Searching for a Balance

Author: Marauder
Rating: NC-17
Archiving: All FQF will be archived solely at this site until September 30th, 2004. At that point, the author may post the fic elsewhere or may be contacted to have this fic archived at different sites if they so choose.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, and I don't intend to.
Challenge & Summary: Full Moon 8 - Remus gets quite demanding around the full moon.
Author Notes: This fic is dedicated to the members of Fiction Alley’s HMS Wolfstar, for their constant support and never-ending love of Sirius/Remus.


You know what I’m going to do after I graduate? Go into the Ministry. No, really, I’m going to go into the Ministry and let them think I’m good and obedient and on their side. Flatter my way into a top position. Then, before they know what hit them, I’ll revise every single werewolf law on the books so that they’ll have to treat Remus like a human being for once in his life.

(If I have time, I might legalize the flying motorbike, but that’s not the priority.)

Remus is in my bed – Remus is in my bed! Remus is in my bed! – in my new house – in my new house! in my new house! – and his head is resting on my stomach. We’re both naked, both worn out from incredibly good orgasms, and I’m stroking his hair. It’s wavy, not straight like mine, and I like to feel the texture of it. Like the way he lets out that little contented sigh, too.

“It’s still dangerous, Sirius,” he says.

“From what I can tell, it’s only dangerous if you don’t get what you want,” I say. “I’ll give you what you want.” Usually saying something like that would get me hard but it’s still too soon after the last time.

“You’ll agree to have sex whenever I want it, wherever I want it, however I want it, for the three days until the full moon?”

That’s one of the little problems with Moony. Whenever he tries to talk me out of something, he usually ends up making it sound really good.

“Yeah, I agree. Definitely.”

Just before the full moon, werewolves start becoming a little more animal-like. Stronger instincts, less self-control, although they’re still human and mostly act like it. Instead of backing off and letting werewolves make their own decisions – that would mean treating them like people, I suppose – the bloody Ministry requires them to take these goddamn pills that are supposed to stabilize them. Liars. Instinct says food – werewolves take these pills and they still get hungry. Instinct says sex – Remus takes the pills and you’d think he was looking at Snivellus in a thong. Nothing whatsoever. One time I sucked on him for a full five minutes, just in case. Nope. Soft.

He’s not supposed to be here right now, he’s supposed to be in Yorkshire with Wormtail. He’s only going to be here nine days, this being day one, and I’ll be damned if he spends one-third of the visit as a eunuch. Not in my house. It isn’t natural.

“This isn’t a game, Padfoot,” he says, shifting his head. “To the wolf part of me, you’re my mate, and you’re submissive to me because you belong to a domesticated species. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why would you?”

“What if I want you all the time? You’re going to be pretty sore after three days.”

If I could survive that time on the diving board in the prefects’ bathroom, I can survive this. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Better than no sex at all. Not that I only like Remus for the sex – anyone says that and I’ll hex them into oblivion. I love him. I love every part of him. I hate the Ministry for trying to change who he is.

He sighs. “If anything happens, remember that this was your idea.”

My fingers run over his hair excitedly. “So we can do it?”

“If you promise to take full responsibility, yes.”

I’m happy. I’m hard again. I pull at the sheets and see that he is too. “Get over here,” I say, grinning. He sits up and climbs into my lap.

He doesn’t stay there for too long, though; within a couple of minutes he’s lying on his back with my head between his hips, my tongue teasing the tip of his cock. Remus groans and starts twisting my hair between his fingers. “Suck.”

This sounds sort of weird, considering that most of the time my first reaction to a command is to smirk, but I love being ordered around during sex. I love being tied up, too. I’ll be Moony’s willing prey whenever he wants.

Although sometimes the mood hits differently, and then I’m an evil tease, slowly sliding my hand up and down Remus’s cock while he begs for me to go faster. I always do – after his voice gets more desperate and pleading than it did the last time.

I start thrusting my head back and forth, taking him in about halfway and then pulling back. Can’t get the whole thing in my mouth, ever – I start gagging and then it’s either retreat or choke. My tongue wiggles against the thick vein on the underside of his erection. Moony loves that.

“Oh God…Sirius…oh, that feels good…I…harder…don’t stop, keep doing what you’re doing…oh…I love you…yes…harder, damn it!”

