sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 12:00 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
Turnabout
Rating: R (Remus/Sirius)
Author's Note: This fic came about through several separate events: Yap's long-neglected request for Library Smut, a cellfic about wibbling written for Jaida, and the vague feeling that Stefanie will probably get a kick out of the gentle library humour. It is, now that I come to think about it, a pastiche. Which is not a type of bread.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
It was one of Sirius Black's great pleasures in life -- one of many, as Sirius enjoyed life to its fullest -- to make people wibble.
A tremble of the lower lip, a wideness in the eyes, not crying so much as panicking -- Sirius didn't like to make people cry, that was cruel, but a moment of mild hysteria was gratifying and entertaining.
James, of course, did not wibble as a rule. After all, he was rich and smart, what did he have to worry about, other than Lily Evans?
Sirius also did not, because while he was no longer rich, he was still smart, and better than that, Sirius was cool. Wibble is not in the Dictionary of Cool (admittedly a small dictionary, and usually not containing words more than two syllables long).
Peter gave the best wibble, but he was hardly a challenge; in school all they'd had to do was tell him an assignment was due, or a professor wanted to Talk To Him. Out in the world, they just had to show up at his work, and he'd flip. And the best part about Peter's was that he was always so relieved afterward, he forgot to be angry.
Remus rarely wibbled, but he came in a close second to Peter when he did. He was a challenge, which was why Sirius enjoyed it so.
He couldn't go after the werewolf often, because Remus was alert. After seven years with Sirius and James, he didn't know the meaning of the word Gullible. It was not in his dictionary, which was admittedly a much larger one than the Dictionary of Cool, and full of words like 'Cathartic' and 'Pastiche'. Which was not, he had once been forced to inform Peter, a type of bread.
So Sirius, who it was suspected had entirely too much time on his hands, stalked his prey with patience. His first opportunity after graduation came when Remus (finally) got a job, as a clerk at a membership-only library in London.
Remus was perched on a stool, head bent over some sort of ledger, when Sirius leaned on the counter and rapped his fingers on the heavy, expensive wood. Remus looked up and smiled.
"Hallo Pads," he said, and Sirius grinned. "Come to apply for membership?"
Sirius drew his eyebrows together, confused. "No..."
"Then get out, I'm working," Remus replied.
"Is that any way to talk to a mate?" Sirius asked.
"When he comes to my place of work, a very expensive and very exclusive club of men who don't like anyone under the age of thirty-five, yes," Remus answered, returning to his ledger.
"Fine, give me a membership form."
"You can't afford it, and you'd never pass the admissions board."
"I happen to come from one of the oldest, most stuck up families in -- "
"A world these people have never heard of. Scram."
"Scram?" Sirius asked. "Your best friend in the world comes to break up the monotony of your day and all I get is Scram?"
"Membership at the junior level is seven hundred pounds," Remus recited. "Bribery of board members is perhaps another two hundred, and then there's a pound sixty for the membership card."
"What's that in Galleons?" Sirius asked, mystified.
"More than you've got to spare."
Sirius was opening his mouth to reply when a voice boomed out of a mysterious-looking back room. "Lupin!"
Remus closed the ledger, slid smoothly to his feet, and turned. "Yes, sir?"
A middle-aged man with a ramrod-straight back and neatly-clipped salt-and-pepper hair emerged, stopping in front of him.
"You're relieved of desk duty," he said. "Henderson's gone and buggered up the classics again."
Apparently this meant something to the pair of them; Remus let out a sigh, and then nodded.
"At least he reads them," he said.
"Sometimes I wonder," the other man answered. "I think he just goes up there and changes them about so that if his wife asks, we can tell her he was working." He paused and looked over Remus' shoulder, at Sirius. "Hallo, what's here? Applying for membership, are we?"
"This is Sirius Black," Remus said, politely.
"Of the London Blacks," Sirius added, holding out his hand. The other man's grip was surprisingly firm.
