Listen Like Thieves
They send him from the room as though he is still an errant schoolboy instead of the master of the house, such as it is.
Sirius can barely contain his indignation as he slips into the pantry through a concealed entrance his mother used to spy on the house-elves at their work. He checks to make sure Kreacher isn't lurking, and in the warm dark of the room, slips his robes off, more comfortable without their heavy weight. He likes the jeans and t-shirts Remus has added to his wardrobe, and his mother's horrified responses make them even more appealing.
He pulls out the Extendable Ears he nicked from the twins (an admirable invention, well worth the money Remus made him give them in return. He wishes he'd come up with it himself.) and starts rearranging the pantry so he can both see and hear what's going on in the meeting.
Remus is off somewhere on another of his fact-finding and recruiting missions for Dumbledore, Tonks is working, and Bill is on duty. His staunchest allies aren't around to defend him, and though he doesn't know why he'll need defending, he's already bracing for an attack.
Arthur and Kingsley are voicing their disapproval of the upcoming topic, and Mad-Eye shakes his head, taking a drink from his hipflask. Molly won't meet her husband's eyes, and McGonagall wears a tight frown.
Sirius slides the listening end of the device under the door and peers through the peephole. Knowing the house's secrets is an advantage, and he's always known how to make the most of whatever advantages he has.
He's busy adjusting the earpieces, intent on making sure he doesn't miss a word, so the hand that clamps over his mouth is a surprise.
He takes a deep breath and relaxes. It's Remus, back early from wherever he'd gone this time.
"Don't say a word." Remus's voice is warm and soft in his ear, a hint of a growl in it demanding obedience. "They're going to discuss our loyalty, or, rather my loyalty to Dumbledore. That's why they've sent you out." Sirius opens his mouth but Remus's long, elegant fingers remain on his lips. "I was -- indiscreet in my inquiries about that villa in Tuscany," Remus continues. Sirius hasn't turned, but from the amusement in Remus's voice, he can easily imagine the wry smile on his face. He'd forgot their little joke about running off somewhere sunny and warm, away from Voldemort and his insanity. He thinks it's a better option than what they've ended up with and files it away for later consideration, as Remus is still speaking. "They're afraid I'm going to say to hell with the Order and carry you off to Italy." Warm lips press against the nape of his neck. "I am very tempted to do so, I must admit."
Sirius sighs and darts out his tongue, hungry for the taste of Remus's skin. Three days is too long to be apart. Remus presses against him, and soft laughter fills his ears.
"As ever, you anticipate my plans, Mr. Padfoot." Remus's arm steals around him and his hand skates over Sirius's chest, sliding up under his t-shirt to touch skin, before moving over his waist and down to the growing bulge of his erection.
"Shall I fuck you right here?" Remus asks, his voice the merest whisper. A thrill shudders through Sirius, and he nods, thinking, 'God, yes.'
It's not often Remus has these moods, though they're more frequent now than fifteen years ago, and Sirius cherishes them.
"Don't make a sound," Remus growls playfully, nipping his neck before moving away.
Sirius wants to whine at the loss of the warm body behind him, but he's mindful of Remus's command.
Remus removes his hand from Sirius's mouth and grabs his hips. They spend a few moments sorting themselves out, and when they're done, Sirius is on knees, Remus behind him, reaching around to work the buttons on his fly. Sirius gasps as Remus's fingers curl around his cock; he wriggles and pushes the constricting denim down over his hips.
Remus's mouth trails fire along his jaw before taking his mouth in a searing kiss. It is rough – a show of dominance rather than an exchange of artful caresses. Sirius knows his neck will probably be sore later, but that's a not important now. Remus's hands are everywhere -- up under his shirt, then ghosting over his belly and hips to tease at his aching cock. He opens his mouth to speak, but all he can do is gasp when Remus slips clever fingers over the cleft in his arse. He can smell the almond-scented oil Remus is using moments before slick fingers press inside him. He pushes back, needing more, not wanting to waste time on preliminaries.
Remus laughs, breath sliding hot over his skin, and Sirius has to bite down on his lip hard to keep from crying out.
"You want my cock inside you?" Remus asks before nipping at his earlobe, still working those fingers in and out, sending jolts of electricity through him.
Even if he were allowed to speak, Sirius doesn't think he'd be able to at the moment. He leans forward onto his elbows. That's the only answer Remus really needs.
He hears Remus unzip, and the sigh of relief that follows. Then Remus is pushing into him again, this time with his hard, slick cock, and Sirius looses a soft growl of his own at the utter rightness of the sensation. Remus bites hard at his neck, a warning to be silent.
There are times when Remus teases him, moving with glacial slowness, driving them both mad with need. This is not one of those times.
Remus fucks him hard, grasping his hips with painful strength (Sirius will later admire the finger-shaped bruises blossoming purple on his sun-deprived flesh), panting and grunting above him, drowning out the sound of the argument in the kitchen, about which Sirius no longer cares, barely even remembers. Remus reaches around, curls his fingers around Sirius's cock and strokes in time with the thrust of his hips.
Sirius wants this pleasure to last forever, lighting fires under his skin, sending sparks up behind his eyelids as Remus drives into him. Then the world explodes in a supernova of white light, white heat; he presses his face against his shoulder to muffle the sounds he's making. Remus leans over, grabs his chin, and kisses him, swallowing the echoes. Remus is still thrusting, jerkily now, rhythm lost as he comes, growling into Sirius's mouth.
They collapse to the floor, breathing heavily, kissing and petting each other lazily for a few moments. Sirius is still trying to catch his breath when Remus murmurs, "Scourgify," buttons his trousers and steals away, with a whispered, "See you upstairs."
Sirius leans against the pantry door, gathering his strength to go upstairs and continue the evening's festivities. Even without the Extendable Ears, he hears Molly say, "Did anyone else hear banging in the pantry?"
Mad-Eye chokes and Sirius curses softly. They'd forgot Mad-Eye can see through walls. Or, knowing Remus for the freaky bugger he is (though no one else does, or they hadn't until now, and Sirius blushes thinking of it), perhaps that was the whole point.
"Probably just that house-elf. Barking mad, he is," Mad-Eye says, then sips from his flask, looks directly at Sirius and winks.
Sirius rushes from the pantry to his bedroom, trying not to laugh.
Remus is shirtless and damp from washing up when he arrives.
"Mad-Eye enjoyed the show," he says, closing the door and leaning against it, shoulders shaking with silent mirth.
Remus flushes, and Sirius is distracted by the way the color spreads under the pale skin of his neck and chest. He moves to follow the path of the blush with his lips, only half-listening when Remus says, "Maybe Tuscany is a good idea after all."