As soon as he starts to swear I know he’ll come in the next couple of minutes. The fingers of his other hand, the hand that isn’t pulling my hair, are digging into my shoulder. He told me on the train coming back from Hogwarts last month that he’s going to get us a toy this summer, provided he can sneak out to the sex shop five streets away from his house. Ickle Remus the studious prefect…

Before I know it his semen is shooting into my mouth; the second it stops I lunge for the wastepaper basket. Prongs has this book, Passions After Sunset, and it describes it as tasting salty. I don’t know who the author of that book was sucking on, but Remus’s tastes bitter. Forget about swallowing. Just not going to happen.

He rubs my back tenderly as I spit again. “You could have pulled back, you know.”

“I know.” But what fun is that for him? I can’t get a pretty average-sized cock down my throat, I can’t swallow – the least I can do is not pull away when he’s having an orgasm. Moony never has a problem swallowing. It’s incredible. Maybe I taste better or something. (He can’t get me all the way down his throat, though. I’m betting that Passions After Sunset book just makes things up. Then again, we’ve only been having sex the last few months, so maybe after a while we’ll be able to do it.)

He leans over to go down on me but I stop him and put his hand on my cock. I feel like kissing him and letting those long, quick fingers bring me off.

~~*~~

Sometime in the early hours of the morning I wake up to find that two of those same fingers are up my arse. Apparently instinct has kicked in.

“Good morning to you too,” I say, pushing back on the fingers. Oh, that feels good. Right there. God, Remus, you little hedonist.

He responds by running his tongue down my neck and spreading my legs further apart; we’re both lying on our sides and he’s behind me. There’s an insistence to his touch that tells me he’s probably been waiting for a while, trying not to wake me up. “You’re so tight,” he whispers. “Very good.” Before I know what’s happening he adds a third finger and shoves all three hard against my prostate. I scream and he claps the other hand over my mouth. “You don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“There aren’t any neighbors in seven miles,” I say as clearly as I can against his palm, my breath shaky and my limbs shuddering. “Remus, please – “

That’s all the encouragement he needs. His fingers pull out, I hear him squeezing more lubricant, and –

I’m skewered. Impaled. Moony takes his hand from my mouth and I start wailing, that’s how tight and ready to come I am. When I start thrusting back he grabs my hips and steadies me so he can go at his own pace. Which is fast, and rough.

“Was this – “slam “ – what you wanted, Sirius?” I can feel his breath hot in my ear; he lunges so fast I feel like he’s going to split me open, and that I’m going to like it.

“Faster Moony, please faster – “

I’ve been on my side, not completely without control. He shoves me onto my stomach and climbs on top. With each thrust my entire body is pushed further and further into the mattress.

“REMUS!”

“Are you going to come for me, Padfoot?”

So close, I’m so close. “YES!”

He pulls back – I gasp – and then his cock rams into me and I explode. The wet heat drenches my chest and the sheets beneath it. Remus growls approvingly, and then he’s coming too, making my entire body shake. When it’s finished he doesn’t move for a minute, doesn’t pull out of my arse. He’s trembling. I reach back to hold his hand, which he likes, sighing softly. Slowly he slips out and rolls me onto my back.

“Are you all right, love?”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“I wasn’t too rough?” He looks almost a little scared.

“No, Moony, it was really good. Rough but not so much it hurt.”

Remus nods, relieved. “Okay.”

After sex we always clean each other up. He does me first, dabbing at my stomach and chest with a washcloth from the pile by the side of the bed. I get a bowl of warm water from the bathroom and wash his cock. When I’m done he kisses my forehead and cleans up the sheets with his wand. Then he pulls the top sheet over us and up to my chin, and presses my head against his chest.

I never mind this, when he tucks me in like I’m a little kid. No one in my family ever bothered.

~~*~~

When I wake up in the morning I’m alone in the bed, which I hate, but then Remus comes in the door and says that breakfast is ready, which makes it better. I jump out of bed and grab my dressing gown.

My house is an old Victorian summer cottage. The porch is big and wraps around the whole house. Remus has made scrambled eggs with buttered toast, and next to my plate there’s a little blue flower on a slender stem.

No one ever asks me why I love Moony. It’s pretty obvious. Granted, it’s not always so obvious to other people why he loves me, but I think I’m getting better.

“Good idea, breakfast on the porch,” I say as I sit down. It’s a little uncomfortable, the sitting, but it’s not as bad as it could be, believe me.

I reach for my toast and then suddenly he says, “Sirius, get down on your knees.”

Which of course is a good thing to say, but wolves do realize that their mates need to eat, right? “One minute, just let me eat this toast, okay?”

Not okay. Remus shoves back his chair and comes over to mine. “You can eat after,” he whispers intensely. “Right now you’re going to go down on me.”