"Lad of good breeding?" he asked Remus. "He looks it."
"Canis familiaris," Remus said under his breath. "Mr. Black, this is Captain Jacobs, he's in charge of the collection," he added meaningfully.
"The collection of what?" Sirius inquired.
"A prime candidate," Jacobs said to Remus, and Sirius saw just a hint of amusement in the other man's eyes. "I'll take his application, then," he continued, in a louder voice. "Run up and handle Henderson's mess, there's a lad."
Remus nodded, gave Sirius a 'behave yourself' glare, and vanished up a flight of stairs behind the counter. Sirius watched, amazed, as he walked nimbly along an elegant metal catwalk and through a door halfway up the wall of the entrance lobby.
"Now then," said Jacobs, "The London Blacks, did you say?"
Sirius turned and reached into his pocket, as if for a business card.
"Yes, we're an old family," he said disarmingly, and then, continuing in a pleasant tone, "Obliviate."
The man took on a slightly stunned expression, and Sirius re-pocketed his wand, slipping past the desk and into the adjoining rooms while Jacobs was recovering his wits.
***
Remus found the mess on the first floor, in the Classical Reading Room, next to a quite decent replica of the Augustus of Primaporta.
The library was private and therefore subject to the whims of the membership; its catalogue system was quirky at best, and rather than the usual divisions, it was separated by room into Classics, Plays, Modern Literature, Natural Science, and Special Collections. Much though it irked his sense of order, it did appeal to his idea of the way a library should be; one should come across things by surprise.
Most of the members belonged to the library for one of three reasons: Prestige, Good Connections, or Safe Haven From Their Wives. The latter spent a good deal of time asleep in one of the many extremely comfortable chairs scattered throughout the building.
Henderson was one of those rare birds who belonged to the fourth cagetory, Scholarship, and spent much of his time working on some sort of monograph in the Classics room. Remus liked him, but he did have a habit of absently re-shelving books where they didn't belong, leaving them open on the ground, or stacking them haphazardly on the reading table behind the Augustus.
Apparently they'd finally trained him out of his reshelving habit; a judiciously-timed threat to revoke his membership privileges seemed to have worked. Remus began gathering books from the floor and stacking them on the table next to the piles Henderson had left, absently sorting by call-number. Finally he picked up a pile and walked into the dim stacks, locating the shelf with familiar ease and beginning to find the gaps where the books belonged.
"Wotcha," said a voice, and Remus nearly jumped. Sirius grinned. "Library Monster!" he said, waggling his eyebrows.
Remus sighed.
"I hope you didn't do anything permanent to Captain Jacobs," he said, gently putting a copy of The Agricola in its place.
"Obliviate, that's all. Is this what you do all day?" Sirius asked, as The Germania was slotted into the shelf.
"Mostly," Remus said, sifting the books into two piles, deftly. "Here, if you're going to hang about, make yourself useful," he added, giving one of the piles to Sirius. Remus found a gap for The Annals of Rome, and put it back.
"Why's he called Captain, anyway?" Sirius asked, putting one of the books on the shelf.
"He's ex-military," Remus answered. "Soldiers make good librarians, they like everything to be documented and in its place."
"Oh," Sirius responded. "He seems like a bit of a bastard to me. 'Go clean up the mess, Lupin!' " he boomed.
"Shhh, this is a library," Remus hissed.
"There's no one around, Moony," Sirius whined. His plan was working; he could see the faint beginnings of a wibble in the making.
"People pay a lot of money to come here and they don't like their sleep disturbed," Remus continued, straining for a reasonable voice and almost succeeding. Sirius grinned.
"Do you hear what you just said?" he asked.
"I'm serious, Sirius -- argh," Remus groaned as Sirius pointed and laughed at him, before putting another book on the shelf. "If you're going to make trouble you should leave."
"I'll behave," Sirius promised, shoving The Twelve Caesars between The Agricola and The Germania. "There's got to be some magical way to do this," he added.
