Summary: It’s different for everyone behind those red, Gryffindor bed curtains.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: Slash, boysex, power!kink, masturbation
Disclaimer: They are not mine, they are J.K. Rowling's.
Notes: Thanks so much to my beta S. She rocks my world. I do hope you enjoy your remix, CJ.
Title, Author and URL of original story: No Rest For the Wicked by crooked(formerly pink_faerie81)
James heard the soft pad of feet across the dorm floor and was torn between a groan and a smile. He shifted around on his bed, turning away from the slightly open curtain, and buried his head under his pillow.
Every night (and usually in the morning as well), he could hear the barely contained glee in Sirius’ footsteps as he tiptoed across the dormitory to Remus’ bed. It was never the carefully measured steps of Remus across the dormitory, and the thought of Remus sneaking around at odd hours of the night made James grin.
Things had been strained since the incident…James still got sick at his stomach when he thought about it. Sirius had, literally, lost his mind and tried to kill Snape with their best friend, who just happened to be Remus, who also happened to be a werewolf. The balance between the four of them had been destroyed in one fleeting moment.
Remus just left. He spent most of his time anywhere but in their company. When he did hang out with them, it was usually with Peter or James. Even then, it was hard not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. James never did figure out where he slept during that time period, but it certainly wasn’t in their dormitory. The strange thing was, even though everything had changed between the four of them, Remus hadn’t changed at all. Maybe it was because they were the only ones to break through Remus’ reserved and cautious exterior. Maybe it was because, even though Remus was more outgoing and certainly more relaxed since he had become friends with them, his presence had changed the three of them more than they could ever understand.
James and Peter never could fully comprehend Sirius’ guilt, and so kept silent when they would hear Sirius gasp and sputter at night, his muffled sobs floating across the dorms. James because he couldn’t figure out how to make anything better, and Peter, well, probably because he didn’t know what to do at all. His guilt was also evident in the vacant looks he cast at Remus during meal times, the only times Remus made any appearance with the three of them.
James tried to talk to Sirius, but spent most of his time sitting next to Remus during class, while Peter took the job of sitting next to Sirius. As much as he wanted things to go back to normal, James knew they both had a bit more discovering to do before they really had their shit together. And so, for three months, they all suffered for Sirius’ mistake.
But then, things really got weird.
Three days before the full moon, the tension between Remus and Sirius changed. James recognized sexual tension from a mile away; it was the only thing that kept him chasing after Lily Evans (it was the only hope he had). Remus, who didn’t even acknowledge Sirius’ existence, started to stare. Not just a normal sort of “I’m so pissed off at you I’m going to actually try and blow up your pathetic little mind with the mere power of my gaze,” which was typically Remus's specialty. No, this stare was something James still couldn’t describe to anyone, other than it made him blush like mad at the sheer energy and possession humming from Remus’ gaze.
It only took two weeks of the staring, and subsequently Sirius’ slow descent into sexually-Moony-induced-madness, as James took to calling it, before everything went to hell and put itself back together. Sirius noticed the staring right off and, first, took to avoiding it—or at least trying to. Then he got angry, sitting behind Remus in class and staring his own daggers into the back of his head. Then he started to squirm, which, if James was ever asked, was his favorite part; because the famously cool and dashing Sirius Black was a drowning in sexual frustration (or drowning in the sexual tension.) Remus would stare and Sirius would glance over before flinching when he made eye contact with swirling pools of gold. James would watch as Sirius squirmed, obviously fighting the tightening in his trousers. He would twitch first, and try his best to concentrate on taking notes, but he would inevitably snap his quill in his attempt to actually pay attention to class and not the boy behind him. The whole class would look at him and Sirius would mumble out a poor excuse before blushing scarlet. James would watch him, trying (and failing) to contain his little snippets of laughter as Sirius would shift back and forth on his chair trying not to look at Remus, playing with the pieces of his broken quill. Sirius would eventually crack and look at Remus, and James got used to look of unadulterated pleading on Sirius’ face before he ran out of the class.
