“‘Scuse my French, Pete, but you look like a fucking egg.”
James snorts when Sirius speaks up from across the dormitory to draw Peter’s tidy little frown at his own in the standing mirror. “At least I’ve a date ,” Pete replies tartly. “Prat.”
Sirius barks a laugh and gestures grandly with an open hand at Remus laying longwise against his body absorbed in a book, the intimacy of the pair’s downtime so quotidian by now in their seventh year that one sometimes forgets they’ve ever been anything besides together. “I’ve a bedmate, Wormy, a bit better than sharing butterbeer and a snog.”
“Stop antagonizing him,” Remus hums as he swats at Sirius’ knee. He glances up from his book with a calm smile for Peter; “I think you look nice, Pete. The green suits you.”
Peter preens a bit at that, his new imitative habits of I’m-A-Seventh-Year-And-Need-To-Look-The-Part currently resting on Remus’ style with the layered jumpers and the way he’s begun parting his hair lately—it had been quickly evident that James’ jockishness and Sirius’ curated dishevelment didn’t fit him quite as comfortably, and although he still seems the least figured-out of the four boys they’ve all been mostly tame with the way they’ve japed at him for the attempt at individuality.
“Who’s the lucky bird?” James asks with a wink when Pete turns to look at him, and his accidental little grin at the thought of his date is truly endearing.
“Emmeline Vance.” Peter fusses with the lay of his pin-straw hair for the third time since getting dressed as a light flush takes over his round cheeks without meaning for it. “We’re getting a drink and dinner before the Wyrd Sisters’ show. She’s meeting me at the Ravenclaw stairs at ten to five o’clock.”
James watches Sirius raise an eyebrow and check his wristwatch mildly. “Mate, it’s five after.”
Peter sputters, a choked sound, and flails out with “Accio wand!” He fumbles for his shoes as the short stretch of oak rattles out from its place under his bed, and Sirius laughs again when it makes Peter’s hand ricochet back into his forehead as he catches it. James takes up his own wand and helps the scrambling boy by casting a spell that ties his trainers for him, knowing deeply that feeling of casting about for sanity amid the riot of thoughts involved with landing a date. Sirius and Remus have no right to tease Peter for his overexcitement—it’s not like either of them had to do any of the legwork to find one another, the bloody school just threw them together on a boarding chart and let that fucking supernova happen on its own.
Peter sends James a depthless look of thanks as he yanks his robes on over his clothes. “I should be back by eleven,” he rambles, raking at his hair again and fastening his collar, “if I’m not, then—well, y’know.” He turns red again, and Sirius’ responding grin is wolfish as he plays idly at Remus’ hair.
“If you end up losing it Emmeline Vance, we’re going to throw a party.”
“It’s just a date,” Peter insists as he pockets his wand with a huff.
“Right in the common room, we’ll make a banner that sings victory songs! Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile—”
“Shut up, shut up, Pads, alright! I’m off! Goodnight!” Peter shouts over Sirius’ boisterous sing-song and bolts through the dormitory door, slamming it solidly as Sirius dissolves into more self-righteous laughter. Remus reaches up and pinches him on the nose, which makes him yelp with unbecoming soprano and draws a chuckle from James.
“You should be nicer to him,” Remus says coolly, not looking up from him book. “Look at how far he’s come since year one.”
“I’m being plenty nice to him, it’s called razzing. It’s affectionate,” Sirius croons. He presses a kiss to Remus’ ear as Remus hums with his signature noncommittal I-don’t-agree-but-have-it-your-way resignation, and James watches the exchange with a very subtle twitch in his pelvis as the back of his mind suddenly scratches at his interior door jamb—Pete’s away, might the lads play?
James is about to open his mouth and say something casual along the lines of suggesting a romp, as casually as he can ever make the proposition even after a whole year of carrying on like they do, when Peter bursts back into the room all rushing, frantic aura. James’ face nearly falls but he catches it just in time to raise his eyebrows brightly. “Alright, Wormtail?”
“Forgotmywallet,” Peter blurts, a man on a mission, diving to look under his bed and dig around in the organized chaos there.
