Title: Riding Like a Big Dog
Pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Sirius/Other Canon Character (I won't specify, because the pairing is the punchline), with implied future Remus/Sirius/Same Other Canon Character liaisons.
Rating: PG-13 - it's all much more innocent than it seems. If the above pairings worry you, please read anyway and you will see that the sacred R/S OTP love is not in any way violated.
Summary: Remus overhears Sirius and James talking about Sirius' latest conquest. Remus gets jealous.
Warnings: Humor/fluff, a pinch of happily resolved angst, a dollop of fluff, a great deal of snogging in the library, and a bit of fluff on the side for good measure. Much as it may look it, there is NO het content.
Disclaimer: Remus, Sirius and the Other Canon Character I refuse to name all belong to J. K. Rowling. I'm merely showing them a good time with no intent to profit.
Length: 5500 words, a.k.a. the little drabble that could.
"I think I'm in love... There's nothing like it, nothing else at all. I swear I could honestly go at it all night long."
When he heard those words coming from the other side of the closed door, Remus froze. It had to be Sirius speaking, because it sounded just like him and because really, there were only four inhabitants of the seventh year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, himself included, so it wasn't a terribly difficult puzzle to solve. But still, he fervently hoped that he had misheard either the speaker or the intent of the words being spoken.
Remus heard a somewhat skeptical noise in response to that awful declaration, coming from what had to be James, because Peter was studying Herbology in the Common Room ostensibly with the aim of revising his Herbology N.E.W.T., but really trying to flirt with his guest from Ravenclaw, Cecilia Brocklehurst. James added, "But really, doesn't it get uncomfortable after a while, all bent over like that? And doesn't the leather start to chafe?"
The voice that definitely belonged to Sirius responded, rapturously, "God, no. She fits me so perfectly, just enough room, curves in all the right places..."
James hmmmed at this.
Remus willed himself to either enter the room as he'd been planning, to retrieve the Transfiguration essay he'd started, or else to retreat from the hallway. In any case, he had to stop witnessing this intensely private conversation that he was not meant to be privy to.
Instead, despite the most virtuous intentions, Remus stood rooted to the spot, as Sirius continued, "She's just so unbelievably responsive. It's like I barely need to touch her, and she does exactly what I want her to do!"
Remus knew logically, rationally that he ought to turn around and leave, but regardless of how logical and rational Remus was under normal circumstances, his feet remained strangely incompliant.
"She handles so smoothly now, I can hardly believe it. I swear, she purrs just like a kitten underneath me! No restraint whatsoever!" Sirius continued on the other side of the door, sounding incredibly smug, even satiated.
Remus shouldn't be hearing any of this, but he was, and he couldn't stop listening, even as a surge of nausea welled up inside him.
"Merlin, you're such a jammy bastard!" James said. "I wish I could be so lucky!"
Remus pressed himself against the door, abandoning all pretense of not eavesdropping. If even James, James of the perfectly blissful relationship with Head Girl Lily Evans, was jealous, this was serious, no pun intended.
"Oh, come, James, you know full well it wasn't a matter of luck. I worked so hard on her," Sirius insisted, sounding not at all unhappy about this. "But oh god, every moment of lying underneath her, getting dirty, lubricating her, trying to work out the layout of her parts, fiddling and tweaking her into submission, those many endless hours trying to get her to bloody well behave, it was all so worth it now that she's mine and I can ride her whenever I want to."
Remus felt his cheeks burning, and his stomach roiling, but still, he couldn't tear himself away from the door.
"The ride of a lifetime!" James laughingly agreed. "Think you might let me have a go at her?"
Remus inhaled sharply, horrified. After years of undaunted, unencouraged courtship, James finally had Lily! They were in LOVE! James had even talked about proposing to her when they graduated in a few months! But now this strumpet of Sirius' had turned even James' head!
"James, my boy, you wouldn't know what to do with her if you had her! You don't have the experience to handle her!"
James protested. Remus shuddered.
"But maybe you can watch, and I can give you some lessons?"
Remus recoiled in horror. He hadn't thought this conversation could get any worse, but now he had just overheard his closest friends arranging a ménage-a-trois, or at least some kind of kinky voyeuristic threesome. The absolute worst part, though, was that he seemed to mind most that he hadn't been invited.
