sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 10:45 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 10:45 am
Entry tags:
Kingsley's Folly; R, Remus/Kingsley
Summary: Kingsley is going to give Remus Lupin a piece of his mind about Nymphadora Tonks -- but Remus is even more confused than he is about it.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
It was obvious to everyone when the romance started.
It was Harry's birthday party, his sixteenth, and he was already at 12 Grimmauld Place; the party was one of outrageous proportions even by Molly's birthday-party standards, and when Remus and Tonks vanished within ten minutes of each other after she'd been flirting with him all night -- and he had flirted back in his calm, rather intense way -- it was assumed that nobody should go find them. After all, Arthur had been gently and tactfully shoving him at her since last Christmas, when she'd caught him under the mistletoe and given him a very chaste kiss. The kiss, quite frankly, that made everyone agree they would make a lovely couple, and could one of them please get off their arse and shag the other already.
The only person who did not agree was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He told Arthur he thought Lupin was a bit sly.
Arthur, bewildered by the use of sly when it came to the quiet, bookish, and purposefully harmless Remus Lupin, asked what he meant, and Kingsley just shrugged and said Tonks was young and still in an awkward phase. Arthur privately thought that Tonks' awkward phase might last her entire life, all things considered, but said nothing.
So the entire Order, barring one, was more or less pleased when Remus and Tonks began having breakfast together, and spending the evening with Harry and Ron and often Hermione, Remus tutoring them, Tonks attempting to distract from the tutoring with promises to tell them stories about Auror training. When they went to take Harry for his Hogwarts books, and were seen innocuously eating ice cream together in Diagon Alley, Kingsley started hearing from other Aurors about Tonks' scandalous affair with a werewolf.
They seemed as amused as the Order, if not as pleased. After all, youth was the time when you did stupid things like dating a werewolf.
Harry and Ron would sometimes whisper gossipy things about whether or not he asked her to look like other people, boyish speculation all the more fascinating because of her abilities. Did werewolves even do it like other people, they wondered. Kingsley knocked their heads together, gently, when he came across them discussing it. He told them to mind their own business, and if they wanted a lecture on werewolf biology they should ask Lupin, which made them both turn bright red.
Really it was the speculation that did him in. He finally confronted Lupin about it, after everyone had sent the children off to Hogwarts, and Headquarters had slowly emptied after an early lunch and a toast to the old Alma Mater (or two toasts, or three in some cases).
Kingsley didn't drink. Lupin did; just one more reason to mistrust him around Tonks. The fact that Tonks also drank was not material to the matter at hand, and so he discarded it. Lupin, in fact, had been one of the two-drink toastmakers, and was slightly flushed as he stood, leaning on the back of an armchair and talking to Arthur, empty glass still in one hand.
Objectively, Kingsley could see why Tonks would think him handsome, even though he wasn't, not really; still, the grey in his hair made him look distinguished, and he wore the lines on his face with dignity. His body was thin, too thin and angular by half, but that had its appeal, and it wasn't the unfit skinniness so many thin men had; Lupin was an active man who just happened not to get enough square meals.
His eyes were brown, a nice shade, the sort that could never be icy no matter how hard they tried. He'd seen Remus try to look tough. The eyes always gave him away.
Kingsley ignored the fact that he, himself, also had brown eyes, though a few shades darker than Lupin's. He had, after all, cultivated a wicked stare.
He had a nice smile, Lupin did, which was why Kingsley mistrusted him. It was the sort of smile that would always get him out of trouble. Smile like that at someone and their heart melted --
Kingsley realised that Remus had raised his head and was meeting his stare (glare?) evenly. He wondered how long he'd been looking at the other man. Arthur had gone, at some point, and now it was just the pair of them, in the living room, staring at each other.
"I want a word with you," Kingsley said, rising and circling, until Remus had to turn to follow his movements. He stopped when the other man was standing fully, back to the chair.
"I thought you might," Lupin said quietly. "You've been staring daggers at me all day."
"Trying to figure you out," Kingsley replied.
"Succeeding, then, are you?"
Kingsley stepped forward. He saw Lupin's eyes widen a fraction, and a mixture of defiance and panic fill them. Issues with personal space...
