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sam_storyteller ([personal profile] sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 10:19 am
Entry tags:

Warm Body

Rating: R (Remus/Bill)
Summary: Remus is struggling -- but Bill can help.
Warnings: None.

Also available at AO3.

***

"Well, you fucked that one up."

Remus Lupin, who had been quite happily contemplating knocking himself cold on a convenient piece of architecture, if only to stop the pounding headache and get himself a decent night's sleep, did not look up.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, without removing his hand from his eyes. "Please tell Ginny I'm sorry. I'll apologise to her in the morning."

"She just wanted to get your help," Bill said, from the far end of the kitchen. Remus opened his eyes, looking down at the grain of the table between his elbows. Then it made the headache worse, and he closed them again.

"Bill, if you're going to punch me for making your baby sister cry, please do it and get it over with so I can go upstairs and pass out," Remus replied. There was a quiet laugh from Bill.

"I'm not going to hit you. Not unless Ginny can see it. What'd be the point? Besides, she should know better than to bother you at the end of the day. We're all tired."

"Like you said," Remus repeated, "She just wanted my help. But she wouldn't be quiet, and my head..."

"Another one?"

"I thought they'd fade after the full moon, they always do."

"But not anymore," Bill said, drinking from a chipped but serviceable mug. He settled into a chair on the table near Remus, who didn't bother to look up; even the dim light of the kitchen hurt his eyes. "How many is this?"

"Four in five days. They go away. It's probably something...lunar."

"Very scientific of you, professor."

"Please don't call me that, Bill."

"Ah. Oh -- right. Guess that's a bit of a sore spot."

Remus privately wondered if any of the Weasley children had been trained in tact at any point, ever. He pressed his fingers just below the ridge of his brow, trying to find the magic pressure spot at which the pain would go away.

"We...that is, dad and I..." Bill began hesitantly, then paused. "It's not like we sat down and had a serious talk on the subject, mind, but I mentioned you, and he said he thought -- well, I agree with him, but of course what do we know..."

Remus waited patiently for Bill to continue, not feeling up to prompting anyone right now.

"We think you might be overdoing it a bit." Bill blurted.

Remus took his hand away from his eyes long enough to focus blearily on Bill. "Overdoing what?" he asked.

"This. The job. Everything. If you're not out risking your neck, you're here, in this awful old place. It isn't right, Lupin."

"Nothing to be done. I'm needed. I'm not wealthy or handsome or particularly skilled, but I'm needed," Remus said, with a dry note to his voice that he did try to hide.

"You're valuable to the Order."

"Just another warm body -- "

"That's not true and you know it."

Remus put his face in his hands again. "Fine. I'll sleep more."

"That's probably why your head hurts, you know," Bill added helpfully. "Tension and whatnot. Here, are you seeing Nymphadora Tonks?"

Remus paused.

"Only, Mum said she thought you were, and I think if you are, you ought to at least -- "

"Please, Bill, no more," Remus said suddenly.

"Right then." Bill waited. "Are you?"

"Seeing Nymphadora Tonks? I'm not a cradle-robber, Bill."

Bill scowled. "She's not that much younger than I am. We're hardly kids."

"No, I'm not seeing Nymphadora Tonks. I'm not seeing anyone. Perhaps if I were, we wouldn't be having this lovely conversation. Did you make enough water for another cup of tea?"

Bill clapped him on the shoulder and stood, crossing to the kettle. There were the various steel-on-ceramics noises of tea being prepared and honey being stirred in, before another mug thunked onto the table near his elbow. He opened his eyes and picked it up, inhaling the steam that rose.

Bill grinned at him as he sipped, raised his eyebrows, and blew on the surface of the tea.

"Is that firewhiskey?" he asked, tasting the alcoholic tang of the drink.

"Relax you a bit," Bill answered.

They sat silently, Remus drinking the hot tea almost hungrily, Bill sipping his own unspiked cup more slowly, savoring it. Remus wondered if Bill could see his shoulders relaxing, the way he could feel them doing. He bowed his head over the cup, just as Bill took it out of his hands to refill it. He could feel the firewhiskey loosening the muscles across his back, forcing the tense knots in his guts to relax. After the second cup, he slouched a little, feeling new looseness in his neck.

"Better?" Bill asked.

"Yes. Thank you," Remus replied. "I really am sorry I snapped at Ginny."

"Don't tell me," Bill said. "She's getting old enough to fight her own battles. I'll encourage her to claw your eyes out, if you like."

"She's not the sort of girl to do that," Remus murmured. "Very sweet, Ginny. A good girl."

"You have met our Ginny, haven't you?" Bill asked. Remus accepted another refilled cup, and drank.

"She's a Weasley. You're all that way, deep down. Probably genetic or something," Remus replied, a little fuzzily.

