Author: Thevina
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: George/Remus
***
Fred was cross the next day when George didn't return to the Cleansweep until after lunchtime. "I don't understand!" he said for the dozenth time, pacing across the portrait.
"You don't have to," George replied, also for the dozenth time, catching a glimpse of the portrait-George giving him a hasty thumbs-up behind Fred's back.
"What if you get lovesick and don't realize it's the full moon and he tries to eat you because you're being an idiot?" Fred scowled from the near edge of the frame.
"I'm not stupid, you wanker," George retorted. "Merlin! First you go and die on me, and now you're a prejudiced git. Besides, if what you used to tell me about Angelina is true, Lupin gives far more spectacular blow jobs than you ever experienced."
The portrait-George looked very interested in this bit of information, but in a show of loyalty, followed Fred as he stomped out of the painting.
Fred returned a couple of days later, back to his normal self.
George and Lupin exchanged a few owled pieces of correspondence, but not of a particularly intimate nature, rather to George's disappointment. Lupin wrote that he was busy with his classes, and George had plenty to do at the joke shop. He did keep hoping that another of Lupin's second cousins, or cousins once removed, whatever they were, would have a birthday and need another gift, but to no avail. He and Zap had plenty to do restocking Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes after the Christmas holidays, and he spent several late nights in the kitchen-come-workshop where he worked on perfecting the fortune-telling frogs. He relived the night with Lupin several times, and found that he was really looking forward to seeing the older man again, and hearing his voice. And maybe doing other things�
Two days before the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match, as George was getting ready for bed, he heard an owl tapping at his kitchen window. He let it in, then hastily shut the window behind it. Attached to its leg was a small package with the initials R.J.L. stamped in the left hand corner. With amazing self-control, instead of ripping the package open, George went rummaging for some bits of leftover ham to treat the owl. After placing the pink meat on a small platter in front of the bird, George carefully untied the twine from around the box, wondering what Remus had sent, trying not to get his hopes up about his upcoming trip to the school.
Inside the box was dark green tissue paper. He pushed it aside to see a pair of equally dark green silk boxers. A small, neatly folded piece of parchment was nestled in the middle. Very interesting, George thought, petting the back of his fingers against the decadent fabric before picking up the note.
"Dear George,
Can't stop thinking about you. I've become obsessed with the colours red and green. Wanted to send you something that I hope you'll be wearing on Friday. At least for a little while.
Shamelessly,
Remus"
George reread the four sentences several times until he noticed the owl nibbling at his sleeve.
"Oy! What is it? Oh. You're not supposed to go back without a reply."
George pondered what to write back, trying to will away an unfortunate excitement moving in his rather bland y-fronts.
Dear Remus,
Will now commence wanking for two days straight. Consider the joke shop closed through the week-end.
Until Friday,
George
No. That was ridiculous.
Dear Remus,
Thank you for the boxers. I hope that you haven't cast some kind of Dark Arts spell on them, unless it involves shagging a red-haired wizard.
Hopeless,
George
No. Even more ridiculous.
"Fuck. How am I supposed to write back to that?" he asked the rhetorical question to the owl, which alternated preening behind its left wing and rather unsettlingly turning its head in an almost 360 degree circle, looking around the small kitchenette with its unblinking eyes.
"You're no help," he complained, going to the fridge and taking out a butterbeer. The owl only hooted and readdressed its attentions to the bits of ham.
Dear Remus,
I've never received a gift like this before, and am incredibly flattered. To be perfectly honest, I've been thinking a lot about you too, and am hoping you'll want to fuck me so thoroughly that I'll be sore from here to Thursday.
Whoops. Too brazen.
Dear Remus,
I've never received a gift like this before, and am incredibly flattered. To be perfectly honest, I've been thinking a lot about you too, and am really looking forward to seeing you again.
Reckon I'll be wearing green.
At least for a little while.
Equally shameless,
George
He managed to write the message in a relatively legible scrawl, then attached it to the owl's leg.
"Back to Hogwarts with you," he said affectionately, scratching the owl behind its head. It hooted in pleasure, then looked at the window.
