Three's a Crowd

“Can I ask you something?”

Remus dropped the paper he was reading down to his lap, Sirius’s sudden question laced in a transparently false nonchalance.

It was thoughtful and too careful sounding, like he’d been waiting to ask the question but only just now found the gumption to do it.

“Of course.” Remus responded kindly.

Sirius’s grey eyes were searching his face pensively as he clearly grappled with something.

Remus waited, eyebrows raising.

“Never mind, forget it.” Sirius looked away, cheeks a bit flushed and he made to rise up off the couch.

“No no no.” Remus reached out and hooked a finger into the back pocket of his jeans and yanked him sharply back down to the couch, making him yelp. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Sirius asked with a dismissive laugh, trying for lighthearted airiness. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

“Sirius.” Remus warned, angling towards him. They’d talked about this a lot. About how Sirius was never forthcoming about his real feelings. About his wants and needs. About how Remus had to drag it out of him kicking and screaming and about how exhausting that was.

“It’s okay.” Sirius placated, teetering on the verge of annoyed. “I was just having a moment, it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

But he still wasn’t looking at Remus which told him it wasn’t necessarily fine and that said ‘moment’ had not yet passed.

Remus sighed. “Okay. But I’m not a mind reader. If you need or want something you have to actually tell me.”

Sirius huffed.

“You can ask me anything, Sirius.” Remus reminded him. “Even if you think the question will upset me or be embarrassing.”

Sirius nodded and Remus decided to drop it. He reached for the newspaper and opened it.

Sirius sighed. “It’s just—"

Remus lowered the newspaper fractionally.

“Do you ever think about—" Sirius’s leg moved in an almost imperceptibly nervous way, his arms were crossed. “Would you ever want—"

Remus put the paper down on his lap and waited patiently.

Sirius groaned, apparently annoyed with himself. “Please don’t hate me for this.”

He snorted. “Why would anything you have to say make me hate you?”

A little self deprecating smile crossed Sirius’s features and he looked at Remus like he felt guilty.

“Tell me.” Remus prompted softly.

“Would you ever consider a threesome with me?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that. His mouth opened and then closed stupidly, completely at a loss for words.

Sirius covered his face with an embarrassed hand. “God, why did I ask you that? I’m sorry.”

“No!” Remus pressed trying to pull the hand away from Sirius face. “No, that’s— I’ve just never— thought about it?”

Sirius nodded, looking unsure and like he regretted asking immensely.

Remus was trying to scramble his thoughts into something functional. He tossed the paper to the floor and turned his body fully towards Sirius, pulling one leg up under himself. “Did you— have someone else in mind?”

Sirius looked at him with a worried crease to his brow. “No.”

“It’s okay if you do.” Remus squeezed his knee.

“Is it?” The guilt was palpable around him.

Remus’s stomach flipped over. Not just from his own remorse that Sirius felt guilty, but also from the curdling sense of inadequacy that was welling up in him.

“I want it to be okay.” Remus said more truthfully. “I don’t want you to be afraid to be honest with me.”

“Uhg, you’re too good to me.” Sirius said with a sad smile. “It’s infuriating.”

At that Remus rolled his eyes, breaking the fragility of the moment. “The bar is in hell’s basement, Sirius. I’m hardly boyfriend of the year for being nice to you.”

“Boyfriend?” Sirius asked with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow.

Remus blushed and stuttered. “Well— I mean— I don’t know, what would you call it? Fuck buddies?”

Sirius barked an incredulous laugh, finally relaxing his arms and easing his posture, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Alright, fair.”

“So?” Remus pressed after a moment. “A threesome? Care to give some more details? Walk me through it?”

“What, you want a blow by blow of my fucked up little fantasy?” Sirius said it like it was meant to be a flippant joke, but he was blushing again, clearly self conscious.

“Yeah.” Remus agreed, seriously. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Sirius was surprised by that response.

“have you— had a threesome before?” Remus asked in his most casual tones, trying to be super chill about something that made him feel so unmoored.

“Yes.” Sirius admitted. “A few.”

“At the club?”

Sirius took a moment to respond. They hadn’t spoken about the club since the first time it was brought up, and it was still quite a sore spot for Remus. Sirius nodded. “And also at school.”

“Who in Godric’s name did you have a threesome with at school?” Remus demanded, exasperated.

He grinned. “Two 7th year Ravenclaw girls. When we were in 6th year.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Remus snorted.

He was still looking nervous and out of sorts about the conversation and Remus wanted desperately to ease his worries and fears but didn’t know how.

“It’s just—" Sirius started. “I’ve never had— you’re the only person I’ve ever slept with and had a real emotional connection with. Dorcas is probably the next closest, but she’s really and truly so platonic. It was more out of boredom and availability with her. And she doesn’t hold a candle to how I feel about you.”

Remus’s heart felt like it had turned itself inside out. He never got this much information and emotional honesty out of Sirius on the best of days. It was so hard to know where they stood, how Sirius really felt about him. He laced their fingers together and squeezed encouragingly.

“Sex has always been easy and impersonal for me. That’s why that club suited me. But you’re the exception.”

“I make sex difficult and too personal?” He was trying so hard not to be offended and failing abysmally.

“Oh my gods, no you idiot.” Sirius pressed with a laugh. “I mean, with you it’s— it’s different. It’s special, I guess. Ugh, no, that’s cheesy. It’s— it’s important. You know me. You see me. All of me. All of the fucked up stuff and whatever good is left. You see all of it, and you choose me anyways.”

Remus’s hand had slid up to the back of his neck, fingers in his hair as he spoke in a nervous ramble.

“And I want you to know more of me. See more of who I am. And I really, really like when you’re in control. Especially before a moon.” He was blushing violently, now, speaking to Remus’s knee. This embarrassed shyness and the painful honesty was so unexpected. So captivating. “And I thought it would be really hot if you were in charge of— you know— you and another guy—using me. Together.”

Sirius ran out of breath and Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. His fingers tightened just slightly in Sirius’s hair causing his eyes to flutter shut and his mouth to part just fractionally. It made Remus’s heart pound.

“Go on.” Remus encouraged softly, his hand releasing the gentle grip and nails resuming their slow movements against his scalp.

Sirius’s eyes opened and finally looked at Remus. He was so worried still, like any moment Remus was going to lash out at him for having these thoughts and feelings. It made more of that unbearable guilt wash over Remus. Feeling wretched that Sirius feared a poor reaction.

“It’s okay, tell me. I haven’t said no yet.” Remus offered. He couldn’t quite manage a smile but he spoke with enough sincerity that Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s kind of it.” Sirius finished a bit lamely.

“Kind of?” Remus asked, his hand stilling.

Sirius shrugged, looking away. Looking awkward, still. Remus took a chance and gripped his hair, much more firmly, using it to turn Sirius to face him properly. Sirius’s breath caught in his throat, looking a little startled, not used to Remus pushing him like this.

“Tell me exactly how you want to be used.”

A soft sighing moan was barely audible from Sirius as he took in the look on Remus’s face and melted under his gaze.

“I— I want you to decide how the other guy was allowed to use me, what you wanted him to do to me. Be completely in control. Make decisions for me, on my behalf. So that I don’t have a say.”

Remus’s hand tightened more in his hair when Sirius faltered on a breathless note.

“I want you to be in charge of— my— my orgasm— and, you know, making me wait for it. Maybe even making me watch you with someone else while I’m waiting.”

“Anything else?” He was boring into Sirius’s pleading gaze.

“I want you to tie me up. Gag me. The whole number.”

“So, not only do you want to be fucked by someone else, you want me to fuck someone else?”

Sirius’s face fell a little in shame and his eyes dropped low. Remus tugged his hair hard again, causing Sirius’s gaze to fly back up.

“Yes.” Sirius breathed at the pressure.

Remus studied his face a moment. “There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

Sirius tried to shake his head but couldn’t manage with the grip remus still had in his hair.

Remus tugged down hard. Forcing Sirius’s head back, exposing his neck. Sirius moaned a startled, wanton thing and Remus leaned in close, to speak against his skin.

“If this is something you want then I need you to tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out because you’re worried I won’t like it or that I’ll be upset.” He said it with as much mildness as he could muster, which was quite a feat considering he was suddenly dearly tempted to push him down into the cushions and cover him with his own insistent body.

Sirius groaned, his hands reaching out, looking for purchase. “Remus.”

Remus tugged again, sharper.

“Ahh! Okay, okay, yes.” Sirius capitulated.

He let up the pressure. Let Sirius straighten up and lift his head up properly. He looked soft and malleable, vulnerable. Surprised and startled by Remus’s reaction. Remus wanted to fuck him into the couch.

Instead he raised his eyebrows as an invitation to continue, his hand remaining softly in his hair. A comfort and a warning all in one.

“There is someone I had in mind.” He breathed.

Remus nodded, his fingers still moving soothingly against Sirius, encouraging.

“His name is Marcus. He’s a muggle.”

Remus’s stomach dropped but he didn’t let on that the building inadequacy in his chest was threatening to take over.

“He— we’ve—" Sirius looked deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t have feelings for him, let me start with that.”

“Okay.” Remus said softly, relieved to hear it.

“But we have had sex.” Sirius admitted. “Several times.”

“While I’m on my missions.” Remus clarified, trying so hard to keep the welling acid he felt from seeping into the words. He was putting so much energy into keeping his hands gentle and his face impassive.

Sirius nodded, self conscious.

“Go on.”

Sirius searched his face, his grey eyes big and worried. “I thought you were going to freak out.”

“The day is young.” Remus offered with a small laugh.

Sirius cracked a weak smile.

Remus let his hand slip down Sirius’s arm to thread their fingers together, wanting to be comforting and solid in the face of all this brutal honesty that made him want to gouge his eyes out.

Sirius blew out a breath, looking down at their hands. “He’s— a lot like you.”

Remus didn’t know how that made him feel. Replaceable, maybe? Not nearly as important or significant as Sirius had just said he apparently was. In lieu of having anything to say he just nodded in acknowledgement.

“Anyways,” Sirius pressed on, “he asked me about you once, if you’d ever come to the club, and we talked about it. And—"

Remus let the silence hang there, let Sirius fumble around for what he wanted to say.

“And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“About me fucking Marcus?” Remus asked, his thumb moving in soothing circles against Sirius’s hand.

Sirius nodded, his face red.

“Okay. I have a few questions.” Remus posed after a moment of silence.

“I would be concerned if you didn’t.”

“Do you like being hit?” Remus asked, genuine curiosity winning him over. He was thrilled to have Sirius spilling his wants out like this.

Sirius seemed taken aback by Remus’s question. “Not usually, no. The occasional slap across the face in the right situation can be good, but not routine. I don’t like being spanked. I like doing the spanking, though.”

“Hm.” Remus filed that interesting skill away for another time. “And choking?”

“No, not at all. I don’t actually like anything touching my neck. Unless it’s a mouth.”

Remus grinned. Well aware of how much Sirius enjoyed his neck being kissed.

“I don’t mind putting my hands on other people’s necks, but nothing that would pass as choking.” Sirius added.

“Biting?”

“Yes. Very much yes. Giving and receiving.” Sirius’s cheeks were flush again. Remus’s hands were sweating.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Remus hadn’t actually meant to ask that and he immediately regretted the words, wanting to obliviate Sirius and then himself.

