Innocent Remus

Part Three

Remus has come to realize that possibly the best place in the world to be at is between your thighs.

You'd think he'd get tired of it, that his jaw would be killing him with how often he decides to please you, but he never does - always begging to put his tongue between your slick folds to lick and suck until you're crying and shaking, his face covered with your cum.

Ever since that first day, he's come knocking on your door almost every night - wide-eyed and voice stuttering - asking if he can make you feel good. It almost makes you feel bad, like you're using him, because he never asks you to return the favor but of course you do - whether it's your hand or mouth or just a little dry humping until he's cumming in his pants before you make out a while and then part ways, him returning to his room and you returning to your soiled bed.

You never invite him to stay the night.

Remus would say it bothers him - you've both had your mouths on places of each other that certainly constitutes a closeness that others don't share. But you never ask him to sleep in your bed, and he never pushes it. He wonders, though, if it's because that's all this is to you - late nights in your bed where he gets to taste the saccharine sweetness of something he's never had before, of hearing your voice cry out his name, of feeling the way you grab onto him as you shake and tremble under his big hands. That you don't feel a tightness in your chest every time he leaves your room after, that seeing you throughout the day is one of his favorite things because it's not in your bedroom.

Remus never brings it up though.

After the first time, he told himself he wouldn't take these "lessons" further until he figured out what it was to you. He rehearsed his lines in his head over and over throughout the day, but when it became night, another problem arose, and well, he had already planned on going to see you anyway, so it wouldn't hurt if he was with you one more time, right?

But one time turned to multiple times - Remus whining and begging to taste your cum, to feel your velvet walls squeeze his fingers or his tongue - and he still hasn't said anything.

He thinks he would be fine if this is all it was. He trusts you more than anyone, and if it's not more than friends helping friends to you then he can live with that. He thinks.

His favorite time so far was a couple of nights into your arrangement when he came to you, asking to make you feel good; to do something different. After you kissed the breath out of his lungs you looked at him, pupils so big he could barely see the color he had come to love, kissing his neck before whispering in his ear, "I want to sit on your face."

He gulped before nodding, hands shaking as he removed your clothes. He thinks that's his favorite part - getting to slowly peel each article of clothing off of you - kissing each inch of skin he reveals. He never lets you take off your own clothes.

When he laid back on the pillows, his shirt was off and his pants were unbuckled, and you were hovering over his face. He pulls you to him, wraps his arms around your thighs, and yanks you onto his waiting mouth. He feasts - licking and sucking and taking your clit between his teeth - while you tremble on top of him, grinding your cunt down onto his face.

He's gotten so good at it - he was good in the first place, you remind yourself - but apparently, practice does make perfect, because within minutes Remus has you squirming and crying over him, telling him how fucking good he is.

You were mildly worried about his oxygen levels - could he even breathe right now? Your thighs were completely encasing his head and his mouth and nose were buried in your folds as he licked the inside of your cunt. But then he's moaning into you, slurping up the slick that sits on his tongue, and you're suddenly not worried about anything at all except the orgasm crawling its way up your spine.