"You know the rules, I work for a Muggle institution, I can't use magic -- Sirius, you're not even pretending to put them where they're supposed to go," Remus sighed. "If you don't shelve them right I have to come back and shelfread and that gives me headaches."
"Shelfread?"
"Look at that shelf and make sure every book is in order." Remus pointed to a shelf. Sirius gave it ten seconds' scrutiny.
"Who cares?" he finally asked.
"That's it. Give me the books, Sirius," Remus ordered. Sirius only had two left; he grinned and stretched his arm above his head, so that they were out of reach of the shorter man. This was it, Remus was about to --
"Bad dog," Remus said firmly.
Something deep inside Sirius cowered and tucked its tail between its legs. He found himself trying to flatten his ears against his head.
Master disapproved.
His arm dropped without him realising it, and Remus took the books out of his hand, with only a hint of triumph.
"Not fair, Moony," Sirius mumbled, great canine shame still washing over him. Damn the Animagus transformation anyway, it wasn't supposed to have side effects...
"Not fair is coming to my place of work and deliberately making trouble for me," Remus said calmly, laying the books flat on an empty stretch of shelf and turning to face Sirius. "This game you play is fine and good, Sirius, but be a grownup about it and do it after-hours like -- "
Well, this was not how things were supposed to go. Sirius, between the scolding and the lecture, felt as though he, himself, was about to wibble. He cast about quickly for a speedy tables-turner, and only one thing really came to mind.
Remus' lecture was cut off suddenly by a mouth against his, hands on his face, and Sirius Black's body pressing him backwards against the shelf.
"Ha!" Sirius said, releasing him, and then...
...he blinked.
"Oh," he said softly.
Remus stared at him, wide-eyed. His tongue flicked out over his lips, unconsciously.
"What was that?" he asked, after Sirius had followed the pink tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.
"Well, I was trying to -- "
"I know what you were trying to do," Remus said. "Do you really think that was a good way to go about doing it?"
Sirius, who hadn't realised until the end of the kiss that it had gone straight to his groin, blinked again.
"Get out of here, Sirius," Remus said dismissively.
Sirius managed a breathless "...do it again."
"What?"
"Let me do it again," he gasped.
"What, do you think the second time will be any more -- mmmf..." Remus was once again interrupted by Sirius' mouth, and this time the tongue in particular...
Sirius leaned back, and Remus followed him for a moment before the kiss broke. Sirius still had his hands on the side of Remus' face.
"That was good," he observed.
"It wasn't bad," Remus agreed. "I've had better."
"Bloody hell, you have not!"
"Have too. No go on, Sirius, I really need to -- "
"I'm not playing a game, Moony," Sirius blurted. Remus' hands touched his wrists, gently removing his own hands from Remus' cheeks.
"Neither am I," he murmured. "You're just trying to get me in trouble."
"No, Remus -- " Sirius caught his shoulder as he tried to turn, gently pinning him to the library shelf. "I didn't expect...that first one was just a joke, but I..."
Remus just watched him, with a look of mild interest, as though he were explaining why he was late to a lunch appointment.
Sirius carefully stepped forward, until their faces were inches apart and his body was pressed to his friend's. Remus swallowed when he felt the pressure of Sirius' erection against his thigh.
"You can't mean it," he said hoarsely.
"I didn't know..." Sirius was looking at him wonderingly, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone with a thumb. "Did you?"
Remus bowed his head, so suddenly that Sirius' hand slipped into his hair, tangling there.
"Of course I did," he answered. Sirius leaned in, burying his face in that brown hair, just beginning to thread with grey. He smelled like old books, the Remus-scent Padfoot knew much better than Sirius did.
"About me?"
Remus laughed against his collarbone. "Don't be a fool. I knew you were the one I wanted, even if you didn't think that way."
"Wanted?"
"Desired. Pursued. Craved. Shall I go on?"