“Remember to pay for her drinks,” Remus says as he bookmarks his page and lays the book on Sirius’ nightstand.
“But not if she orders a cocktail, because then she’s just using you,” Sirius drawls.
“Offer to pay for her drinks,” James amends as he tosses a rolled-up snitch up and down into his hands. Anticipatory energy has knit itself into him now with that flash of a thought to take up the rest of the evening, and he only knows how to vent it by fooling with the clutter on his desk. “Lily got offended the first time I took her out when I assumed she wanted me to pay.”
Sirius scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m surrounded by swots.”
“GOT IT, alright, ta, goodnight!” Peter stuffs the wallet into his pocket as he scuttles back onto his feet and dives back out the dormitory, and his time he forgets to slam the door. James sighs to himself and stands to push it to, stretching broadly as the heavy bolt clicks. He locks it subtly.
“Good ol’ Pete,” he sighs.
“Can we place bets on whether he fucks her or not?” Sirius asks brightly. The hard “ No ” from both James and Remus—exasperated from Remus and tinged with humor from James—makes him pull a face. “Morgana’s tits, fine, no fun allowed.”
Remus rolls his eyes as he shuffles himself a bit higher up in his repose against Sirius, resting his head back on Sirius’ shoulder and peering upside down at him. “You’re awful.”
“You love awful,” Sirius murmurs, adopting that tone he tends to sometimes when he forgets he and Remus aren’t the only ones in a room.
“Often against my own interests, yes,” Remus deadpans. He offsets it with a muzzy little smile that makes James’ insides grip a bit for the memory of catching Lily looking at him like that the other day in class. You love awful —Merlin burning, he wants to banter like that with her someday.
Sirius puts a hand to Remus’ jaw and pulls him into a kiss then, a kiss into which Remus melts eagerly. Before they started this whole thing they do or on the occasion of Pete not having just left for the night, this would have been James’ cue to conveniently find a reason to leave the dormitory. But Sirius slides a hazy look over to him, his mouth opening to Remus’ tongue as his stare hits home in an inquisitive lance to James’ center, and the edge if his dark eyebrow twitches up with invitation. Want in?
“Oi, Moony,” James murmurs, hands to the pockets of his jogger trousers as he lifts onto his toes with a nervous little bounce—he’s a bit surprised it still makes him nervous after having done this more than once, more than a few times, but he tries not to pay it any mind. Remus hums the inquisitive against Sirius’ lips, not looking over at James, up now in a straddle over Sirius’ lap and deepening their kiss with enthusiasm. “Mind a third?”
Remus sniffs a laugh that makes Sirius flinch and twists to look at James over his shoulder. His eyes are shadowed, deeply green, not as bright as Lily’s but just similar enough to make James’ cock stir when his mind reels and latches onto the desire to see Lily look at him like that. He and Evans have only traded a few exploratory kisses against the greenhouse in short breaks between classes, their togetherness still only a couple months fresh, the promise of more on her tongue in unsaid encouragement, but when, when would they find the time alone unless both of them snap and end up shagging in the next spare alcove they can find? James can always feel something humming eagerly in her body when she presses herself against him and wonders deeply, often in the privacy of his imagination with his cock in hand, if it’s the same desperation to know her body that he feels in his own marrow.
“Not everything’s a quidditch match, Prongs.” The light tease in Remus’ voice drags James back to the present in a blink. Remus bites down on his lip and his eyes flutter shut with minor bliss when Sirius kneads his fingers against Remus’ thighs and buries a deep kiss to the base of Remus’ throat. “Yes.” Remus’ voice shears delightfully, and Sirius’ encouraging gaze on James burns brighter as Remus knits his fingers into Sirius’ hair. “Come on then.”
James whets his lips unconsciously with a slow tongue and eases onto the foot of Sirius’ bed, settling in to enjoy the view unfolding before him. Sirius slides his hands back to Remus’ arse and tugs him closer with a comfortable groan from Remus. Sirius skates slow patterns with his lips and teeth along the long column of Remus’ neck, collar, jaw, earlobe, periodically casting smoldering glances over at James, and the growing glow in James’ belly stokes itself hotter with every minute that passes.
