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hp_shoreofangst2017-05-02 09:00 pm
smirkingcat) wrote in hp_shoreofangst2017-05-02 09:00 pm
Fest-Fic: More Than Flesh.
Title: More Than Flesh.
Author/Artist:human_veil
Rating:PG-13.
Prompt: Prompt Slash31 byllaeyro
Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin.
Era: Marauder Era.
Word Count:1,920
Content/Warning(s): Highlight to read*Attempts ‘cure’ asexuality, feelings of unworthiness that stem from asexuality.*
Summary:Fearful of rejection, Sirius does all that he can to keep his asexuality hidden. He can’t keep it a secret forever, though.
Author's Note:Thank you to my friend Brinnfor acting as my beta, and another tollaeyro for providing the prompt. Hopefully I did the idea justice!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Sirius is well aware that he’s known as the local playboy. The ladies’ man.The sybarite. He just isn’t entirely sure why.
In his opinion, he’s never done anything to warrant it. He likes to flirt, sure, but why wouldn’t he? He likes people. Likes to see them smile, to watch the way their faces light up when he offers a genuine compliment. There isn’t any sexual intent behind it; there never really is with him.
He does it with Remus a lot, has been since their first year. Mostly he does it because Remus can be heartbreakingly insecure at times and Sirius thinks that’s bullshit, because Remus is a lovable beacon of life, furry little problem and all, and he wants Remus to see that.
He does it with James and Peter too, sometimes, though not as often. Remus is just his favourite person to flirt with, his favourite person to make smile. Possibly his favourite person, period.
And maybe that’s part of the problem.
Sirius knows that Remus is in love with him. He can see it on his face, can sense it in every lingering stare, can feel it with every too-long touch. Truthfully, it’s fucking terrifying. Because Sirius loves him back, loves him so much that he’s sure one day his chest is going to break with the weight of it.
He's almost certain that he and Remus would make an amazing couple, too. Probably one of the best. Which is why pretending not to notice Remus' affection hurts that much more.
He's scared. Scared that he's not going to be good enough. Scared that he won't be able to give Remus everything he wants. Because he knows that Remus wants everything, and as much as Sirius loves him, it's just not something he can offer.
Because as much as Sirius loves him, he isn't sexually attracted to him.
It's not just Remus, of course. He's never been sexually attracted to anyone in his life. At first he hadn't thought anything of it, but then James had started to confide in him about his sexual desires, and Sirius had been left feeling oddly uncomfortable. Fearful of being rejected by his best mate, he'd always just mumble his agreement until the conversation was over.
He remembers searching the library for a book that would help explain the way he felt, remembers reading the word 'asexual' for the first time, remembers the way it felt as he'd continued on with the definition. Like pieces of a puzzle slipping into place. There hadn't been a single doubt in his mind that that was what he was, and there still isn’t.
He'd kept it to himself, even when he'd been given the opportunity to explain. It was better, he'd thought, to keep it hidden in his head. Tucked away right alongside his feelings for Remus.
Which had worked fine, right up until it hadn't.
He and Remus get together in the chaos of post-match exhilaration. He’s still in his Quidditch robes when they kiss, his hands on either side of Remus’ face, a grin pulling at his lips even as they move against Remus’ softer ones.
There’s a split second moment of oh fuck what have I done when they pull away from each other, but then Remus leans in to kiss him again, and Sirius can’t think much past the taste of Remus’ warm, wet mouth. Like chocolate and tea and something else he can’t name.
And kissing – kissing is okay. He’s kissed people before, both boys and girls. It’s not a horrible experience, sometimes he even enjoys it. As long as it doesn’t lead to anything else.
They spend the rest of the night talking and laughing and kissing; giddy with each other’s company. Remus smiles so wide it looks like his face is going to split in half, and Sirius keeps an arm around him the whole night, possessive like.
By the time morning comes, it’s decided that this is their new normal.
At first it’s fine.
The development in their relationship doesn’t seem to be much of a surprise. Sirius hears more than one person mutter an about time in response; even sees Peter slip James a few galleons, whining about why couldn’t they wait till after Easter?while James merely laughed.