James laughed, "Yes, alright, she's still a bit twitchy and needs a firm masterful hand, I can see that. When are you taking her out next?"
Sirius sighed happily. "I was thinking of going on bit of a trip, show her the countryside this weekend. And you know, I was hoping I'd get the chance to really ride her hard this time. Now that I'm finally getting past break-in and I don't have to baby her any longer!"
Remus felt faint and clutched the doorknob, feeling an acute stabbing pang of what he had to admit to himself felt an awful lot like jealousy.
"Ride her long and hard, then put her away wet, eh?" James snickered.
"I would never!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly.
Remus breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the door. Maybe this was all one big misunderstanding, maybe they knew he was listening, maybe this was all just a joke they were playing on him, and really, it served him right because he really shouldn't be eavesdropping.
"I always, lovingly, tenderly clean her up and dry her off after every outing. Yes, of course she gets wet, but I take care of her. I rub down EVERY INCH of her, I'll have you know!"
The pang of jealousy had turned into an all-consuming roar throbbing in Remus' veins, so loud that he could barely hear the conversation continuing.
"I know, I know, you treat her right so that you can be together forever and always... and jet off into all your sunsets, literal and proverbial, together," James said, sounding amused.
Remus saw nothing funny about it. This was it, the last straw, and he couldn't stand it any longer. At the mention of Sirius, who had never even gone out with any one girl for two dates in succession, making a lifetime commitment to this awful tart, Remus turned and fled.
Several hours later, Remus was hiding in an obscure corner of the library, in the foreign language Arithmancy journal section where no one else ever went voluntarily. Remus generally liked to study there, not just because of the quiet, but because there was no way he could get distracted by the books if he didn't understand the characters the books were written in.
At present, however, he was there out of habit alone: not even the most tempting book would be a distraction now, and he simply wanted a place that was not Gryffindor Tower where he could brood uninterrupted.
Alas, it was not to be, but then it was hard to hide from one's mates when they had a magical map that pinpointed one's exact location.
"Oi, Remus, I knew I'd find you here!" shouted the very last person Remus wanted to talk to right now.
Remus pointedly refused to look at Sirius, and instead continued staring fixedly at his book, just as he had been doing for the past two and a half hours, before which he'd been staring at a knothole in the table with equal enthusiasm. The book was still open to the place it had fallen open to when he'd thrown it down on the table with uncharacteristic violence and even more uncharacteristic disregard for the integrity of the binding. He hadn't read a single word, just tortured himself with images with Sirius and that horrible, faceless slut.
Although that process hadn't really been very conducive to learning anything about Potions, Remus had had several personal epiphanies in succession.
He didn't suppose it was entirely fair to call them epiphanies, actually, given that none of the information really felt new. Before the revelations had taken concrete, solid shape this afternoon, they'd been vague nagging suspicions that he'd stubbornly refused to acknowledge. Unbidden images had frolicked about his subconscious while he was waking up and he sometimes had this funny twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looked at Sirius, but he'd successfully attributed it to the house elves messing up dinner, a potential gluten allergy, or perhaps it being before, after or during that time of the month.
It had taken the overwhelming feeling of utter wrongness at the thought of Sirius with someone else to finally force him to reexamine all the evidence, and then there was really no escaping the conclusions.
Now his conscious mind knew for a fact that he fancied blokes as well as girls, and in particular, that he fancied Sirius, and really had fancied Sirius for years now, and the whole thing had been going on long enough that it might not even be a simple matter of fancying but perhaps actually being in love with, and that most especially he wanted Sirius to fancy-and-possibly-love him back and never ever look at another woman again... most particularly not whatever awful strumpet he'd been talking about earlier.
Well, at least he didn't have an allergy to bread, he thought, glumly.
And he could live in the hope that eventually, unlike his lycanthropy, the problem of definitely-fancying-and-probably-loving Sirius might just go away of its own accord if he just ignored it long enough.