“Do you want to fuck me, Remus?” Sirius whispers, his chin tipped up to breathe at Remus’ ear as he looks, shameless, at James while he asks. James feels himself smile when Remus lets out a low affirmation, and he lets himself palm his cock through his trousers. Sirius’ eyes flash approvingly, silver and acute and punishingly lovely. “Do you want me to suck James off while you bury your cock inside me?”
“Oh , God, yes.” Remus’ voice trips from him like a vase tipped from a very high shelf. His hips delve against Sirius’ in a deep roll, and Sirius shudders with his own delicious groan at the apex of that push. James rubs slowly along the hardening underside of his cock as he takes it in, abstracting the memory of Sirius’ mouth around him through his mind as he does.
“You like having him watch, don’t you, love?”
“What was the first fucking clue.”
Sirius laughs, entirely free, his hair down figuratively just as it is literally, at Remus’ incessant and heated petulance. Sirius has told James before in their moments of brotherly truth to one another that it’s one of things he adores most about Remus, that refusal to bend to Sirius’ baiting. It makes me feel...I dunno, grounded. Like maybe I’m not just wasting my time being a toshy bastard. You know? Like he truly loves me, despite all my shit.
“I like it too,” James says, slightly surprised at the low gravel of his voice but taking it in stride. “Been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“A few weeks at least. Last time was after that match against Slytherin, yeah?” Sirius has begun canting his hips steadily against Remus’, frotting through their jeans, speaking as evenly as he can between the air he’s sharing with Remus.
“Took a while to get James off because he was moping,” Remus sighs. Sirius laughs and James immediately stops petting at himself, pride lighting like flint between his ribs.
“I’m sorry, some of us take athletics very close to heart!”
“You almost drowned yourself in the locker room shower,” Sirius reminds him as he eases his hands beneath Remus’ shirt to sweep his palms across that golden skin James knows is warm, warm, warm.
“Ah yes, my knight, thank all the gods for Sirius Orion Black coming to the rescue with a hard cock and tales of Remus waiting up in the empty announcer’s booth,” James says loftily, rolling his eyes and Remus takes his turn to laugh—head thrown back, making Sirius grin sweetly and James resume the light touches along his length.
“That was a fun one, if memory serves,” Remus muses, stopping to gasp sharply when Sirius tweaks one his nipples with adventuring fingers. “Had you spitroasted dangerously close the microphone, didn’t we?”
“I was a fantastic sport about that, and I maintain you should have left the channel open so anyone left on the pitch could know as well.” Sirius decides the reminiscing is over, always wanting the last word, and pulls Remus into another kiss with the sort if fervor that says This one is going places. James lets out a slow breath through his nose and grips himself through his trousers, beginning to stroke in subtle earnest to find the perfect pace to string this out as long as possible.
Remus and Sirius lose their shirts after long enough, Sirius’ fresh ink from last weekend on his right triceps standing out darkling bright in black against his pale skin—the living waning crescent moon that matches the one begun to rise beyond the treetops outside the dormitory window. He and Remus breathe into one another as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, their lips going plush and red with the intensity of their eagerness, bodies flush and trousers tenting impressively as their touch on one another goes lower and lower until they’re palming one anothers’ lengths with hungry fervor. Sirius undoes Remus’ button fly with fine alacrity and James mirrors the movement, pulling himself from his trousers to shimmy out of his own trousers and pants.
“Good evening, messire Prongs,” Sirius growls approvingly. He lavishes a thirsty look on James’ body, the most physically fit out of the three of them—all if them rangy youths, long limbs and boundless energy, but James has been sculpted by quidditch and the minor vanity of careful weightlifting and it certainly shows—before those granite-glimmer eyes flick back to James’ with encouragement. “Shall I suck him, Remus?”
“‘M not done with you yet,” Remus murmurs, and Sirius grins to himself before he dives deeply against Remus’ mouth again. James thumbs luxuriously at his own slit, already beading with precum, and watches as Remus and Sirius gradually find their way to full nakedness under the guidance of adoring, sloppy kisses and roving hands. Remus is on his back, Sirius curved over him posessively, their cocks thick and stiff between their bellies. Remus the biggest of the three of them by only a bit—they’ve measured—and currently frotting shallowly against Sirius’ stomach.