“I—"

“Wait— don’t tell me.” Remus shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Remus,” Sirius smiled.

“No, please, really. I cannot handle the answer.” Remus pressed, embarrassed, his own face turning bright red and hot.

It was Sirius’s turn to look kind and comforting and understanding, squeezing Remus’s hand. “I haven’t.”

Remus stared blankly.

“I mean, I haven’t been back. Not since we last spoke about this.”

“But that was months ago.”

“I know.”

Remus was dumbfounded into shocked silence.

“Remus, it’s only been you.” Sirius pressed, sincere.

Now it was Remus’s turn to feel guilty and ashamed.

“Sirius, I—"

“It was my decision.” Sirius clarified. “You didn’t make me do anything. I decided this on my own.”

“But,” Remus stuttered out, but had no follow up.

Sirius brought Remus’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Suddenly Remus was drowning in guilt and horror with himself. He had to tell Sirius about his missions, to come clean about Greyback. He couldn’t let Sirius rearrange his life for him when Remus was out there being anything but faithful.

He let out a defeated sigh. “I need to tell you something.“

Sirius looked up at him with a concerned crease to his brow.

“During the moon—" he started, voice wavering.

“Don’t.” Sirius cut him off, his voice much more firm than it had been during the rest of the conversation.

“No, but—"

“Remus,” Sirius interrupted again, his eyes very, very serious, his tone brooking no argument. “I’m not bloody stupid, you know? I’ve seen your injuries. I’ve seen the bruises. I know.”

Remus’s lip trembled and he felt horrifyingly like he might cry.

“Do not,” Sirius demanded, his own hand coming to the back of Remus’s neck, bringing their faces closer together, “under any circumstances, ever equate what happens to you on your missions to what I do willingly, for fun, in my free time.”

And just like that, the tables had flipped. Sirius was hard and commanding while Remus was drowning in uncertainty, putty in his hands. His eyes pleaded silently with Sirius.

“No.” Sirius repeated. “Don’t look at me like that. It is not the same.”

“It certainly feels the same.” Remus pushed, his voice cracking, his eyes prickling with warning.

“That’s because guilt is a really common response from people who experience sexual violence.” He said it so bluntly. So devoid of nuance. An inescapable statement.

Remus sighed out, squeezing his eyes shut, “Don’t— please, don’t.”

“Okay.” Sirius assured, thumb against his jaw. “You don’t have to talk about it. But, then, you can’t sit there and act like we’re comparing two similar situations. Because we’re not. And I will not be taking feedback on that.”

Remus huffed out a defeated sound. On the one hand he was glad Sirius understood. On the other, he felt resolutely awful.

Sirius pulled him in and kissed him softly, lips gentle and reassuring against his.

“Come, let’s make tea.” Sirius said quietly as he pulled away. Remus nodded. “Peter brought home something called honeybush I want to try.”

He stood and pulled Remus to his feet before hugging him and speaking into his shoulder. “We can finish talking about this later.”

Gratefully, Remus took the comfort that was offered and capitulated.

—

Sirius was right, Marcus was very similar to Remus. He was tall and lanky, but not nearly as thin. Remus imagined he’d have an identical build if he managed to eat normally.

His hair was a bit shorter, a bit darker, less well kept, and his eyes were hazel. Like James’s. He had a scattering of freckles across his nose just like Remus, but beautifully unmarred skin.

His nose was bigger, mouth was fuller, and he lounged back in the leather bench of the pub booth with an easy comfort Remus never experienced. Remus hated him immediately.

Marcus was objectively attractive in an unusual, non traditional sense and Remus felt deeply inadequate as he slid into the booth across from him.

He wore a loose flannel over a grey t-shirt, rolled up to expose tanned forearms. His hands were rough and he looked like he might work outside.

His teeth were more crowded than Remus’s and he wore a sly, almost smug smile as he greeted them. As he shook Remus’s hand and nodded at Sirius. His fingers were calloused and he seemed a bit startled at Remus’s firm grip. Remus’s wolf could sense his aroused interest subtly shift to caution, and he felt deeply pleased with himself.

Remus may not look all that strong and imposing, but he was a werewolf, after all. A jealous, petulant werewolf, with strong feelings he was struggling to tamp down.

Remus and Sirius had eventually finished their conversation. It had involved more forceful hair pulling to drag out further details and ended with Remus fucking him roughly, bent over the edge of the bed, holding his arms behind his back after gagging him with a hastily torn sacrificial T-shirt.

Afterward, he agreed to at least meet Marcus.

“I can’t make any promises.” Remus had admitted. “If there’s no chemistry, there’s not much I can do about that.”

Sirius had looked hopeful and grateful and a little bit like he was in love. It made Remus’s gut twist uncomfortably.

Now, Sirius was chatting with a casual, arrogant ease about nothing at all. He was good at that. Good at filling awkward social situations with easy chit chat, being charming and captivating. It was a skill Remus never could grasp. Marcus was laughing, clearly very taken with Sirius, glancing intermittently at Remus.

Remus who was trying so hard to be casual and smile when appropriate, to not dead pan stare at this man who had fucked Sirius. Who Sirius wanted to fuck again.

“So, where did you two meet?” Marcus asked, hand casually around a glass of ale.

“School.” Sirius supplied simply. Remus nodded.

Marcus levelled a look with Remus and eyed him with a bit of incredulity, taking in the scars and the old knitwear. “You went to the same school as this posh prat?”

Remus nodded again, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Of course he did.” Sirius said, not picking up the meaning. “Seven years of it.”

Despite the fact that, Sirius Orion Black, not first of his name but certainly first of his character, wore the clothes of someone who might have lived in a bin behind a music venue, chaotically torn and worn through the knees, nothing he covered himself with could hide the haughty grace of a pureblood aristocrat. An air of wealth and authority that even muggles could sense in an instant.

Even if Remus had strolled in wearing expensive, new, and well pressed clothing, the difference in their background social class might as well have been tattooed on their foreheads. Remus didn’t know how to carry himself without the weight of the world pressing down on him, and Sirius couldn’t slouch his way out of generations of pureblood breeding, no matter how hard he tried.

“Scholarship.” Remus offered by way of explanation when Marcus continued to look apprehensive.

“Ah.” Marcus said, understanding.

Sirius faltered for a moment at that, looking between them.

Marcus relaxed back further into the bench, eyes casting a glance around them. The pub was relatively empty in their corner and there was enough background noise to drown out a low voice from travelling very far.

“So, Remus, Sirius says you’re thinking about coming down to the club.” Marcus asked, shifting his attention away from Sirius.

Remus nodded, his mouth was very dry. “It’s not usually my scene.” Remus said as evenly as he could, his eyes sliding over to Sirius who was looking at his own hands on the table, fiddling with a serviette. “But I’m considering it.”

“Sirius is quite popular there.” Marcus said after a deliberate moment, glancing at Sirius who had a shuttered off, unreadable expression on his face. Remus very suddenly wanted to tear Marcus’s limbs off, his magic flighty and static in the air. “Everyone’s really missed him.”

Sirius huffed, his hand dropping to Remus’s thigh and squeezing. “Don’t be a prick, Marcus.”

Marcus threw his hands up in a good natured way, laughing. “Just trying to get a measure of the man.”

Remus didn’t have a response and he certainly couldn’t muster a fake smile. He could feel Sirius’s worry beside him, feel his uncertainty. He covered Sirius’s hand on his thigh and squeezed.

“So far he seems like the strong silent type.” Marcus added, eyeing Remus again, this time with ill disguised interest. Remus did not find it flattering and he couldn’t help the derisive snort that escaped him.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Marcus smiled at Remus, showing his teeth. “I like that.”

Remus met Marcus’s gaze, challenging and unimpressed, and was delighted to see the other man blush and avert his eyes, his wolf rumbling contentedly.

Maybe Remus could make this work.

—

Remus could absolutely not make this work.

All three of them had parted ways after the pub. Marcus with a “call me when you’re keen to meet up,” and a wink at Remus.

Sirius with a nudge to his elbow, asked, “we’ll talk later, yeah?”

“‘Course.” Remus offered with a grin he hoped was reassuring. Sirius smiled back before turning away, off to an Order meeting he’d been summoned to. Remus had been left to walk home alone.

And the more time he spent alone the more time he went over the conversation in his mind. And each time, Marcus became more intolerable and more attractive, until Remus had created this narcissistic Adonis type monstrosity in his mind. This wildly appealing doppelgänger of himself that Sirius must clearly want to leave him for. One without the scars. One without the crippling weight of all of Remus’s faults.

He nurtured his petulant jealousy for hours, turned it over in his mind until he was about to explode.

Unsure of when Sirius was coming home, he sent off a letter to Lily, feeling a bit desperate.

hazards help hello

Was all he wrote. A botched inside joke about muggle CPR they made when there was a non-order related emotional crisis that needed friendship intervention.

Within the hour she had sent him an apparition location and a time.

“Let me get this straight,” Lily had closed her eyes, an open palm to Remus as her face grimaced in disbelief, “he asked you for a threesome with some guy that vaguely resembles you? And he wants you to orchestrate some wild tag team on him?”

Remus was groaning, covering his face. “You really have a way with words, you know that?”

“With the guy he was cheating on you with.” She repeated, the tone utterly dripping in disdain.

“He wasn’t cheating on me!” Remus yelled again, frustrated with her pigheadedness.

“Stop doing that!” Lily yelled back, shoving his shoulder. “Stop protecting him! He’s an adult who makes poor choices and I’m allowed to be annoyed with him for said choices.”

“But he wasn’t!”

“Semantics, Remus!” Lily pressed. “I know you guys weren’t exclusive but it was still pretty shitty he didn’t tell you he was actively fucking around. That’s not real consent.”

“I know.” Remus sighed. “It— it still hurts to think about it.”

“It should.” She said consolingly. “You love him and he knows that. And by engaging with you in a relationship and not being clear about his intentions and motivations and boundaries, is fucking cruel.”

“I know he loves me.” Remus asserted, more for himself, at this point.

“I don’t doubt he does, but, man, he’s got a shite way of showing it sometimes.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “Yeah. He struggles.”

“We all struggle, Remus. We’re only 19, and there’s a war, we’re all fucking stupid and hormonal, and our brains aren’t even finished developing yet. Sirius Black doesn’t get a pass on being a cock because life is hard. Stop excusing his behaviour.”

“Jesus fuck, Lily,” Remus groaned. “I owled you to make me feel better and instead you're making me question all my life choices.”

She laughed. “That’s part of my charm.”

“Mm, indeed.”

“I’m serious, though. I know you love him. But don’t betray yourself just to make him happy. Don’t do shit you don’t want to just because you’re afraid he’ll leave.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? That was the fetid, rotten core of all of this. He was afraid to lose Sirius.

“So you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Do you want to have a threesome?” Lily asked in that obnoxiously direct way of hers. He should have owled Marlene.

“I honestly don’t know.” Remus said truthfully. “I’ve never considered it, and now that I am, I don’t hate the idea conceptually, I just—"

“Hate the idea of sharing him?”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

Lily nodded, understanding. “And Marcus?”

