Bottom Harry One Shots

Under The Stands

Summary: Sirius Black was easy. It was a fact widely known around Hogwarts. The Marauders had all had a go, at some point or another. It wasn't a secret, not really, but they didn't ever talk about it in grand detail. Things with Sirius and Remus were a little too intimate; things with James weren't intimate enough. Peter was the only one who ever brought it up, mousey little Peter Pettigrew, because he was the only one who wanted to stick his fingers into places they didn't belong and pry you open like that. Peter calls Sirius a slut under the stands during a Quidditch game. He's not wrong, but it's rude to say it like that

Ship: SiriusBlackxPeterPettigrew

All credit goes to SinSmith on Ao3

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Sirius Black was easy.

It was a fact widely known around Hogwarts.

It was the (primary, though surely there were others) reason why Marlene McKinnon had turned down dating him three times even though they'd been sleeping together for years.

If you weren't bad-looking, were confident enough or just got lucky, you could coax him behind the stands at a Quidditch match. Witch, wizard, didn't matter. For him, it was a kind of rebellion- the kind that made Regulus twist his face up and get all prim, the kind that made his mother send him Howlers, and the kind that felt delicious every step of the way.

The Marauders had all had a go, at some point or another. It wasn't a secret, not really, but they didn't ever talk about it in grand detail. Things with Sirius and Remus were a little too intimate; things with James weren't intimate enough. Peter was the only one who ever brought it up, mousey little Peter Pettigrew, because he was the only one who wanted to stick his fingers into places they didn't belong and pry you open like that.

"Does he do you like this? Remus?" A groan in his ear, the boy behind him dragging his hand down Sirius' tattooed throat.

"Why's it matter what Remus does?" Peter was so much shorter than him, but had him pinned up against the wooden scaffolding beneath the stands; a Quidditch game roaring on the other side of the red and gold sheeting.

"Cause I want to know. Maybe I want to think about it while I fuck you. Maybe we should call him down here, you could choke on his prick while I-"

"Merlin, fuck, Pete-" Sirius turned around on him suddenly, black hair hitting Peter in the face and shoving him firmly; watching the other boy stumble back a few feet. When Peter lifted his gaze, though, his freckled face was stuck in a somewhat smug expression; blue eyes too bright, that tuck of a smirk in his dimpled cheek.

"Oi. What is that for?" Sirius finally asked, standing at his full height; his uniform shirt was hanging open, leather jacket shoved down around his elbows, chest heaving and cock half hard. The other Gryffindor boy just stood up, dusting himself off and shrugging his broad shoulders.

"Know you get turned on just thinking about it- it's not like we haven't all had a go." Sirius felt himself squirm; pinned under Peter's gaze. Normally he was so brash about it, but nobody had said it- said it like that. The ratty boy gestured broadly, leaning back against a wooden post.

"Town broomstick, everybody gets a ride."

"Want to fucking say that again?" His eyes were black and he could feel his blood boiling, fingers curled into white-knuckled fists at his side. Peter looked infuriatingly nonchalant about it.

"Come off it, Padfoot. It's not like you're surprised; it's been going around school for years. Girls dorm had a board a few weeks ago where they wrote out everyone you've shagged and-" He paused to whistle, pointedly examining his chewed short nails. So indifferent, but Sirius felt like he'd been slapped.