“Remus,” Sirius gasps with a particularly nice stroke, pure adoration, and James feels his pelvis flare with warmth at such devoted overtones.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Remus whispers up at Sirius, and James sidles closer on the mattress to observe from a better angle. “I’m going to have you on your knees, and you’re going to come with your mouth around James’ cock.”
Sirius pants a heavy affirmative, slightly undone, and James smiles with anticipatory enjoyment on a particularly rich downstroke on himself. “Are you now?” He teases. Sirius looks sideways at him, flushed and blushed and working up, and laughs lightly.
“Tosser, you still have your shirt on.”
“Booooo,” Remus jokes from his place on his back, a cartoonish frown creasing the pink in his cheeks, his curls tousled wildly against the mattress with several purplish spots beginning to pop up along his collarbone from where Sirius had marked him at the outset. “Take it off, Potter.”
“Take, it, off; take, it, off,” Sirius begins chanting, joined by Remus to turn it into a victorious cheer when James reaches back to grab the back of his collar and tug the shirt off over his head. He tosses it back over to his bed and spreads his arms inquisitively.
“Better now?” He mocks. Remus gives a sunny grin at the well-formed plane of James’ naked torso and crooks a finger in the air between himself and James.
“Much,” Remus says. “Get over here.”
James leans in to the beckoning and pushes Remus’ hair back from his forehead as he goes, his eyes falling shut as he dives into a deep kiss. The soft ridge of the faint scar nicking one notch of Remus’ top lip feels foreign, new, although it certainly isn’t the first time he’s shared a kiss with Remus. He’s spent all his kisses lately on Lily’s lips, a bit softer than Remus’ but, James finds with a low sound in his throat, just as plush and swollen.
“You like that?” Sirius asks, more statement than anything, and James can hear the telltale sound of him slowly stroking his cock alongside Remus’ slicked with quick and efficient magic. Remus doesn’t respond beyond an airy moan and the push of his tongue against James’, a desperate and slaggish curl of cardamom taste and Sirius’ tobacco that strikes James’ basal instinct for pure sex right at its core and pulls hard. He responds in kind, tipping Remus’ head back by his hair for deeper access, and relishes another sound of encouragement in Remus’ hazed tenor.
James matches the pace on his cock as he best he can to the rhythm of Sirius’ stroking, and he stutters with his own low groan when he feels Sirius’ hand come over and card into James’ hair. His touch is soft, fairy-light, the way Lily plays with it when James has her pressed against the foggy glass of their meeting place, how can Sirius know that’s what he likes best? Perhaps it’s a gay thing, being able to read another man’s wants and needs without asking—James doesn’t pretend at deeper knowledge of this whole business beyond knowing what he likes on his own body, but it’s served him well nonetheless.
“Fuck, Sirius,” James breathes, pulling back from Remus’ mouth to draw oxygen. His cock twitches sharply and he squeezes it with gentle pressure while Sirius chuckles in soft amusement when he brushes his touch along the crown of James’ head again.
James sits up and leans into Sirius’ touch, meeting his stare with roguish impulse and smiling. “That nickname died in year two and you know it.” He knows he’s probably a bundle of contradictions right now, draw taut with physical need but perfectly ready to jape with the lads, and he doesn’t quite care.
“I think it suits,” Sirius insists with his fingers still steady at work in the thick crop of James’ hair.
“Speak for yourself,” Remus says with dry laughter, “I think ‘Prongs’ is plenty descriptive in more ways than one.”
James cracks with laughter and Sirius’ eyes go wide. “You think his ego needs the help?!” Sirius cries, stilling all sensuality for the moment as Remus joins James dissolving into humor. “You fool! He already struts around like a fucking knighted hippogriff!”
“You’re the one tells him how much you like burying your nose in his bollocks every time we do this!” Remus rebuts through his laughter, his diaphragm leaping with it beneath Sirius’ straddle.