"No," Sirius decided, one of his hands sliding around Remus' hip, pulling him that much more flush with his body. He could feel Remus respond, body shifting slightly, begging for the friction of one against the other.
Sirius tipped his chin up and kissed him again, and then Remus pulled away with a gasp.
"This is my work," he said suddenly. "My god, Sirius, get the hell away from me!"
"Nobody's here," Sirius said persuasively, leaning in. Remus closed his eyes against the breath on his temple. "It's a dark stack. I bet nobody ever comes down this way..."
He let his teeth graze Remus' earlobe, felt the shudder in his body.
"If you get me fired, Black," he said, in a voice that just barely trembled, "I will personally rip your still-beating heart out of your chest."
"Promises, promises," Sirius whispered, nuzzling his jaw, still not touching any other part of his body. Remus trembled. "You smell like paper," he said, moving to the sensitive skin of his neck. "And writing," he continued, pausing to kiss the place where the other man's pulse was humming in his veins. "And good things," he said, and suddenly there was movement, Remus' hands tangling in his hair, pulling him up for a fierce open kiss, forward until they both slammed back into the shelf.
"You smell like hunger," Remus moaned, as Sirius pressed close, hips rubbing against his, hands sliding down his ribcage. "And outside, and -- " he cut off into a moan when Sirius's fingers slipped under his belt, controlling how he moved. "God, Sirius -- "
"Shhh," Sirius hushed, as Remus pressed his face against his shoulder, biting the thin fabric of his shirt. He felt nimble fingers fumbling along his hip, and down his thigh, gripping there, almost convulsively. They were moving in a rhythm now, cocks rubbing together between layers of fabric that Sirius desperately wished weren't there, and then the fingers on his thigh were sliding between them, tracing the outline of his body --
Sirius grunted and bucked, and Remus repeated the motion, the back of his hand rubbing his own erection, so that when Sirius made that low whine in the back of his throat, it put Remus over the edge and he threw his head back, stifling a cry as he came. The strained noise and the sudden clench of fingers around him made Sirius swear and see stars.
For a minute there was nothing but the sound of deep, heavy breaths, and the shift of body against body, still craving that extra touch, until Remus' hand ran back up Sirius' body to grip his arm, and he leaned his forehead into Sirius' neck. His other hand reached for his back pocket.
"Scourgify," he whispered, and Sirius felt the warmth of his orgasm fade, replaced by the agonisingly sensitive rub of his clothing against his body.
"Jacobs is going to be wondering where I am," Remus whispered finally. "I should shelve the rest of these."
"Oh," Sirius answered. "Right...of course. Do you...do you want some help?"
Remus lifted his head and gave him a slightly sardonic look.
"Maybe not," Sirius said hastily. He let one of his hands drift up Remus' back, to stroke the fine hair at the nape of his neck. "Umm. What...should I do?"
"Not kiss me ten minutes ago?" Remus ventured.
"But you...you liked it. Didn't you?" Sirius asked. Panic filled him.
"Well..." Remus bit his lip. Sirius felt his eyes widen. "I didn't not -- "
He stopped, and an expression passed over his face that Sirius finally recognised as Remus Lupin trying desperately not to laugh.
"Got you," he said, and muffled his laughter in Sirius' shoulder. "You're throwing a wibble!" he snickered. Sirius tugged on his hair, vengefully.
"Unfair!" he said, releasing Remus, who stepped back and put his hand to his mouth, smiling almost impishly.
"Turnabout is always fair play, Sirius," he murmured, and Sirius shivered pleasantly. "Now...scram."
Sirius nodded. "I'll come back at five," he said.
"You'll be arrested for loitering, then, my shift ends at six," Remus answered. He pulled Sirius close for a hungry kiss, then pushed gently. "Come back at six and we'll...talk."
"I like talk," Sirius said quietly. Remus gave him another affectionate shove.
"If I'm late, it's because I'm reshelving all the books you mucked up," he growled.