But really, none of this greater self-awareness could reasonably be expected to do him one iota of practical good. Probably That Brazen Hussy and Sirius would have a double wedding with Lily and James and he'd have to forcibly refrain from drowning himself in the punchbowl during the reception. Cecilia Brocklehurst would catch the bouquet and happily bat her eyelashes at Peter, and they would live happily ever after, too. Maybe if he was lucky, Remus could catch the garter and use it to hang himself later on in private because he would never, ever get anything resembling requited love or a happy ending.
So when the object of his long-repressed-but-finally-realized lust stood there before him in the library, according to his peripheral vision probably close enough to reach out and touch, Remus just blushed furiously and continued staring downwards, quite sure that Sirius would be able to read every last epiphany on his face if he looked at him directly.
In fact, he wasn't sure he could handle the temptation of looking at Sirius, knowing what he knew, without being tempted to jump him. It was bad enough that he could smell Sirius from where he was sitting, the merest whiff of that distinctive spicy, intense smell of him detectable over the prevalent fusty old book smell of the library. It made Remus dizzy with longing, and he wanted to get closer, surround himself with that sweet, musky smell, surround himself with Sirius, to the exclusion of everything else.
"Moony, hey, are you all right?" Sirius' slightly raspy voice with its crisp, markedly aristocratic annunciation made Remus feel light-headed, even giddy.
Sirius could probably have been reading a Portkey schedule and he would still have had some kind of devastating effect on Remus' brain's ability to form coherent thoughts, but the affectionate nickname (which he'd thought he hated, but wouldn't ever complain about again), and the obvious concern in Sirius' voice, made the repercussions exponentially worse.
No, Remus thought, he couldn't possibly add any additional senses to the assault that Sirius was wreaking on his self-control. Smell and hearing were bad enough. He would not look, and he definitely wouldn't touch, and he wouldn't even think about what Sirius might taste like, because that way lay madness, Remus was sure of it.
Remus supposed that this business of not trusting himself to look at Sirius might eventually pose some difficulty given that they shared a dormitory room, but he had several hours of blissful denial before he actually had to deal with that problem, so he feigned great interest in his potions studying. He turned a page for the first time since he reached the library, and nearly tore the book in the process.
Sirius cleared his throat, and Remus suddenly remembered there had been a question that he might be expected to answer if his brain hadn't just gone out for lunch and decided to declare it a long weekend already.
"Fine, just lovely," muttered Remus between gritted teeth, sounding rather like the very opposite.
"You're not acting like it," pronounced Sirius, as though he was producing some kind of great insight. "And we're two and a half weeks from the next full moon, so don't tell me that's the problem, either. What, did some Ravenclaw check out some dusty arcane tome that you'd been eyeing, and you flew into a pique of jealous rage?"
Remus knew Sirius was joking, knew he should make some kind of lighthearted jesting reply, but it was almost skirting the truth, if one substituted "stunningly fit bloke who happens to be my friend" for "dusty arcane tome", and "conniving slatternly seductress" for "Ravenclaw".
She might even be in Ravenclaw, for all he know, because he knew absolutely nothing about this secret paramour that Sirius had been hiding from him. He didn't think he could stand it if in addition to being fantastic in bed, fun to be with and in firm possession of Sirius' heart and nether regions, The Strumpet also turned out to be bookish and smart, so that Remus would reasonably be expected to get along with her rather than bludgeoning her over the head with something heavy.
Maybe The Moste Compleat Encyclopaedia of Potions Lore? Remus contemplated the hefty book in front of him with considerable longing. Better yet, an early and unabridged edition of Hogwarts: A History, from before the editors made the admirable choice to break it down into six slimmer volumes.
No, he would hold out hope for The Strumpet being in Hufflepuff, or maybe even Slytherin.
But, right, there had been a question. After racking his brain to recall what exactly Sirius had said, Remus made a noise that was supposed to be a vague denial, but really turned out rather more like a squeak.
Sirius hunkered down on the edge of the table, in alarming proximity. "Come now, you're bright pink, and your eye is sort of twitching. It's either heatstroke or a fit of apoplexy, and in any case you've been at the books far too long."
"But I haven't gotten anything done yet, really." Really, he thought, if only Sirius knew.