“That’s different than saying we’ve effectively named him Cocky McFuckerton!”
“Cocky McFuckerton?!” Both Remus and James erupt, the heady depth of their situation forgotten until their cackling subsides. Remus is the last one to stop laughing, and he touches lovingly at Sirius’ hip when his breath evens out again. He and James are still grinning like idiots, while Sirius is pouting with that posh little expression of not exactly getting his way.
“Do you me to call you Cocky McFuckerton intead, Pads?” Remus coos, all snark.
“I just think it’s unfair James get a double entendre for a nickname when he can’t even appreciate it as well as I could,” Sirius replies with a diva-like roll of his eyes. “You don’t even have a foot fetish to do properly filthy things with mine.”
“Pete might have a foot fetish,” James jabs wickedly, laughing again at the stark dislike that jets across Sirius’ face.
“Keep talking about him and he might barrel through the door again, yeah? Don’t push your luck, Prongs,” Sirius snaps with the toffish clip that always invades his voice when he’s trying to make a point. Remus, evidently done with the lightheartedness and eager to get back to brass tacks, shuts him up with a languid stroke to the twinned heat if their cocks.
“We can talk about nickname sanctity later,” Remus murmurs smoothly. “Cheers?”
“Fucking cheers,” Sirius says around a swallow and an encouraging rut into Remus palm. He and Remus play with one another for a bit longer as James sinks back into the mood, his own cock back in his hand with eager readiness.
“On your knees,” Remus whispers after several long minutes. Sirius takes one last daring stroke along their cocks and nods, unpiling his long limbs from Remus’ lap and settling into a kneel. Remus sits up behind him and carefully slides the whole fall of his dark hair over one pale shoulder with slow reverence. Sirius’ eyes flutter shut, a terribly intimate show of vulnerability under Remus’ hand that makes James’ heart pull sweetly, before Remus begins pressing slow kisses into Sirius shoulder and neck. “Do you want me to fuck you, Sirius?”
“Please,” Sirius whispers. James watches Sirius’ cock twitch between his legs, held loosely in one hand but not letting himself pull any closer to his edge yet, and stills his own ministrations. Fuck, he has lovely mates.
“Do you want me to watch you suck James’ cock ‘til he spends down your throat?” Remus rolls Sirius’ earlobe between soft teeth and fixes James with a mirthful look, those green eyes doing filthy things to his insides again as James finds himself nodding along with Sirius’ hummed sound of confirmation. Remus grins around Sirius’ skin and slides a hand up to gather Sirius’ hair in a loose fist at the nape of his neck. “All fours,” he instructs.
Sirius shifts up on his knees and props himself on his hands, and James’ body responds eagerly to the sight in automatic memory. He slides closer, facing Sirius to thumb idly at his bottom lip. James looks up at Remus, kneeling behind Sirius with his cock resting atop Sirius’ arse to tease him with it as he always does when they do this, seeking the unsaid permission of introductory kisses, and receives an encouraging nod.
“Hey, McFuckerton,” James murmurs with a devilish smirk as he grips Sirius’ chin gently, the snark doubled back at him on Sirius’ own lopsided smile.
“Hey, antler cock.”
James sniffs a short chuckle before he seizes arousal by those very antlers and kisses Sirius, a different sort of kiss, more of a playful tangle than how he had opened up his exchange with Remus. He’s known Sirius more personally and for longer, growing out of awkward adolescence together to help him navigate the twisting road that ended for him with Moony and is, hopefully, leading towards Lily on James’ side of things, and so they kiss with abandon. Sirius’ moans begun huffing into James’ mouth in hot puffs soon enough, and James thrills to see Remus coaxing two slicked fingers into Sirius’ hole when he opens his eyes.
“Speaking of,” James murmurs as he pulls back, nipping softly on Sirius lip to make him shudder—Sirius isn’t the only one who wears arrogance well—shifting to angle his rodded cock directly in line with Sirius’ mouth; “I believe this is yours to pleasure, my good sir.”
Sirius snorts with perfect derision. “Fuck off,” he hisses as he lowers his open mouth over the head of James’ cock.