“Ugh, he’s fine. There’s nothing actually wrong or objectionable about him, except—"

“Except?”

“Except for the fact that he’s fucked Sirius repeatedly and that Sirius wants to fuck him again.”

“So jealously and insecurity is the main issue here?”

“Oh, 50 points to Gryffindor for superb mystery solving,” Remus mocked in a scathing impression of Slughorn, his hands gesticulating nonsensically. “Yeah obviously, Lily, get your head out of your ass.”

Lily was bent double, wheezing through her laughter at Remus’s sudden sarcastic acidity.

“What, you think I’m oblivious to my pathological jealousy and cripplingly low self esteem? Hmm?” He demanded in a hissy stream of irritation. “Think I don’t notice that shit?”

She was gripping his arm, her laughter falling freely and wildly from her, her hair cascading down her shoulders. Unable to respond functionally, she mouthed stop it several times through her cataplectic mirth.

It was beginning to rub off on Remus who was also struggling not to laugh. Her face was crimson with the hilarity of it all.

“You’re so fucked.” She wheezed, clutching him and rocking back.

“Shut the fuck up, Evans.” He was trying to say around the belly laughs that shook through him. “Why did I even owl you? You’re so mean.”

“Because you needed someone to cut through all your bullshit.” She was wiping her eyes, hiccuping as she tried to calm her breathing, on the verge of another bout of hysterical laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying when you’re right.” He bemoaned.

He loved Lily because of this. Because they could be utter nightmares to one another. Blunt. Cynical. Callous. They could be the worst versions of themselves together and revel in the pettiness of it all, and still hold one another in kindness. It was a beautiful, deranged friendship.

“Yes, so I’m told.”

“Don’t tell James.” Remus warned her.

“Oh, please” Lily dismissed with another laugh. “I think his brain would melt if I dared utter the word ‘threesome’ again.”

“You’re not keen?” He teased.

“Oh, no! I’m totally keen. I’ve suggested it a few times. James isn’t. He’s—" she shook her head with a fond smile. “He’s the most strait laced man on the planet and cannot fathom anything beyond ardent missionary with one person.”

Remus snorted so hard he almost choked.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong— the man kills it. He’s really perfected ardent missionary.” Her hand was on her chest, bemused and clearly so in love. “I never thought I’d be so content with such simple moves, but damn. The boy’s got me in a chokehold. Figuratively— obviously.”

“Wow. Please let me haze him about this.” Remus asked so seriously.

“You are forbidden from even thinking it in the same room as him. And if you tell Sirius, so help me god, Remus, I will skin you alive and wear you like a winter coat.”

He wanted so dearly to be offended and scandalised but couldn’t manage through his undignified giggling.

“Yeah laugh it up.” She warned. “But maybe you and Sirius aren’t having as good of sex as you think you are if you need your limbs caught in a god damn bear trap to get off.”

“A bear trap?” He was laughing so hard he saw stars in his periphery.

“Yeah, call me when Sirius masters the basics and you don’t need a cattle prod to have an orgasm, alright?”

“What are you talking about, you lunatic?”

“Put down the barbed wire, and maybe just try kissing like a normal person.”

Remus fell onto the floor. “Is that —what you think— we’re up to?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. What I know is that you’re trying to be elitist about all your weird kinks and suffering in your love and I’m over here having reliable, predictable, loving and satisfying sex without a crew of off brand theatre school drop outs role playing in the background.”

“God, I fucking hate you.” He laughed loudly from the floor.

“I love you, too, babe.” She smiled.

—

God, this was a bad idea. Remus had the anxiety sweats as he listened to the phone ringing, waiting.

The phone booth was covered in graffiti and all manner of salacious adverts, weathered and sun bleached. His thumb was picking at a chip in the black enamel of the phone as he gritted his teeth against the obnoxious, repetitive sound.

He was so relieved the incessant ringing stopped that he nearly forgot it was because someone answered the phone.

“Hullo?”

Remus lapsed into a brief moment of insanity, forgetting how language functioned.

“Hullo?” The voice repeated, louder, annoyed.

“Hi,” he managed to force out, “Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Remus.”

There was a pause, and Remus was about to hastily add Sirius’s friend to clarify when Marcus finally lent his voice to the conversation and saved him from further embarrassment.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to call.” He said, impressed and intrigued.

“Yeah, me either.” Remus admitted.

“Does Sirius know?” Marcus asked, his voice lower than it needed to be.

“Not— yet.” Remus clarified, his eyes were closed and he rubbed his forehead hard. “I just had some further questions. Was wondering if we could meet back at the pub.”

There was a beat of silence again. “Care to come to mine?”

Bad idea.

“Sure.”

Marcus gave him directions to get there on the tube and Remus stood in an alleyway, smoking a clove cigarette, hating himself immensely. After enough time had reasonably passed, he apparated to another alley near Marcus’s and made his way down the lane of old, neglected row houses. They all looked identical with matching gardens in various states of disrepair.

Remus was counting the houses as he went, looking out for where he needed to go.

19, 21, 23, Ah— Marcus was standing on his stoop, leaning against the door frame, a cigarette between his fingers. He grinned slow and easy, watching Remus’s progress towards him. Remus’s desire to punch him in the face still hadn’t dissipated.

Remus stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up at him and nodded in greeting, not trusting himself to speak. Marcus was wearing blue jeans and a flannel, like last time, but the flannel was green, now, and his undershirt was white.

“So brooding.” Marcus commented, smiling wider, looking down at him. He had a comfortable, unbothered affect that reminded him a bit of James. Remus couldn’t help the annoyed smile that broke his features.

“Come in,” Marcus nodded his head towards the door before tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out.

The sitting room was bleak. Remus always thought their post-Hogwarts flat looked very much like what one might consider a bachelor pad to be; minimal, poorly appointed, and woefully neglectful of aesthetic considerations. But it was clean and tidy and always felt welcoming.

Marcus’s  couch was covered in dog hair, which wouldn’t have bothered Remus in the slightest otherwise, but Remus couldn’t see a dog anywhere. There were empty beer bottles on nearly every surface, random piles of errant debris in the corners and several milk crates standing in for tables and chairs where the dining room was meant to be.

Food was standing out on the counters in the kitchen and the sink was overflowing with crusty dishes. It smelled like wet cigarettes and stale tea.

Remus couldn’t imagine the last time anyone swept or mopped the floor and he was suddenly horrified by what the bathroom must look like. The thought made his teeth feel weird.

“Sorry, flatmates are slobs.” He waved flippantly, not stopping as he picked his way through the disaster and towards a hallway. “This way. My room is way cleaner than this, I promise.” He assured into the silence.

This is such a bad idea.

He pushed open a door at the end of the hall and led Remus into a modest, surprisingly tidy room. There was a neatly made bed against the opposite wall and a small sofa with a coffee table by the window. The white washed room was much nicer and more well kept than the rest of the house. The floors looked polished and there was an open door near the bed that showed a mercifully clean ensuite bathroom.

Remus stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking around at the posters on walls, noting The Doors and REO Speedwagon. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his corduroy and he fiddled with the butt of clove cigarette. Marcus had crossed over to the sofa and sat himself at the far end looking expectantly at Remus and gesturing vaguely to the other end of the couch.

“Close the door.” He said when Remus finally crossed the threshold and stepped into the room. As he did, Marcus pushed open the window behind the sofa and lit another cigarette.

Remus shook his head when Marcus offered it to him. “Can I get you a drink instead?”

“I don’t drink.”

Marcus’s eyebrows raised, leaning back. “Very different from Sirius.”

Remus mm’d noncommittally.

“So.“ Marcus had that smug glint in his eyes he had back at the pub and looked over Remus, blowing smoke up into the air. “You have questions.”

“I do.”

“Well, hopefully, I have answers.”

“So, I told you before this wasn’t my scene—”

“I think that’s fairly obvious.” He grinned and Remus looked at him with a flat, disgruntled expression.

He was already so irritated and deeply regretted coming.

“Interesting you ended up with someone who’s—" Marcus searched for the right words with a wistful look, “such a handful.”

Remus took a moment to process what he’d just said. “Sirius? He’s not a handful?”

Marcus snorted derisively, taking another long drag. “You’re made of stronger stuff, then.”

That filled Remus with something he couldn’t identify. Something possessive and protective and angry.

“Posh prat is an absolute menace to himself and others.” Marcus carried on with a smile like there was a shared joke about it between them. Remus wanted to punch him again, wanted to mar his unblemished skin.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” Remus said cooly, not sharing in the mirth. He was trying to sit back in a relaxed manner but couldn’t seem to get his limbs to unspool their tension.

“Oh, I don’t.” Marcus assured. “I mean, you couldn’t pay me to date him, but he’s quite fun otherwise.”

“Right.”

“No offence,” Marcus placated at the tone in Remus’s voice. “Good on you, and all.”

Good on me? What does that even mean?

“Anyways," Remus started again, trying to stay on task, “I know what Sirius wants. I know his hard limits. I need to know yours.”

“Straight to the point.” Marcus laughed. “No wonder Sirius likes you.” He flushed a little, the colour high on his cheeks and a bit blotchy. It was exactly how Remus blushed. It was like looking into an annoying mirror. Like looking at a Remus from another timeline where he wasn’t a werewolf.

Remus waited for Marcus to say something useful.

“Have you ever done this before?” Marcus’s head was tilted curiously, his eyes narrowed.

“Done what?”

“Casual sex?”

Remus snorted. “Do I look like I’m capable of being casual about anything?”

Marcus laughed at that. Big and bright and wholly amused. “Alright, yeah. That’s what I thought. You seem the jealous type.”

“I am.” Remus capitulated, not nearly as self conscious about admitting it to a stranger as he thought he might be. “So, no, I don’t do casual.” Remus repeated with a nervous smile he couldn’t tamp down.

“Unless Sirius wants you to.” Marcus quirked a brow, still smiling.

Remus’s tentative grin fell and he huffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“He’s hard to say no to.” Marcus carried on, leaning over to the coffee table and tapped some ash into a crystal tray. It was just like the one his mum used to have.

Remus mm’d again. He was sure he had come for a reason, with a plan, but now that he was here, sitting in this stranger’s bedroom, he couldn’t think of a single bloody thing to say. He couldn’t remember why he thought this was a good idea.

“I told Sirius—“ Remus started, unsure, “that I would consider this, but if you and I weren’t compatible, then there’s not much I can do about that.”

Marcus had raised his eyebrows, threw his arm over the back of the sofa and spread his legs a bit further apart. “So, you’re here to see if we’re compatible?”

“I’m here to see what you want out of this.” Remus clarified, anxiety licking his insides.

Marcus blew out a long breath, giving himself time to think as his eyes casually roamed over Remus.

“Honestly? I’m down for most things. You’re both incredibly attractive and clearly very intense. I like intense. Why wouldn’t I agree?’ Marcus was watching Remus’s face carefully. “Also, he said he’d let me top him, and I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I met him.”

“You—" Remus was slow to conceal his confused surprise

“No, he never let me. As far as I’m aware he was pretty strictly a service top.”

Remus nodded, knowing just enough of what those words meant to feel some kind of strong emotion welling up in his chest.

