Marauder crack

Stuff that Remus does when he has nothing to do

Perhaps Dumbledore senses that he needs to be busy. That he'd go crazy if he didn't have task after task to perform. So he proposes he categorize the plants in the greenhouse, arrange the instruments in the astronomy tower, help the house elves to create new recipes for the next course.

Remus appreciates it because that means he has busy mornings and that he has no time in the evenings to think. That means he only has the nights left to let himself be killed by absence.

After dinner, he sets foot in the boys' room and immediately silence attacks him, insults him, and laughs at him. Remus sighs deep down and lies down in pajama pants. He's too hot for the shirt. During the course, he is never naked. He prefers no one to see his shameful scars. He doesn't like questions. Even though in that room nobody would ask because everyone knows, but they could look, and when they look at him, Remus feels exposed. Sometimes he feels tiny. Ashamed.But now nobody is looking, so he is left alone in only his pijama pants. Too big, as always. They sway dangerously at the waist limit, supported by his prominent bone hips.

Remus walks around barefoot and when looking out the window, he rests his head on the pillow and spends hours awake, trying to find a spell that will make the time left for the next term to start disappearing.

During the course, he is never bored. The one who gets bored all the time is Sirius, who always proclaims it from the rooftops, yelling, "I'm bored, Potter!! ", and he threatens everyone to find something to have fun. "Entertain me, spados!!".

- Padfoot, do you know what a spado is?

- Yes... No. I don't know, I like the way it sounds.

But in summer, Remus is alone and all the conversations that he keeps with Sirius are imaginary. Lying on the bed, sweating in the middle of July, he brushes his chest with his fingertips and reviews the comings and goings from his scars on his body. He tries to figure out which ones are more sensitive.

He had never thought about it but Sirius wanted to know and now he can't take it away of his mind. He always spends more time stroking the longest stretch mark of all. The one that starts in the neck and vibrates and hurts more than any other because he still remembers Sirius's mouth licking, stroking, melting.

He runs his fingers over the other marks, lowers down, toward the Pijama pants. There is a softer one, on the left side, not very wide. Starts under the ribs and rises in a crescent shape, making an arch near the nipple. The touch is so subtle that it tickles and is almost unpleasant without ever getting to become it. If Sirius licked that wound, Remus knows he would come in that very moment, as he was about to do in that bathroom in which he almost lost control.

"Almost? You told him to do whatever he wanted to you, Remus. To do ANYTHING with you, Remus. Was that an "almost"? How are you when do you lose control of EVERYTHING?".

He lets the hand go to the end of his stomach but there is something that stops him, holding him down so as not to go lower. If he touches himself, he thinks of Sirius, and if the thought of Sirius, it will stun him by the violent intensity of his feelings for him.

"When I completely lose control I am a wolf. A beast. An animal".

So he restrains himself to keep the animal at bay but as the hours pass by, he becomes rigid because of thinking about "nothing" ends being thinking of Sirius. He surrenders at dawn. His imagination conjures up the image of Sirius walking into the room, barefoot, in one of his Muggle jeans and nothing else. Reserved. He crawls into his bed and when Remus tries to ask for explanations, he shuts him up by licking her face. Devoid of speech, like a dog, Sirius takes off his pijama bottoms and snacks them with his look, before starting to touch him. With one hand and too much force. Soon, the real Remus feels himself leaving, he imagines a deep invasion of the imaginary Sirius. He closes his eyes, bites his lips, and feels him inside him, two of Sirius's fingers deep in his ass, penetrating him. He burns, he resists, he feels waves of pleasure more intense, deeper, and then he wants to cum because he can't hold as much electricity.

The owl hits the windowpane. Remus curses it, curses himself, and afterward, he takes a deep breath.

He unrolls the parchment, expecting to see his handwriting.

But the letter is from James.

Six days and Sirius hasn't answered any of his owls.