Sirius nodded, grinned, and walked away, humming under his breath.
END
Author's Note: This fic came about through several separate events: Yap's long-neglected request for Library Smut, a cellfic about wibbling written for Jaida, and the vague feeling that Stefanie will probably get a kick out of the gentle library humour. It is, now that I come to think about it, a pastiche. Which is not a type of bread.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
It was one of Sirius Black's great pleasures in life -- one of many, as Sirius enjoyed life to its fullest -- to make people wibble.
A tremble of the lower lip, a wideness in the eyes, not crying so much as panicking -- Sirius didn't like to make people cry, that was cruel, but a moment of mild hysteria was gratifying and entertaining.
James, of course, did not wibble as a rule. After all, he was rich and smart, what did he have to worry about, other than Lily Evans?
Sirius also did not, because while he was no longer rich, he was still smart, and better than that, Sirius was cool. Wibble is not in the Dictionary of Cool (admittedly a small dictionary, and usually not containing words more than two syllables long).
Peter gave the best wibble, but he was hardly a challenge; in school all they'd had to do was tell him an assignment was due, or a professor wanted to Talk To Him. Out in the world, they just had to show up at his work, and he'd flip. And the best part about Peter's was that he was always so relieved afterward, he forgot to be angry.
Remus rarely wibbled, but he came in a close second to Peter when he did. He was a challenge, which was why Sirius enjoyed it so.
He couldn't go after the werewolf often, because Remus was alert. After seven years with Sirius and James, he didn't know the meaning of the word Gullible. It was not in his dictionary, which was admittedly a much larger one than the Dictionary of Cool, and full of words like 'Cathartic' and 'Pastiche'. Which was not, he had once been forced to inform Peter, a type of bread.
So Sirius, who it was suspected had entirely too much time on his hands, stalked his prey with patience. His first opportunity after graduation came when Remus (finally) got a job, as a clerk at a membership-only library in London.
Remus was perched on a stool, head bent over some sort of ledger, when Sirius leaned on the counter and rapped his fingers on the heavy, expensive wood. Remus looked up and smiled.
"Hallo Pads," he said, and Sirius grinned. "Come to apply for membership?"
Sirius drew his eyebrows together, confused. "No..."
"Then get out, I'm working," Remus replied.
"Is that any way to talk to a mate?" Sirius asked.
"When he comes to my place of work, a very expensive and very exclusive club of men who don't like anyone under the age of thirty-five, yes," Remus answered, returning to his ledger.
"Fine, give me a membership form."
"You can't afford it, and you'd never pass the admissions board."
"I happen to come from one of the oldest, most stuck up families in -- "
"A world these people have never heard of. Scram."
"Scram?" Sirius asked. "Your best friend in the world comes to break up the monotony of your day and all I get is Scram?"
"Membership at the junior level is seven hundred pounds," Remus recited. "Bribery of board members is perhaps another two hundred, and then there's a pound sixty for the membership card."
"What's that in Galleons?" Sirius asked, mystified.
"More than you've got to spare."
Sirius was opening his mouth to reply when a voice boomed out of a mysterious-looking back room. "Lupin!"
Remus closed the ledger, slid smoothly to his feet, and turned. "Yes, sir?"
A middle-aged man with a ramrod-straight back and neatly-clipped salt-and-pepper hair emerged, stopping in front of him.
"You're relieved of desk duty," he said. "Henderson's gone and buggered up the classics again."
Apparently this meant something to the pair of them; Remus let out a sigh, and then nodded.
"At least he reads them," he said.
"Sometimes I wonder," the other man answered. "I think he just goes up there and changes them about so that if his wife asks, we can tell her he was working." He paused and looked over Remus' shoulder, at Sirius. "Hallo, what's here? Applying for membership, are we?"
"This is Sirius Black," Remus said, politely.
"Of the London Blacks," Sirius added, holding out his hand. The other man's grip was surprisingly firm.
"Lad of good breeding?" he asked Remus. "He looks it."
