sliding over his sac and fingering at his perineum and rubbing at Remus’ arsehole.
He looked over at the window, at the waxing moon, clouds blowing past it unnaturally fast, and he bit back a sharp groan, tangling his fingers in the sheets and giving his hips a sharp thrust, flooding Sirius’ greedy mouth. Sirius’ throat clenched around him as he swallowed, and Remus let his head loll back, eyes on the ceiling and seeing nothing, until he came back to his senses.
Sirius was wanking next to him, and Remus stared, uncertainly reaching out a hand to help. Before he quite touched him, Sirius came, splashing over his belly and hand and down one thigh, one small dribble falling to the sheet. He didn’t bother to clean himself, but crawled forward, his hand resting on Remus’ chest, where he could feel the cooling spunk against his skin, and he grimaced, but he didn’t move.
He didn’t move because he understood what this was about; Sirius was growing more and more and more restless, more crazed from this imprisonment than anything else. And this, this was a sign. Sirius would get out soon, but he knew what would come when he did.
And Remus, as it had always been, would keep his feelings to himself. Sirius understood the consequences of his own actions; Remus could never prevent him from doing as he wanted, and so he wouldn’t even try this time.