"Oh. Sorry." George hauled up the window to give the owl its leave, and then it was gone. He shut the window with a 'thunk,' then sank down into a chair and stared at the present, wondering exactly how he was going to act like he had for the other Quidditch matches, as though he were really only there to see his sister play.
***
Another wretchedly cold and overcast day. He tightened the red and gold scarf around his neck and tucked it into his dragonskin coat, a vestige of the past. But green. And very warm. George kicked off from the ground and flew to the Hogwarts Quidditch field, savouring the feeling of his old but reliable broom underneath him. He landed near the grounds with a good twenty minutes to spare before the match, taking in the ridiculously small figures of current students hurrying toward the stands. Surely he and Fred had never been so short.
He looked for the usual parade of professors in their uniform black robes, and found himself grinning when he saw one with longish silver-streaked hair walking toward the pitch. George decided to take his usual spot in the upper level of the Gryffindor section, near the faculty box. No use calling attention to himself. The current seventh-years were the last ones to remember Fred's and his memorable exit from Hogwarts under Umbridge's brief rule, but even four years was enough to have gone by that their exploits had become the stuff of myth and legend. Now he was practically invisible, recognised only by the remaining seventh-years and some faculty members who had survived the War.
He caught Lupin's eye only briefly, and saw the other man's gaze alight on his coat. He approved. George nodded almost imperceptibly then continued climbing the stairs to the last row.
The game, while short, was superbly played. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were evenly matched, to a fault. The Gryffindors threw in some exotic manoeuvers, no doubt the influence of their current captain, but the Ravenclaw team flew and threw seamlessly, and George could only shake his head in admiration. They were absolutely flawless, obviously well practised. But Ginny managed to outshine their Seeker, and after a daring spin, was on the ground with the snitch in her hand. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff stands roared. Though he knew better, George was still disappointed when he didn't hear Lee Jordan's voice announce the victory. Some things would never change.
He clomped down the stairs behind the students and ran out on the pitch to pick up Ginny and twirl her in a victory spin, an indignity she suffered only because it was him. She was practically his height now, but more slight.
"Excellent moves, Gin!"
"Thanks, George," she replied, her face red from the cold. "Thanks for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it. You're brilliant."
She smiled, reached up her hand to pull at his cheek in a manner reminiscent of their Aunt Dromeda, then began unstrapping her vambraces. "You always say that."
"And I always mean it. Go on; your public awaits you."
George acknowledged a few greetings from her teammates as they made their way back to the castle.
"See you!" she called.
He made a theatrical bow in response, then walked toward two very familiar figures in official teaching robes.
"George," Lupin said, looking pleased.
"Weasley." The sneer in his voice was as prominent as it had ever been.
"Malfoy."
"You should come by before dinner," Draco continued on, as though George weren't there. "I know it's a little early, but I have been unexpectedly called away for the next few days. In fact, now would be best."
"Care to accompany us to the dungeons?" Lupin asked, only glancing briefly toward George's front after Draco turned away from him.
"Staying after the match?" Draco sounded intrigued. "Why would any Weasley, especially you, find the need to spend time around Hogwarts professorial staff, especially our current History of Magic instructor? No, wait, don't tell me." He made a show of tapping his wand to his temple. "You're needing to learn to improve your howl for some new toy of yours."
George made a strangled noise in his throat, then regained his composure. "Seems you've been placed in the wrong teaching position, Malfoy. Trelawny had best be keeping her eye on you with your astute powers of divination. Oh wait, there she goes!" He pointed violently toward the front of the castle and Draco whirled around.
Of course there was nothing there, only a sodden, colourless dusk, blurring into the castle stone.
Draco slowly turned back to George, shaking his head. "I always underestimated you. And Fred. Come on, then." He smiled, and George was shocked as it appeared genuine. The last time he had paid any attention to Draco Malfoy, and granted, it was years ago, all he remembered was a smirk.
"Draco graciously took over the making of my Wolfsbane potion after Severus was killed," Lupin explained as the trio walked back to Hogwarts.