"Canis familiaris," Remus said under his breath. "Mr. Black, this is Captain Jacobs, he's in charge of the collection," he added meaningfully.
"The collection of what?" Sirius inquired.
"A prime candidate," Jacobs said to Remus, and Sirius saw just a hint of amusement in the other man's eyes. "I'll take his application, then," he continued, in a louder voice. "Run up and handle Henderson's mess, there's a lad."
Remus nodded, gave Sirius a 'behave yourself' glare, and vanished up a flight of stairs behind the counter. Sirius watched, amazed, as he walked nimbly along an elegant metal catwalk and through a door halfway up the wall of the entrance lobby.
"Now then," said Jacobs, "The London Blacks, did you say?"
Sirius turned and reached into his pocket, as if for a business card.
"Yes, we're an old family," he said disarmingly, and then, continuing in a pleasant tone, "Obliviate."
The man took on a slightly stunned expression, and Sirius re-pocketed his wand, slipping past the desk and into the adjoining rooms while Jacobs was recovering his wits.
***
Remus found the mess on the first floor, in the Classical Reading Room, next to a quite decent replica of the Augustus of Primaporta.
The library was private and therefore subject to the whims of the membership; its catalogue system was quirky at best, and rather than the usual divisions, it was separated by room into Classics, Plays, Modern Literature, Natural Science, and Special Collections. Much though it irked his sense of order, it did appeal to his idea of the way a library should be; one should come across things by surprise.
Most of the members belonged to the library for one of three reasons: Prestige, Good Connections, or Safe Haven From Their Wives. The latter spent a good deal of time asleep in one of the many extremely comfortable chairs scattered throughout the building.
Henderson was one of those rare birds who belonged to the fourth cagetory, Scholarship, and spent much of his time working on some sort of monograph in the Classics room. Remus liked him, but he did have a habit of absently re-shelving books where they didn't belong, leaving them open on the ground, or stacking them haphazardly on the reading table behind the Augustus.
Apparently they'd finally trained him out of his reshelving habit; a judiciously-timed threat to revoke his membership privileges seemed to have worked. Remus began gathering books from the floor and stacking them on the table next to the piles Henderson had left, absently sorting by call-number. Finally he picked up a pile and walked into the dim stacks, locating the shelf with familiar ease and beginning to find the gaps where the books belonged.
"Wotcha," said a voice, and Remus nearly jumped. Sirius grinned. "Library Monster!" he said, waggling his eyebrows.
Remus sighed.
"I hope you didn't do anything permanent to Captain Jacobs," he said, gently putting a copy of The Agricola in its place.
"Obliviate, that's all. Is this what you do all day?" Sirius asked, as The Germania was slotted into the shelf.
"Mostly," Remus said, sifting the books into two piles, deftly. "Here, if you're going to hang about, make yourself useful," he added, giving one of the piles to Sirius. Remus found a gap for The Annals of Rome, and put it back.
"Why's he called Captain, anyway?" Sirius asked, putting one of the books on the shelf.
"He's ex-military," Remus answered. "Soldiers make good librarians, they like everything to be documented and in its place."
"Oh," Sirius responded. "He seems like a bit of a bastard to me. 'Go clean up the mess, Lupin!' " he boomed.
"Shhh, this is a library," Remus hissed.
"There's no one around, Moony," Sirius whined. His plan was working; he could see the faint beginnings of a wibble in the making.
"People pay a lot of money to come here and they don't like their sleep disturbed," Remus continued, straining for a reasonable voice and almost succeeding. Sirius grinned.
"Do you hear what you just said?" he asked.
"I'm serious, Sirius -- argh," Remus groaned as Sirius pointed and laughed at him, before putting another book on the shelf. "If you're going to make trouble you should leave."
"I'll behave," Sirius promised, shoving The Twelve Caesars between The Agricola and The Germania. "There's got to be some magical way to do this," he added.