"Charlie's always on about genetics. Can't fathom it myself," Bill said. "Like a hand up to bed?"

Remus glanced up at the rather earnest-looking young man. "What?"

"Lightweight."

"Sod off, Weasley."

"Going for a record number of us offended in one evening then? Let mum see you drinking, it'll make three," Bill grinned. "Come on, old man -- "

"Not old," Remus muttered.

"Figure of speech, Lupin," Bill said, steadying him as he rose. "Headache gone?"

"Mostly."

They climbed the stairs, Bill's hand under Remus' elbow, guiding rather than supporting.

"So you aren't seeing anyone at all?" Bill asked, as they reached the landing and continued up to the next floor.

"Who would I see?" Remus asked.

"Well, there is Tonks. Or Emmaline Vance, if you're so all-fired about not robbing the cradle. Or Minerva McGonagall," Bill added impishly.

"Not my type."

"Don't like women who turn into cats?"

"Don't like women," Remus mumbled. "Here's my door. You're a mate, Bill."

Bill was staring at him.

"What?" Remus asked.

"You all right?" Bill said uncertainly.

"Am now," Remus tried to smile cheerfully. "I'll hate you tomorrow when I'm hung over."

"You don't like women?" Bill stammered. "At...at all?"

Remus stared at him.

"Did I say that?" he asked finally.

Bill leaned forward and kissed him.

It was an extremely good kiss. Clearly not Bill's first. Good aim, firm pressure, tongue darting out against his lips...

The red-haired man leaned back, tanned face flushing a little. Remus licked his lips, and noticed that this made the blush deepen.

"Shouldn't've done that," Bill said, glancing away. "Sorry."

"Er...Bill...do you like women?" Remus asked. Bill still wouldn't look at him. He touched the younger man's chin, turning his face so that they were eye to eye.

"Dunno," Bill said petulantly.

"That's something you might want to sort out, if you're going to go about kissing people," Remus observed.

"I...Fleur's all right. She's sort of fun. For about ten minutes," Bill said. "But...you know Oliver Wood?"

"Mm. Yes," Remus said, leaning in the doorway.

"He's fun for hours. I mean just to talk to and all. I get sort of nervous around him, but it's....it's a good kind of nervous -- "

Remus ducked his head. It would figure that he'd get stuck with Ginny in a hyperactive hour and Bill wanting to confess the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name to Oliver Wood. Who was, admittedly, sex on a broomstick.

"Like you," Bill added. "Like when we were showing Ron how to tackle that Haint in the third-floor linens cupboard, and you told that story about a Haint you met in the mountains once. That was fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Not that it's ever been tried," Remus muttered.

"What about three mugs of firewhiskey?" Bill asked. Remus leaned back, tilting his head up, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm tired," he said. "And my head still hurts."

"Right," Bill answered, in a voice that was trying very hard not to be hurt. "I'll let you sleep, then?"

"Could you lend a hand? You got me into this state," Remus reminded him, fumbling with the sleeve of his jacket. Bill straightened it out, pushing it off his shoulders. Remus slipped into the bedroom, gesturing him along, tossing the offending jacket on a chair.

"But it did help, though?" Bill asked.

"Somewhat," Remus replied. "Bloody -- buttons, Bill. Help me."

Bill bent his head to get a better view of the buttons on Remus' shirt, undoing them carefully, one at a time. When he was done, he lifted his head, but Remus was staring at him, hands helpless at his sides. So Bill slid a hand under the shirt, over warm skin and up across his chest, pushing the shirt off his left shoulder. He repeated the move on his right, and as his palm passed over the ridge of a collarbone, Remus gasped and closed his eyes.

Bill put his hands on the other man's shoulders, thumbs pressing into the hollows made by the collarbones, just below the throat. He stroked slowly upwards, over the jaw, smoothing a tense knot away. Remus had his head lifted, eyes shut, almost trembling, and Bill was worried his attempt at a cure was going to have the opposite effect.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked.

"Everywhere," Remus answered.

Bill smiled a little and ran his fingers around, cradling the back of Remus' head almost clinically. His fingers found the small hollow just below the skull, rubbing gently. His thumbs pressed behind Remus' ears, tangling in shaggy, greying brown hair.

"Dangerous, Bill," Remus said, as Bill ran his hands down over his shoulderblades, pulling their bodies flush with each other. "You're too young."

"Yes, and I'm taking advantage of an intoxicated man, so you see we're both committing a sin," Bill answered, kissing the corner of his lips.

"When you put it like that..." Remus let his own hands slide up Bill's arms, over his shoulders. His right hand found Bill's left ear, brushing the fang that hung from the piercing. Bill smiled and tilted his head, so that Remus' fingers tugged on it, gently.

"There's a story behind that," Bill said, bending slightly for a more thorough kiss, Remus' mouth opening easily to accept him.