"When is the full moon?" George asked, his inner calendar much more in tune to the shopping seasons than anything else.
"Two nights from now," Draco answered as they began up the front steps, his cape billowing behind him as threateningly as Snape's ever had. "I'm sure you remember the way," he said smugly, opening one of the large doors.
"Who could forget?" George answered, feeling Lupin's hand quickly run down his back.
"That's a beautiful coat, I forgot to mention," Draco drawled as they crossed the wide stone floor. "Dragonhide?"
"Correct, of course," George replied. "You have an eye for detail, Malfoy."
Draco spun on his heels, stopping suddenly. "I have an eye for beauty, Weasley." He then turned back around and strode down a corridor that led to the former Potions Master's laboratory and study area.
"Is he always this chatty?" George whispered over his shoulder to Lupin, who seemed amused.
"No." Lupin brushed an invisible speck from his robe, then adjusted his collar as they walked swiftly downstairs. "I think he fancies you."
"You rotten perv," George hissed. "He doesn't. I had to clean his bathroom, once."
"Weasley?" Draco's voice carried in the perfect acoustics of the enclosed stone. "Do you remember when you and Fred were sent to clean the prefect's bathroom?"
Lupin choked on a laugh.
"Only too well, Malfoy. Only too well."
They were soon in Severus Snape's former classroom, which reeked of putrid organic� something. But there was an oddly familiar scent as well.
"Oy! It smells like - " George began.
"Lupine," Draco cut him off. "Unsurprisingly, Severus kept copious notes, otherwise my potion would not be as effective as it is. But the element of crushed lupine seed was my addition." He looked rather proud as he crossed the room, pulling a green vial and stopper from a high shelf. With a delicate, practiced motion, he placed a thin glass tube in a cauldron and sucked on it, drawing up a disturbing ocher fluid. He covered the top with his finger, moved the glass over the vial, then moved his finger. The potion flowed into the container, then Draco placed the stopper securely before handing it to Lupin.
"You'll let me know of any effects," Draco said, turning and making his way to an imposing mahogany desk covered in scrolls.
"Yes. And thank you," Lupin said, raising the vial.
"Cheers," Malfoy intoned without turning around. "Pleasure to see you too, Weasley." He sat down in a highbacked chair, swinging his robes behind him like wings, as though he were a tow-headed raven. Bright blue eyes gazed piercingly at them. "You'll have to send me a prototype. After you've done your research."
"Right," George said, nodding, then followed Lupin toward the door. "I'll do that."
A few strides later the two men stood outside the solid oak.
"Wolfsbane?" George asked, glancing apprehensively at the golden liquid swirling in the glass.
"Makes the transformations less... memorable." Lupin attempted a smile.
"Ah." George didn't mind the serious turn to the conversation, but he was sure that he would prefer to discuss such topics - or any topics - back in Remus' private rooms. Wherever they were. "The glass is a lovely colour, though," he said, pressing Lupin against the stone and breathing into his ear. "Not as shiny as some other green items not visible to the naked eye, though," he went on, flicking his tongue against an earlobe haloed in silver-brown curls, feeling Lupin's hips rise to meet his.
Just then the noise of a pack of Slytherins travelled toward them. "I think we should get to my room as quickly as possible," Lupin said hotly, "and without facing the suspicious eyes of the students in Draco's house."
"There's a hidden passageway just behind that fountain," George exclaimed, then snapped his mouth shut, thunderstruck, having heard Lupin say the same words at the same time. "What did you say?"
"There's a hidden passageway just behind that fountain," Lupin replied, evaluating George as they both walked quickly around the corner.
George tapped the left eye of a winking serpent, water flowing out of its open mouth. "Dissendium," he said, and the snake shut its mouth, slithered into a semi-circle, and the outline of a low doorway appeared. George pushed it open and the two men ducked down to fit through, then hurriedly closed it again behind them. The corridor was pitch black, and cold. George felt a warm hand reach out and take him by the shoulder, pressing him against the rough stone. Lupin's hand slid down George's pants front, rubbing over his growing erection.