“And I love being bossed around, so if I can top the smug bastard and not be in charge? Agh, ideal.” Marcus spoke so easily, so casually about his wants, his needs. It all just flowed out of him with minimal prompting and no hint of shyness. Remus found it oddly refreshing.

He had a hand under his chin as he watched Marcus finishing his cigarette, mulling the words over in his mind. Marcus really was attractive. The light caught his eyes at an angle through the window, making them glow golden. He had a sharp jaw line and soft stomach, toned arms and appealing stubble, but Remus didn’t think he was actually attracted to him. Marcus, very simply, wasn’t Sirius.

Marcus must have read something in Remus’s gaze because he shifted on the couch, moving fractionally closer.

Bad idea.

“Walk me through what you’d want.” Remus asked mildly enough trying to keep them on task. Allowing his carefully constructed facade to hide his swirling anxiety. It felt weird to have this conversation with someone other than Sirius.

Marcus took a deep breath, the words clearly effecting him in a way Remus didn’t quite understand. He considered Remus carefully as his fingers mindlessly traced along his own bottom lip. Remus could hear his pulse, smell his arousal. When he spoke again Remus was surprised to hear how his voice had shifted from teasing confidence to low and demur. “Would you come to bed with me right now, if I asked you to?”

“No.” Remus didn’t break eye contact.

“Even if I said you could do anything you wanted?” He smiled slowly, his eyes heated.

“Even then.”

“You could choke me. Hit me. Edge me. Use me and not let me come. Anything.”

“Still no.” Remus breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the singleminded focus, the unexpected offer. Marcus clearly wasn’t used to being denied.

His hand fell from the back of the couch down to Remus’s knee. “What if I said I wouldn’t ask to top Sirius if you fucked me right now.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Marcus.” Remus pressed. This was a colossally bad idea. “Not without Sirius, anyways, and he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Exactly. He doesn’t know.” He was moving closer, running his hand up Remus’s thigh. Remus’s hands were sweating and he desperately wanted to apparate away but he was frozen suddenly in place.

Marcus was leaning in, his fingers trailing up the outside of Remus’s thigh and up to his ribs. Suddenly his hand was around the back of Remus’s neck, pulling himself closer, whispering in breathy tones. “We should probably see how compatible we are, isn’t that why you’re here?”

His mind was scrambling for purchase, his limbs feeling tingly and his lips numb as Marcus pressed their mouths together. It felt all wrong. Off. So unfamiliar and unwanted and much too eerily similar to how he felt when a pack member pushed themselves onto him.

His mouth opened automatically, unthinkingly, so easily slipping into the mechanical responsiveness that had kept him safe all these horrid long months.

Marcus took that as an invitation and pushed Remus back, crawling over him to straddle his lap, pushing his tongue into Remus’s mouth and sighing a soft moan. Remus was panicking.

He took a sudden, sharp breath and tasted the cigarette smoke, smelled the unfamiliar aftershave and the laundry detergent Marcus used. It was just distracting enough to create some space in Remus’s brain, to allow him to think something cohesive as Marcus continued to take his silence as further consent to move his hands down Remus’s body.

This wasn’t the Epping Forest. Marcus wasn’t in his pack. He could say no. He could say no.

Remus finally figured out how to move his hand and pushed Marcus back, breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I said no, Marcus.” Remus asserted, embarrassed by the slight waver in his voice.

He tried to dip in again to kiss Remus, tried to ignore him, clearly hoping that if he was insistent enough, he’d get what he wanted.

But Remus was gripping that self determination like a life line and turned his head, pushing back against his chest. “Not yet.”

—

Grayback enjoyed Remus immensely. Enjoyed his humour and deference. Enjoyed how pliable he was, how little he resisted. The first time he’d met the man as an adult was during his first mission. Remus had strolled into the forest, letting his nose guide him easily through buck trails and down into a wooded valley filled with informal tented housing.

A few familiar faces had greeted him with kindness. Faces from the transformations on school holidays that he spent with Breena. And, at first, he let the tight ball of tension in his chest loosen fractionally as Damien ran to greet him.

“It’s been an absolute dog’s age, you hound!” Damien laughed, reaching his hand out clap Remus’s shoulder. He had filled out remarkably since Remus had seen him two years prior. He was taller, his jaw sharper. There were a few new pink, fresh scars that stood out starkly on his dark skin but his smile was big and bright as it always had been.

“How’s everyone? Breena and Lucius here?” Remus asked and didn’t miss the way his smile faltered.

“Lucien and Breena left. Wales, last I heard.” He sounded a bit guarded and Remus nodded, letting the topic drop. “And you? How are you holding up now that you’re out of school?”

Remus gave him a pointed look and gestured vaguely to the bag slung on his back. He didn’t want to get into some elaborate back story he had to maintain so he figured he’d let people make whatever assumptions they wanted. It seemed to work as Damien nodded with a sad smile. “Aye, yeah. That’s all of us.”

A few others had noticed the exchange happening and stepped forward. Damien gladly introduced Remus to half a dozen well mannered and seemingly kind men who greeted him with polite handshakes and understanding nods. Everything seemed to be going as well as he could hope, and Damien was just offering to share his tent with Remus when the smell hit him. A smell he didn’t realise he would recognise so immediately.

He locked eyes with Damien and felt his pupils dilate in fear. Damien immediately offered him a consoling, understanding smile as the sound of footsteps approached them.

“Hey, Fen,” Damien tried by way of greeting, “this is Remus—”

But Fenrir Greyback cut him off, clapping a too rough hand on Remus’s back as he stood too close. “Remus Lupin.” Greyback said with a jovial lilt and a genuine grin that completely blindsided Remus. He didn’t know how in gods name Greyback could recognise him, know him.

“Hi.” Remus said weakly, trying to be as neutral and calm and as unassuming as humanly possible.

“Was just telling Remus he can kip with me,” Damien was trying again, aiming for robust nonchalance and ease despite the tension that had layered itself over them. Everyone had very suddenly dispersed, a few eyes on the margins casting shifty glances.

Greyback nodded good naturedly and agreed to the arrangements and Remus let himself breathe as he was welcomed, quite unexpectedly and kindly, to the group and told the ground rules; Everyone eats together, everyone shares, everyone transforms together, and new comers stay for at least two weeks after the first full moon.

If Remus agreed to those terms, he could stay. And of course, Remus agreed, obviously.

Greyback smiled easy, laughed loud, and was a bit too comfortable invading everyone’s personal space, to which no one seemed to object or assert a single physical boundary. Remus wondered if it was because he’d been living in the woods for so long. But the reality of him, laughing and joking and listening to people with genuine curiosity when they spoke, clashed horribly with the memory of him that had haunted Remus’s dreams for 13 years. He didn’t know what to make of any of this.

They ate a meagre dinner of beans and burnt toast all together, about 15 of them, and Remus gladly shared the packet of buttercream biscuits he’d brought to much excitement. He had met the rest of the members in that time, mostly young men in their early 20’s. Some of them were a bit off, a bit brusk and rude, others overly friendly, happy to see a new face. Some, he learned, lived there on a permanent basis, like Greyback. Others, like him and Damien, came and went as they needed.

He was grateful for Damien, in fact, who filled in all of Remus’s awkward silences, sat close to him, made sure he got his share of food, walked with him to and from the tent, making sure not to leave Remus alone for more than a few seconds at a time.

Greyback sat through dinner watching Remus closely from across the fire, joining in the mild chatter and smiling easily with the other men. He seemed unaccountably normal in a way Remus hadn’t anticipated and it made him all the more nervous to have the man’s brown eyes follow him.

Damien had just nudged Remus’s elbow, asking if he was ready to call it a night, and Remus nodded, pushing himself to his feet from the damp log he’d been sitting on. Greyback also stood and followed them from the fire a few paces before reaching for Remus’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough or unkind, or in anyway concerning, but the look on Damien’s face when he realised Greyback had followed them sent fear spiralling through Remus. 

“Hey, before you’re off for the night, can we have a quick chat?” He asked with such a gentle manner it set Remus further on edge.

“Of course.” Remus said, anxiety blooming in his chest.

He ticked a look at Damien who asked a meek, “you know where the tent is, Lupin?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, absolutely horrified at being left alone with Greyback so soon, so suddenly. “See you just now.”

And Damien gave him a tight smile before disappearing into the darkness. He tried his best to calm his heart, knowing Greyback would be able to hear it, be able to taste his fear.

Greyback led him away down a different trail through the trees and Remus followed silently, the sound of the others around the fire drifting on the night air. They arrived at a decent sized canvas tent, dark green, well hidden amid tall and wide pine trees.

He held the flap of the tent open and gestured for Remus to duck in ahead of him. Remus did so with mounting worries.

The tent was lit with old oil lamps and illuminated a large sleeping mat on the floor covered in several rumpled blankets. There was a little wood burning rocket stove in one corner making everything smell vaguely of soot, and a makeshift wardrobe in another with a clothes spilling out onto the floor. Remus had just barely straightened up after entering, just barely registered his surroundings, when Greyback’s hands were on him like a vice grip.

Sharp nails dug into soft skin as a harsh hand grabbed the back of Remus’s neck and pushed forward. Swiftly, in a well practice motion, Greyback hooked his leg around Remus’s shin, the force of which brought Remus very suddenly to his hands and knees, his mouth falling open in a stifled cry. Pain radiating out from his wrists and knees.

Greyback was crouched beside him, holding Remus there by the back of his neck like a one would a poorly behaved dog, speaking into his ear with a low, mild voice. “Are you one of Dumbledor’s?”

“What?” Remus stuttered, terrified.

Greyback shoved hard and Remus lost his balance. He fell flat, his face smashing into the gritty plastic floor. Greyback pushed a lazy knee into Remus’s shoulder, a hand still on his neck. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“N— no?” He sputtered through the bruising pain, bits of floor debris in his mouth. “I’m done with school, I just need a place to spend the full moon.”

He whined in protest against his will when Greyback pressed his knee harder into Remus, pain blooming in his shoulder, occluding his rationality.

“You’re telling me you spent seven years at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore didn’t know what you were?” He asked so evenly, with such a placid cadence that to hear him you would never know he was looming over someone, pinning them to the floor.

“Of course he knew—" Remus tried to explain with a grimace. “He helped me hide it from everyone.”

“And he didn’t try to recruit you?”

“Why would he try to recruit me?” Remus decided playing dumb was his best option.

Greyback was silent for a moment, and Remus wondered if he was trying to ascertain if Remus was stupid or not.

“How did you know where to find us?” Greyback was shifting, he let up the pressure of his knee in favour of grabbing Remus’s left wrist with his free hand and twisting it behind his back.

“Ahg!” Remus cried in pain, tears in his eyes. “You all don’t exactly keep a low profile. It wasn’t difficult.”

“Bullshit.” He wrestled Remus’s other arm behind his back and straddled Remus’s thighs, one hand on his wrists, the other in Remus’s hair, pushing his face resolutely into the floor.

“I’ve known Damien for years—" Remus panted, worried his shoulder might actually dislocate, “he’s not Hogwarts.”

“Why don’t you spend the moons with your dad, then? He’s got magic, he can lock you up good and tight, can’t he?”

“He’s—" Remus was struggling to breathe through the panic, through his mouth full of floor grime. “He’s too far in a bottle— I can’t trust him. It’s not safe.”