"You'll have to tell it to me," Remus replied, his other hand sliding along Bill's hip, down his thigh.

"I could show you," Bill said, reaching one hand up to cover Remus', removing the earring deftly. He held the base of the fang between his fingers, and touched the tip to one of the other man's temples. Remus closed his eyes, and Bill slid the point down over his cheek, not quite deep enough to cut, leaving a small, faint red line behind. The older man's lips twitched when Bill turned the tooth so that smooth flat bone slipped over them.

Remus didn't move as the point pressed his skin again, over chin, down the curve of his throat, skating lightly over his chest.

When it reached the waistband of his trousers, Bill flicked it, and the button on his fly was sliced off cleanly.

"Handy tool," Remus said, leaning closer. Bill let the fang fall to the floor, and pushed the loose trousers off his hips, stripping him completely in the process. Remus fumbled at Bill's shirt-hem, but Bill caught his hands, stopping them.

"Just for once," he said quietly, "you're not required to think, Lupin."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Bill kissed him when he did, and the slick warm feel of Bill's tongue in his mouth made him moan instead.

"Let me," Bill said softly, when they stopped for breath. Remus nodded against his cheek.

You would never do this, a small rational voice said. Stripped naked in front of Molly's oldest son -- Ron's older brother --

"Stop thinking," Bill ordered. "Stop it. Remus."

"What do I do instead?" Remus whispered.

"Feel," Bill answered. "Feel my fingers on your arms? Feel my shirtfront, against your chest." He kissed the side of Remus' neck, sliding down over his shoulder and chest. "Feel my voice on your skin," he said, softly. Remus trembled with the sudden wash of sensation, the pain still lingering in his head adding edge to the sensual way Bill was exploring his body with callused fingertips.

He could sense it when Bill knelt, the heat of his body moving away, hands drawing down to steady Remus' hips. A kiss along the ridge of hip-bone, another low on his thin belly. And then warm, close heat, Bill's mouth around him, moving gently. The pain sharpened everything, and he thought he could feel the very texture of his lips -- he could sense every individual curl of Bill's long hair as his fingers caught in it, trying to control the way Bill moved, but the younger man stubbornly refused to follow. Every flick of Bill's tongue across skin made sensitive by arousal and desire, need --

He shifted his hips, trying to thrust, but Bill pinned him, leisurely stroking up and down until Remus let out a growl of frustration. Then the redhead smiled and all at once the sensation and speed and feel were overwhelming. He tilted his head back, breath coming short and fast, feeling as though he stood at a knife's edge, and then he was falling --

Bill caught him as he sank down, licking his lips, and his kiss tasted salty and bitter. Remus rested boneless against his body, breathing deeply, awash in sensation. Bill stroked his hair, murmuring nonsense words.

When he finally could think again -- it was difficult to start, once one had stopped -- he slipped a little, resting his head on Bill's shoulder.

"Why?" he asked softly. Bill chuckled, deep in his throat.

"Headache cure," he replied. Remus tried to figure out if he should be amused or mildly offended, and decided to simply rest.

"I should repay the favour," he said, after a while. Bill lifted one of his hands, guiding it down to where his own erection strained against his tight trousers. Remus stroked it, almost sleepily, and smiled when he heard the hitch in Bill's breath. And then the moan, and the curse, and his own name, as Bill began to buck against him.

"Please," Bill almost whined, fingers gripping him closer now. Remus curled his fingers a little tighter, moved more quickly, and when Bill tensed and thrust and shuddered against him, he smiled into the other man's neck.

Eventually Bill cleared his throat and stood, hauling Remus up with him, holding him close for a deep and rather lazy kiss.

"How's your head?" Bill asked, as they moved together towards the bed, Remus working the buttons on his shirt in earnest this time.

"Better," Remus murmured. "It goes away when I sleep."

Bill shrugged out of his shirt, pushing Remus down onto the blankets as he tugged his trousers off.

"Then you should sleep," he said.

Remus nodded, burrowing under the covers, eyes closing. Bill put out a hand, hovering it over his cheek.

"Stay," Remus slurred, already slipping into sleep. There was a silent moment, and he opened his eyes. Bill was looking down at him with a strange sort of half-smile on his face, eyes alight.

"Stay," Remus repeated, and felt another body climb under the blankets. He curled close. "Warm body," he mumbled.

Bill, broad arm curling around the slim man's waist, pulling him close, was silent. When he was sure Remus was asleep, he lifted the hand, smoothing the grey hair at his temple.

"In the morning," he whispered, "you'd better tell Ginny you're sorry."

END

[identity profile] wistful-shadow.livejournal.com 2008-04-12 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
lol, I love the musing on Oliver Wood being sex on a broomstick - I know a lot of people who'd definitely agree :D Poor Remus seems to be a bit of a lightweight mind.