A hot tongue traced his lips and George moaned, opening his mouth, reaching into the inky silence to grasp the back of Lupin's head. George thrust his tongue into that warm, inviting mouth, his cock hardening as desire coursed through him. Deprived of his visual senses, George was overwhelmed by all others; the slight tang of cinnamon on Lupin's tongue; the sound of their heavy breathing when they broke apart; the delicious friction as Lupin swayed his hips slowly but forcefully, grinding his thick bulge into George's.
"Tease," Lupin growled into George's ear.
"Not," George said, licking Lupin's neck, then sucking below his earlobe. "Your room. Now."
Lupin kissed him hungrily, their teeth clacking as Lupin's deft tongue swiped across George's, then bit his way down George's neck. "I'll lead," Lupin said after one last provocative hip thrust. "Not that I need to tell you where it goes. Lumos," he muttered, and suddenly George found himself blinking against the dim light.
Lupin's robe was half undone from George's greedy fingers, his lips very satisfyingly and thoroughly kissed, George decided, looking at him.
"You're a sight," George murmured, his heart racing.
"You too, my fiery one," Lupin replied, running the lit wand down the side of George's neck. "Whoops. Too much teeth."
He didn't look very sorry.
"Your rooms," George repeated, adjusting the waist of his trousers, "before I end up spoiling the gift you sent before you even see them on me."
Lupin made an appreciative grumbling sound in his throat. "I can't tell you how difficult it was to teach today. All I could think of was you, wanting to taste every freckle�" He ran a hand across the front of George's chest, making George's pulse race as Lupin flicked his finger over a hard nipple.
"Rooms?" George said weakly, surrendering to the wall, sure he really would come right there, hidden just a few stone inches away from scores of current Slytherins. Maybe that wasn't so bad.
"Indeed." With a last ravenous look, Lupin turned and began up the corridor. "How did you find out about this passageway?" he asked. "I know that you and Fred were legendary in your knowledge of Hogwarts."
"Legendary enough to get Fred killed," George sighed. "But we didn't figure it out completely on our own. There are four extraordinary gentlemen that I wish I could thank for having made a brilliant map, one Fred and I used to as many devious purposes as we could, until we handed it off to Harry."
"Mmmhmmm." Lupin's pace increased, and George wondered if he had somehow insulted the other man.
"Ah. The portrait." Lupin pushed the oval painting outward, and stepped into the silent first-floor hallway. "My chamber is just down the way, near my classroom."
George picked up the conversation, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he was, in all likelihood, about to have sex for the first time in awhile. Too long, for certain. "The blokes who made the map called themselves Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs. Masters, they were. Owe them heaps."
Lupin looked over at him, clasping the bottle of Wolfsbane to his chest. "I know a little something about them," he said, then stopped in front of a wooden door with a bronze plaque in the middle which read
Remus J. Lupin
History of Magic Professor
He raised his wand at the lock and said something in a language George didn't recognize. Lupin slid his wand up his sleeve, then opened the door.
The room was cozy, if a bit under-decorated, but George didn't take a lot of time to analyze the surroundings. Lupin had let George walk in then followed, shutting and locking the door behind them. George glanced around and saw shelves hopelessly crammed with books of all colours and widths, precarious stacks of even more texts that appeared to be on the verge of toppling over, and a wide wooden bed with an ornately carved headboard.
"Welcome to the room of Remus J. Lupin," George heard, tilting his head to see Lupin carefully place the bottle of Wolfsbane in the middle of an otherwise scroll-littered desk. "Hopeful debaucher of exquisitely-formed men named George Weasley, and known by certain individuals in his school days as Moony due to his unfortunate condition."
George let the words sink in as Lupin came around and stood in front of him, unzipping his coat and helping George out of it. Once divested of that layer, George watched as Lupin spread his long fingers on his chest, the older man rubbing his thumbs across both sensitive nipples. George felt that his whole body was throbbing under Lupin's searing gaze, but he felt he owed Remus at least one coherent sentence before ripping off his clothes and being ravaged. He hoped.