"You know the rules, I work for a Muggle institution, I can't use magic -- Sirius, you're not even pretending to put them where they're supposed to go," Remus sighed. "If you don't shelve them right I have to come back and shelfread and that gives me headaches."
"Shelfread?"
"Look at that shelf and make sure every book is in order." Remus pointed to a shelf. Sirius gave it ten seconds' scrutiny.
"Who cares?" he finally asked.
"That's it. Give me the books, Sirius," Remus ordered. Sirius only had two left; he grinned and stretched his arm above his head, so that they were out of reach of the shorter man. This was it, Remus was about to --
"Bad dog," Remus said firmly.
Something deep inside Sirius cowered and tucked its tail between its legs. He found himself trying to flatten his ears against his head.
Master disapproved.
His arm dropped without him realising it, and Remus took the books out of his hand, with only a hint of triumph.
"Not fair, Moony," Sirius mumbled, great canine shame still washing over him. Damn the Animagus transformation anyway, it wasn't supposed to have side effects...
"Not fair is coming to my place of work and deliberately making trouble for me," Remus said calmly, laying the books flat on an empty stretch of shelf and turning to face Sirius. "This game you play is fine and good, Sirius, but be a grownup about it and do it after-hours like -- "
Well, this was not how things were supposed to go. Sirius, between the scolding and the lecture, felt as though he, himself, was about to wibble. He cast about quickly for a speedy tables-turner, and only one thing really came to mind.
Remus' lecture was cut off suddenly by a mouth against his, hands on his face, and Sirius Black's body pressing him backwards against the shelf.
"Ha!" Sirius said, releasing him, and then...
...he blinked.
"Oh," he said softly.
Remus stared at him, wide-eyed. His tongue flicked out over his lips, unconsciously.
"What was that?" he asked, after Sirius had followed the pink tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.
"Well, I was trying to -- "
"I know what you were trying to do," Remus said. "Do you really think that was a good way to go about doing it?"
Sirius, who hadn't realised until the end of the kiss that it had gone straight to his groin, blinked again.
"Get out of here, Sirius," Remus said dismissively.
Sirius managed a breathless "...do it again."
"What?"
"Let me do it again," he gasped.
"What, do you think the second time will be any more -- mmmf..." Remus was once again interrupted by Sirius' mouth, and this time the tongue in particular...
Sirius leaned back, and Remus followed him for a moment before the kiss broke. Sirius still had his hands on the side of Remus' face.
"That was good," he observed.
"It wasn't bad," Remus agreed. "I've had better."
"Bloody hell, you have not!"
"Have too. No go on, Sirius, I really need to -- "
"I'm not playing a game, Moony," Sirius blurted. Remus' hands touched his wrists, gently removing his own hands from Remus' cheeks.
"Neither am I," he murmured. "You're just trying to get me in trouble."
"No, Remus -- " Sirius caught his shoulder as he tried to turn, gently pinning him to the library shelf. "I didn't expect...that first one was just a joke, but I..."
Remus just watched him, with a look of mild interest, as though he were explaining why he was late to a lunch appointment.
Sirius carefully stepped forward, until their faces were inches apart and his body was pressed to his friend's. Remus swallowed when he felt the pressure of Sirius' erection against his thigh.
"You can't mean it," he said hoarsely.
"I didn't know..." Sirius was looking at him wonderingly, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone with a thumb. "Did you?"
Remus bowed his head, so suddenly that Sirius' hand slipped into his hair, tangling there.
"Of course I did," he answered. Sirius leaned in, burying his face in that brown hair, just beginning to thread with grey. He smelled like old books, the Remus-scent Padfoot knew much better than Sirius did.
"About me?"
Remus laughed against his collarbone. "Don't be a fool. I knew you were the one I wanted, even if you didn't think that way."
"Wanted?"
"Desired. Pursued. Craved. Shall I go on?"
