OF ARSE AND STONE
Written for Liz. Thanks to Megan for the beta!It is the talk of the tower. As much as he'd like to escape it, it follows him everywhere there are Gryffindors—and soon the Slytherins catch on and it gets so much worse.
Sirius Black fell smack on his arse.
Obviously, if that's all you hear, it's a story worth a guffaw or two. The sixth-year boy is horrifically popular, and if there's anything people like more than a handsome, popular boy, it's seeing said boy fall on his arse. Usually it's a metaphorical fall, but that just tends to make the literal one even better.
But there's a bit more to the tale that's circulating faster than last January's case of kneazle pox.
The day of The Great Arse Bruising begins like any other day for Sirius Black: a slow, blissful awakening at an hour that some might consider too early for a Saturday with no Quidditch, but that was just fine by Sirius as it involved kisses and touches and Remus Lupin.
But after they are sated and sticky and floating in a post-orgasmic haze, Sirius finds himself flung back to reality with one question from Remus.
"Mmm. Say, where're m'pants?"
Simultaneously they are assaulted by memories from the night before. Feet covertly bumping on the couch, promising glances as others headed to bed, suggestive inflections in innocent words, and then fingers through hair, tongues dancing together, skin sweating and slipping together as clothes are tossed mindlessly to the side . . .
And then after. Wrapping each other in blankets and grabbing up everything they could, then stumbling up to bed.
"Fuck," says Sirius, once all of his memories have sorted themselves and they've done a cursory search of the pile of clothes at the bedside, "must've left them in the common room."
The two are silent for a moment, and then Sirius leaps from the bed, heedless of his nudity until Remus jumps after him and pulls him back. Completely flustered, Sirius throws on his robes carelessly and bolts out the door, barreling down the stairs two at a time.
The next part, surely, is obvious.
Remus's pants were indeed left behind, but it cannot be said that an attempt to bring them along the night before wasn't made. They were, in fact, dropped halfway up to the dormitory, perfectly positioned so that in his haste to gather the evidence of naughtiness, Sirius slips on them and takes a bumpy ride down the rest of the stairs before finally landing in a sitting position, his robes parted in a most undignified manner. He looks understandably stunned.
Luckily for Sirius, the immediate witnesses are few and easily convinced (or intimidated) to forget some of the more graphic details. However, the thud of pureblood arse on Gryffindor stone wakes most of the lower dorms' inhabitants, and though he is modestly covered and has hidden the pants (he will never tell Remus that he actually wore the pants, because even though they have swapped a remarkable amount of bodily fluids, some intimacies are still too much), he still is unable to deny that he did fall down the stairs on his arse.
It's a small price to pay, at first, the amusement his dear housemates take from these events. He pompously states that all flowers, balloons, and get-well cards can be sent to him in the care of James Potter. He then takes a bow, and walks with his chin high—though his eyes are cast low to watch for wild pants hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance to claim another victim—back up to his dormitory.
Their year has always been at the top of the tower, and there are enough layers of magically reinforced stone between them and the common room that the commotion did not reach their ears. Sirius quietly closes the door, pleased to see that James and Peter are still fast asleep, then drops his robes and strips off the pants and climbs through the curtains back into bed, curling his body into Remus, tucking his head under the drowsy boy's head.
"My arse hurts," he says with a pout, but without further explanation.
"Really?" Remus replies, a bit confused, since they haven't quite mustered the courage to engage in activities that leave one's arse in pain.
"Tripped," is all Sirius will say as he buries his head in the crook of the other boy's neck. He breathes in deeply, loving the smell of sweat and sex and sleep. "Don't think I should be walking ‘round in my condition."
He practically hears Remus's wicked grin slowly appear. "Perhaps not. I wouldn't think you should sit much, either."
Sirius shakes his head just a bit, enough for his nose to tickle at Remus's collarbone.
With a chuckle, Remus reaches around and gently smoothes his hand over the arse in question. "So I suppose that leaves lying in bed all day, doesn't it?"
"Think so, Moonylove." His voice is muffled, and his words are punctuated with a kiss and a nip at the nearest skin he can reach.
Before long the gentle strokes and kisses have grown hungrier and hotter, and Sirius rolls so that his tender arse is off the bed and Remus is pressed into the mattress underneath him. One of Remus's hands is still caressing Sirius's arse, while the other tangles in his black hair, holding Sirius's head as Sirius bites and suckles at Remus's nipples, chest, collar, and back to the tight nipples.
Carefully, Sirius works his way down his Moony's torso, teasing at his navel and snuffling through the light trail of hair that leads to the thicker thatch of curls. Both of Remus's hands are in Sirius's hair now, clutching tight as he silently begs for more more more.
With a greedy grin that is full of promise, Sirius licks his lips then ducks his head and kisses the underside of the hard cock in front of him, dropping kisses up up up until he pulls away from the head with a string of pre-come dangling from his lush lips.
"Fuck," says Remus. His eyes are bright with arousal, and he licks his lips. "Please, Padfoot. Want your mouth."
"Anything for you, Moonylove," Sirius replies, and he wraps his hand around the base and his lips around the head. He hums around it, waiting for Remus to calm again, and then he swallows it down as far as he can (which by now, after a couple months of practice, is practically all the way). He bobs his head, quickly setting the best rhythm he knows to make Remus squirm the most, letting his tongue urge him along by teasing the underside.
Remus suddenly reaches out and touches his cheek, a sign that he wants to change something. Sirius releases his cock with a pop of suction, then sits up, tilting his head in question. He's secretly a bit unnerved by the grin on Remus's face.