"So not only are you good company, handsome, an unbelievable kisser, and sexy as hell� "
"Do, go on," Lupin purred, pulling George's tight navy shirt over his head. George couldn't stop the torrent of words, though he was attempting to unfasten Lupin's robe and then clumsily unbutton Lupin's oxford underneath.
"You made that map! You've been one of my heroes since my first year at Hogwarts. Y'know Fred and I even went to," he paused for effect, "the library." He shuddered. "Trying to see how old the chaps were who made it."
"Hmmm. Terribly old. Ancient," Lupin murmured into George's ear as he pressed his chest against him, his soft layer of hair rubbing against George's more sparse red curls. "But I'm still going to fuck you, after you're so hard and wanting that you'll be begging for me, older man or no."
"God. Fuck. Yes," was all George could say in response. "Want you. In me. Saying my name in that voice, like you're� Oh, shit. Sorry."
Two things had happened at once to stop his babbling. First, George's stomach made a huge growling noise. At the same time, Lupin had gotten George to step out of his cords and there, on the front of the silk boxers, was a rather large wet spot.
"Remus. Bollocks." George reflexively adjusted the elastic, which only added to his embarrassment as it allowed the head of his cock to pop into view.
Remus made a decidedly pleased noise, his eyes raking over George, who stood in the middle of the room clad solely in the bit of silk.
"You have no idea how gratifying it is to know that I have that effect on you," Lupin said, his voice husky. He offered his hand. "Now. Thank you for modeling for me, but I want you to come to bed."
George didn't need to be invited twice. Away went the boxers. He pulled down the other man's underthings, then took his time making sure that Remus' cock and his mouth were very satisfyingly re-acquainted. The two were getting on splendidly, George feeling his own member twitch in sympathy with Remus' noises of pleasure and occasional, "George. That's so good," until George felt a gentle pull on his hair. He looked up.
"I don't want to come yet. Not until I'm holding you, so deep inside you, your cock in my hand�" Lupin went on in some detail as George practically flung himself up the bed. Remus' ability at dirty talk was surprising, and something George had never experienced prior to his other evening at Remus' house. It was an incredible turn-on, not that he needed it.
"Turn around. You can put your hands on the headboard." Lupin took the dominant role. George didn't mind, especially since after he gave the command, Remus took the opportunity to slide down and away from George, but only after taking his red-furred balls in his mouth, nuzzling them with his tongue.
George had just formed the gasp to accompany such ministrations when Remus was gone. Rising to his knees, he grasped at the oak of the bed, and looked down at his cock. "Thank Merlin it doesn't have freckles too," he thought, idly shifting his weight so it dipped slightly from left to right, kindof like a Muggle artifact that his dad had been taken with for a good few weeks. Metrophone? No, that wasn't it�
George sensed magic focused in him as Remus uttered a soft spell. Warm, almost liquid heat pooled in his backside, his legs spreading instinctively when he felt fingers caressing the sensitive skin behind his cock, a loving nip on his right cheek, and then -
"Guhn," George sighed as he felt himself probed by Remus' perfect tongue. His sensitive entrance was flickered around, tentatively entered, then acquainted as enthusiastically as George's mouth had been with Remus' cock.
"Remus," he whined, wanting more. Needing more. "S'brilliant. But. You. Want. You." He panted the words. "Fuck. Yes. Ow, hell! Merlin, it's been� don't you. Dare. Pull. Out."
Just as Remus had threatened - or promised, it was all fuzzy in George's mind, which had shut down rather of its own accord - George was thickly and wrenchingly filled, Remus leaning over him and growling, biting, thrusting; showering words of adulation like rain on thirsty earth.
"George. Love fucking you. So tight. So hot. Arse. Perfect. Should be illegal."
Once Remus took his cock in his oiled hand, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts, George knew he wouldn't last for long. His cock pistoned against the strong fingers several times and then he felt it, the telltale tightening in his sacs, the heartstop second before falling.