It’s good. It’s encouraging. It helps soothe the anxious pit in his stomach, the one that had been threatening to ruin everything before it had even started. His friends support – their acceptance – it’s really the only thing either of them had ever actually wanted.
There’s still the issue of more, though. The queasy feeling knowing Remus will want more prompts. It isn’t that he’s pushy about it – quite the opposite, actually. Remus will go as slow as Sirius does, careful with every touch. But Sirius knows. He just knows, can tell that Remus has to hold himself back sometimes.
It isn’t a good feeling. Pretty fucking shit, if he were honest. It leaves him feeling like he isn’t good enough, reminds him of how he can never quite manage to be enough.
It’s manageable at first, but it starts to become suffocating. Every time they do anything, it’s all he can think about. Every time they touch, every time they so much as stand next to each other – it’s at the forefront of his mind. He just can’t shake the feeling that he’s letting Remus down, somehow. That he’s denying him an experience.
It’s with that weight on his shoulders that he comes up with a plan.
He waits until the weekend to put it into action, taking hold of Remus’ hand to keep him in the dorm as James and Peter leave, mumbling something about Ravenclaw Tower and dungbombs. Remus looks confused at first, but settles back down with him anyway, fingers intertwining with his.
They don’t do much more than that at first, happy to enjoy each other’s company without James’ teasing commentary. But then one thing leads to another, like it always does, and soon enough they’re kissing again.
Slow, relaxed kisses gradually grow more heated. Remus has a hand tangled at the nape of his neck, slim fingers sliding through the curls, keeping their mouths pressed together. Sirius nudges him onto his back, leans over his body and tries to reciprocate every kiss despite the nerves brewing in the pit of his stomach; despite the way his body and brain are yelling at him to stop.
Remus doesn’t seem to notice his apprehension, and Sirius takes it as a sign that he’s doing okay, that it’s okay, and that he can keep going. That he can pull it off. So he keeps pushing himself, keeps trying as best he can to give Remus everything he thinks he wants.
He’s doing his best to ignore the panic rising up his throat, to ignore the uncomfortable, icky feeling consuming his whole body. He almost manages it, almost manages to trick himself, but then Remus’ fingers are brushing his abdomen, and Sirius can’t, he can’t, he just ca—
He doesn’t expect the tears, doesn’t expect the half sob, half choke that leaves him. Doesn’t expect the trouble breathing, hadn’t thought it would be this hard, that he’d panic. But here he is, evidence of his failure written all over his body.
And Remus—Remus doesn’t even look upset, like Sirius had thought he would be. He just looks worried.
His hands have slid up to Sirius’ shoulders, his fingers curled around each one as he looks at him, wide eyed with concern. “Siri…” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “What…”
Sirius shakes his head, takes a shuddering breath. He feels embarrassed, too embarrassed to look Remus in the eye, but in too much of a need for comfort to refuse Remus’ hug. So he lets the other boy grab him, lets Remus pull him against his chest, lets him pull the blanket around both their bodies.
He buries his face in the crook of Remus neck, a string of I’m sorry, Moony, I’m so sorry falling from his lips like a mantra. Remus shushes him, fingers threading through his hair the way he knows Sirius likes.
“I can’t,” he’s saying, mumbling the words against the skin of Remus’ neck. “I cant. I’m so sorry, Moony, I…”
“Can’t what?” Remus asks, and Sirius can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s freaking out. He knows that he ought to try and explain, but he can’t seem to gather enough control over himself to offer a proper explanation.
Remus continues to pet his hair, lips brushing his forehead gently. He’s trying his best to calm him down, and it makes Sirius’ heart ache; makes his chest tighten with love alongside his angst.
“I can’t give you what you want,” he says eventually, after a long stretch of silence. He feels calm enough to speak, now; even if the words are muffled, spoken into the crook of Remus’ shoulder.