They were right; it has been a while since the three of them have done this, because sensation floods James’ body as the wet heat of Sirius’ tongue sets to his frenulum in sinful concentration and makes James toss his head back with a choked moan. He lets his hand get buried into Sirius’ hair by Sirius’ own direction, finding Remus’ hand clenched against his skull as well to knit their fingers together around the dark, silken strands. With his eyes shut, the hair might very well be red; that mouth could have cherry-colored lipstick on it—James just barely succeeds in keeping the gasp of Lily behind his teeth and settles for a long sigh instead.
“Suck his cock, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from further up the bed, his fingers still massaging at Sirius’ entrance as he watches with wolfish intent. Sirius hums the affirmative around James’ cock and sends the vibrations rioting up through James’ body, dragging from him another desperate gasp as he tries with an iron will not to snap his hips up against Sirius’ tongue and face-fuck his best mate.
“Think he’s ready for it then?” James pants, nodding raggedly at where Remus is preparing Sirius. Remus smiles to himself, a secretive thing that James can’t divine completely, and slowly extracts his fingers. Sirius whines around James’ cock with a sound that is entirely unbecoming of the school’s resident counterculturalist, and Remus shushes him sweetly before pressing a kiss between the two dimples on Sirius’ lower back.
“Perhaps,” Remus murmurs. “I’ll fuck his arse if you fuck his mouth, what say you?”
“Aye,” James says, low in his chest for Oh, yes, Sirius approves of that decision and takes James to the hilt—his lips touch the short black curls nested around James’ cock, wet with saliva that shines where it sticks, and James grinds up experimentally into it. Sirius takes it easily, down his throat without a hitch, and uses one hand to cup James’ bollocks while the other presses his right knee down to give Sirius more access forward.\
Remus presses himself gently at Sirius’ ready entrance and holds himself there, lips bitten together briefly as he summons another wandless slicking spell. “Set?” He whispers.
Sirius draws himself back off James’ cock with a lurid slurp. “I swear to shit, Remus, if you don’t spear me on your cock right bloody now I’m g—aa aahh, fuck, yes.” Sirius’ eyes snap shut and his head falls forward when Remus pushes into him, steadily but all in one smooth push, and Sirius braces himself sharply on James’ leg and the mattress beneath him. Remus gives himself a moment to collect his bearings before he swats once at Sirius’ flank.
“Go on then, Pads, give James what he deserves. Don’t be selfish.” Remus’ voice is rough with lust as he winks at James conspiratorially, and James feels a hot pulse of arousal surge in him at the sight. He’s always known Remus as the quieter of their little group, more than happy to hide his corners from the rest of them—this is one that only comes out in the heat of sex. James thinks it fits Remus terribly well. He strokes a thumb across the back of Remus’ hand where they have their fingers knotted in Sirius’ hair, and Remus awards him an unguarded smile for it.
“Promise you’ll actually move when I do,” Sirius growls from between James’ legs.
Sirius lets a single bark of laughter out at that, a sharp sound at what feels like an angular joke between them that James isn’t privy to, before he sweeps a fall of hair back from his forehead and meets James’ stare. Sirius smirks, effectively blinds James by reaching up and removing his glasses, and lowers himself again onto James’ pulsing cock.
Per his promise, Remus begins thrusting into Sirius with each downstroke of Sirius’ mouth. With his vision reduced to naught but colorful blurs, James surrenders to the feeling and the sound of their sex—Sirius is enthusiastic with his tongue and hands and virtually no gag reflex to speak of, and Remus has the molten-hot habit of very soft, low dirty talk as he goes—“Take, it Sirius, fucking take it. Suck him deeper.” After the first several moments James adapts to the movement and adds his own body to the rhythm, bucking his hips up shallowly to push his cock even further into Sirius’ throat as Remus thrusts into Sirius, and it isn’t long before Sirius makes a desperate sound around the glistening spit he’s traced all over James where he sucks and licks.