"I've been trying for two weeks to figure out why you suddenly dislike me," Remus said, "and so far I've come up with nothing, so if you're here to share precisely why, I'd appreciate it."
Kingsley scowled. "If you hurt her I'll rip your arms off," he said, lowering his voice.
There was a pause.
"Who, exactly?" Remus asked.
"Who do you think, Lupin?" Kingsley snarled. He hadn't pegged Lupin, however sly, as the type to play games in a situation like this. "I don't trust you, I don't think you're as harmless as you like to pretend you are, and I don't think you're good for her, whatever Arthur Weasley says."
The look in Remus' eyes was slowly turning to one of confused bewilderment. "What are you on about, Shacklebolt?" he asked finally.
"Tonks," Kingsley said. "If you hurt her you'll have to answer to me. That's all. Think about it."
"Tonks?"
The same bewildered tone. He was good at this, no doubt.
"Yes. You and Tonks. I don't like it and I don't approve of it."
Remus frowned. "I don't think I need your permission to -- "
"I'm just saying, I don't care if you love her but you'd better not be using her because she's too young to -- "
"Love her!" Remus blurted. "What on earth possessed you to think that?"
He seemed so honestly lost in the whole conversation that Kingsley checked himself.
"You think I love Nymphadora Tonks?" Remus demanded.
"Well, yes, me, and the rest of the Order," Kingsley said, but he did fall back just a little. Remus put a hand to his face, covering his eyes.
"I told her this would happen," he sighed.
"So you are -- "
"No, Shacklebolt, we're not," he said sharply. "For the love of -- she's Tonks."
"Yes, and every spare moment you two have is spent together," Kingsley pointed out. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The whole Order?" he asked. Kingsley nodded. "Surely not everyone. Surely someone's being sensible about this."
"Down to Ron Weasley."
"Merlin, I was sure at least someone would...Tonks and I are not in love, shagging, planning on shagging, or planning on romance of any kind."
It was Kingsley's turn to be confused. "Then why...?"
Remus turned away, and leaned on the chair again, bowing his head, purposefully putting his back to the question. "Because she misses him too," he said softly.
"Sirius?"
"Yes. Sirius," Remus answered, and suddenly about two tons of bricks fell on Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"You and he...you were -- "
"I don't noise it about. He didn't want to. He had an image to maintain and I really didn't need one more reason for people to avoid me." He sighed. "So. There you have it. Thanks for the lecture, I promise I won't break Tonks' heart, you can go yell at Bill Weasley now, he's making a good attempt at it."
Kingsley considered things.
"Sorry?" he tried. He didn't have much experience in this sort of situation. Usually the people he made threats to, stayed threatened.
"For which?"
"Which?"
Remus turned back to him and leaned on the chair, a half-smile on his face. "Sorry that you assumed things, sorry that you menaced me, sorry that Sirius is dead, or sorry that I fancy men?"
"Erm. All but the last one?"
"Good man." Remus gave him a mock-friendly pat on the arm, and turned to go. Kingsley found his hand shooting out to grab his shoulder, stopping him. The other man stiffened, paused.
"Lupin, I am sorry. None of us knew," he stammered. "I -- I know how it is to..."
"How the hell, Kingsley Shacklebolt, can you possibly know?" Remus asked, not turning around.
"Listen, give me half a second, would you, I'm not trained for this kind of thing," Kingsley said, harsher than he'd meant it.
"What, restraining dangerous creatures? I'd say that's precisely what you were trained for." Remus shrugged out of his grip, and turned around. "I'm just me, Kingsley, there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Just let me alone, and I'll be fine."
"Let you alone."
"Most people do."
"Yes, I've seen how well the world's treated you by letting you alone," Kingsley observed, eyes flicking down to the too-loose trousers, the torn-and-mended shirt.
"You cannot," Remus ground out, "Begin to understand."
Kingsley grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward and Lupin's hands went to his shoulders, trying to push him away -- and succeeding, but not before Kingsley's lips had found his, Kingsley's tongue had slid briefly into his mouth...
They both stumbled, Remus out of surprise, Kingsley from the shock of a man nearly six inches shorter and at least forty pounds lighter pushing him away like he was made of paper.
Remus caught himself on the wall, Kingsley on the chair; after a moment he straightened, staring at Kingsley.
"Oh," he said softly. "So maybe you can."
