I Want

I swear I won't tease you,
Won't tell you no lies.
I don't need no Bible,
Just look in my eyes.
I've waited so long baby,
Now that we're friends.
Every man's got his patience
And here's where mine ends.
I want your sex.
--George Michael

~1~

Harry's eyes exude happiness as we watch Sirius' clock hand -- the Black one, of course -- spin around the face until it's pointing to 'travelling' instead of 'work', and he looks as though he's going to pass out from sheer bliss when it makes the final movement to 'home'. I'm half-alarmed sometimes by this reaction. You're going to give Harry a coronary, I jokingly said to Sirius one night. Why don't you give up work and stay at home with us? He just smiled and pounced. I know why you want me at home, he said, flashing a devilish smile and going on to show me how well he understood me.

"He's back, he's back!" Harry yells, and hurtles to the door, opening it and barely giving Sirius time to drop his broomstick before he throws himself into his arms and hugs him tight.

I just smile. He has no idea how cute he looks when he does that. It doesn't matter that he's seventeen, eighteen in three weeks, and taller than both of us now. The pure delight in his face when Sirius comes in the garden gate, and the way he waits with almost as much impatience as I when we see the first twitch of the black pointer, is just... cute.

He'd kill me if he knew I thought he was cute. World-Renowned Vanquishers of Evil Snakey Bastards are not cute, he'd say admonishingly. Then he'd just grin sheepishly and probably hug me like he's doing to Sirius right now.

My Sirius. My precious. My dear, darling Sirius... sweet to me even when I'm using my over-sensitised tongue to clean his flushed skin of its pooling sweat, or when his hands are twisted in my hair and he's pumping his salty release into my mouth...

Oops. I'm blushing. Bad werewolf. I should not think things like that unless we're alone. Harry gets all squirmy when he catches us whispering filthy things to one another. We're not used to having him around -- he's only been here a week, ever since we... no, let's be fair: ever since he won the final battle. Most times it feels like he's been here forever, but... well, you know. You get caught up in the heat of the moment (and let me tell you, when Sirius is involved, the heat is pretty damn high), and you begin running your hands over your lover's body, and his pleasure seems to beat his powers of containment into submission until his breathing is all ragged and he's murmuring your name, and you feel what he's feeling because you're not two people any longer, you're one person, one soul, and you...

Dammit.

"Remus!"

Harry sounds exasperated. Does he know what I'm thinking? Of course he does. What else turns my cheeks this shade of pink?

"Sirius is back!"

Harry drags his godfather (my Sirius) into the living room by his hand.

"Harry, calm down!" he's saying, sounding amused.

"Yes, Harry, I'd noticed," I say.

He just laughs. "You two want tea? Coffee?"

"Tea," we both say, and he dashes off to the kitchen.

And as soon as he's gone, I'm enclosed in Sirius' arms, seeking any sort of sign that my love is returned by exploring his mouth with my tongue, searching as deeply and as thoroughly as I can. He's obviously looking for the same thing in my mouth, and as our tongues meet and slide over each other, wet and warm and comforting, we simultaneously find our proof. He can feel the heat he's creating in my face, I'm sure. It must be scorching his fingertips, but he doesn't seem to mind too much. And the heat much lower down... well, I'm not sure whether that's mine or his. I think it's a bit of both, and I grab his hips, dragging him forward and crushing our growing erections together. Yup, it's both.

"Dammit!" someone says. The voice is sort of dim and hazy, as if whoever's speaking is standing on the bank and I've lost my footing, drowning in Sirius. I mean, the river. God, I can't even think straight.

"I said, DAMMIT!"

Sirius pulls back, and regards Harry calmly, although he's breathing deeply and there's a little smile on his face. "Damn what?"

"Dammit, you're too old to look like you're having that much fun when you're snogging!"

"OLD?!" Sirius bellows. Harry quickly puts the mugs down on the table just in time, before Sirius wrestles him to the sofa and tickles him.

"Argh, stop... stop it, you insatiable old git!" He's laughing. His laugh is infectious. I know he's never laughed as much in his life as he has over the last week. We're making him happy, and when Harry's happy, Sirius is happy. That's such a wonderful thought.

"Old my arse, Potter!"

"You're, what, forty-five?"

"That had better be a joke!"

"ARGH!"

"Help me tickle him, Remus."

I'm not going over there. I'd just end up twisting the whole tickling thing to my own purposes. Not like that, you sick people! I mean, I'd get rid of Harry, and just...

Never mind.

"Leave me well out of this!" I say.

"We're thirty-eight!" Sirius is yelling, all the while tickling Harry, who's giggling like a schoolgirl.

"All right, I give up, you're thirty-eight, get off me!"

Sirius relents, and Harry sits up cautiously.

"Daft ol-- daft bugger!" He amends his sentence quickly, and Sirius ruffles his already-mussed hair.

"Silly git."

"Oaf."

That strikes me as funny. Don't know why. I lean against the wall and fold my arms, just watching them. They do this a lot. They never mean it, of course, and it's just lovely to watch them pretend to pretend to insult each other.

Sirius thinks for a moment. "Cutie."

Harry looks mortally offended. "Don't say that!"