And once he starts he can’t stop. He doesn’t think before he speaks, doesn’t consider the words until they’re being said. He spills everything – every insecurity, every concern, every worry he’s had over the past few months. He admits to every lie about his sexuality, tells Remus about the book, about how he’s sure, how he’s sorry—
And when he’s run out of words, tears threatening to spill once more, he murmurs a quiet, “I still love you.”
He can feel Remus smile against his forehead in response, can hear the shaky exhale. “I love you, too,” he tells him, arms tightening around his body. “But, Merlin. You’re an idiot.”
Sirius stiffens. “What?”
“You didn’t have to—I can’t believe you tried to do that,” Remus explains, nudging Sirius back so he can look at his face, eyes shining in the low light. “I love you either way,” he continues on, voice soft and sincere. “I don’t need you to force yourself to do things you aren’t comfortable with.”
Sirius stares, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of Remus’ shirt. “You’re not disappointed?”
Remus shakes his head, stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. “Of course not, Pads. Is this why you’ve been acting so weird?”
Sirius nods, lips twitching in an upward tilt despite his efforts. “It’s really okay?”
“More than okay,” Remus confirms. He shifts on the bed, pulls Sirius impossibly closer. “I mean, we’ve still gotta works some things out, but it’s fine.” He pauses, sighs quietly. “Did you really think I’d be angry?”
Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I didn’t think… I don’t know.” He feels exhausted now – drained, like he needs a good three day nap. “Thank you.”
Remus smiles, trails his hand down to grab Sirius’ once more. “Sleep,” he says. “We’ve still got some time before James and Peter come back, and they’ll want your help with the Slytherin part.”
Sirius laughs at the reminder of their impending prank; a quiet, amused puff of air. “Don’t think you aren’t helping, too,” he tells him, snuggling into the warmth of the bed and closing his eyes. “We need your genius.”
“Of course. You’d be nothing without my genius.”
He laughs like it’s any other joke, but beneath the sheet he’s squeezing Sirius’ hand, and Sirius takes the message for what it is. The unspoken, it’s okay, I’ve got your back.
And as he drifts to sleep, he can’t help but think how lucky he is to have landed such an amazing boyfriend.
Author/Artist:
human_veilRating:PG-13.
Prompt: Prompt Slash31 by
llaeyroPairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin.
Era: Marauder Era.
Word Count:1,920
Content/Warning(s): Highlight to read*Attempts ‘cure’ asexuality, feelings of unworthiness that stem from asexuality.*
Summary:Fearful of rejection, Sirius does all that he can to keep his asexuality hidden. He can’t keep it a secret forever, though.
Author's Note:Thank you to my friend Brinnfor acting as my beta, and another tollaeyro for providing the prompt. Hopefully I did the idea justice!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Sirius is well aware that he’s known as the local playboy. The ladies’ man.The sybarite. He just isn’t entirely sure why.
In his opinion, he’s never done anything to warrant it. He likes to flirt, sure, but why wouldn’t he? He likes people. Likes to see them smile, to watch the way their faces light up when he offers a genuine compliment. There isn’t any sexual intent behind it; there never really is with him.
He does it with Remus a lot, has been since their first year. Mostly he does it because Remus can be heartbreakingly insecure at times and Sirius thinks that’s bullshit, because Remus is a lovable beacon of life, furry little problem and all, and he wants Remus to see that.
He does it with James and Peter too, sometimes, though not as often. Remus is just his favourite person to flirt with, his favourite person to make smile. Possibly his favourite person, period.
And maybe that’s part of the problem.
Sirius knows that Remus is in love with him. He can see it on his face, can sense it in every lingering stare, can feel it with every too-long touch. Truthfully, it’s fucking terrifying. Because Sirius loves him back, loves him so much that he’s sure one day his chest is going to break with the weight of it.
He's almost certain that he and Remus would make an amazing couple, too. Probably one of the best. Which is why pretending not to notice Remus' affection hurts that much more.
He's scared. Scared that he's not going to be good enough. Scared that he won't be able to give Remus everything he wants. Because he knows that Remus wants everything, and as much as Sirius loves him, it's just not something he can offer.