"Can?" Kingsley asked, licking his lips. The movement made Remus physically flinch with desire.
"Understand."
"Oh." Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well, that bit, anyway, yes."
"You could have just said," Remus added. "I mean. A practical demonstration is -- "
This time when Kingsley grabbed him he didn't push, didn't do much of anything; he simply let himself be shoved into the wall, pinned there by Kingsley's weight. He opened his mouth, tangled his tongue with Kingsley's, slid his hands up his arms to his shoulders when it became obvious neither of them were going anywhere for a while...
"...nice," he said, when Kingsley finally leaned back a little. He shifted his weight, and Kingsley moaned.
"What?"
"Nice," Remus repeated, head resting against the wall, hair now somewhat messy, breath coming fast. "Do try to follow the thread, Kingsley," he said with a smile. "A practical demonstration is nice."
Kingsley bent his head and nibbled along Remus' neck, and the brown-haired man gasped and arched. "Maybe more than nice," he managed, around a moan that shook Kingsley to his toes. "Um, I think perhaps -- wall, slightly uncomfortable..."
"Right -- " Kingsley pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and ribcage, nearly supporting him. He bent for another kiss only to find Remus' head buried in his shoulder, laughter shaking the other man's body.
"Kingsley, let me go," he said, pushing gently. "Oh, let me go..." he stepped back and leaned against the supposedly uncomfortable wall, shaking with laughter. Kingsley looked on, perplexed and aroused, as Remus brushed fingers through his hair and wiped his eyes.
"So glad I amuse," he rumbled darkly. Remus shook his head.
"I'm sorry, it's not you..." he said, still grinning. "I mean, it is you, it's -- now I know why you were glaring at me, you thought I was shagging Tonks and you were jealous..."
"I do not get jealous," Kingsley stated flatly.
"Oh, I suppose you just decided on the spur of the moment to shove your tongue down my throat?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
Remus stepped forward, moving close, head bent slightly to fit in the curve of Kingsley's neck and shoulder, though he didn't...quite...touch.
"All those stares?" he asked, and Kingsley tilted his chin, inviting him closer still. "Maybe you didn't know it, but you've been staring at me for weeks, and I didn't know why until now...it's not that you didn't trust me with her, it's that you didn't trust her with me..."
"No, I..." Kingsley trailed off as the very tip of Remus' tongue stroked along his collarbone.
"But you don't scare me, Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus remarked. "Do I scare you?"
Kingsley couldn't reply. He could barely assemble enough coherent thought to remember to breathe. The only point of contact between their bodies was the press of Remus' cheek where his collar gapped open, the occasional slide of his lips on Kingsley's skin.
"So what is it you want?" Remus breathed. "Want to try intimidation again? Want to try being Proper Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt?"
"I think I want you," Kingsley stammered. He felt the smile on his skin.
"Patience," Remus said, withdrawing quickly. Kingsley was about to ask why when he realised Remus had heard footsteps. Alastor Moody was coming down the stairs, clunking away on his wooden leg. He paused at the bottom, nodded curtly at the two of them, and continued down towards the cellars.
"I think," Kingsley said slowly, trying to catch his breath, "I think we should find somewhere private. To talk," he added, when Remus gave him an inquiring look.
"An excellent idea, Auror Shacklebolt," Remus said, just a hint of amusement on his lips.
***
Neither of them spoke until they reached Remus' rooms, far more expansive than any of the other temporary bedrooms that Order member sometimes used. He had a real sitting room, a bath and bedroom to himself; Kingsley could recall, now, coming upon Sirius in Remus' sitting room, more often than not, and realised that this was probably a place they'd shared.
They didn't have to speak. Both of them were about control, control of power -- Remus hid his, Kingsley displayed his own. Control of speech. Control of silences.
Remus shut the door behind them, and Kingsley turned. He found it easier not to talk, to wait for what was expected of him, in this as in everything else. Remus, he recalled, was often quiet; but then, Remus was also grieving. He tried to recall whether he'd always been that way, but the only images that rose to his mind from the past year always put Sirius Black a step ahead or behind Remus, beside him at meals, across from him at worktables.
"You wanted to talk," Remus said quietly.
"How long has it been?" Kingsley asked.
