Entry tags:

nc17, sirius/remus

As-tu déjà aimé?
Name: juliandarling
Title: As-tu déjà aimé?
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1128
Summary: Sirius and Remus have sex. Remus is confused.
Warnings: Masturbation, oral, frottage.


A/N: I don’t like capitalising the pronoun “I” in some pieces. This one just screamed “no capitalisation!” to me. For some reason. If it bugs you, sorry. I welcome constructive criticism.

Les amours qui durent
Font les amants moins beaux.
Leurs caresses, à l'usure,
Ont raison de nos peaux.
-- Les Chansons D’Amour, As-tu déjà aimé?



i cannot breath. cannot breath. there is something holding me back. i stroke, pulling with the desperation only little boys can manage. that sweet sweet ecstasy between my legs, is oh so mine and oh god oh god and then I’m coming, coming all over my hand, leaking between my thin fingers onto the sheets beneath me. i turn over and bury my face in my pillow, smelling myself and a course of guilt and hatred flows through me. the stuff on my fingers makes me feel dirty and i hate sirius for telling me so many years ago about this guilty sweetness that comes from touching myself.

“you just touch,” he’d said, eyes brighter than normal, eyes wide. “you just...” he gave a gesture of helplessness. “should i show you?”

i hesitated. he grinned. that stupid grin which always got us in trouble. that stupid grin that i knew better than my own, hated more than my own.

he reached down and unbuttoned his denim jeans and pulled himself out. i couldn’t look away: his was so much bigger than mine. and a sparse patch of dark hair curled at the base of his cock, something natural. i felt bare in comparison. my dick twitched in my pants.

he ran his hand up and down the length of his penis, teasingly and full of promise. i looked away. my dick was stiffening in my pleated, ironed pants, and i didn’t want to think of why.

“don’t worry, remus, it’s not a big deal,” he reassured me, “everyone does it.” i looked back, seeking his face instead of his crotch. he winked at me, but it was not a wink that set me to worrying like some of his winks did. it was a comforting gesture, a don’t worry, we can grow up together look. i loved him better than i ever had before at that moment.

---

the door of the dorm opens. i crawl under the covers and grab a book.

“sirius?” my voice shakes a bit.

sirius opens the red curtains, poking his dark head in. he smirks. “you know you’re reading that book upside down, don’t you?”

i flush and turn it over. he comes over and sits on the edge of the bed. grabs my hand. and licks off the cum.

i squirm and pull away.

“silly boy,” he admonishes. “didn’t wait for me, did you?”

i look away, determined not to let him do this to me. i think we both know how consensual this is; i still refuse to admit it aloud though. he pulls my hand back to his mouth and begins to suck on my fingers, one at a time, and watching my digits disappear into his red mouth is enough to make me hard again.

“fuck, stop, Sirius,” I say, half-heartedly trying to pull my hand away. he holds tighter and another finger is enveloped in his warm orifice.

“you know you want it,” he teases, letting go of my hand to remove his shoes. my palm smells like his spit and my cum. i push it down the front of my pants to massage my dick, which is stiffening as sirius begins to shuck his clothing. shirt, undershirt. his pale skin glows even against the white walls. he has a trail of hair that disappears beneath his pants and i want to lick it, ruffle those hairs the wrong way. it is the same way every time. he strips, i watch.

he crawls onto the bed and pulls my shirt off, and bites my shoulder, leaving a crescent mark. i like the teeth marks. he slides his hand down to cup mine in my pyjama pants. he grinds his hand into mine, which pushes against my dick and i’m aching from want. he throws back the covers and pulls my pants down, tossing them to the foot of the bed, where they lie, abandoned and sad looking.

i like when he’s aggressive like this.

he teases at my nipple with his tongue, and then engulfs it with his mouth, biting down with the right amount of pressure to make me arch into him.

i can’t stand it. i push him back onto the bed, throwing covers off, disregarding pillows, tugging at his briefs with a desperation that he, only he, can bring out of me.

i don’t tease like he does. i rip off, i take. perhaps it’s the wolf in me, but i cannot stand to toy. that is his game.

my mouth is around the head of his dick and i love the scent of his crotch, all warm and sex and sweet. and he’s mine. if only for a few moments. i know he has sex with other men, and sometimes even women. but on dreary sunday afternoons he is all mine, and i want to bring him to the brink of heaven with teeth and mouths and cocks.

how to tell him that i think of him when I touch myself? when i come? how to tell him that he is all i want, all i’ve ever wanted. funny how i’ve never thought of another boy. just sirius. i’m gay for sirius. he’s not gay for me. he’s gay for anything. the thought makes me bitter and i let my teeth brush the underside of his cock and he gasps and it’s a beautiful sound. i like him to know that i hold him in my mouth and his life and death and orgasm is mine to give or take.

i prefer to think of it as a gift. my gift to him. the only way i can show him what i feel. i finally pull off his dick and lick my lips. i pounce, pinning his hands to the lumpy mattress, pressing myself flush against him. i can feel every bone in his body, every muscle pulled taut over and under veins and precious organs keeping my love alive.

i grind my hips against his, wanting to meld my body with his, make him my everything, my anything. my whatever, my never.

“Remus, Remus,” he pants, mewling like a cat and i am too far gone to smile or smirk even, and instead keep up my relentless pace, my cock rubbing against his in blissful friction, our spit and pre-come between us.

finally i can feel him arch into me, calling my name with a beautiful desperation and he comes and i am right after him, letting the orgasm consume me and drop me back onto him and we are a tangle of limbs and sweat.

and i wonder how i can let him get out of my bed, wonder how i can stand to hear through the grape vine that he fucked so-and-so.

“you’re mine, Sirius, you’re mine,” i whisper in his ears, hot tears staining my cheeks. he says nothing, just pulls me closer and snuffles. to think that minutes earlier i had been begging him to stop, when it was me who wanted most all along.

i hear my heart breaking, feel it fall. and i pull away from him and stare at his stomach, where our semen has mingled and pooled on his flat belly. i push away, stand up and go to wash.

i can’t stand this.

i’ll say no next time.

i will not be complicit in this anymore.