Vanishing Point
1. Remus
The taste was different. Of all the things to focus on, Remus thought as he ran his tongue down Sirius's chest, the differences Azkaban had wrought on the taste of Sirius's skin was the last he expected. It didn't taste worse, or anything like that, just different. Cooler, and less salty, though that was probably due to Sirius's near obsession with bathing. He washed like he thought he could scrub twelve years off his body.
Sirius gasped when Remus reached his hipbone and nipped gently. 'Thinking too much again,' Remus thought. Out loud, he chuckled and said, "Like that, hm?"
Sirius half sat up, propping himself on his elbows. "Now is not the time to be a prick-tease, Moony."
"'By the pricking of my thumbs'," Remus said wryly as he grasped Sirius's erection by the base and ran his thumb roughly against the underside.
"Wh- what?" Sirius choked out.
"Muggle literature," Remus said, licking playfully at the tip before he sucked the head in, laving his tongue against the underside and drawing the length into his mouth as far as he could manage.
"Only you could think of Muggle literature--God--now," Sirius said, tangling one hand in Remus's hair and thrusting into his mouth. Remus squeezed the base of Sirius's erection with one hand and softly touched his balls with the other.
It's the tenth time they've done this, ever. Twice before, and now, this is the eighth time since. Remus tried not to wonder about why he kept track. Before, it wasn't anything like this, naked and sweaty and fierce; then it was all secrets and embarrassment and averted eyes.
"Fuck," Sirius said, pulling Remus up abruptly and licking his neck. "Don't want-- want you to-- 'screw your courage to the sticking-place'," he said into Remus's ear with a mad grin.
Remus smiled. "Only you could make an exhortation to murder sound so... compelling," he said. A quick Accio and he coated his fingers with a slippery substance, spreading it onto his erection and Sirius's cleft, eliciting a sharp hiss in response.
They've done this particular part three times, all since.
With a few thrusts, he was inside and he said, "God," his voice hoarse and tight. Sirius opened his eyes and Remus shivered from the intensity of Sirius's gaze. It pulled and tugged at him, making it impossible for Remus to look away
Then he started to move, rocking into Sirius, every thrust sending shocks radiating through his body. He grabbed Sirius's knees and pushed them back, changing the angle until Sirius moaned involuntarily and his prick twitched between their stomachs. "Touch yourself," he said, slowly pulling out and pushing back in, a centimeter at a time.
Sirius grasped himself and shut his eyes. "Faster," he murmured, moving his hand in time with Remus. Within moments, Sirius came, hot and sticky on his stomach and chest. Remus lost his rhythm at the sight of it and pushed jerkily into Sirius until he came in a shudder.
Remus collapsed onto Sirius and rubbed his face against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest. He would die if he thought about how high the number would be if things hadn't... gone the way they did. He won't think about it. He won't.
"Muggle literature, hm?" he murmured before closing his eyes. Sirius's fingers circled drowsily in his hair.
2. Hermione
It was accidental, completely accidental. Hermione had gone looking for Remus, to ask him-- something. She couldn't quite remember what she was going to ask him at the moment. And really, it was their own fault for not locking the outer door, and then leaving the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. Anyone could happen by and see... what there was to see.
All she had to do was look up, and there, reflected in the mirror in the bedroom, two bodies--two naked bodies--intertwined, doing things. Her hands flew to her mouth and a tiny squeak of surprise escaped as she realized it was Remus and Sirius.
She didn't mean to look again, but she didn't trust her eyes the first time. Honestly. Remus was on his knees before Sirius, who was sitting on the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Both of their, um, things--penises, she admonished herself--were erect and hard, jutting out from their bodies at odd angles.
For some reason, she thought of Ron and Harry, and wondered if they looked like that when they... got that way. She'd felt one, once. Viktor had held her close and whispered broken English into her hair, and she'd brushed his leg with her hand absent-mindedly, only to have him pull away, embarrassed. But Viktor was older, a man already. Ron and Harry were starting to look like grown men, taller and rangy, and they must--
Suddenly, Sirius stopped Remus and pulled him up until their, er, penises touched, which they both seemed to like quite a bit. Sirius kept his eyes closed as he touched Remus's body with his hands and mouth. Then fingers were going in places where no fingers should ever go, yet... it looked like Sirius didn't mind.