"Two months, twenty-eight days," Remus replied, with the precision Kingsley expected. "Although before that it had only been a few months anyway, and Sirius...didn't take well to affection."
Kingsley tilted his head slightly.
"Azkaban," Remus murmured. "Mostly I helped with the nightmares. There was little else I could do. Or he could do, for that matter," he added, with a slight twist of his lips. "Don't misread me, Kingsley. I loved him and I miss him every day."
"But?"
"But I need...contact. I want -- well. What I want..." he paused, and shook his head as if dislodging an errant thought. "What we did felt good," he said finally. "And if you're amenable, Auror Shacklebolt, I'd like to continue the experiment. Not against the wall again, though," he added. "It chafes."
Kingsley smiled. It was a rare sight, and he knew it, and he saw Remus knew it too. Remus hooked two fingers in his collar and pulled him forward and down, into a kiss that was slower, much more appreciative than the last had been. Suddenly they didn't have to hurry. Suddenly he could spend hours exploring the feel of the thin, deceptively gentle man in his arms, if he wanted. Kingsley slid his fingers down his back, releasing his mouth so that it could slip over his adam's apple.
Remus, fingers still tucked against his collar, began to fumble with the buttons. He took his time, and Kingsley enjoyed every brush of fingertips against his chest, every lick of tongue on his skin and moan hot against it when he pulled their hips together, erections rubbing through the fabric.
"Marvelous," Remus said, running the sleeves down and off of Kingsley's arms, fingers exploring every bulge and valley of muscle. Kingsley's fingers, just as nimble and with far fewer buttons to deal with, pulled Remus' shirt off, over his head, disordering his hair again. He reached up to fix it, but Kingsley caught his hand.
Remus moaned when Kingsley slid his own fingers through it, stroking down to the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, and immediately pulling him up for another kiss. He felt fingertips curl against his stomach, and the slow activity of a belt-buckle being undone.
The glide of a palm across his cock made him dizzy, and he heard Remus' low chuckle somewhere in the background of what was fast becoming a blur of pleasure and need. He wasn't sure how they managed to undress the rest of the way or get across the room, but his next clear thought was that he was on a bed, and he didn't want to crush the man writhing happily underneath him, not when their bodies were rubbing together so enjoyably. He could feel Remus' hands run down his chest, splay across his abdomen and slide around to his back, drawing small circles under his shoulderblades as he pulled him close. Remus' cock rubbed against his thigh, face pressed to his shoulder, bucking almost helplessly against him.
"Slow," Kingsley tried, and bent for a kiss; Remus moaned into his mouth and bit gently on his lip. He let his own hands wander down to Remus' hips, holding them still. Remus whined in frustration.
"Slow," Kingsley repeated, setting a much less frantic pace, and Remus threw his head back against the pillow -- oh, that silver-brown hair disordered and spread across the fabric... "Slow is good."
"Good..." Remus echoed, hand ghosting across his back to stroke the sensitive skin where hip met thigh. He smiled, not a disarming smile at all, but full of a clever sort of promise, and he arched, once, suddenly, before falling back into the thrusting rhythm Kingsley had set.
Slow was no longer an option.
"No wonder I didn't trust you," Kingsley moaned, body jerking, skin oversensitive suddenly, feeling as though if Remus kissed him just a little harder he might....oh....
Remus cried out and arched again and came, and the sound, the warmth, the achingly good touches on his skin sent Kingsley out of control.
There was a moment of silence, and then a muffled moan, much softer and infinitely more affectionate, felt more than heard, against his jaw.
"I think we gave up on slow," Remus murmured.
"I'm not sorry," Kingsley replied, rolling a little so that he wouldn't crush him. Remus followed and they lay, side by side, facing each other, skin too sensitive to really touch properly. Remus' eyes flicked across his face, and he smiled.
"I promise," he said slowly, rubbing a thumb across Kingsley's cheekbone, "that I will not break Nymphadora Tonks' heart."
Kingsley laughed, low and deep, even more rarely than he smiled. He could see Remus devour it, could see the sound of his laughter being stored away behind those warm brown eyes. Remus moved closer, resting his head in the crook of Kingsley's shoulder. They fit, the pair of them. Which was good, because Remus' eyes were closing and he was fast sliding into sleep, one hand on Kingsley's neck, the other draped across his hip.