George surged over Remus, back arched forward, head down, mouth wide open as he desperately breathed, otherwise silent. He continued rocking into the slick hand, fluid coursing down Remus' fingers like a milky fountain. The waves of orgasm were still shuddering through him when Remus came, George distantly recognizing the sensation of liquid somewhere far inside him. Remus nudged George's prostate repeatedly as he made his last few thrusts, making George feel that his already overstimulated body would give out completely. He leaned against the top of the bed for purchase as his thighs shook.
Remus kissed a trail of panted wet kisses up George's spine, his hand still holding George's cock in a very messy embrace.
"Remus?" George said faintly. "You're incredible. Gonna fall over now." He felt Remus pull gently out of him and release his softening, sticky cock.
"You're a beautiful mess," Remus said into George's ear, then licked a wet path across his neck.
George sat back somewhat gingerly, finally releasing the headboard and slumping on his side in a puddle of boneless limbs. Remus had padded over to retrieve his wand and cast a cleaning spell on himself, then turned and did the same to George and the bed.
"Oh, thanks," George said as Remus returned to the bed and lay down next to him. "You didn't have to be quite so hasty, though." George ran his thumb down the middle of Remus' narrow chest. "I liked that smell. That bloody brilliant sex smell."
Remus chuckled low in his throat. "I hadn't realized how much you're moved by scents, George! But Ill remember it next time."
George nodded, pleased. "I like how that sounds. 'Next time.'"
Remus ran his fingers down George's side, stopping to caress his hip, then playfully grabbed his arse.
"Surely you didn't think that having had you once would be enough?"
"Yeah," George joked. "You can never have enough Weasley arse around."
"No. I'm pretty sure I can't," Remus replied.
Epilogue
George had just flushed the toilet and walked back into his bedroom when he glanced up at the portrait. Startled, he said, "Oh! Hi, Perce."
Portrait-Percy was sitting in a chair amicably talking with portrait-Fred.
"Don't mind us - and finish packing," Fred commanded.
"Yes sir," George replied, tossing one of his mum's less-awful jumpers and a heavy wool cardigan into his trunk. There was a thudding sound from the living room, and George smiled. He went back to the bathroom to retrieve a few toiletries which he juggled for a moment before lobbing them on top of the clothes.
"Shouldn't Lupin be here by now?" Fred asked from the wall.
"Hasn't George gotten over that yet?" Percy asked, disapproval dripping in the question.
"I certainly hope not," a resonant baritone voice said from the doorway.
"Oh. Professor Lupin," Percy stammered. "Nice to see you. Better be off." He gave a last, slightly pained look, clapped Fred on the shoulder and walked out of the portrait.
George got his wand, pointed it at the trunk, cast a shrinking spell on it, and shoved it into his jeans' pocket.
"Where are you off to this time?" Fred asked. "Stonehenge?"
"Been there, done that," George replied, grinning.
"The Isle of Man," Lupin answered.
"Well, mum's pleased that you're learning so much. She told Bill how she just knew you'd use that brain of yours, and spending time with a scholar is the perfect way to do so."
George's imitation of Molly Weasley was uncanny.
"She doesn't really know, does she?" George asked. "Not that I don't think she'll figure it out, but maybe she needs some time to adjust."
"No. Too busy with wedding plans for Ginny and Neville to be overly concerned about one of her sons visiting big hunks of rock around the U.K."
"Right! Well, guess I'll shove off." George said, nodding to Fred and following Lupin into the living room.
They had been doing this when they could for months, and it was a pleasantly familiar routine, with a dash of lust that always made George slightly hard when he thought about their trips.
"We'll apparate, yes?" Lupin said, already pulling the redhead toward him. George leaned in under Lupin's leather coat, hands firmly on the other's man's arse. "Is that a trunk in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?" Lupin breathed into George's ear.
George pressed provocatively up into Lupin. "Both."
They apparated.