"Sweetie-pie!" He reaches over and pinches Harry's cheek; Harry bats his hand away and stands up.

"You'd better not say that when Ron's over, it sounds like you're coming on to me."

Sirius looks stricken, then Harry laughs. "Finally, I found something that shuts you up! Must make a note of that. I'm going to my room for a bit." He heads off, and I decide that since words have left Sirius' mouth, I'd better find something to fill it.

"Upstairs," I say softly.

"But... Harry's upstairs," he protests. Feebly. "And Ron'll be here in ten minutes."

"Harry can come back down, or he can ignore us. Ron too. Come on."

He grins suddenly. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep this I-don't-want-your-sex façade up for long.

"Race you!"

~*~

Something touched Harry's arm and he yelped in surprise. Even though his fiercest enemy was dead he hadn't lost his fighting instinct; he immediately whipped his wand from under his pillow and pointed it at his assailant.

It was Ron.

"Shit, you scared me!" Harry breathed. He removed the headphones (remembering, with a fond smile, what Mr Weasley had said when he'd presented it to him last Christmas: "This is something called a CD player, Harry...") and grinned up at Ron. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"Well, you wouldn't," Ron grumbled. He jerked his head towards the door. "Have you heard the racket those two are making?"

Harry winced and tried hard to close his ears to the muffled grunts and moans and gasps. He heard someone say, "Oh, fucking... yes!" and his cheeks turned the colour of his Gryffindor blanket.

"God..." he mumbled. "They're always at it. Always." He squirmed.

"Sounds like fun, though," Ron said wryly as the cries continued. "Besides," he added, mostly to fill a silence that was broken only by the mantra 'Harder! Harder!', "wouldn't you rather have to listen to them than Vernon and Petunia?"
Harry just looked sickened. "Um, yeah, I suppose so. What do you want to do?" He raised his voice, trying to ignore the thumps coming from next door. "We can play Quidditch or go for a walk?"

Ron looked sceptically out of the window at the sheets of warm summer rain. "It's tipping it down."

"Okay, then." Harry sounded desperate. "We could Floo to the Leaky Cauldron or Three Brooms and get really drunk. Or we could put some music on really loud."

"Ooh, good call. What are you listening to?"

Harry blushed again. "Nothing."

But Ron had already prodded the headphones with his wand and muttered Sonorus. A male voice blared out, louder than one of Mrs Weasley's howlers:

What's your definition of dirty, baby?
What do you consider pornography?
Don't you know I love you 'til it hurts me, baby?
Don't you think it's time you had sex with me?

Harry hastily turned the CD player off, then desperately wracked his brains, trying to remember the charm that created a huge, gaping, hungry hole on the floor in front of your feet, as the groaning from next door was replaced by hysterical laughter.

Could things get any more embarrassing?

He put off meeting Ron's eyes for a long moment; when he did look at his friend, he realised Ron was smiling.

"George Michael fan?"

Harry was perplexed. "You know who he is?"

"Well, yeah. My oldest brother is a gay Muggle Studies teacher, remember?"

"You mean he teaches about gay Muggle stuff?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "Oh. Bill's gay?"

"Yup."

"Bummer. No! Sorry! I meant, that's a shame for Hermione. She fancies him something rotten."

"Yeah?" Ron said, sounding mildly interested, then added with a smile, "Well, Bill fancies you."

Harry fell off the bed.

~*~

"What was that?"

"Don't know."

"Do you think Harry and Ron...?"

"No idea. I thought Harry fancied Malfoy?"

"Are you insane?!"

"No. I thought Harry might be, though..."

"That's my godson you're talking about, werewolf!"

"Ow! There's no need to hit me."

"Sorry! I'll kiss it better."

"Mmm. That's nice."

"..."

"Eh?"

"Mumblemumble."

"What?"

"I said, what's your definition of dirty, baby?"

"Oho!"

"Well?"

"Well, I've just showed you."

"What do you consider pornography?"

"Um... well, I suppose it's quite pornographic when you do that to me... ah. Ah! Yes! That."

"Don't you know I love you 'til it hurts me, baby?"

"Don't... god! Don't talk with your mouth full!"

"I love you."

"Don't stop!"

"I'm not."

"..."

"..."

"That was... whoah."

"Love you."

"Love you too. You should go pro, you know that, Padfoot?"

"Heh. You think?"

"No! Never, never!"

"Of course I won't! Why would I ever want to?"

"I feel snuggly. Can I snuggle?"

"Of course."

"Mmm."

"Moony?"

"Mmm?"

"I hope they are."

"Harry and Ron?"

"Yeah."

"They'd look sweet together. And Ron's such a nice boy."

"...We sound like Molly."

"Oh my god!"

"I think we should stop matchmaking."

"Good idea."

"..."

"..."

"Moony?"

"Padfoot?"

"I adore you."

"Softie."

"...Meh. You're right."

"Damn good thing, too."

"What, that you're right?"

"That you adore me. 'Cause I adore you too."

"Softie."

"Conceded. Sirius?"

"Remus?"

"Say the next line."

"Huh?"

"Of the song."

"Uh... don't you know I love you 'til it hurts me, baby?"

"You said that one."

"Don't you think it's time you... oh!"

"Hehe!"