Greyback hummed with interest, with a kind of pleased approval. The hand in his hair loosened, moved with a little more gentleness. “You think this is safer?”

“I’m having some doubts.” Remus couldn’t help himself from saying and Greyback laughed at that, surprised and pleased, sitting his full weight on Remus’s thighs.

“Good.” He pulled his hand out of Remus’s hair, a loose grip on his trapped wrists.

Remus could hear Fenrir’s thudding heartbeat over his own frantic pulse. He could smell the man’s arousal and interest and Remus’s mind was running at a million kilometres an hour, trying to figure out how to stay safe, how to stay alive. Remus was trying to breathe in even, steadying breaths, trying to stay calm, trying not to completely unravel in his terror.

Without warning he moved to roughly shoved his hand under Remus, deftly unbuttoning his trousers and loosening them enough to yank them down. The sandy floor was rough against his sensitive parts and the cool evening air against his ass made him break out in goose flesh.

Remus was too afraid to move his hands from where they were left behind his back, so gripped his own wrists with an awful intensity as he heard a zipper and the rustle of fabric behind him.

It was all happening so fast and Remus just barely had a second to grasp the reality of the situation as Greyback’s nails dragged down exposed skin.

He used his own saliva for lube and shoved a hasty finger into Remus without prelude. Remus’s burning red face was pressed against the floor and his eyes were squeezed shut against it all, trying as hard as he could not to groan in pain, not to clench against the intrusion, not to cry.

As Greyback was pressing his cock against Remus, he felt a sob bubble up in his throat. He couldn’t help the cry erupting from him as he panted against the searing, tearing pain, with Greyback in his ear breathing heavy, moaning. He wrenched Remus’s head to the side by his hair and bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulder as he pumped into Remus with a harsh rhythm.

That was the first time.

It happened a few more times before Greyback invited others to join in. Each time, Remus didn’t resist. He didn’t fight it and he never cried during it, again. In fact, he began to anticipate what Greyback wanted and started to move into the touch, mechanical and completely out of his body. Leaning into the safety of acquiescence.

Every time Remus stumbled back to the tent he shared with Damien, he was greeted with kindness and understanding. Damien didn’t bother asking what happened, but rather offered salves and toiletries he had stashed. Damien did apologised, though, the night before that first moon Remus transformed with them, and said “they usually get bored after a while, and they find someone else.”

That did not make Remus feel any better. Nor did that seem to be true, as Greyback had seemed to take a special interest in Remus.

And so it went, every month. And every time Remus met Greyback before the full moon, when he still smelled of Sirius and their life together, Greyback was always rough. Always cruel. Always had to break Remus. Sometimes it included other pack members, sometimes not. But it was always painful and reeked of a possessive jealously that left Remus bleeding.

It got better, over time, he had to admit. Easier to manage. He started bringing lube to the camp, even convinced Greyback to use it more often than not by feigning interest, by seeking him out. He started getting the man to talk, to open up before and after. Started sleeping in the man’s tent.

Remus was quick with his quips and always startled Greyback into laughter, which made the way he touched Remus all the more gentle and kind. He had started to trust Remus. To tell him more about his plans, invite him on outings, to other packs he had scattered around the UK.

But no matter what, no matter what privileges he garnered, what ease he managed to cultivate amidst the horrors, he was still on the receiving end of so much violence. Remus hated it. He hated it with a simmering rage and hateful ache that made him fantasise about killing Greyback in his sleep.

It made him covet his relationship with Sirius all the more. Made him protective and possessive of it.

It made this thought of a threesome all the more complicated.

He didn’t want to do it, he had finally admitted to himself. And it’s not that he didn’t like the idea, or that he didn’t want to share Sirius. He thought he could overcome the challenge of sharing him with time. But more truthfully, he didn’t want to lend an outlet to the violent urges simmering below the surface. He didn’t want to find out if he’d revel in the malevolence like Greyback did. He just wanted his body to be his own when he wasn’t with the werewolves.

It was another two rough and exhausting lunar cycles after Remus had been in Marcus’s bedroom before he had the time to revisit the discussion.

It was five days after the full moon and Remus had been resolutely in bed, nursing a new wound on his thigh, courtesy of Greyback, one that refused to heal despite James’s best efforts. Remus had taken a stupid, reckless risk and he had paid dearly for it.

He had meant to tell Sirius that his answer was ‘no’ when the man returned home, meant to tell him this as Sirius put the tip of his wand to Remus’s festering thigh wound and whispered the cooling charm that help ease the pain better than James had managed.

But it got stuck in his throat. He watched Sirius use confident hands to wrap his thigh before pushing him back in the bed and tossing a blanket over him. He felt the soft press of lips to his temple as he slowly fell asleep, and knew in that moment, he wouldn’t refuse Sirius anything he wanted.

—

Remus was surprised at how nervous Sirius was as they waited for Marcus in the backroom of the club. He struggled to make eye contact and fidgeted endlessly with the cuffs of his jacket. Remus’s heart was in his own throat but he hated to see Sirius drowning in nerves, clearly worried about Remus agreeing to this.

The entrance of the club and the main room had been pretty empty. Granted, it was a Wednesday evening and mostly only hosting private parties such as theirs, so there weren’t so many people about. Regardless, Remus had found it completely overwhelming. It smelled liked plasticky leather and strong cleaner cloaked in cigar smoke. They ended up arriving much too early and now Sirius was simmering in an anxiety he refused to acknowledge.

The private room had a large bed, a huge st. Andrews cross in the corner, and a wall full of equipment Remus couldn’t name. A couple odd ends of furniture were scattered around. It was dimly lit and the rubber floors smelled weird. Digging deep, he let out a cleansing exhale and walked up to Sirius, pushing him back against the bench he was leaning on, standing between his feet.

“Take a deep breath.” He requested, his hand coming to the side of Sirius’s neck, his thumb against his jaw.

“I’m fine.” He lied, avoiding Remus’s touch, his voice falsely cheery.

Remus tilted his head, looking at him pointedly.

Sirius huffed before closing his eyes and taking a breath, as requested. When he opened his eyes they finally met Remus’s properly and he looked a little more settled.

“Are you sure about this?” Sirius asked, his nervousness leaking out.

“I am.” Remus assured, stepping in closer, speaking against his mouth. Sirius was melting into him, letting Remus overwhelm him.

“Because,” Sirius breathed, “maybe some fantasies are better left as fantasies.”

He pulled back to look Sirius in the eye. “Do you want to do this?”

Sirius flushed and nodded, licking his lips, “so badly.”

“Then we will.” He offered, leaning in to kiss him. Remus lifted Sirius to sit him on the bench, to press his hips against him, running his hands under his shirt. After a moment of this, of Sirius becoming insistent and malleable in his hands, he pulled away. “Get undressed.”

Sirius blushed. “Already? He’s not even here.”

“I know.” Remus raised his eyebrows, he had a plan. “Take your clothes off and kneel over there.” He gestured to a solid pole that sat in the middle of the room. Sirius slid down off the bench, his hands trailing down Remus’s chest. He still looked a little nervous, but more with an air of excitement.

“All of my clothes?” Sirius clarified and Remus couldn’t help grinning properly.

“Sirius Orion Black, are you experiencing a moment of modesty for the first time in your life?”

Sirius barked a laugh that shook the tension from his shoulders. “Alright, fuck off.”

Remus watched Sirius strip. Watched him blush under Remus’s gaze. Remus leaned back, hands on the bench, one ankle crossed over the other.

Once Sirius was standing there in the middle of the room, fully nude, clothes tossed carelessly to the wall, he looked to Remus with a questioning brow.

“Take your hair down.” Remus said softly. “And kneel with your back to the pole.”

Sirius pulled the elastic from his hair, his wand hidden in his jeans, and shook his mane of curls. The sight of him, there, hair around his shoulders, naked in the god awful dim lighting of the bleak room, set his heart pounding, made him ache in a familiar and beautiful way. This man was his whole heart.

Before Sirius went to the pole, his eyes scanned the shelving unit along the wall, looking for something. He quickly leaned over to grab a small, thin foam mat and tossed it at the base of the pole. “My poor knees.” He explained with a shrug and Remus shook his head in fond amusement.

As Sirius took his position, kneeling, Remus grabbed a length of black rope from the wall. He came to stand in front of him, reaching a hand into the curls and running his fingers along his scalp. Sirius’s eyes fluttered shut and tipped his face up, sighing into the familiar gesture.

“Hands.” Remus requested softly, and Sirius lifted them. He’d seen this bondage idea in a magazine and always wanted to try it but never had the confidence nor a reason. Now seemed like the perfect excuse.

He manoeuvred Sirius’s elbows straight up, biceps against each ear, his forearms behind his head, his hands dangling at the back of his neck. Sirius watched Remus with big doe eyes and parted lips as he unspooled the rope and let it cascade through his fingers, half of its length falling to the floor. Remus found the ends of the rope first, then brought them together to find the middle.

After gauging the length he needed, he stretched out a section between his hands and presented it to Sirius’s mouth, saying, “bite.”

Sirius did so without question, white teeth bared around the black fibres. The rope was then wrapped around his arms and head twice. When Remus cinched the ropes tight in the space between ear and arm, on either side of Sirius’s head, it gagged Sirius’s quite effectively and he let out a startled moan. Remus then tied his wrists together, and secured that to the pole.

Leaning down, he spoke quietly against Sirius’s forehead. “You remember the magic to get out of these if you need to?”

Sirius nodded with a sighing grunt of ascent, since he couldn’t speak.

“Good.” Remus pushed his fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp, the man’s eyes closing, his posture slumping a bit. “I have safety scissors if we need them, too.”

As Remus stood there, enjoying having Sirius tied up at his feet like this, he heard a polite rap of knuckles on the door. Remus gripped Sirius’s hair soothingly, gently, leaning down to kiss his temple, before walking to the door and unlocking it.

Marcus grinned and slipped inside, eyes immediately drawn to Sirius.

“Started without me, I see?” He said into the quiet room, all easy limbs and careless tones as he walked towards Sirius. Remus watched carefully as Marcus stopped just short of where Sirius was kneeling, looking down at him with a predatory, pleased smile on his face. Sirius was looking back at him with an expression Remus couldn’t place.

“Don’t touch.” Remus warned as Marcus moved to run his hands through Sirius’s hair with the same affectionate gesture Remus had done. Marcus stopped, took a step back, and turned towards Remus with an apologetic smile.

Remus was wholly in charge, for once, and instead of feeling awkward and scared, as he expected to feel, he was stepping into it with an unforeseen sense of welling power and heady control.

“Come here.” He told Marcus, not looking at Sirius, whose eyes he could feel on him, burning holes in him.

After Remus previously stopped Marcus’s advances all those weeks ago, they’d managed to have a long, meaningful conversation about what exactly Marcus would want out of this. In short, he too, wanted to be manhandled. Wanted to be bossed around. He wanted to be wielded like an extension of Remus, like a weapon to be used to punish Sirius.

And, for some unknown, godforsaken reason, Sirius wanted that too.

Remus was standing against the bench again, in full view of where Sirius knelt on the ground, arms bound to his own head, rope gagging him, drool beginning to run down his chin. Marcus came and stood before him with that same big eyed, expectant expression, waiting for Remus’s instruction.