When George looked around next, they were in a small clearing with several toppled monoliths. It was drizzling, and after planting a deep kiss on Lupin, George moved away from the othe man and pulled up his collar. Lupin used his wand to make a quick check of the area for lingering magic, making sure that there were no other wizards in the vicinity. Remus and George did tend to visit rather isolated locations, and not during the Muggle tourist season. It made things easier. Lupin's satisfied nod indicated there was no evidence that the stones had been recently visited by anybody, whether Wizard or Muggle.
"Weather's miserable," George offered, drawing his wand from his sleeve.
"Did I tell you that my paper proposal has been accepted by the journal for the ASWA, their 'From the Field' section?"
"No!" George answered with enthusiasm. "Ruddy brilliant, Remus!"
He strode back over to the older man, running his hand under the silver-streaked waves of hair to massage his neck. "Not to sound stupid, but who's the ASWA?"
"The Anglo-Saxon Wizarding Association," Remus replied. "Preservation of spells and charms that only work in the original ancient languages."
"Hmmm, " George replied. "You didn't mention, um, everything that we've done 'from the field,' have you?"
"Most certainly," Remus said, bringing George's hand from his neck to draw two fingers into his mouth. He thoughtfully sucked on them, then ran his tongue down to the join between the calloused digits, then released George's hand into his own, intertwining their fingers. "You'll feature prominently in my endnotes. 'My eternal gratitude to George Weasley, intrepid traveller and intelligent shining company during dismal weather. A brilliant Wizard in his own right, he has helped me find an astounding number of stones still enchanted with the Solaris spell, though I think his wand must have some special divining aspect as he keeps finding the spell-cast stones so readily.' "
George rubbed his burgeoning erection into the cleft of Remus' backside during the other man's exchange.
"Should we go then, oh scholarly one?" George breathed onto Remus' neck.
"Yes - as you said, the weather's miserable. Good thing the company isn't." Remus kissed the back of George's hand and they split up.
"Where are we again, exactly?" George asked.
"Meayll Circle."
George took out his wand and walked toward one of the outer stones which had fallen over centuries ago and looked rather pitiful. It was true - he did have an uncanny ability to find the charmed rocks.
"Symney grian," he uttered in Manx, his wand pointed at the broken monolith, his right hand poised on the stone.
Nothing.
He moved away and found a slab still mostly upright, and sidled up to it after moving an overhang of damp fringe out of his eyes. His left hand pointed at the rock, his right hand inching around the uneven surface like a caterpillar exploring a leaf. "Symney grian."
And there it was - heat pouring into him from lichen-covered, mossy rock. "Found one!" he cried triumphantly.
Lupin made his way across the damp ground, waves from the nearby shore crashing noisily behind him.
"I don't know how you've done it, but I know you must've enchanted your wand," Lupin said, half-scowling.
"Haven't!" George protested, then walked around Lupin so he could take the impossibly elegant fingers in his right hand, pressing the palm of Lupin's hand against the stone. George uttered the summoning spell again in Manx, and warmth flowed from the monolith into them. "But you see," he said hungrily, "I did find one." And then he quit talking.
He leaned over to lick at Lupin's lips, asking without words for entry, which was heatedly granted. After a few moments they both removed their hands from the stone and broke the kiss, George looking expectantly at his lover. This had been their game, and George was a bit surprised at how often he was the winner. Whoever first found an enchanted standing-stone got to get a blow job, right then and there. They felt it was only appropriate as a way to honour the ancient ritualistic bent of the spell, and the fact that it was at one of such slabs when George had first realized that he was taken with Lupin. Shame that George seemed to have much more talent in finding the spell stones, at least for Remus.
Remus shook his head, then cast a hasty drying spell on the wet ground at his feet and kneeled in front of George, pulling down his zipper and freeing George's already hard cock.
"I think I'm rather suited to the academic life!" George said, sagging backward into the now-chill stone.
Remus looked up at him, his tongue swirling around the pink head, mist settling on his prominent eyebrows. "You're a lucky bastard," he said, then encased George in wet heat so exquisitely contradictory to the weather.
"Too right," George moaned, running his freckled fingers across the crown of Remus' head, absently listening to the ocean as it surged against the shore. "I get to be with you."
~~end~~