Of Course
Of course.
Of course it was today of all days, when he had already gone to the room of requirement, and stood in the shower, hands on his cock, and tried to think of anything else than one of his best friends, of Remus, of Moony, of his curly hair and his beautiful eyes and the scars on his back and his nose that he wanted to kiss, of the scars he had seen on mornings after full moons that went all the way down his torso, of all of them that he wanted to kiss, of other places on Moony that he wanted to kiss, and who was he kidding? He wanted to kiss all of him. Okay, so he didn’t try too hard not to think about Moony, of kissing him, of Moony kissing him back, of kissing down Moony’s throat and chest and down that soft patch of blondish hair and licking along his shaft and taking him into his mouth and – and – oh. It didn’t take long. It never does, when thinking of his Moony.
And after all that, in carefully washing himself with the unscented soap, or maybe it was unscent-ing soap? Soap that makes you yourself unscented? He cleaned his clothes, and dried his hair, and made himself look presentable for transfiguration.
He arrived there before Remus had, which was a small surprise – where had Remus gone when he left the great hall? He didn’t let himself worry, didn’t let himself feel much of anything, even when Remus came in before class started looking slightly wide-eyed and disoriented.
“All right, Moony?” He asked, not quite looking at him, because how could he, when he had just come dreaming of his cock in his mouth? He couldn’t let him know. He couldn’t be obvious. They were friends. He needed him as a friend.
“I’m great, Pads,” came the reply, and Remus hugged him. A relief, a relaxing of tension he wasn’t aware he still carried. He loved getting hugs from Remus, although he hadn’t known quite how to respond, at the beginning. Even now, he waited for Remus to hug him first. This hug made him feel alright again. Remus wasn’t going to reject him for what happened at lunch. Maybe he didn’t know he was horny just looking at him.
So of course it was today, after all of that, that Sirius still couldn’t contain himself. He had just looked over to make sure that Remus was okay, that he wasn’t getting sick, which didn’t happen very often but was usually pretty bad, and he saw Remus stretching, again, his lean body more defined against the robes, his neck exposed, giving a small, post-stretch sigh. He needed to look away, he needed to run away, but he couldn’t run mid-class, not with detention from McGonagall on the line, when he would use her good graces now to get out of pranks later. But it was too late, anyway, he could feel himself swelling again beneath his robes – good god, what’s the use of wanking mid-day if I’m just going to be hard again so quickly? – and there was no way Remus hadn’t smelled him already.
Unless he really was sick. How much did a runny nose block? He didn’t know, and Remus didn’t make any indication of surprise or confusion like he had that morning, just continuing to make notes, like he should be doing, instead of looking at Remus’ hands, his long fingers moving elegantly along the page. Damn, even his hands are attractive, and then, I don’t want him to be sick… but if I could look, wouldn’t that be nice? And then, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m such a bad friend.
Didn’t he know what he was smelling that morning? Sirius hadn’t really thought about it until then. Would he know that he was smelling lust? How had that consideration slipped his mind? He had been so worried about getting to the room of requirement, and then trying to not feel anything at all, that he didn’t give himself space to think about it.
First assumption: he knew. Why else would he run off? He had been furious with himself for letting it show, for making Remus uncomfortable. What if Remus knew he was gay? He had told James, of course, his brother in all but blood, because he didn’t think anything could slip past him, and although some wizards were still stuck in old ways of thinking, not all of them were. Muggles, though, like Remus’ mother, were different – what did she think? What did Remus think? He didn’t necessarily know that Sirius was gay from lunch, though. He could have though Sirius was lusting after someone else.
Or what if he didn’t know? Why would he even run out, then, if he didn’t know what the scent was for? Sirius thought back to how he felt, obviously embarrassed, angry at himself for thinking about his friend that way, ashamed. And scared, scared that Remus would find out, that he would know. So of course Remus would leave, he would want to give Sirius privacy. He had noticed Remus leaving at such times before, always with a hug or a reassuring word or some chocolate, and always letting him know where he was going to go, if he was wanted. But this morning hadn’t been quite like this. He fled the great hall.
And now here he was, stretching again. Sirius was a veritable whirlwind of emotions, not realizing just how much his control had slipped until here was Remus, stretching again, and pushing their legs together under the desk, and holy fuck did he look good. He was done for.