He took a second, leaning back against the bench, looking over Marcus. Taking in the dimples on his cheeks, the way he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, the way his hand cautiously reached out to hook a finger in the pocket of Remus’s trousers.

He allowed it, and let Marcus step in a little closer, Remus’s eyes sliding over Sirius who was breathing heavy, his cock half hard, his eyes narrowed in on Marcus’s hands.

He looked back at Marcus who was much closer, now, looking at Remus’s mouth in a hopeful sort of way. Remus slid his hand up Marcus’s arm and to the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. He still tasted all wrong and nothing like Sirius. The wrong cigarettes, the wrong toothpaste, the wrong tea, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. Just— not what he wanted. But somehow, having Sirius there, watching him, made it better and safer feeling than it had felt when he was alone with Marcus.

Soon, Marcus was pressing himself insistently against Remus, his hands roaming, and Remus allowed it to happen, let himself feel wanted.

Marcus’s lips were on his jaw and Remus’s hands had come to the man’s hips, and he could feel Sirius’s magic, thick and heavy and anguished around him. He wondered distantly if Marcus couldn’t taste the static in the air, feel the pressure of it around them like an impending storm.

“Get undressed.” Remus told Marcus softly. But, when Marcus didn’t stop moving his mouth along Remus’s neck, or pull back his hands from Remus’s stomach, his voice became sharp and loud.

“Marcus.” He bit and Marcus stopped suddenly, pulling back. The effect of that rushed through Remus like fire. He held the man there with a hard stare. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Marcus shivered and took a step back. He could hear Sirius panting in shallow breaths from the floor and he couldn’t resist looking to him.

A thin string of drool was dangling from his chin down to his bare chest, the ropes pulled tight, deep across his mouth. He was fully erect, now, and every time he tried to move his arms, to adjust his position, it gagged him harder.

The sight of him struggling to remain still, to hold himself upright on his knees, breathing heavy, staring into Remus’s eyes, sent the first real wave of desire through him since they’d arrived. He wanted to ruin Sirius.

His eyes left him then and returned to Marcus who was stepping gingerly out of his pants and adding them to the pile of clothing. He was staring at Remus who had yet to remove a single layer, not even his shoes.

Remus tipped his head back minutely, beckoning Marcus forward as his hands pulled two rubber rings out his pocket. Marcus stepped in close, close enough that his half filled erection brushed against Remus’s trousers. They were basically the same height and so Remus pushed himself off the bench to stand up properly, their bodies coming in contact with the movement.

Static was prickling at Remus’s skin, making a few strands of Marcus’s hair stand on end. He looked at Sirius with the ghost of a grin, his own magic reaching out, soothing, as his hand reached down and gripped Marcus’s length.

Marcus swayed a bit, his hands gripping Remus’s biceps, steadying, his head tipping towards Remus’s shoulder.

Remus jerked him off slow and teasing for an agonising minute before pulling away and lifting the cock ring for Marcus to see, looking for consent.

He nodded eagerly, falling forward and kissing Remus who indulged him a moment of this, letting Marcus press his hips eagerly against him. But then he was pushing him a step back, stretching the ring over his fingers to slid down his cock and over his balls.

“Too tight?” He asked, watching Marcus struggle to keep his breathing even.

Marcus shook his head, at a loss for words. He kissed him again, more tongue that time, hand over his length, feeling Marcus moan into his mouth. Pulling away, he slid his hand down Marcus’s arm, turned his palm skyward and placed the other cock ring in the centre before curling his fingers around the fist.

“Go put this on him.” Remus said quietly, not sure if Sirius could hear him. “And, do nothing else.” He added sternly when Marcus turned away with a grin to obey. He didn’t yet trust the man to listen properly.

The flighty magic emanating from Sirius had his own hair dancing with static and even though Marcus was sinking to his knees before him, reaching out to grip him, to slide the cock ring around him, his fluttering eyes never left Remus’s.

Gripping the hem of his jumper, Remus pulled it over his head in a swift motion, but left on his black under shirt. He kicked off his shoes and socks, divested himself of his trousers, but left his briefs on. He wasn’t entirely sure, yet, if he’d be comfortable being totally naked.

Marcus was just shifting to stand himself back up when Remus was suddenly behind him, a rough hand on the back of his neck, forcing him to stay down on his knees. Less than half a meter from Sirius, Marcus sat back on his feet and allowed Remus to yank his head back by his short hair.

Remus crouched behind him, using his hair as leverage to expose his neck, putting his teeth to it, making the man teeter off balance and whine. He had casually tossed down a bottle of lube beside them.

Marcus tried to stifle a yelp, his hands moving to find stability and purchase, reaching for Remus’s knee beside him.

“Hands in your lap.” He instructed warningly and enjoyed, much more than he thought he ought to, watching Marcus struggle stay upright. Watching him try to stay sitting on his feet, hands in his lap, with his head being pulled so hard at such an awkward angle, offsetting his centre of gravity.

Something was blooming deep in Remus’s gut, something hungry and forceful. It was something brilliantly insidious, something that revelled in the placid affect he was maintaining while Sirius and Marcus were slowly unravelling, bending to his will without question. It expanded with every rush of air out of Sirius’s lungs, every wincing groan out of Marcus.

He eased up the pressure in Marcus’s hair and let him sit more comfortably, a soothing hand on his scalp, a soft mouth on his shoulder as his eyes watched Sirius. Adjusting himself to be more at ease for this next part, he brought his knees down on either side of Marcus, practically straddling him from behind, using his heels to give himself a height advantage. He let his hands slide lazily around Marcus’s stomach, his mouth open to his shoulder, and just before he gripped the man’s cock he made sure Sirius’s eyes were locked on him.

Marcus sighed in relief at the contact, tipping his head back against Remus, lost in the satisfying pull along his length as Remus drowned himself in the flash of unexpected jealousy that filled Sirius’s eyes.

Sirius was breathing sharply through his nose, jaw clenching hard around the rope in his mouth his brow furrowed in a new and fascinating kind of anger. Remus wanted more of it, wanted to draw it out, wanted to let it consume him.

And, so suddenly, so resolutely, Marcus who was panting and moan and begging and struggling to hold still, had stopped being a person with thoughts and feelings. He had become that tool he offered himself to be, that weapon he could use to punish Sirius. The unmitigated, surging power of that rushed through his body. It eradicated the voice inside of him that urged gentleness and restraint, the part of him that held on to his humanness in the face of the wolf.

“Bend over,” he told Marcus who was groaning as Remus’s hand disappeared. Marcus moved with a clumsy eagerness that put his head incredibly close to Sirius’s crotch. Unfortunately for them, Remus wasn’t about to give either of them that satisfaction yet.

Instead he trailed his hand up the line of Marcus’s spine to the back of his neck and pushed his face down roughly towards the floor. Marcus went with little resistance, his hands hesitating for only a moment before reaching forward a few inches to grip the outside of Sirius’s knees as an anchor point. Perfect.

Remus grabbed the bottle of lube and poured some down Marcus’s crease as the man panted, hands clutching behind Sirius’s knees, saying to the floor, “please, please Remus,” in such sincere tones.

Sirius was taking deep calming breaths and Remus could hear his frantic pounding heart. He took a moment to make eye contact with him and raised an eyebrow in question. Sirius nodded enthusiastically, nearly vibrating with the intensity of it, and Remus finally ran a finger down Marcus’s crease.

“Yes, please.” Marcus begged loudly, lust bleeding from Remus's heart at the sight of his nails biting into Sirius’s legs.

The way Marcus’s voice cracked as Remus pushed two fingers inside of him caused Sirius to whine a high sound, a blush stealing all down his neck and chest. Thrusting in and out, finding the rhythm he knew Sirius liked, Marcus was soon pressing back, moaning out with each slick movement of fingers. Remus was on his knees, one hand steadying on Marcus’s hip as the other worked him open.

“God, please fuck me already.” Marcus complained after being thoroughly taken apart over several long, unending minutes. His back was covered in a sheen of sweat and his arms were tense, but Remus didn’t care for the demanding tone. He pulled his fingers out to a delirious, angry cry.

He reached around into Marcus’s hair and yanked him sharply back and up. “I’m sorry—“ Marcus scrambled to say, struggling to find his balance, struggling to catch his breath.

Remus hummed a disapproving sound and manhandled him back into a kneeling position, making him sit on his feet, hands automatically to where they belonged on his lap.

Remus used his shoulder as leverage to stand up, told him to sit there and wait, his breathing uneven and eyes squeezed shut in dire frustration. He walked around him and crouched in front of Sirius, reaching his hands around to the binds. “Squeeze.”

Sirius gripped Remus’s fingers, his breathing laboured. “Too tight?”

Sirius shook his head as best he could. Remus used the hem of his shirt to wipe the drool of his chin and chest, Sirius closing his eyes, leaning into the loving touch.

“Are you okay in this position for a little while longer?”

Sirius took a moment, looking into Remus’s eyes, thinking hard before slowly nodding.

Remus leaned forward and pressed his lips to his forehead. “Just a bit longer, then I have something else planned for you.”

Sirius moaned, then, leaning as far forward as the binds would allow, seeking Remus’s solid presence against him. Remus’s hand wrapped around Sirius’s hip, steadying him, not wanting to give him too much, fingers sliding along smooth skin. He kissed his cheek, just above where the ropes bit into his face, and then stood.

He let his hand run through Marcus’s sweaty hair as he walked by, noting with a sick sense of pleasure how devastated Marcus looked. He left the two of them to sit and stare at each other in purgatory as he went to grab some condoms. This new confidence that he’d garnered over the last hour, the heady feeling that had kept him floating thus far, making him far more settled than he had anticipated, ebbed just a bit. A lick of creeping anxiety flickered in his chest as the foil packets crinkled in his hand. Remus and Sirius were really bad about using them regularly, but, as James repeatedly told them, it was good practice. And, Remus supposed he should be making sure they weren’t being completely fucking stupid.

He was really doing this, wasn’t he?

He sighed, and took a moment to him self there by the bench to breathe through all of his welling feelings, letting Sirius’s magic dance along his skin.

Turning around he was struck by how beautiful Sirius was in his debauched state. How absolutely, painfully alluring, and how much it ached sometimes to see, stole his breath.

He strode back over and crouched beside Marcus, running his fingers through his hair on the back of his head, speaking low in his ear, “you’re listening much better than I thought you would.”

Marcus tried to grin through the tension in his body, pleased with the praise, turning his face towards Remus who kissed him, who circled his other hand around his neck and squeezed just a little.

“If I’m going to fuck you,” Remus whispered against his shallow breaths, “I need you suck his cock. Can you do that?”

Marcus whined and nodded before he stumbled forward on his hands and knees, eager and pliable.

He’d just manage to open his mouth, to brush his lips over Sirius, Sirius’s eyes rolling back at the merciful contact, when Remus yanked Marcus’s hips back sharply, cruelly. Marcus yelped in a shocked, satisfying way, his chest almost to the ground, his arms splayed out in front of him.

“One more thing,” Remus said mildly to Marcus’s wild confusion, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“What?” Marcus panted, frustrated.

Remus’s fingers were back in his hair, lifting his forehead from the floor.