"Turn ‘round," Remus whispers, his voice rough like sandpaper. "Want to suck you off, too. At the same time."
Sirius raises an eyebrow; this is something new, though not altogether unfamiliar. "Don't see how I could say no to that." He turns obediently, straddling Remus so they're face to bits. He looks down through his legs and watches as Remus finds the right position and adjusts the pillows and licks his lips hungrily as he takes Sirius in his hand and . . .
"Oooh fuck!" Sirius moans, the feeling of his cock pressing into Remus's tongue different and amazing. Suddenly eager to see how this is on the giving end, he looks away and eagerly takes Remus in his own mouth again, sucking hard.
Their movements are awkward at first; but as they start to lose themselves to sensation, instinct begins to take over, and soon enough they are perfectly in sync, bobbing and thrusting as though they were born to perform this act. Sirius groans as he feels a hand on his arse again, gentle and caring in a way that seems almost out of place given how their mouths are currently occupied.
Remus is soon clutching at Sirius's thighs, mouth going slack as his whole body arches and he's panting and crying out with pleasure. Sirius greedily swallows it all, off-handedly thinking that the only problem with this position is that he can't see his Moony's look of ecstasy as he comes.
Gently lapping at Remus's softening cock, Sirius tries to stave off his own release, but he's close and hearing the gently slowing breaths behind and beneath him is maddening. He's just about to turn and tell Remus not to worry, that he can take care of himself, when he's enveloped in heat. The other boy has wrapped his fist around him and is pumping him furiously. The friction almost burns, but a couple of thumb swipes over the head quickly turn it back to pleasure, and there's nothing for Sirius to do but whimper and moan and curse and oh fuck Moony please yesyesyesohMoony!
The next thing he knows is that he's lying face down on the bed, and Remus is half-covering him, their legs tangled together. There's a steady, soothing murmur in his ear, and he can feel the tickle of magic playing across the skin of his backside.
He turns his head to the side so he can look at Remus. "S'not bruised, is it?"
Remus has the grace to look a bit pitying before he grins. "A bit. Just how did you trip and land on your arse, Padfoot?"
Sirius pouts. "Stairs," he admits, hoping keeping the explanation short will keep it from being laughable as well. But Remus just smiles fondly.
"Don't run down the stairs," he chides, his tone gentle and only the slightest bit teasing. "I have plans for this arse one day, Mr Black, I would like to find it in top condition when I'm ready to use it."
With a matching grin, Sirius says, "Piss off, then," and lifts a lethargic arm to poke Moony's belly. "Was rescuin' y'pants. Should get a medal for my sacrifices."
"Mm." The healing spell ends, and Remus lightly pats his patient. "That should help stop it from turning too purple. And you should be able to sit without getting too many odd looks."
"What, not going to have a lie in all day, then?"
Remus shakes his head. "Afraid not, my Padfoot. We've got Apparition lessons, and I think I heard Prongs grumbling in his sleep about extra practice for his lazy Beaters."
Sirius is instantly offended and shares this feeling with the room, poking his head outside the Silenced curtains. "Oi! Maybe if our Chasers weren't blind as bats they wouldn't fly straight into Bludgers as often!"
"Fuck off, Black!" comes the reply from two beds over. "Up in the air at three on the dot!"
With a growl, Sirius retreats back into the warm, loving safety of Remus's bed.
Eventually, the boys emerge in an empty dormitory, fifteen minutes before lunch begins. They dress and head for the Great Hall, picking up James and Peter from the common room on the way. Sirius tries to bargain his way out of the extra practice, and Remus gives Peter tips on how to better visualize his destination when preparing to Apparate.
As they approach the first staircase, a cheeky Gryffindor at the bottom yells out, "Hey, Black! Watch your step!" The others around him laugh, and Sirius just glares.
At the next staircase, it's a smirking Ravenclaw who suggests that Sirius try moving each foot in turn, instead of both at once.
The third one brings out a little second-year Gryffindor, who is stuttering so much as he warns Sirius about the trick step that James asks him who dared him to say it. The boy, confused and scared and unsure of where his loyalties should lie, points out a small cluster of Slytherins waiting just around the corner. Regulus and his best friend Rabastan stand at the forefront, whispering to each other and sneering. Sirius does not react and calmly walks down the stairs—gracefully jumping over the trick step—and strides past them without even a hint that he knows they are there.
There are four more staircases between them and the Great Hall, and each one brings another student who thinks he's so clever for teasing Sirius Black. Sirius, for his part, does not rise to the bait, something that seems to almost disappoint James, who looks as though he's itching to hex someone for mocking his mate.
Eventually everyone is safely on the ground floor, and lunch is thankfully uneventful.
Throughout the weekend, students from all four Houses take their opportunities to tease Sirius, but soon they're making vague taunts, which Remus says means that no one even knows why everyone else is doing it, but that they don't want to be left out of the fun.
But by dinner on Sunday evening, Sirius is fed up and ready to start retaliating. He heads to the library after the meal and fairly quickly puts together a string of spells that he hopes will fit his needs. Well, he thinks, smirking, of course it'll work.
Bustle between classes on Monday are punctuated, therefore, by the startled cries of students who find themselves tripping over their own feet for no particular reason.
And Sirius, usually several floors away and wearing a disarmingly innocent look on his face, says nothing and smiles at Moony and wonders if anyone who lands on their arse has as good a healer as he does.
He hopes they don't.
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