"No," Sirius decided, one of his hands sliding around Remus' hip, pulling him that much more flush with his body. He could feel Remus respond, body shifting slightly, begging for the friction of one against the other.
Sirius tipped his chin up and kissed him again, and then Remus pulled away with a gasp.
"This is my work," he said suddenly. "My god, Sirius, get the hell away from me!"
"Nobody's here," Sirius said persuasively, leaning in. Remus closed his eyes against the breath on his temple. "It's a dark stack. I bet nobody ever comes down this way..."
He let his teeth graze Remus' earlobe, felt the shudder in his body.
"If you get me fired, Black," he said, in a voice that just barely trembled, "I will personally rip your still-beating heart out of your chest."
"Promises, promises," Sirius whispered, nuzzling his jaw, still not touching any other part of his body. Remus trembled. "You smell like paper," he said, moving to the sensitive skin of his neck. "And writing," he continued, pausing to kiss the place where the other man's pulse was humming in his veins. "And good things," he said, and suddenly there was movement, Remus' hands tangling in his hair, pulling him up for a fierce open kiss, forward until they both slammed back into the shelf.
"You smell like hunger," Remus moaned, as Sirius pressed close, hips rubbing against his, hands sliding down his ribcage. "And outside, and -- " he cut off into a moan when Sirius's fingers slipped under his belt, controlling how he moved. "God, Sirius -- "
"Shhh," Sirius hushed, as Remus pressed his face against his shoulder, biting the thin fabric of his shirt. He felt nimble fingers fumbling along his hip, and down his thigh, gripping there, almost convulsively. They were moving in a rhythm now, cocks rubbing together between layers of fabric that Sirius desperately wished weren't there, and then the fingers on his thigh were sliding between them, tracing the outline of his body --
Sirius grunted and bucked, and Remus repeated the motion, the back of his hand rubbing his own erection, so that when Sirius made that low whine in the back of his throat, it put Remus over the edge and he threw his head back, stifling a cry as he came. The strained noise and the sudden clench of fingers around him made Sirius swear and see stars.
For a minute there was nothing but the sound of deep, heavy breaths, and the shift of body against body, still craving that extra touch, until Remus' hand ran back up Sirius' body to grip his arm, and he leaned his forehead into Sirius' neck. His other hand reached for his back pocket.
"Scourgify," he whispered, and Sirius felt the warmth of his orgasm fade, replaced by the agonisingly sensitive rub of his clothing against his body.
"Jacobs is going to be wondering where I am," Remus whispered finally. "I should shelve the rest of these."
"Oh," Sirius answered. "Right...of course. Do you...do you want some help?"
Remus lifted his head and gave him a slightly sardonic look.
"Maybe not," Sirius said hastily. He let one of his hands drift up Remus' back, to stroke the fine hair at the nape of his neck. "Umm. What...should I do?"
"Not kiss me ten minutes ago?" Remus ventured.
"But you...you liked it. Didn't you?" Sirius asked. Panic filled him.
"Well..." Remus bit his lip. Sirius felt his eyes widen. "I didn't not -- "
He stopped, and an expression passed over his face that Sirius finally recognised as Remus Lupin trying desperately not to laugh.
"Got you," he said, and muffled his laughter in Sirius' shoulder. "You're throwing a wibble!" he snickered. Sirius tugged on his hair, vengefully.
"Unfair!" he said, releasing Remus, who stepped back and put his hand to his mouth, smiling almost impishly.
"Turnabout is always fair play, Sirius," he murmured, and Sirius shivered pleasantly. "Now...scram."
Sirius nodded. "I'll come back at five," he said.
"You'll be arrested for loitering, then, my shift ends at six," Remus answered. He pulled Sirius close for a hungry kiss, then pushed gently. "Come back at six and we'll...talk."
"I like talk," Sirius said quietly. Remus gave him another affectionate shove.
"If I'm late, it's because I'm reshelving all the books you mucked up," he growled.
Sirius nodded, grinned, and walked away, humming under his breath.
END