“I still need you to fuck him so you’re obviously not allowed to come.”

Marcus whined on a frantic exhale.

“Do you understand?” Remus pulled harder, Sirius magic sharp on his skin.

“Yes.” He groaned with a furrowed brow.

“Good.” Remus let go. Let his face fall back to the floor. “Then, carry on.”

Marcus moved slower then, more hesitant. Afraid, almost, to be too eager to touch Sirius, afraid of another unexpected reprimand. Good. A warm gratification curled around his heart at that.

He found Sirius’s eyes and held them as Marcus sank down on his cock. Sirius couldn’t keep his eyes open and the sound that came out of him at the feeling of Marcus’s mouth around him was barely human.

Remus came right up beside Sirius, using his shirt again to wipe the drool that was collecting on his chin. Sirius was breathing hard, unable to focus on Remus who had slipped his hand into Marcus’s hair and was guiding the movement of his head.

Every few thrusts, Remus would hold Marcus there, make him gag on Sirius, make him gasp for air when he let him pull back. Sirius was groaning, panting, a high whine escaping him on each exhale. Finally Remus felt he’d warmed Marcus up enough, had given him enough warning, so when he sank back down the next time, he held him there with a tight fist, making him struggle for air as Remus spoken to Sirius.

“You can come whenever you like, but he’s not going to stop if you do.”

Sirius tried to nod, a frustrated growl in his throat, his breath coming in heaving gasps.

“That cock ring will only go so far in holding you back.” Remus warned before kissing his forehead. Sirius whimpered.

Remus let go of Marcus who came off of Sirius entirely, head falling to the ground as he dragged in several strangled breaths, coughing and sputtering, muttering “fuck” to the floor.

While Marcus tried to catch his breath, Remus knelt behind him, pressed a finger into him without warning, making him yelp in surprise, choking on his own breath, struggling to get back up onto his hands.

Remus added a second finger and pressed down hard. Marcus cried out, distant and wanton, and entirely forgetting he had a job to do.

He let Marcus get lost in it for a moment, moaning insistently, let Sirius stare angry daggers into him. But as he added a third finger, he finally spoke, “Marcus, aren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

“Fuck,” he whined with a slur and finally pushed himself up. But Sirius’s eyes were ticking up and down on Remus’s body in a pointed way, from his briefs to his shirt.

He wanted Remus naked.

Remus shook his head minutely. He wasn’t ready, it was too vulnerable, despite being about to literally have sex.

Sirius let his eyes drift shut in a pleasured grimace, Marcus’s mouth back on him.

Remus was hard, which was no small relief. It was something he’d really panicked and worried over earlier. Something he struggled with when he was with Greyback.

It certainly wasn’t the desperate throbbing ache he experienced when he was alone with Sirius, but the sound of Sirius’s heavy breathing had lured his arousal out of him just enough to make it usable. And, he supposed, that would have to be enough.

Pushing his freehand beneath the waistband of his pants he stroked himself, fingers moving in and out of Marcus, his eyes resolutely locked on Sirius’s face which was twisted in a kind of beautiful agony. Marcus was pushing back more and more insistently, shaking a bit with the effort of it. If his mouth hadn’t been so occupied, Remus was sure he’d be begging.

He removed his fingers to put on a condom and Marcus’s self restraint completely shattered, pulling off of Sirius he demanded, “what now?”

Remus didn’t even think about what he was doing. Fluid and compulsive, a loud crack rang out into the room as his hand met Marcus’s ass with a bruising force. Then another— and another. He hadn’t even meant to— it was so automatic, so shockingly second nature that he had to wrestle the sudden welling disgust left in the ringing silence. The horror with himself at how quickly it had happened, how quickly he had snapped and resorted to violent force.

But Marcus keened wildly, crying out, and Remus was only slightly soothed by the thought that they had discussed this previously, that it was, in fact, on the table. Never mind that he hadn’t been thinking about that when it happened.

“Excuse me?” Remus asked, hoping his doubt wasn’t apparent. His hand came to rub over the red hot welt blooming on Marcus’s skin, Remus’s own erection now suddenly, repugnantly, throbbing with interest.

Marcus didn’t respond, he just groaned in pain. He was leaning forward, elbows on the ground, head nearly between Sirius’s knees.

Remus hummed that sound of disapproval into Marcus’s silence as he tore open the condom packet.

“I’m sorry.” Marcus panted, gulping in air. “I’m sorry, I won't—"

“No,” Remus agreed, so deeply, bone meltingly satisfied to hear how the man’s voice wavered, his wolf revelling in it. He did not want to look at Sirius. “You won’t.”

Marcus nodded mindlessly to the floor as he took deep steadying breaths. Remus had to gather himself, had to beckon his humanness forward before continuing. He softened his voice, leaned forward and brushed his hand between Marcus’s shoulder blades. “Are you ready? Do you need a minute?”

“No—" he choked out. “I’m good.”

Remus hummed and resumed kneeling behind Marcus, finally fitting the condom to his tip and rolling it down the length. “Then, what should you be doing?”

Marcus struggled up on to his hands, struggled to fit his mouth around Sirius whose gaze Remus could feel like a physical weight. He pressed the head of his cock to Marcus’s hole and finally looked up.

It was like Marcus wasn’t even there. Again, the man’s personhood and identity just melted into the background as Remus pushed into him, as he saw Sirius’s eyes go wild with want and desperation. He leaned forward to fist his hand into the damp hair and rocked his hips forward with a cruel intensity.

Marcus choked, and moaned, and struggled around the cock in his mouth as Remus pounded into him with a brutal pace, not bothering with a gentle start. Not caring if it hurt or if he was uncomfortable.

Sirius’s magic tasted like iron and smelled like rain all around him and Remus groaned, chasing the slick feeling of pleasure that wrapped itself about his skin. Sirius was trying to watch him, trying to keep his eyes opened and focused but he was clearly struggling to fight off a building orgasm as Marcus’s mouth stroked him in time with Remus’s relentless thrusting.

They carried on like that for a while, the three of them groaning and panting, punctuated by Marcus’s undignified gagging sounds. A niggling worry was creeping up Remus’s spine, a worry that he wouldn’t be able to come. He was pretty far past the point when he would normally be chasing the inevitability of an orgasm and he wasn’t sure if it was Marcus, the condom, or a combination of the two. It’s not like Remus had any real intention or expectation of having an orgasm himself, anyways, but it was something he was self conscious of regardless. 

But he was soon distracted from the thought because Sirius’s breathing was coming out in high, sharp sounds, frantic and fearful. He was close to coming and his eyes looked to Remus with pleading desperation, clearly unsure if he should be fighting it off or sinking into it.

But the moment was derailed because Marcus pushed back hard, coming off of Sirius, panting and whining and shaking, saying, “fuck, I’m too close, I’m—”

Remus pulled out and tucked his erection into the waistband of his pants before he pulled Marcus back into a sitting position between his legs, against his chest.

He was shaking and sweating and he looked a bit pale.

“It’s okay,” Remus offered, finally finding some genuine kindness for the man, his hands soothing against his skin as Marcus slumped back into him. “It’s okay, you’re good.”

Marcus nodded, trying to catch his breath, hands squeezing Remus’s legs on either side of him. He let Marcus breathe there for a minute before whispering in his ear, “Go lay on the bed.”

He chivied the man forward, and helped him to his feet. Remus kissed his red, swollen mouth and watched him stumble towards the bed and collapse onto it before he turned around and removed his condom, casting a very surreptitious cleaning charm at himself. 

Then, he turned his attention to Sirius. Reaching behind his head he untied the ropes. He uncinched the ties beside each ear and unwrapped the length from around his head. Sirius’s arms fell to his side, limp and useless, and Remus was right there to catch him when his balanced faltered. The corners of his mouth looked sore and abraded, indentations from the rope patterning his cheeks, and Remus wrapped his arms around him, hauling him up to his feet.

Sirius was like a rag doll in his embrace, loose and pliable with uncoordinated limbs.

“Do you need a minute?” Remus whispered into his ear.

Sirius shook his head. “‘M okay.”

Remus led him to the bed by the hand where Marcus was looking much less overwhelmed and much more like the smug bastard Remus wanted to punch. Marcus trailed a hand up Sirius’s arm in greeting and Remus felt that sick thrill of jealousy curdle in his gut. He turned back to grab the discarded rope, the condom and bottle of lube from the floor before walking back to the two men.

“Alright.” Remus started, looking between the two of them. “Sirius, just take a breather.”

Sirius looked deeply relieved and immediately flopped down on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“You,” Remus said with a sharp look and Marcus gazed at him with an anticipatory glint in his eyes, but not daring to say anything about what he thought might happen next, lest Remus take it away. “Hands behind your back.”

There were anchor points on the wall where a headboard would normally be and Remus had quite a creative idea in mind. A way to give Marcus what he was promised but to make it as difficult and trying as humanly possible. Marcus looked curiously at Remus before shifting his gaze to Sirius with a questioning brow.

Remus cocked his head, raised his own brows in a challenging response, waiting for Marcus to give him any reason to deny or punish him.

But Marcus clearly had a similar penchant for self preservation as Remus did and he dutifully clasped his hands behind his back.

“Back to the wall.” Remus told him, and Marcus scooted back between two pillows.

Remus knelt on the bed to tie his wrists together, to secure them to the heavy metal ring.

“Can you get up on your knees comfortably?” Remus asked and Marcus’s eyes shot up to his in gobsmacked incredulity.

“You’re joking.” He laughed breathlessly.

“Not even a little.” Remus said, managing to smile properly at Marcus’s disbelief.

“Christ, you’re worse than he is.” Marcus groused and Remus allowed himself to be charmed by the man, for just a second, as he watched Marcus pushed himself up to his knees, wobbling a little on the mattress without the use of his arms.

Remus grinned, all too pleased with himself as Marcus sat back down and waited patiently. He crawled over to where Sirius was still lying, sprawled out and half hard still, his breathing finally even, and straddled his thighs. Remus leaned down, Sirius moved his arm from his face and reached for Remus, pulling him into a kiss. It was slow, and deep, and Remus couldn’t help the sighing moan in his throat as Sirius’s hands pushed into his hair.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius’s asked against Remus’s mouth, voice needy again, bare and vulnerable.

Remus gripped his face lovingly, cradling it between his hands, softly pressing his lips to Sirius’s before saying, “Finger yourself for me.”

Sirius’s breath caught in his throat, completely overwhelmed. Completely lost.

Since Sirius had first suggested a threesome, a not insignificant part of Remus worried that this was another way for Sirius to punish himself. That Sirius was so consumingly guilty about how he kept hurting Remus, that the only way for him to feel better was to put himself in a situation where Remus would hurt him, would punish him. That it was the only way to make things even between them. So that he didn’t have to hate Remus for loving him so much.

He wasn’t convinced that still wasn’t the case, but Remus knew all he could do was love Sirius as hard as he could anyways. Love him wholly and consumingly, even in the face of Sirius’s most ardent, deep seated belief that he was somehow rotten, broken, and unlovable.

Remus handed Sirius the bottle of lube, got off of his thighs, sat back with his legs crossed and lean onto his hands.

Sirius was suddenly blushing. Suddenly shy now with the eyes on him, now that he was being asked to do something, rather than having things done to him.