Kingsley Shacklebolt closed his eyes also, and wrapped Remus Lupin in his arms, and slept.
END
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
It was obvious to everyone when the romance started.
It was Harry's birthday party, his sixteenth, and he was already at 12 Grimmauld Place; the party was one of outrageous proportions even by Molly's birthday-party standards, and when Remus and Tonks vanished within ten minutes of each other after she'd been flirting with him all night -- and he had flirted back in his calm, rather intense way -- it was assumed that nobody should go find them. After all, Arthur had been gently and tactfully shoving him at her since last Christmas, when she'd caught him under the mistletoe and given him a very chaste kiss. The kiss, quite frankly, that made everyone agree they would make a lovely couple, and could one of them please get off their arse and shag the other already.
The only person who did not agree was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He told Arthur he thought Lupin was a bit sly.
Arthur, bewildered by the use of sly when it came to the quiet, bookish, and purposefully harmless Remus Lupin, asked what he meant, and Kingsley just shrugged and said Tonks was young and still in an awkward phase. Arthur privately thought that Tonks' awkward phase might last her entire life, all things considered, but said nothing.
So the entire Order, barring one, was more or less pleased when Remus and Tonks began having breakfast together, and spending the evening with Harry and Ron and often Hermione, Remus tutoring them, Tonks attempting to distract from the tutoring with promises to tell them stories about Auror training. When they went to take Harry for his Hogwarts books, and were seen innocuously eating ice cream together in Diagon Alley, Kingsley started hearing from other Aurors about Tonks' scandalous affair with a werewolf.
They seemed as amused as the Order, if not as pleased. After all, youth was the time when you did stupid things like dating a werewolf.
Harry and Ron would sometimes whisper gossipy things about whether or not he asked her to look like other people, boyish speculation all the more fascinating because of her abilities. Did werewolves even do it like other people, they wondered. Kingsley knocked their heads together, gently, when he came across them discussing it. He told them to mind their own business, and if they wanted a lecture on werewolf biology they should ask Lupin, which made them both turn bright red.
Really it was the speculation that did him in. He finally confronted Lupin about it, after everyone had sent the children off to Hogwarts, and Headquarters had slowly emptied after an early lunch and a toast to the old Alma Mater (or two toasts, or three in some cases).
Kingsley didn't drink. Lupin did; just one more reason to mistrust him around Tonks. The fact that Tonks also drank was not material to the matter at hand, and so he discarded it. Lupin, in fact, had been one of the two-drink toastmakers, and was slightly flushed as he stood, leaning on the back of an armchair and talking to Arthur, empty glass still in one hand.
Objectively, Kingsley could see why Tonks would think him handsome, even though he wasn't, not really; still, the grey in his hair made him look distinguished, and he wore the lines on his face with dignity. His body was thin, too thin and angular by half, but that had its appeal, and it wasn't the unfit skinniness so many thin men had; Lupin was an active man who just happened not to get enough square meals.
His eyes were brown, a nice shade, the sort that could never be icy no matter how hard they tried. He'd seen Remus try to look tough. The eyes always gave him away.
Kingsley ignored the fact that he, himself, also had brown eyes, though a few shades darker than Lupin's. He had, after all, cultivated a wicked stare.
He had a nice smile, Lupin did, which was why Kingsley mistrusted him. It was the sort of smile that would always get him out of trouble. Smile like that at someone and their heart melted --
Kingsley realised that Remus had raised his head and was meeting his stare (glare?) evenly. He wondered how long he'd been looking at the other man. Arthur had gone, at some point, and now it was just the pair of them, in the living room, staring at each other.
"I want a word with you," Kingsley said, rising and circling, until Remus had to turn to follow his movements. He stopped when the other man was standing fully, back to the chair.
"I thought you might," Lupin said quietly. "You've been staring daggers at me all day."
"Trying to figure you out," Kingsley replied.
"Succeeding, then, are you?"
Kingsley stepped forward. He saw Lupin's eyes widen a fraction, and a mixture of defiance and panic fill them. Issues with personal space...
"I've been trying for two weeks to figure out why you suddenly dislike me," Remus said, "and so far I've come up with nothing, so if you're here to share precisely why, I'd appreciate it."