Sirius slammed the potions book closed defiantly. Remus made a weak noise of protest. Not that Remus had actually been reading it, but he missed the focal point and the convenient excuse not to look at Sirius. Back to staring blankly at the table, then. Hello, knothole, old friend.
Sirius' voice sounded dangerously close as he said mockingly, "Fear not, good sir Remus, I will rescue you from your dastardly studies. Come join me for a swim before dinner, er, in yon loch! There be dragons, and uh, giant betentacled squids!"
At the thought of Sirius in his swimming trunks, Remus suddenly became very glad he was sitting down, because he was beginning to understand the way that the heroines of the dime novels his mother sometimes read tended to swoon at the slightest provocation. Remus had laughed, but perhaps he owed his mother a letter of apology. He would never mock the novels or their divan-bound heroines ever again, now that he understood first-hand how incredibly lethal the combination tall, dark and handsome could be.
"Some of us have to work for our exams, you know. We can't all spend our time gallivanting around, playing pranks and dallying with women of questionable virtue," Remus said, sounding petulant and extremely disapproving.
"Who's been gallivanting? Lily is the soul of maidenly virtue. I don't think James has ever studied more," Sirius responded. "And Peter's trying to cop off with some Ravenclaw bint and so is also the very embodiment of scholasticism right now. It's just you and me, Moony, and you might even be having a good influence on me, too."
"You!" Remus howled. "You've been sneaking around behind our backs with some hussy!" Remus knew he sounded accusatory, and he knew that the platonic thing to do would be to clap Sirius on the shoulder and congratulate him on the conquest, but he just couldn't.
Sirius sounded genuinely confused. "What hussy? You'd think that I would be the first to know if I were getting lucky, wouldn't you?"
"Don't lie to me, Sirius. I heard you this afternoon, talking to James about your conquest." Remus couldn't keep the vague note of hysteria from creeping into his voice.
"What?!" Sirius really sounded sincerely baffled, and for a moment Remus was almost tempted to believe him.
The silence stretched awkwardly between them, filling the all-too-small space that separated Remus from the embodiment of all temptation.
Then suddenly something dawned on Sirius, who said "Ohhh!" and then had the temerity to laugh, loudly and exuberantly. The sound reverberated in the otherwise quiet library. When Sirius managed to get himself under control again, what seemed like minutes later, he wheezed, "God, Remus. Serves you right for eavesdropping!"
Remus didn't see the humor in any of this. "Just what exactly is so funny? James said you had a lifelong commitment with that... that awful harlot!"
Sirius snorted in a way that didn't at all befit the scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, even if he was estranged and disowned. He then gripped Remus' chin and gently tilted it upwards so that Remus was forced to look into those strangely mirthful grey eyes. Remus blushed and his pulse ratcheted upwards and he hoped fervently that Sirius wouldn't notice.
"Remus. Listen to me, very carefully. There. Is. No. Girl."
Remus started to protest. "But I heard you talking about her, in lurid detail!"
Sirius put a finger firmly on Remus' lips, silencing him.
"James and I were talking about Brunhilde."
Remus protested angrily around the finger, "Ha! I knew it! A girl!"
Sirius smiled with far more amusement than the situation merited.
Remus scowled back. No matter how seductive he found that smile, he would harden his heart.
"Remus, Brunhilde isn't a girl."
"So she's a veela? Vampire? Oh god, not another werewolf?" Remus heard his own voice cracking on that last one, because the thought was just too much to bear. Sirius just looked even more amused, and bit his lip, clearly in an attempt to keep from laughing again.
"Remus. Brunhilde is my flying motorbike... who, fantastic as she is in her own right, poses no threat whatsoever to your claim on my affections." Sirius waited for this to sink in and peered expectantly at Remus.
Remus blinked, and after a rather long pause he finally said "Oh," stupidly.
"Neither, for that matter, do any other girls."
"Oh," said Remus again, this time very, very quietly.
"Even if I liked girls, which I really don't at all, it wouldn't matter, because I've been too caught up with this entirely hopeless crush on my best friend to even think about looking at anyone else."