Remus grinned. “Go on, then.”

Marcus was watching with great interest and looked about fit to burst with wanting to say whatever was on his mind. Probably some petulant demand for things to hurry along. Remus was happy to make him wait, happy to see if he could keep his mouth shut. And, if he couldn’t, Remus was happy enough to shut it for him.

Sirius, not one to remain shy or bashful for very long, positioned himself back on an elbow and reached his other hand down, past his balls. He watched Remus as he pushed a finger into himself, followed very quickly by a second. He was working his wrist, his face twisting in effort more than pleasure, and Remus wondered if his arms and hands might still be a bit fucked from the binds.

“Can I help?” Remus offered with an empathetic grin after a minute’s struggle.

Sirius nodded, grateful, starting to sweat quite a bit again. Remus crawled back over him, between his legs, familiar and habitual as all the times they’d done this before.

He pressed his fingers into Sirius, thrusting roughly, knowing Sirius wanted it like that, kissed him into the pillows. He could hear Marcus breathing hard again, feel his eyes hungrily roaming over them. Sirius was moaning into the pleasure soon after, mouth insistent on Remus’s jaw, begging, “please, more, another— touch me.”

Remus gave him another but didn’t touch him. Soon Sirius was hard and writhing against Remus, pulling at his undershirt, pushing at his pants. And as much as he wanted to fuck Sirius right there on the bed, fuck him in front of Marcus and make the bastard watch, not let the interloper even come to the sight of them, it wasn’t what they had planned.

He pulled back, asking, “are you ready?”

“For what?” Sirius breathed, almost like he’d forgotten what they were doing, like he just expected Remus to surge forward between his legs and take him like that.

Remus’s eyes ticked up to Marcus, who looked like if it weren’t for the cock ring, he would have come from just the thrill of the anticipation. Sirius nodded, remembering.

“You can take the rings off, if you want.” Remus offered him the option. “It’s up to you if you let Marcus finish.”

Marcus couldn’t stop the frustrated whine that rushed out of him.

Remus stared at Marcus for a moment, unimpressed, before saying to Sirius, “but put a condom on him— and gag him for me, regardless.”

Marcus breathed an aroused, annoyed, and incredulous laugh, choosing to keep his words to himself. He looked like he dearly wanted to punch Remus in the face as he struggled to get up onto his knees from his seated position. It gave Remus a warm, satisfied feeling.

Sirius dutifully grabbed a ball gag from nearby and was about to press it into Marcus’s mouth when Marcus demanded, a little breathless and desperate, quiet and not meant for Remus’s ears, “kiss me.”

Remus didn’t say anything, he wanted to see what Sirius would do. Sirius, who paused, who lowered the gag as he thought, before eventually turning to Remus.

“Absolutely not.” Remus snorted a laugh, sinking into the warmth created in his gut by Marcus’s anger and frustration. His wolfish petulance had never been so gleefully indulged.

Sirius looked a little apologetic and Marcus glared like he was planning on fist fighting Remus when this was all said and done. The gag in place, Sirius hesitated again with the condom in his hands before carefully removing his own and then Marcus’s cock ring. Marcus groaned a sigh of genuine relief, his shoulders dropping, his head tipping back. It was much kinder than Remus had planned on being.

Condom rolled on, Sirius turned himself around, hand reaching to grip Marcus. It was an awkward angle and difficult for Sirius to manoeuvre without the help of Marcus’s hands, but Remus thought the struggle made it all the more enjoyable for himself to watch.

Remus scooted up the bed, right into Sirius’s personal space as the man struggled, as he finally managed to press the head of Marcus’s cock into his entrance. Marcus, eager and filled with a vibrating intensity, slowly started rocking his hips, trying to inch his way in.

“Marcus, hold still.” Remus ordered. Marcus squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing an angry groan, and took several deep, shaky breaths. He looked furious.

Sirius’s face was right there in front of Remus, almost at eye level, and he gave Remus a pointed look from beneath heavy lidded eyes. Remus grinned again, leaning in to kiss Sirius.

“You can move.” He clarified, “he can’t.”

Sirius grunted in something that might have been exasperation as he pressed his hips back. He slowly impaled himself on Marcus over a few long moments, his lips open, his eyes shut, and his brow furrowed. One hand had come to grip Remus’s thigh as Sirius moaned into the feeling.

Marcus was groaning, panting and doing his very best to hold still and stay balanced as Sirius started to move against him, back and forth. He was shaking and sweating and breathing hard and Remus had to admit he was a bit impressed with how much he was working to follow the pitiless, punishing directive.

Sirius was rocking his hips, getting into a smoother rhythm, the hand on Remus’s thigh grabbing and pulling at Remus’s pants. “Fuckin—" he muttered, grunting as he moved, “take these off.”

With Sirius’s hands on him, with Marcus safely sequestered, ropes and a gag keeping him at a distance, Remus complied. He moved away to strip before moving back into position, nearly sitting cross legged in front of Sirius. His hands held Sirius’s face, kissing him, drinking in his neediness as Sirius struggled to keep a rhythm, as his hand reached clumsily for Remus’s hardening length.

Remus felt a twinge of guilt at how much Sirius was struggling to comply, to coordinate his movements, but the guilt did nothing to tamp down the burning hot pleasure of seeing him wrecked like this.

Marcus was staring at Remus with wide, wild eyes, his whole body shaking with tension. Sirius’s hand was stroking Remus with an unsteady rhythm, fucking himself back on Marcus, not finding enough purchase for the pressure and intensity either of the men were seeking.

“Marcus, you can move.” Remus finally capitulated.

Marcus sobbed through the gag and slammed his hips forward, rocking Sirius roughly into Remus. Remus held Sirius’s face to kiss him, to feel his tongue on his mouth as Marcus pounded into him, forcing indelicate moans out of him.

“Touch yourself,” Remus told him.

Sirius shook his head, looking anguished.

“Do it.” Remus pushed, overwhelmed by Sirius’s desperation.

“No,” Sirius moaned with a little broken cry.

“Why not?” Remus asked, his own desires spiralling into a frenzied crescendo as the force of the thrusting made Sirius’s mouth uncoordinated, made him groan into Remus’s.

“Want you—" Sirius panted, the thought left unfinished, his tongue sliding in past Remus’s lips.

“Okay,” Remus affirmed, fisting Sirius’s hair, kissing him with everything he had, pouring himself into that moment as Marcus’s panting stuttered. Marcus went rigid and came with a loud, muffled cry, drool running down the sides of his gag, his chest bright red and sweaty.

Almost as soon as Marcus had stopped rocking into Sirius, as soon as he fell back against the wall, Sirius surged forward. Knocking Remus back he crawled between his legs with a wild intensity. He gripped them both together in one fist and moved his hand frantically over them, nearly shouting into Remus’s shoulder as he came almost immediately, shaking and moaning through it.

The slickness of his release stole the breath out of Remus who shuddered and thrust into Sirius’s hand. He came soon after, his mouth open to Sirius’s forehead, almost surprised by it.

For a while there was nothing but the sound of breathing in the room, with Sirius’s weight on top of him, warm and comforting.

But it didn’t last long, as Remus had to be a kind and responsible human. He rolled Sirius off of him, and covered him with a blanket, kissing his temple. He got up, stepped into his pants, and grabbed some moist towelettes to clean himself and Sirius off.

Finally, he went to untie Marcus who was slumped back against the wall with his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose.

He jumped a little when Remus touched him to take the gag off, but pretty immediately melted back into a puddle of a person as Remus worked to untie the ropes. He was almost certain Sirius had fallen asleep and spoke quietly to Marcus.

“Are you okay?”

Marcus nodded with a faint grin, looking up at him.

“That was—" he started with a rueful laugh, stretching his arms out, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “intense. Good but intense.” His voice was raw, “You’re both as bad as each other.” He finished derisively.

Remus snorted, he couldn’t help it. He still wanted to punch him, but it was mixed with some weird vague shame-filled arousal. Marcus reached out and trailed a finger along a scar on Remus’s chest, before pulling him down for a kiss. Remus let it happen, a gentle hand along Marcus’s jaw.

“Call me when you want another go round.” Marcus whispered against Remus’s lips. Remus nodded with a sigh, but didn’t say anything further.

Marcus stood and stretched. He cleaned himself and dressed quickly before looking at the Sirius shaped lump under the blanket for a moment, hesitant.

“Tell him I said thanks,” he told Remus quietly with a wink, before taking his leave.

Prick.

Remus pulled his shirt back on and slid into the bed beside Sirius who stirred sleepily, wrapping his arms around him.

“Where’s Marcus?” He muttered against Remus’s chest.

“He left.”

Sirius nodded. There was silence, and then sniffling. It was another moment before Remus realised Sirius was crying.

“Sirius?” Remus asked, moving to make Sirius look at him. Sirius refused, a sob simmering in his throat.

“I can go get him,” Remus offered, feeling woefully inadequate and horribly inept.

“No—“ Sirius cried. “No, I don’t give a shit about Marcus.”

“Then, what’s the matter?” Remus pressed, trying to get Sirius to look at him.

“I—" Sirius stuttered, still refusing to look up, “I can’t believe I asked you to do this.”

“What?” Remus pressed, so confused. Had it not been good for Sirius? Did he colossally fuck something up? Should he not have let Marcus kiss him at the end? What had he done?

“I shouldn’t have—" he was sobbing so hard so suddenly he couldn’t breathe and Remus was completely bewildered.

“Sirius, I agreed to this. You didn’t make me do anything. Should I not have agreed?”

“You can’t—" Sirius wheezed through a cry, “just agree to things I want.”

“What?” Remus asked, now absolutely flabbergasted. “Come here, sit up.”

Sirius was shaking his head, burying his face, completely devastated about something Remus couldn’t grasp.

“You can’t love me this hard—" Sirius yelled into the pillow.

“What are you talking about?” Remus demanded, trying to pry Sirius off of the pillow. But Sirius just sobbed harder.

“Sirius, what did I do wrong?” Remus pressed, feeling a bit panicked, hand in Sirius’s hair, mouth to his shoulder.

“Nothing!” He cried, nearly unintelligible. “Everything was— perfect— I just—"

“What? You just what?” Remus pressed, a little desperately.

Sirius pushed himself up, sobbing big, cataplectic, childlike sobs, falling into Remus.

“I just— made you h— have sex— with someone you d— don’t even like—" Sirius’s cries were punctuated with gasping breaths and the frantic gulping of air, like he was about to have a panic attack, like the reality of what they just did was eating him alive.

“No, oh , no, Sirius.” Remus held him, rocked him gently in his arms. He felt awful. Full of guilt and heartache and like he’d betrayed both of them somehow. Like Remus was at fault for this whole thing. “I can make decisions all on my own, you didn’t make me do anything.”

Sirius cried and cried and cried in a way Remus had never seen him. He imagined this was the kind of crying Sirius missed out on being allowed to experience as a child. That he never had someone to hold him through it, to tell him it was okay to have big, confusing, and overwhelming feelings. That they didn’t mean you were wrong or bad or unlovable. They just meant you were human.

“It’s okay, Sirius.” Remus said ardently, repentantly into his hair, pressing the words into his skin, feeling lost. “I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m so, so sorry.”