Undoubtedly to wank. James was sure the entire class could see Sirius’ erection. As much as James tried not to find the entire situation hilarious, it didn’t stop him from teasing Sirius mercilessly in private. Two weeks after the staring started, Remus followed him out of the classroom. And then all the bloody shagging began: more specifically, the sneaking of Sirius across the room into Remus’ bed.
James shifted the pillows over his head and listened for sounds, hoping they decided to put up a silencing charm. But only seconds later, Remus’ voice whispered through the air and into James’ poor ears.
“No. Because if you were fucking other blokes you wouldn’t be positively gaggin' for it every time you see me.”
James stifled the noise in his throat as Remus’ voice floated across the dorm. He was pretty sure it would have come out as a giggle, and Head Boys did not giggle; imagine what Lily would say if he actually giggled. But what Remus said was so very true. James tried to feel sick and disgusted every time Sirius looked at Remus, but he couldn’t, because, finally, the balance had been restored. And if James wished for anything more in the past seven years, it was peace between the Marauders and war against the rest of the world.
Peace was found when Peter knew what to say; Remus was quiet and powerful; Sirius was following Remus’ every move, but no longer sulking, back to his loud boisterous self, James’ best friend; and when James could focus all his attention on a certain lovely redhead and not the feuding of his friends.
But yes, James agreed, Sirius really did gag for it. The whole of Hogwarts thought Sirius Black was this almighty sex god, but when it came down to it, James knew Sirius lived for Remus and James definitely knew who was in control of the relationship. It was amazing the amount of information he could pick up just by the looks the two mutts exchanged. Some days, Remus even managed to make a shiver run down James’ spine at the intensity of his desire and power over Sirius. Maybe it was Sirius’ way of apologizing, or maybe he was just a flaming submissive poufter. James wasn’t quite sure which was better.
“Oh, fuck. Didn’t you lot just do this a few hours ago?” James all but screamed from his bed, as Remus let out a deep moan from behind the curtains. As much as he approved of their relationship, for the most part, he had no desire at all to hear them tossing each other off every night. He had no idea why they didn’t cast a silencing charm. Probably Remus was a kinky bastard. James tried to suppress the urge to go charm ice-cold water onto them. Instead he occupied his thoughts with Lily, and how wonderful she would look draped over his body, her pale skin a sharp contrast to the deep red satin of his sheets.
Unfortunately, a loud and slippery sound interrupted his vision.
Oh for the love of Merlin. But really, it didn’t surprise him. Sirius never did anything quietly, and the idea of turning Remus into some sort of wanton hussy probably turned him on. But again, James tried not to imagine what was going on behind the curtains of Moony’s bed. Of course, he did know, but it was best if he pretended it was something different like homework or something else completely innocent. At least he never had to hear Sirius, but unfortunately he knew exactly why. Padfoot had cheerfully informed him that the only reason he could be quiet while Remus was doing “naughty things to his bits” was because he had been wanking to fantasies of Remus for three years, and one eventually learns how to keep from shouting their mate’s name.
Sirius obviously had no censor. Fucking bastard. James pressed the pillow harder against his head, just as Remus let out a strangled word that sort of sounded like "Padfoot."
James tried to think, again, of his beautiful Lily. Not that she was his yet No reason to dwell on technicalities. When has a bird ever been able to resist me, when I turn on the charm?… but it wasn’t far into the future, if he was really being honest with himself. The events of the year before had really made him grow up, not that he would tell anybody, but it was true. Head Boy came naturally after all the seriousness, and something had changed about Lily. She was less… hostile. In fact, she actually listened to him and sought out his company. Lily might have even hinted that she would accept his Hogsmeade invitation, but he wasn’t entirely sure, because she was still a woman, and women were bloody confusing. But still, he could picture her freckled hand sliding into his and her bright smile stretching across her face at one of his jokes as they walked around the village. He could even picture her lips, pink but without gloss (she was a classy kind of girl, after all), pressed up against his in a chaste but deliciously amazing kiss at the gates to the Hogwarts grounds. If he tried really hard, he could imagine more… the soft pull of her fingers against his skin and the sounds of little gasps against his ear. His hand struggled through the sheets and material of his boxers before sliding around his semi-erect cock. James let his thoughts stray to the soft sway of her full breasts and the freckles that led straight to her—
“Fuck, Sirius, oh fucking fuck,” Remus’ voice rang out in the dorm and completely ruined James’ fantasy. He tried not to think about how pathetic he looked, tangled up in sheets with too many pillows over his head. And, yet, they still managed to ruin a perfectly good wank. He fucking hated them sometimes. It was times like these that James wished they weren’t bloody speaking to one another anymore. He finally untangled himself from his linens and pulled himself upright in bed.