The cautious optimism that had been welling up inside Remus fell like a soufflé that looks prize-winning until a neighbor slams the door at the end of a row that culminates in noisy makeup sex, leaving one alone with an dense, unpalatable shadow of the soufflé's former glory and a good measure of sexual frustration. "Oh, of course. James," he said, resigned to being second best in this as in all things. Remus felt the dense lump of optimism collapsed into resentment settling in the vicinity of his spleen.
Sirius rolled his eyes and kicked Remus' leg gently. "No, you daft wanker, YOU," he groaned.
If Sirius hadn't still been holding his face in one hand, Remus would have been tempted to look around to see whether some other daft wanker was being addressed. Instead, he just managed a rather strangled "Me?"
"Yes, you, Moony," Sirius said, giving a lopsided grin that filled Remus' field of vision and it struck Remus suddenly how very, very close he was.
As far as professions of love went, it probably wasn't particularly eloquent or romantic, and definitely included more insults than was par for the course, at least if one judged by great scenes from literature (okay, and his mother's trashy romances), which was really all the basis for comparison that Remus had, but he was still sure that this was absolutely the best thing that he'd ever heard, or that anyone would ever hear.
Remus tentatively smiled back. "Not entirely hopeless, then," he said, not sounding as shaky as he felt. "Not even remotely hopeless, in fact."
The heady thought that he alone was responsible for the dazzling smile on Sirius' face short-circuited some part of Remus' brain.
"So I was right... it's just you and me, Moony." Suddenly, in one fluid motion, he pushed Remus' chair back a bit and moved from the table to the newly-accessible lap, where he continued, rather hopefully, "Maybe I can be a bad influence instead?"
Sirius was so terribly close now, bringing with him the pervasive smells of musk and spices and the Quidditch-specific mixture of grass and sweat and the oil used for broom polishing. Remus couldn't even smell the library anymore, just Sirius. He felt Sirius' breath on his face, caught a whiff of what he almost thought might be chocolate, and Remus' last defenses crumbled at that.
Remus thought he might implode from joy, because surely, this much insane happiness was too much for one person to contain. He had to do something, and given the proximity of their faces, and the absolutely intent look in Sirius' grey eyes, it really seemed like a logical step to bring their lips closer together still.
For the first couple of moments, the kiss was an awkward affair of bumping noses and Remus' reading glasses squashing into Sirius' forehead, but then the angles suddenly worked themselves out, Sirius' lips parted gently against his, and in that glorious instant Remus finally understood what all of the fuss was about.
It stopped being a mere squashing together of faces and shifted abruptly into being a real kiss, one where Remus could stop dwelling on how inherently ridiculous the concept of mashing your lips together with those of someone else was when one really thought about it, and could instead focus on how brilliant the very same idea was when you stopped thinking altogether. It was nothing at all like prior gropings under the mistletoe or playing spin the bottle which had been wet and sloppy and vaguely unpleasant. This kiss was also quickly becoming a bit wet and messy, but it made his head spin and heat pool low in his stomach and he clutched at Sirius and opened his mouth further, biting at Sirius' lower lip, which was not covered in gooey lip gloss and vastly better as a result.
Sirius traced Remus' lips with his tongue, and Remus tentatively returned the favor, finding that Sirius did in fact taste like chocolate. Remus was willing to bet that the source of the chocolate had been a raid of the secret stash in his own sock drawer, because Sirius more specifically tasted suspiciously of Honeyduke's dark chocolate orange truffles which Remus had bought on the last Hogsmeade weekend, but really, Remus would gladly cede all rights to any chocolate that might ever be held by the sock drawer, forever, if it meant that he could enjoy it vicariously on Sirius.
The kiss deepened and Remus became totally and completely lost in sensation. Despite the awkward moments when their teeth clacked, and the fact that there was probably a bit too much saliva involved, kissing Sirius was absolutely the best feeling ever, and everything else - the imminent exams, friends, society, the chair back digging into his shoulder, the awkward angle associated with kissing someone who is taller than you to begin with even when they aren't sitting in your lap - dropped away. Remus was quite sure he could do this forever and not tire of it.
Unfortunately, when Remus' distraction became so great that he forgot to breathe, the tangle of limbs and mouths broke apart out of necessity.