Kingsley scowled. "If you hurt her I'll rip your arms off," he said, lowering his voice.
There was a pause.
"Who, exactly?" Remus asked.
"Who do you think, Lupin?" Kingsley snarled. He hadn't pegged Lupin, however sly, as the type to play games in a situation like this. "I don't trust you, I don't think you're as harmless as you like to pretend you are, and I don't think you're good for her, whatever Arthur Weasley says."
The look in Remus' eyes was slowly turning to one of confused bewilderment. "What are you on about, Shacklebolt?" he asked finally.
"Tonks," Kingsley said. "If you hurt her you'll have to answer to me. That's all. Think about it."
"Tonks?"
The same bewildered tone. He was good at this, no doubt.
"Yes. You and Tonks. I don't like it and I don't approve of it."
Remus frowned. "I don't think I need your permission to -- "
"I'm just saying, I don't care if you love her but you'd better not be using her because she's too young to -- "
"Love her!" Remus blurted. "What on earth possessed you to think that?"
He seemed so honestly lost in the whole conversation that Kingsley checked himself.
"You think I love Nymphadora Tonks?" Remus demanded.
"Well, yes, me, and the rest of the Order," Kingsley said, but he did fall back just a little. Remus put a hand to his face, covering his eyes.
"I told her this would happen," he sighed.
"So you are -- "
"No, Shacklebolt, we're not," he said sharply. "For the love of -- she's Tonks."
"Yes, and every spare moment you two have is spent together," Kingsley pointed out. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The whole Order?" he asked. Kingsley nodded. "Surely not everyone. Surely someone's being sensible about this."
"Down to Ron Weasley."
"Merlin, I was sure at least someone would...Tonks and I are not in love, shagging, planning on shagging, or planning on romance of any kind."
It was Kingsley's turn to be confused. "Then why...?"
Remus turned away, and leaned on the chair again, bowing his head, purposefully putting his back to the question. "Because she misses him too," he said softly.
"Sirius?"
"Yes. Sirius," Remus answered, and suddenly about two tons of bricks fell on Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"You and he...you were -- "
"I don't noise it about. He didn't want to. He had an image to maintain and I really didn't need one more reason for people to avoid me." He sighed. "So. There you have it. Thanks for the lecture, I promise I won't break Tonks' heart, you can go yell at Bill Weasley now, he's making a good attempt at it."
Kingsley considered things.
"Sorry?" he tried. He didn't have much experience in this sort of situation. Usually the people he made threats to, stayed threatened.
"For which?"
"Which?"
Remus turned back to him and leaned on the chair, a half-smile on his face. "Sorry that you assumed things, sorry that you menaced me, sorry that Sirius is dead, or sorry that I fancy men?"
"Erm. All but the last one?"
"Good man." Remus gave him a mock-friendly pat on the arm, and turned to go. Kingsley found his hand shooting out to grab his shoulder, stopping him. The other man stiffened, paused.
"Lupin, I am sorry. None of us knew," he stammered. "I -- I know how it is to..."
"How the hell, Kingsley Shacklebolt, can you possibly know?" Remus asked, not turning around.
"Listen, give me half a second, would you, I'm not trained for this kind of thing," Kingsley said, harsher than he'd meant it.
"What, restraining dangerous creatures? I'd say that's precisely what you were trained for." Remus shrugged out of his grip, and turned around. "I'm just me, Kingsley, there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Just let me alone, and I'll be fine."
"Let you alone."
"Most people do."
"Yes, I've seen how well the world's treated you by letting you alone," Kingsley observed, eyes flicking down to the too-loose trousers, the torn-and-mended shirt.
"You cannot," Remus ground out, "Begin to understand."
Kingsley grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forward and Lupin's hands went to his shoulders, trying to push him away -- and succeeding, but not before Kingsley's lips had found his, Kingsley's tongue had slid briefly into his mouth...
They both stumbled, Remus out of surprise, Kingsley from the shock of a man nearly six inches shorter and at least forty pounds lighter pushing him away like he was made of paper.
Remus caught himself on the wall, Kingsley on the chair; after a moment he straightened, staring at Kingsley.
"Oh," he said softly. "So maybe you can."
"Can?" Kingsley asked, licking his lips. The movement made Remus physically flinch with desire.
"Understand."