“Fuck, I need a girlfriend,” he grumbled as he yanked the curtains open, poised to get out of bed and take a cold shower. The curtains across the room were suddenly pulled open, and James got a (insert-appropriate-expletive-here) look at Remus’ arse and cock (which James was absolutely not going to note was massive, and he almost felt sorry for Sirius’ ass) as he thrashed to get underneath the covers of the bed, cursing at Sirius’ enthusiastic unveiling. James just scowled at half-naked (but not surprisingly so) Sirius.
“Wanna share mine?”
James bit back a retort about Sirius being the girl because he was the one being bent over. Instead, James just chucked a pillow at his head and cursed. On his way to the showers, he heard a chorus of seriously unmanly giggles. He wished only for a second that he was more like Peter, who slept like the dead.
Peter lay awake. He waited.
He might have drifted off once or twice, but he heard Sirius’ soft footsteps and the slide of curtains, and it jolted him awake. Those steps, quiet and yet so full of determination, seemed to awaken something dormant and ugly in him, yet it was times when Sirius’ feet broke the silence of the night that Peter finally felt alive.
Peter couldn’t make out the words being exchanged between the two young men on the opposite side of the heavy bed curtains, but he could imagine what they sounded like, what they looked like. It only took a few seconds for Peter to pull the covers off and tug down his briefs; it only took a moment for Peter to slip into their world.
He could envision the grin Sirius wore after a prank sliding onto his face as he climbed into bed with Remus, and the equally recognizable grin of Remus, trying so hard to appear reluctant and stern, but always relenting. Peter had no doubt as to why Sirius was drawn to him; Remus had qualities no one could explain. Maybe it was his quiet demeanor and his brilliant mind, or his mischievous plans and silent power, wrapped up in doting respect. Peter wished so heartbrokenly for some small measure of the devotion that he was sure Sirius was about to bestow, a physical representation to the promise he’d made to Remus.
Peter had been listening then, too, when Remus had followed Sirius out the classroom door, into his favorite hiding spot (it was a horrible hiding place, a small broom cupboard on the fourth floor; everybody knew about it). It had been the climax of silence and unbelievable tension between the two of them. Peter had excused himself not five minutes after to go to the loo, and nobody had taken any notice of him. They were all wondering what was going on between Remus and Sirius. Even James didn’t notice his escape. Peter had quickly changed, and scurried in rat form into the hole in the wall that led to the broom cupboard, where he had spent many nights watching the arch of Sirius’ back as he brought himself to completion with Remus’ name on his lips.
The cupboard was dark when he got there, and he scurried to a corner where he prayed they wouldn’t fall. He could barely make out Sirius in the corner, trembling against Remus’ lithe form. Peter couldn’t discern where one of them ended and the other began. The room was full of tension and power, all coming from the husky honey sound of Remus’ voice that was panting against Sirius’ ear. Peter wished he could have heard the beginning of the conversation.
“You are mine now. Do you understand?” A whimper was Sirius’ only reply, and it was the only time Peter had ever seen him submit so willingly. “We were so close, Sirius. I’m tired of waiting. I’d rather take out my anger on you, not to you.”