They stared at each other, gasping for air, with Sirius looking as wide-eyed and startled as Remus felt. A detached portion of Remus' mind pointed out helpfully that they were now in the utterly clichéd, panting, heaving sort of clinch that was featured on the tawdry covers of the bodice rippers that Remus would never, ever again read aloud in funny voices for the amusement of his friends, not even if Peter begged him.
Sirius just stared, looking dazed, as he absentmindedly wiped his chin with his sleeve.
As James' best friend, Sirius was the most frequent pranking victim as well as co-conspirator, and the regimen of practical jokes had left him with the general ability to be completely unfazed by even the most extraordinary events. It was Sirius' near copyright on blasé that made his current totally bewildered expression all the more remarkable.
Remus felt oddly gratified at the thought that although Sirius had serially dated and kissed many girls, he'd never looked quite this stunned afterwards, so surely, that meant he had to have been doing something right, relative inexperience notwithstanding.
"Holy hell," said Sirius, finally.
Remus removed his glasses, folding them carefully and putting them on the table a safe distance away. "Er, I take it that's a good thing?"
"Idiot," muttered Sirius, seeming to regain his equilibrium in the familiarity of trading insults with Remus, and then he reached in to kiss Remus again before Remus could gather his wits enough to produce a retort.
This second kiss was even more demanding and urgent but no less brilliant. Remus hand scrabbled for purchase and his arm ended up slung around Sirius' neck, fingers twined in the thick black hair. Sirius was plastered against him, and it was so very different from the girls Remus had kissed, hardness and heat and teeth and biting.
Remus was quite determined to empirically test his earlier theory that he could do this forever, at least if he remembered to breathe through his nose. Indeed, this kiss didn't so much stop and resume as migrate elsewhere, unbroken, and Remus began to think that maybe it wasn't just a matter of being able to do this forever, but actually physically needing to dedicate his life to snogging Sirius, perhaps with appropriate breaks for food and personal hygiene.
Sirius was cursing at the buttons of second-hand school robes, and Remus took advantage of his momentary distraction to lick a very inviting stripe of skin below Sirius' jawline. Sirius moaned and gave up on the buttons altogether, and instead tugged ineffectually at Remus' robes. Sirius' writhing response to kisses trailing down his neck was so overwhelmingly positive that Remus tried nibbling and then finally biting, thinking that there was probably no harm in it now that the full moon was past.
When Sirius returned the favor and nipped rather ungently at the pulse point of his neck, Remus snapped his eyes open in shock at the thrill of sensation that coursed through him. This had the unintended side effect of giving him an excellent view of the nearest clock.
"Oh my god," gasped Remus. He hadn't thought that it was possible for him to lose such track of time, but apparently, it was. Sirius' kissing him appeared to transport them both to some kind of alternate universe where such things stopped mattering - actually, Sirius more generally seemed to labor under the delusion that time stood still for him. Perhaps the very fabric of space-time really did unravel before the awesome power that was Sirius Black and his formidable snogging skill.
Sirius clearly mistook this for the kind of "Oh my god" that means "Carry on because what you're doing with your tongue is fantastic!", rather than the sort that means "Unhand me now because we are in immediate danger of losing our library privileges forever!", not that the loss of library privileges would really be all that devastating to Sirius, who only ever set foot in the library to find Remus, usually with the aim of luring him away from the books.
Sirius made a happy sound of agreement and triumphed over another button on Remus' robes.
"No, that's not what I meant! Well, that too, but Sirius, we can't, not here. We're in the library!" He swatted Sirius' persistent hands away from the strip of midriff exposed by rucked up clothing.
"Your awesome powers of perception never cease to amaze," Sirius drawled, tracing along Remus' exposed collarbone, slipping his fingers underneath the collar of the robes.
Remus moaned and writhed as Sirius followed the same path with his mouth. "The LIBRARY!" he finally brought out, failing very badly in his attempt at a coherent sentence, but really, it wasn't his fault when Sirius was doing that with his teeth.
"Books are sexy. Learning is sexy. You of all people, Remus, should appreciate that." Sirius whispered into Remus' ear, then doing his best to persuade the soft adjacent patch of skin by nonverbal means.
