Marauder crack

Call of Duty

The new Gryffindor students follow Remus upstairs, listening carefully to his explanations about the changing stairs, the fat lady, and the schedules that will be given to them during breakfast the next morning. Remus wouldn't admit it under torture but he likes that group of anxious faces making him questions about the paintings and interested in the history of the house in which they have just entered. In the Gryffindor rooms, on the way to the Common Room, he explains to them who Godric Gryffindor was, and when he relates the legendary battles with the seven-headed dragons, he tries to tone down his voice and win his own audience based on exaggerations and studied pauses.

- Did Gryffindor really kill seven dragons in one night? - question a red-haired girl with her mouth open.

-Seven-headed- Remus assures, unfazed. - So it can be said that he killed forty-nine monsters.

There is a great "oooohhhh" among the children and they all seem duly impressed. The rooms of the tower, with their red velvet curtains and its huge upholstered armchairs, help create an adequate atmosphere. Remus shows first-years where to find him if they have a question and he answers one last round of doubts.

- No, it is not true that in Slytherin ate children who were badly behaved.

- Yes, you can attend Quidditch matches.

- No, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore are not married. And you do not have to care about the private life of your teachers, Boys.

When they get to the Common Room, the fireplace is lit and a pleasant fire crackles.

- If you have no more questions, you can go up to your rooms. Your luggage is already there.

One of the wing chairs that are always in front of the fireplace turns at that moment and sunk in it, of course, Sirius does his act of appearance. Theatrical, melodramatic.

- I have a question.

The bastard even raises his hand.

- Go ahead, Mr. Black.

Remus contains any hint of expression. But those words - "Mr. Black" - they unroll on the tongue like languid sins of chocolate. It is impossible not to enjoy them with decadent pleasure.

- Is it true that the prefects are all nerds who only teachers like them and they look like a mole from so much study?

It is a miracle that he managed to survive without his excruciating form to be for eight weeks. A miracle.

- Kids - says Remus, making the introductions, - this is Sirius Black. Sirius, contrary to what they tell you, is not the Quidditch team mascot, but the beater. Be careful because they say that he does eat children.

- It's true, kids. But only to those who behave well.

A murmur of stifled laughter goes through the group.

- Never pay attention to what Sirius says, take him as an example to do just the opposite of what he does, and everything will be fine for you at Hogwarts.

More laughter, comments from the kids, and before long, Remus has the children going up to their rooms, but not before ordering that they say goodbye to Sirius "so he doesn't feel excluded." The group of eleven years old says "see you later Sirius!" and disappear towards the tower, divided into groups of boys and girls.

- Deep down you love this, Moony. Admit it.

He will end up regretting it but he cannot deny it.

- A little.

Sirius gets up from the couch. He comes closer to him. God, that canine looks, voracious. He takes his breath away.

- Have your own group of kids following you everywhere, taking you as a model, "Remus said don't do it" and "Remus said that you do it". You love it. A small group of slaves at your command. Too young to say no.

He raises both eyebrows suggestively but it is his voice that results irresistible at the end. Sirius can make everything, EVERYTHING, even conversations about eleven-year-olds sound terribly evil. Fabulously lustful.

- You're sick, Padfoot.

They are close. There is no one in the Common Room. They are alone. And the countdown that started before the holidays is about to end.

Remus anticipates and counts backward.

- Now you realize?

Three. Sirius licks his lower lip with his tongue. Two. He brings his face closer to his; his hair tickles his cheeks; nose rubs against the nose, they hear each other breathe, they lengthen the last second, they know there is no turning back and that they will remember that moment for the rest of their lives.

One.

Mouths brushing, Remus lets out a sigh, Sirius tempts with his lips, both stick out only the tip of their tongues to caress and the first contact inevitably throws them into a wet kiss that has been cooking for eight weeks and seven years. Someone moans from the bottom of the throat and it is the least important who it is. It may be Sirius, who puts his tongue with a certain rage and slides into endless blackness, or maybe is Remus, who closes his lips in despair and sucks, making the kiss turn urgent - eat me - desperate - drink me - liquid - bite me-. They lengthen it as long as they can, without separating to breathe, and when Remus thinks he can't take it anymore he feels Sirius's hand on the back of his neck.

One pull, right where the hair ends. He forces himself to throw his head back, Remus opens his mouth out of reflex and his kiss becomes more deep.

Fuck. A catastrophe accumulates between his legs. All his blood was swirling down, going to war. He grows. Fleet. He stiffens.

Sirius - that insolent bastard - has no mercy for kissing. He puts in and takes out his tongue, and he may not be aware of those slight movements that he makes his pelvis to imitate what he is doing with their mouth.

Conscious or not, Remus wants to unzip his pants.

They separate to catch some air. Sirius grabs his face with both hands but doesn't stop kissing him, short kisses - just the lips, "God, more" a quick penetration with the tongue-, licks his lips muttering something that sounds like "mmmm yes" and "damn you Sirius don't forget to suck that spot on the nape of the neck, below the ear where the scar begins and the problems of Remus become uncontrollable".

He whispers in his ear.

- I don't want to eat the children. - He swirls his tongue inside Remus' ear and draws through the labyrinthine interior of it, softly. - But there is a prefect I'm interested in. - Sirius bites his neck and licks where he has bitten.

Exquisite, decadent torture. He hates all the girls he's been with that ever felt what he's feeling now because of him. He doesn't know how they survived.

- James.

Sirius pulls away and looks at him in horror.

- James?

- James. - Remus takes a breath to explain himself. - And the others. Must be about to arrive.

To prove him right, a group of voices is audible in the distance. In somewhere in the hallway that leads to the common room. Sirius takes a step behind.

- Your good senses piss me off, Prefect.

The last word, he pronounces as if it were an insult. When James, Peter, and the rest of the Gryffindor students arrive next to the room, Sirius is sitting in his place by the fireplace and Remus is in the armchair in front of it. No one notices that they both wear the capes conveniently fastened.