With a deep growl, Remus had nipped at Sirius’ neck, and Peter had watched in rapture at the way Sirius’ body had responded to the power of Remus’ lips, arching and begging in a silent way only Sirius could manage. He had been awestruck at the commanding presence Remus had even when he had dropped to his knees and roughly tugged Sirius’ trousers open and swallowed his cock. Sirius had not kept silent then; he had moaned and cried out to the rhythm of Remus’ hollowed cheeks and searing tongue. Peter had watched as Remus had stared at Sirius, taking his scarred hand and wrapping it around Sirius’ wrist. He stopped his movement, but kept his mouth around Sirius’ prick. Sirius had whined in protest, his hips bucking against Remus’ other hand that pressed hand-shaped bruises onto Sirius’ bony hip.
“Yours. Always yours,” he had heard Sirius gasp. Peter had no idea how Sirius knew what to do, but Remus brought Sirius’ hand as close to his lips as he could reach before nodding his head, and Sirius seemed to get the message. He slipped two fingers into his mouth, his hips twitching, before Remus grabbed Sirius’ ankle and widened his stance. Sirius’ fingers popped out of his mouth and slid down his body before creeping behind his body. Peter wasn’t able to follow Sirius’ fingers but he could tell where they went when Sirius’ body bowed backwards and his hips thrust upwards as he gave a strangled cry, and Remus began to bob his head again, as he smirked around Sirius’ cock.
It hadn’t taken long, Peter remembered, before Sirius came down Remus’ throat with two fingers up his arse, screaming a strangled version of Remus’ name. Sirius had collapsed on the floor of the dusty cupboard and Remus stared down at his trembling form before curling his body around him.
“I’m so sorry.” Sirius’ voice had been weak but grateful.
“Me too,” Remus said, barely audible through the tangle of Sirius’ hair.
“Yours.” He had shifted, to look at Remus, and Remus smiled and pressed his lips to Sirius’ own for the first time. Peter remembered how chaste it was, yet it was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.
“Ours,” was the last thing Peter had heard before he had scurried out of the cupboard and back to class, incredibly hard and with envy coursing through his veins.
The memory was incredibly strong.
It was the memory that rose every time he heard Sirius padding across the room to Remus' bed. Remus held all the power in the relationship; little, bookish, innocent Remus Lupin who no one ever suspected had any involvement in mischief, let alone girls or Sirius. But Remus did, and Peter wondered how it felt to be so powerful.
Peter longed for it.
At least that was what he told himself every time he woke to the sound of Sirius’ feet and the moans that followed with the burn of anticipation, the sting of envy, and the heavy length of his prick.
Peter shifted against the covers, and traced his hands over his length as he listened to the rustle of sheets from a short distance away, and muffled words he could only dream were being whispered in his own ear. A groan rang through the dorm and Peter smiled a painful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sounds meant Remus, and Remus meant an auditory soundtrack to the images in Peter’s head and what was really going on behind Remus’ curtains. He let his hand stroke up and swirl over the tip before his hips moved to meet his hand. He had gotten so good at staying quiet, he even amazed himself sometimes.
He closed his eyes and imagined the lines of Remus’ body, the scars it held and the lurking power it represented, power over beautiful people like Sirius, who bowed to no one but himself. Peter liked to imagine Sirius worshiping Remus. In his mind’s eye he had a million different scenarios he liked to play out while he fucked his own fist. Sirius sliding his long, pale fingers over Remus’ amazingly hard cock while Remus lay back watching his worshipper at the altar of his body. Sirius sliding his tongue between Remus’ spread cheeks, fucking him with his undoubtedly talented tongue. Sirius preparing himself with calloused fingertips before easing himself down onto Remus’ prick, like the slag he was, and fucking himself while Remus enjoyed the view.
“Fuck, Sirius, oh fucking fuck,” Peter heard Remus choke out, and thrust helplessly into his own hand, coming almost painfully hard, imagining the smile on Sirius’ face at knowing he had satisfied his master.
He wiped his hand against the sheets, listening to James' groans as he walked across the room, and Sirius’ playful banter, while Remus worried about his modesty. He almost laughed; he could feel the hysterical laughter bubbling up like white-hot anger. But he just held it in, rolled over, and tried to get back to sleep; it was still early.
They had no idea what kind of war was coming, but Peter knew which side he would choose, if he had the choice.
He’d choose the side of power.