"Oh." Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well, that bit, anyway, yes."
"You could have just said," Remus added. "I mean. A practical demonstration is -- "
This time when Kingsley grabbed him he didn't push, didn't do much of anything; he simply let himself be shoved into the wall, pinned there by Kingsley's weight. He opened his mouth, tangled his tongue with Kingsley's, slid his hands up his arms to his shoulders when it became obvious neither of them were going anywhere for a while...
"...nice," he said, when Kingsley finally leaned back a little. He shifted his weight, and Kingsley moaned.
"What?"
"Nice," Remus repeated, head resting against the wall, hair now somewhat messy, breath coming fast. "Do try to follow the thread, Kingsley," he said with a smile. "A practical demonstration is nice."
Kingsley bent his head and nibbled along Remus' neck, and the brown-haired man gasped and arched. "Maybe more than nice," he managed, around a moan that shook Kingsley to his toes. "Um, I think perhaps -- wall, slightly uncomfortable..."
"Right -- " Kingsley pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and ribcage, nearly supporting him. He bent for another kiss only to find Remus' head buried in his shoulder, laughter shaking the other man's body.
"Kingsley, let me go," he said, pushing gently. "Oh, let me go..." he stepped back and leaned against the supposedly uncomfortable wall, shaking with laughter. Kingsley looked on, perplexed and aroused, as Remus brushed fingers through his hair and wiped his eyes.
"So glad I amuse," he rumbled darkly. Remus shook his head.
"I'm sorry, it's not you..." he said, still grinning. "I mean, it is you, it's -- now I know why you were glaring at me, you thought I was shagging Tonks and you were jealous..."
"I do not get jealous," Kingsley stated flatly.
"Oh, I suppose you just decided on the spur of the moment to shove your tongue down my throat?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
Remus stepped forward, moving close, head bent slightly to fit in the curve of Kingsley's neck and shoulder, though he didn't...quite...touch.
"All those stares?" he asked, and Kingsley tilted his chin, inviting him closer still. "Maybe you didn't know it, but you've been staring at me for weeks, and I didn't know why until now...it's not that you didn't trust me with her, it's that you didn't trust her with me..."
"No, I..." Kingsley trailed off as the very tip of Remus' tongue stroked along his collarbone.
"But you don't scare me, Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus remarked. "Do I scare you?"
Kingsley couldn't reply. He could barely assemble enough coherent thought to remember to breathe. The only point of contact between their bodies was the press of Remus' cheek where his collar gapped open, the occasional slide of his lips on Kingsley's skin.
"So what is it you want?" Remus breathed. "Want to try intimidation again? Want to try being Proper Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt?"
"I think I want you," Kingsley stammered. He felt the smile on his skin.
"Patience," Remus said, withdrawing quickly. Kingsley was about to ask why when he realised Remus had heard footsteps. Alastor Moody was coming down the stairs, clunking away on his wooden leg. He paused at the bottom, nodded curtly at the two of them, and continued down towards the cellars.
"I think," Kingsley said slowly, trying to catch his breath, "I think we should find somewhere private. To talk," he added, when Remus gave him an inquiring look.
"An excellent idea, Auror Shacklebolt," Remus said, just a hint of amusement on his lips.
***
Neither of them spoke until they reached Remus' rooms, far more expansive than any of the other temporary bedrooms that Order member sometimes used. He had a real sitting room, a bath and bedroom to himself; Kingsley could recall, now, coming upon Sirius in Remus' sitting room, more often than not, and realised that this was probably a place they'd shared.
They didn't have to speak. Both of them were about control, control of power -- Remus hid his, Kingsley displayed his own. Control of speech. Control of silences.
Remus shut the door behind them, and Kingsley turned. He found it easier not to talk, to wait for what was expected of him, in this as in everything else. Remus, he recalled, was often quiet; but then, Remus was also grieving. He tried to recall whether he'd always been that way, but the only images that rose to his mind from the past year always put Sirius Black a step ahead or behind Remus, beside him at meals, across from him at worktables.
"You wanted to talk," Remus said quietly.
"How long has it been?" Kingsley asked.
"Two months, twenty-eight days," Remus replied, with the precision Kingsley expected. "Although before that it had only been a few months anyway, and Sirius...didn't take well to affection."