I take a bite of the toast, thinking maybe I can eat it fast. My stomach is growling and so is Remus. He yanks the toast from my hand and lets in fall, getting the butter all over the tablecloth. “Damn it, Sirius, if I tell you you’re going to suck me that means you do it.” His hands grasp my upper arms and pull me out of my seat; once I’m not sitting he pushes my shoulders, hard. I fall to my knees and he practically rips his dressing gown open. “Put it in your mouth.”

With my luck, I think as he thrusts past my lips, my first unexpected visitor ever will show up right now. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, Remus and I won’t be able to come to Hogwarts for our seventh year this fall.” “Oh? And why is that, Sirius?” “We’re doing two years’ hard labor in a Muggle prison, sir.” “Good heavens! How on earth did you end up in a Muggle prison?” “Well, sir, you see, Remus’s wolf instincts needed head.” Pause. “Minerva? Could you do me a favor, please? Get me a large brandy – no, two large brandies. Thank you very much.”

Wait, does anyone even get sentenced to two years’ hard labor anymore?

Moony’s head is thrown back, and he’s moaning. Then he thrusts again, and this time it’s all the way down my throat. I gag; he holds my head in place and won’t pull back. Every time his cock touches that tickle-y place in the back of my mouth he groans louder and my eyes water. I think I might be sick. “You’re going to swallow,” he whispers.

Maybe, if I don’t die first. I rub all over his balls and thighs, hoping it’ll make him come faster. He’s so far in that my lips are pressed against the hair at the base of his cock. God, he has to come, tears are streaming down my face and onto the ancient wood of the floor. When he does, a second later, I have no choice but to swallow. It’s hot as it slides down my throat. Luckily none of it touches my tongue, and I never taste it.

Remus takes a shaky step backwards, and I hastily pull my head back. He sits down, looking a little dazed as his brown eyes blink rapidly. Too rapidly. “I can’t believe I did that.”

I reach out for his hand. “Can I have the toast now?”

He doesn’t take my hand, he stands up and goes for the door. “That’s it, I’m taking the pills.”

Shit. “Moony, don’t!”

“I have to,” he says, shaking his head. “Neither of us have any control over this situation and I don’t like it.” With that he shuts the door behind him. I leap up and run after.

“You’re not going to be able to stop me, Padfoot,” he says when he sees I’ve followed him into the bedroom. The bottle of pills, sickly-green glass, is grasped in his hand. “I am not going to force you to do things you don’t want.”

“Wait!” I protest. “It wasn’t bad! All right, I choked a bit, but it wasn’t like you raped me.”

“You hate swallowing. I made you swallow. End of story.” Remus pulls the cork out of the bottle. “Usually I hate the Ministry but this time they’re right.”

“Any organization that includes members of my family can’t be right. Remus, love, you aren’t yourself when you take those pills.”

His eyes meet mine. “I’m not myself when I don’t.”

He looks so beautiful, that slight flush in his cheeks and his hair still messy from sleep. He’s one of the best things that ever happened to me and no Ministry is going to change that. But if I stop him from taking the pills then I’ll be forcing him into something he doesn’t want, and I don’t want to do that to him any more than he wants to do it to me. I sit down on the bed. “Here, come on, in my lap.”

When he does he sits with his legs over to one side, not straddling. It’s not that kind of lap-sitting. “I hate all this sometimes.”

“All this”, meaning being a werewolf. He hates it all the time. It’s only sometimes that it slaps him in the face. “I know you do, Moony.”

“I love you.”

My sweet Remus. “I love you too.” Remus rests his head on my shoulder. “How many of those pills are you supposed to take each day?” I ask.

“Two.”

“Maybe you should try just taking one. If anything weird happens you can take two tomorrow and two the next day, and I won’t complain.”

After a few minutes of slowly rocking back and forth, he agrees.

~~*~~

Neither of us know, as we finally have our breakfast on the porch, that the one pill is going to give both of us what we want. We don’t know about the great sex we’ll have in the shower just a few hours later, or about tomorrow when he’ll bend me over the bench in the garden and find it funny when my climax lands on the grass. We don’t know about the dinner that ends with desperately needed shagging on the dining room table and we have no idea that we’ll swim in a pond and make love on the bank. But as he pours me a glass of orange juice and pauses for a kiss I know that I love him; and perhaps a part of me knows how my love will endure the coming years and finally pass into eternity, into the place beyond the veil where our souls will whisper and laugh.

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