Was this what men liked? Would she have to touch someone like that? Or was it only men with other men? It wasn't covered in any of the clinical texts her parents kept, and somehow breaching the restricted section for-- this-- didn't seem right. It must feel nice--otherwise no one would do such a thing.
Hermione vowed to look it up as soon as she could. Surely there were books for this, books she could get for herself, out from under Madam Pince's eyes. She tried to imagine being touched there, and was surprised to feel a tiny jolt of excitement, like having a secret. She could slip away from Ron and Harry when they went to buy their schoolbooks.
When she left for Hogwarts the first year, her mother had sat her down with a booklet and a long speech about how boys were the same the world 'round, wizard or not, and Hermione ought to be informed before she went off to live at school. She hadn't said anything about this--about sweat and panting and strange noises, let alone the concept of men doing it with each other. And-- Remus was talking. Somehow, when she imagined it, it was always silent, somber almost. She'd never thought you could talk, and even laugh, during.
Then, reflected in the mirror, she saw Remus pushing and thrusting back and forth, entering Sirius. Her eyes grew wide and all she could think was, 'doesn't it hurt?' At last, Remus plunged all the way in and his body shook. Sirius opened his eyes and looked at Remus.
Hermione blushed to see that look. A feeling of shame washed over her--this wasn't something she should see. This was private in a way she was only just beginning to understand herself.
As quietly as she could, she turned and left.
3. Sirius
Sirius closes his eyes when Remus touches him because he's worried about appearing the blubbery fool if he looks at him. Not really, he tells himself, but sometimes it feels like something buried deep within him will come bubbling out and he won't be able to control it.
If he closes his eyes, he feels every swirl and whorl on Remus's fingertips; he feels every tiny bud on Remus's tongue as it traces a path across his skin.
When Sirius touches Remus, he closes his eyes and lets his fingers and palms skate over all the textures that make up his body: soft and smooth, hairy and coarse, hot and pulsing.
It's nothing like his cell in Azkaban, tiny and dark, rubbing his hands on the walls, memorizing each brick, one, two, three four-- his nails jagged and bleeding-- thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty-- putting out his tongue and tasting the cold dirty stone-- eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven-- pressing his cheek against the roughness-- two-hundred and three, two-hundred and four, two-hundred and five....
Sirius closes his eyes and thinks about counting every single hair on Remus's body, touching each one-by-one with his fingers and his tongue.
He takes Remus's arm in his hands and maps the veins with his mouth, licking and biting from Remus's wrist up to the crook of his elbow, around to the hard muscle, tense and warm underneath his skin. He stops and tastes the strong salt and musky hairs under Remus's arm, breathing in the scent of a day's labor overlaid with desire. He can feel Remus's heart beating and imagines it deep within his chest, beneath skin and blood and muscle and bone and breath.
Remus touches him with his strong hands, grazing his swirled and whorled fingertips along the length of Sirius's erection, circling the head, wet with pre-come. Sirius sees the motes and stars behind his eyelids swarm and swirl in the same patterns. He mutters something and runs his teeth against Remus's neck; he knows this is the right thing to do when Remus gasps and arches his body until he is pressing where Sirius wants him, against his tight opening.
"God," Remus says. Sirius, with his eyes closed, hears every vibration and rumble in Remus's voice and he holds his breath as he bears down to let Remus in with one long stroke.
Only then does he open his eyes and exhale.
4. Kreacher
"Kreacher can be quiet when he wants," Kreacher muttered under his breath. "Kreacher is very good at being quiet." He squinted and peered through the thin crack in the plaster.
"Mistress would be most displeased. Master licking and tasting the nasty werewolf. Disgusting half-breed doesn't even deserve his head on the wall."
Kreacher blinked and pressed close to the crack, not caring that dust and plaster fell into his eye.
"It's not enough to fill this house with Mudbloods and traitors, but we must service them, too. Mistress would stew the werewolf alive and feed him to the dogs," Kreacher whispered, adjusting his loincloth. He snorted. "Kreacher has his little jokes about werewolves and dogs. Yes, Kreacher can think right when he wants."
He watched silently for a moment. "Filthy buggering werewolf. If my mistress knew... she'd flay him and whip him and make him beg. Kreacher knows everything. Kreacher could go and tell what he sees. Then what will happen to Master's werewolf? Burnt and stewed and his bones ground up for flour, yes."
He changed position and looked through the crack with his other eye. "Master must do as he pleases, but Kreacher knows. Kreacher will tell."