Because as much as Sirius loves him, he isn't sexually attracted to him.
It's not just Remus, of course. He's never been sexually attracted to anyone in his life. At first he hadn't thought anything of it, but then James had started to confide in him about his sexual desires, and Sirius had been left feeling oddly uncomfortable. Fearful of being rejected by his best mate, he'd always just mumble his agreement until the conversation was over.
He remembers searching the library for a book that would help explain the way he felt, remembers reading the word 'asexual' for the first time, remembers the way it felt as he'd continued on with the definition. Like pieces of a puzzle slipping into place. There hadn't been a single doubt in his mind that that was what he was, and there still isn’t.
He'd kept it to himself, even when he'd been given the opportunity to explain. It was better, he'd thought, to keep it hidden in his head. Tucked away right alongside his feelings for Remus.
Which had worked fine, right up until it hadn't.
*
He and Remus get together in the chaos of post-match exhilaration. He’s still in his Quidditch robes when they kiss, his hands on either side of Remus’ face, a grin pulling at his lips even as they move against Remus’ softer ones.
There’s a split second moment of oh fuck what have I done when they pull away from each other, but then Remus leans in to kiss him again, and Sirius can’t think much past the taste of Remus’ warm, wet mouth. Like chocolate and tea and something else he can’t name.
And kissing – kissing is okay. He’s kissed people before, both boys and girls. It’s not a horrible experience, sometimes he even enjoys it. As long as it doesn’t lead to anything else.
They spend the rest of the night talking and laughing and kissing; giddy with each other’s company. Remus smiles so wide it looks like his face is going to split in half, and Sirius keeps an arm around him the whole night, possessive like.
By the time morning comes, it’s decided that this is their new normal.
*
At first it’s fine.
The development in their relationship doesn’t seem to be much of a surprise. Sirius hears more than one person mutter an about time in response; even sees Peter slip James a few galleons, whining about why couldn’t they wait till after Easter?while James merely laughed.
It’s good. It’s encouraging. It helps soothe the anxious pit in his stomach, the one that had been threatening to ruin everything before it had even started. His friends support – their acceptance – it’s really the only thing either of them had ever actually wanted.
There’s still the issue of more, though. The queasy feeling knowing Remus will want more prompts. It isn’t that he’s pushy about it – quite the opposite, actually. Remus will go as slow as Sirius does, careful with every touch. But Sirius knows. He just knows, can tell that Remus has to hold himself back sometimes.
It isn’t a good feeling. Pretty fucking shit, if he were honest. It leaves him feeling like he isn’t good enough, reminds him of how he can never quite manage to be enough.
It’s manageable at first, but it starts to become suffocating. Every time they do anything, it’s all he can think about. Every time they touch, every time they so much as stand next to each other – it’s at the forefront of his mind. He just can’t shake the feeling that he’s letting Remus down, somehow. That he’s denying him an experience.
It’s with that weight on his shoulders that he comes up with a plan.
*
He waits until the weekend to put it into action, taking hold of Remus’ hand to keep him in the dorm as James and Peter leave, mumbling something about Ravenclaw Tower and dungbombs. Remus looks confused at first, but settles back down with him anyway, fingers intertwining with his.
They don’t do much more than that at first, happy to enjoy each other’s company without James’ teasing commentary. But then one thing leads to another, like it always does, and soon enough they’re kissing again.
Slow, relaxed kisses gradually grow more heated. Remus has a hand tangled at the nape of his neck, slim fingers sliding through the curls, keeping their mouths pressed together. Sirius nudges him onto his back, leans over his body and tries to reciprocate every kiss despite the nerves brewing in the pit of his stomach; despite the way his body and brain are yelling at him to stop.
Remus doesn’t seem to notice his apprehension, and Sirius takes it as a sign that he’s doing okay, that it’s okay, and that he can keep going. That he can pull it off. So he keeps pushing himself, keeps trying as best he can to give Remus everything he thinks he wants.