“Don’t touch yourself,” Remus warns Sirius from behind, his own voice raw and losing purchase as he goes. “You can come, but don’t touch your cock. Feel me in you, Sirius, feel James fucking the back of your throat—”
Sirius pants through his nose with growing intensity and James feels himself reaching his own limit as well, all heat, all red, red, Lily, fuck, yes, oh—
Sirius’ voice breaks in a moan around James’ cock and his body shudders to bring the wet splatter of ejaculate leaping from Sirius’ cock to land on James’ thigh, his stomach, the bed covers, in several hard and quick ropes. Sirius’ intensity around James doesn’t flag through it but his body shakes the whole time, richly, while Remus picks up his pace with an approving groan. James tightens his hand in Sirius’ hair, around Remus’ own, and squeezes the duvet in his other hand.
“Fuck,” James gasps, “I’m gonna come.”
“Do it,” Remus growls.
“Ah, ha—! Fuck,” James announces before is voice is overtaken by a low growl as climax swallows him whole along with Sirius. He spills across the tongue that carries him over his crest, coming and coming as his hips and legs twitch and he groans into each pulse. He flops onto his back when Sirius pulls off with a gasp and the cooler air of the room meets his skin, cleansing in the wake of hypersensitivity.
“Come for me, Remus,” Sirius pleads, his voice raw for the battery of James’ hard cock. “Fill me, come on.”
The sound of Remus pumping into Sirius picks up, frenzied, and soon Remus is coming wordlessly but not without a sharp mellifluous grunt. The sound of him delving into Sirius over and over again quiets, both of them gasping as Remus spills into Sirius as the well-deserved final finisher. Nothing but the sound of heavy breathing fills the dormitory for a long time, and James casts out for his glasses with one long arm before somebody, likely Sirius with his softer and stickier hands, passes them to James with a dainty flail.
“Good time, lads,” James says briskly. He scrapes sweaty hair back off his forehead and slides his glasses on, snickering to himself when they steam up with the heat from his own skin.
“Fuck yeah.” Sirius voice is still shorn, muffled into the bedclothes, and James makes an exhausted mental note to tease Sirius mercilessly when he hears that quality of voice next time Sirius inevitably sucks Remus off on their own.
“Accio wand— bollocks,” Remus’ slurred spell is followed promptly by a tiny wooden thwuck very much like Pete’s wand smacking his hand into him, although when James props himself up on his elbows to look at Remus it appears the wand missed his hand entirely and found his forehead without it.
“Smooth,” James says around a wide yawn.
Remus smirks, a similar torpor evident in the boneless fall of his limbs beneath Sirius’ sprawl, and he casts several cleansing charms to get them all into a much less sticky disarray.
“Ta, lovely,” Sirius sighs, finally flipping onto his back and wincing with the movement. “Merlin split, you fucked me proper.”
“I’m not a lying man,” Remus chuckles. He kisses the back of Sirius’ knee where it’s ended up beside his head, and James shifts to let Sirius maneuver so he can tuck himself slowly against Remus’ side. Remus looks over at James and tiredly waves his open hand; “More than enough room, Prongs.”
“Don’t you mean Cocky McFuckerton?” Sirius drawls into Remus’ shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded with incoming exhaustion, the supremely satisfied sort, and Remus laughs with as much energy as he can after a hard finish. James settles himself into the open space, Remus’ skin like warm coals, and settles his head against the threaded curve of an old scar along his shoulder.
“Somebody set a wakeup charm before eleven o’clock,” James says through another yawn.
“Six sickles says he fucks her,” Sirius says.
“Twelve says he doesn’t,” Remus replies, catching James yawn as he speaks.
“I say he almost thinks of fucking her but cops out and just goes for a kiss,” James says. “Think about it, he’s too sweet to shag someone after a Wyrd Sisters show. He’ll probably compliment her hair and be done with it.”
“Fair,” Remus hums.
“Fair,” Sirius sighs. He kisses Remus’ shoulder and burrows closer, the picture of contentment.
In the end, they forget to set the charm—luckily Pete is delayed until the next afternoon by matters of the heart and spirit.
James drifts off to sleep against Remus’ side with Sirius fingers laced in his own atop Remus’ heart, with sunny dreams of red and green and summer and Lily.