Kingsley tilted his head slightly.
"Azkaban," Remus murmured. "Mostly I helped with the nightmares. There was little else I could do. Or he could do, for that matter," he added, with a slight twist of his lips. "Don't misread me, Kingsley. I loved him and I miss him every day."
"But?"
"But I need...contact. I want -- well. What I want..." he paused, and shook his head as if dislodging an errant thought. "What we did felt good," he said finally. "And if you're amenable, Auror Shacklebolt, I'd like to continue the experiment. Not against the wall again, though," he added. "It chafes."
Kingsley smiled. It was a rare sight, and he knew it, and he saw Remus knew it too. Remus hooked two fingers in his collar and pulled him forward and down, into a kiss that was slower, much more appreciative than the last had been. Suddenly they didn't have to hurry. Suddenly he could spend hours exploring the feel of the thin, deceptively gentle man in his arms, if he wanted. Kingsley slid his fingers down his back, releasing his mouth so that it could slip over his adam's apple.
Remus, fingers still tucked against his collar, began to fumble with the buttons. He took his time, and Kingsley enjoyed every brush of fingertips against his chest, every lick of tongue on his skin and moan hot against it when he pulled their hips together, erections rubbing through the fabric.
"Marvelous," Remus said, running the sleeves down and off of Kingsley's arms, fingers exploring every bulge and valley of muscle. Kingsley's fingers, just as nimble and with far fewer buttons to deal with, pulled Remus' shirt off, over his head, disordering his hair again. He reached up to fix it, but Kingsley caught his hand.
Remus moaned when Kingsley slid his own fingers through it, stroking down to the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, and immediately pulling him up for another kiss. He felt fingertips curl against his stomach, and the slow activity of a belt-buckle being undone.
The glide of a palm across his cock made him dizzy, and he heard Remus' low chuckle somewhere in the background of what was fast becoming a blur of pleasure and need. He wasn't sure how they managed to undress the rest of the way or get across the room, but his next clear thought was that he was on a bed, and he didn't want to crush the man writhing happily underneath him, not when their bodies were rubbing together so enjoyably. He could feel Remus' hands run down his chest, splay across his abdomen and slide around to his back, drawing small circles under his shoulderblades as he pulled him close. Remus' cock rubbed against his thigh, face pressed to his shoulder, bucking almost helplessly against him.
"Slow," Kingsley tried, and bent for a kiss; Remus moaned into his mouth and bit gently on his lip. He let his own hands wander down to Remus' hips, holding them still. Remus whined in frustration.
"Slow," Kingsley repeated, setting a much less frantic pace, and Remus threw his head back against the pillow -- oh, that silver-brown hair disordered and spread across the fabric... "Slow is good."
"Good..." Remus echoed, hand ghosting across his back to stroke the sensitive skin where hip met thigh. He smiled, not a disarming smile at all, but full of a clever sort of promise, and he arched, once, suddenly, before falling back into the thrusting rhythm Kingsley had set.
Slow was no longer an option.
"No wonder I didn't trust you," Kingsley moaned, body jerking, skin oversensitive suddenly, feeling as though if Remus kissed him just a little harder he might....oh....
Remus cried out and arched again and came, and the sound, the warmth, the achingly good touches on his skin sent Kingsley out of control.
There was a moment of silence, and then a muffled moan, much softer and infinitely more affectionate, felt more than heard, against his jaw.
"I think we gave up on slow," Remus murmured.
"I'm not sorry," Kingsley replied, rolling a little so that he wouldn't crush him. Remus followed and they lay, side by side, facing each other, skin too sensitive to really touch properly. Remus' eyes flicked across his face, and he smiled.
"I promise," he said slowly, rubbing a thumb across Kingsley's cheekbone, "that I will not break Nymphadora Tonks' heart."
Kingsley laughed, low and deep, even more rarely than he smiled. He could see Remus devour it, could see the sound of his laughter being stored away behind those warm brown eyes. Remus moved closer, resting his head in the crook of Kingsley's shoulder. They fit, the pair of them. Which was good, because Remus' eyes were closing and he was fast sliding into sleep, one hand on Kingsley's neck, the other draped across his hip.
Kingsley Shacklebolt closed his eyes also, and wrapped Remus Lupin in his arms, and slept.
END
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