He’s doing his best to ignore the panic rising up his throat, to ignore the uncomfortable, icky feeling consuming his whole body. He almost manages it, almost manages to trick himself, but then Remus’ fingers are brushing his abdomen, and Sirius can’t, he can’t, he just ca—
He doesn’t expect the tears, doesn’t expect the half sob, half choke that leaves him. Doesn’t expect the trouble breathing, hadn’t thought it would be this hard, that he’d panic. But here he is, evidence of his failure written all over his body.
And Remus—Remus doesn’t even look upset, like Sirius had thought he would be. He just looks worried.
His hands have slid up to Sirius’ shoulders, his fingers curled around each one as he looks at him, wide eyed with concern. “Siri…” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “What…”
Sirius shakes his head, takes a shuddering breath. He feels embarrassed, too embarrassed to look Remus in the eye, but in too much of a need for comfort to refuse Remus’ hug. So he lets the other boy grab him, lets Remus pull him against his chest, lets him pull the blanket around both their bodies.
He buries his face in the crook of Remus neck, a string of I’m sorry, Moony, I’m so sorry falling from his lips like a mantra. Remus shushes him, fingers threading through his hair the way he knows Sirius likes.
“I can’t,” he’s saying, mumbling the words against the skin of Remus’ neck. “I cant. I’m so sorry, Moony, I…”
“Can’t what?” Remus asks, and Sirius can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s freaking out. He knows that he ought to try and explain, but he can’t seem to gather enough control over himself to offer a proper explanation.
Remus continues to pet his hair, lips brushing his forehead gently. He’s trying his best to calm him down, and it makes Sirius’ heart ache; makes his chest tighten with love alongside his angst.
“I can’t give you what you want,” he says eventually, after a long stretch of silence. He feels calm enough to speak, now; even if the words are muffled, spoken into the crook of Remus’ shoulder.
And once he starts he can’t stop. He doesn’t think before he speaks, doesn’t consider the words until they’re being said. He spills everything – every insecurity, every concern, every worry he’s had over the past few months. He admits to every lie about his sexuality, tells Remus about the book, about how he’s sure, how he’s sorry—
And when he’s run out of words, tears threatening to spill once more, he murmurs a quiet, “I still love you.”
He can feel Remus smile against his forehead in response, can hear the shaky exhale. “I love you, too,” he tells him, arms tightening around his body. “But, Merlin. You’re an idiot.”
Sirius stiffens. “What?”
“You didn’t have to—I can’t believe you tried to do that,” Remus explains, nudging Sirius back so he can look at his face, eyes shining in the low light. “I love you either way,” he continues on, voice soft and sincere. “I don’t need you to force yourself to do things you aren’t comfortable with.”
Sirius stares, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of Remus’ shirt. “You’re not disappointed?”
Remus shakes his head, stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. “Of course not, Pads. Is this why you’ve been acting so weird?”
Sirius nods, lips twitching in an upward tilt despite his efforts. “It’s really okay?”
“More than okay,” Remus confirms. He shifts on the bed, pulls Sirius impossibly closer. “I mean, we’ve still gotta works some things out, but it’s fine.” He pauses, sighs quietly. “Did you really think I’d be angry?”
Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I didn’t think… I don’t know.” He feels exhausted now – drained, like he needs a good three day nap. “Thank you.”
Remus smiles, trails his hand down to grab Sirius’ once more. “Sleep,” he says. “We’ve still got some time before James and Peter come back, and they’ll want your help with the Slytherin part.”
Sirius laughs at the reminder of their impending prank; a quiet, amused puff of air. “Don’t think you aren’t helping, too,” he tells him, snuggling into the warmth of the bed and closing his eyes. “We need your genius.”
“Of course. You’d be nothing without my genius.”
He laughs like it’s any other joke, but beneath the sheet he’s squeezing Sirius’ hand, and Sirius takes the message for what it is. The unspoken, it’s okay, I’ve got your back.
And as he drifts to sleep, he can’t help but think how lucky he is to have landed such an amazing boyfriend.