With Herculean effort, Remus recalled why exactly this was a bad idea. "Being discovered in a compromising position by Madam Pince is not sexy!"
"That's one completely hypothetical scenario. The other far more likely hypothetical outcome is that it would be bloody brilliant."
"Not that you'd know, but Madam Pince patrols the library before closing for dinner, and she's due to make it here in about five minutes." Remus struggled to refasten his robes with shaking fingers.
"I bet Pince wouldn't mind in the least. She could sell pictures on the black market or to Playwitch or something, get a tidy sum for a new card catalogue or maybe a holiday somewhere tropical with Filch, who knows. The point is, who are you to deny her our hotness?"
Clearly, engaging in completely fantastic, mind-shatteringly electric kisses was not going to make Sirius any less of a enormous prat. Pity, though it certainly wouldn't stop Remus from trying... preferably often and repeatedly.
Remus tried valiantly to tidy his hair, which probably looked almost as bad as James', but he really didn't think he could do anything about the truly spectacular lovebite he was fairly sure he was developing, judging by the way Sirius was staring at his neck. "Sirius. Dinner. Now. Really."
"Spoilsport," pouted Sirius, looked rumpled and thoroughly snogged, and yes, the faint bloom of a bruise was starting on his neck as well, marking him as taken, and the thought that Remus had done that almost weakened his resolve.
Remus sighed and folded his arms across his chest, mostly to give him some distance from Sirius who was really not helping the rational thought processes along any.
Sirius stood up, then looked at him appraisingly. Remus tried not to squirm and met the carefully assessing gaze. That look, the look that meant that Sirius was thinking, rarely boded well.
Just as Remus began to fear that he might get thrown over a shoulder and abducted to some abandoned corner of the castle, not that it would really be abduction if he went willingly (while shouting "Take me now!" because he'd most definitely read too many of his mother's books and they had clearly rotted his brain beyond all hope), Sirius spoke.
"You know, as disturbingly hot as I find it to see you in a fit of possessive jealousy, I think you and Brunhilde got off to a needlessly bad start. You could totally share."
"Right. Sharing. Sharing is good!" Remus gabbled a bit, because Sirius was still staring at him and he couldn't quite believe that anyone could find him disturbingly hot in any state, when the best that Remus had ever hoped for was "cute in a disheveled way", and this was Sirius, Sirius, who tasted like chocolate and kissed like something out of a bad romance novel, and really, this entire situation couldn't get any more perfect if Remus had been quaffing Felix Felicis by the gallon.
"I was planning on a trip this weekend, to very quiet, remote parts of the countryside. Very secluded and very, very PRIVATE parts of the countryside." He looked meaningfully at Remus.
Remus the Prefect, whose job it was to enforce school rules, and definitely not to encourage the breaking of ministry rules, could hardly be expected to view the highly illegal flying motorcycle as an acceptable mode of transportation to run off on, especially given Hogwarts policy about not permitting students to leave the grounds without the express permission of a parent or guardian.
On the other hand, Remus the Teenaged Boy, who very much wanted to see if he could break his prior record for many times he could get Sirius to curse in one afternoon by switching tactics to ones involving little to no clothing, rather begged to differ.
There was no contest, really: Remus already knew that he and Brunhilde would get along splendidly.
And so it was that Remus just nodded and laughed when Sirius shimmied his hips rather lewdly and said, "Wanna go for a ride?"
Author's note: The title comes from the instructor of my motorcycle safety class, who used "Like a big dawwwggg!" as an all-purpose phrase of praise, as in, "Wooo, you're turning like a big dog now!" I still hear him in my head on a regular basis on my daily commute, so I blame this story on that, along with Imogene, whose encouragement made me think that actually writing up this absurd concept would be a good idea, and whose exacting and countless beta-readings made it so.
And, for those of you who agree that R/S/Motorbike = OT3, I've just started a community for motorcycle-centric Remus/Sirius stories. So far I've recced a couple of other works and made a handful of icons, so check it out: motorbikeslash. Other pairings which feature Sirius' flying motorbike are also welcome. :)