"A Temporary Cure For Insomnia"
Rating: "M", for slash, language and sexual content.
Pairing: Sirius Black / Remus Lupin
Disclaimer: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.
How cruel is it that no sooner do I get the man of my dreams that I am to be incarcerated back in London for ten weeks, whilst my love remains at the other side of the country? That I have to stay in Grimmauld Place, while all the time my sweet Remus lies in bed, lonely, in the middle of nowhere – well, Cumbria, anyway.
My dear Remus lies alone in bed, without me. And I suffer the conundrum's reciprocal other and lie alone in bed, without him.
It wouldn't be quite so bad if he could come and visit me, but Mother would never allow it. Now, if it was James, or Peter, that would be different. For one thing, they are both from respectable, pure-blood families. But Remus is a half-blood, condemned by the Blacks as dirty, unclean… unfit, even, to breathe the same air that we do. So I can't even acknowledge that I even speak to him, let alone…
And so I lie awake at night, the distant sounds of Regulus's snoring and my parent's incessant lovemaking drifting through to my room. And there would be such an easy cure for my insomnia – to spend one night, just one night, in Remus's arms.
It's not as if we would even do anything, anyway. Well, we are only fifteen, after all. It's not as if I've even seen him naked in that way – well, I've seen all the guys naked; it's hard not to in dormitory life. And that sight certainly doesn't disappoint! I swear, I didn't even know that a fifteen-year-old could be that big! Maybe it's the wolf in him – so much body hair, after all – or perhaps he's just a show-er rather than a grow-er, if you know what I mean!
This just isn't fair! I should be up in Carlisle, with Remus. I shouldn't be stuck in fucking London, resigned to the fact that the only company I have is having naughty thoughts about him at night!
Three weeks, we had. Three lousy, piddling weeks, after I spent the best part of the year lusting after him, and then we were parted by the cruellest of occasions – the bloody School Summer Holiday! And just four days when we shared the same bed – honestly, nothing happened (more's the pity). But falling asleep in the arms of the man you love… Oh, God! It's indescribable. To feel his warmth next to you, snuggling your head into his hard, hairy chest as the waves of sleepiness take over you and you fall into a blissful world of dreams, where anything is possible and the whole world is within your reach…
Not even a pillow placed beside me is a decent substitute, for the pillow is too cold and too soft to ever replicate my Remus.
So I resign myself to the only option available – if I can't have Remus here in real life, I will have to imagine him here, wishing as hard as I can that if I imagine enough, somehow Remus will be magically transported to by bed and we can be together. Even if it is only for a couple of minutes.
My parents are getting louder. It's not as if a few simple silencing charms are beyond them, is it? I suppose they just think that because it is their house, they don't need to employ such secretive ploys to disguise and mute their showing their love for one another.
Why can't I do that with Remus?
My only consolation is allowing my hand to wander down there and caress myself through pyjama trousers which suddenly seem so tight, sticky and uncomfortable on this long, hot summer night. Shivers spread from my groin right up and down my spine as my hand slips under the thin cotton of my pyjamas, as in my mind's eye Remus has turned to me and has started to molest me! His touch is as soft as feather down wrapped up in silk. I imagine his hot breath on my neck as he whispers sweet nothings in my ear… sweet nothings which turn into positively filthy nothings – in fact they are bordering indecency – as he tells me what he wants us to do together one day, when we are both ready to take everything further and have a physical relationship.
And as suddenly as the urge to do this took me in the first place, the rôles in my head switch, and it is me that takes Remus's "little wolf" (I nearly had a case of hysterics when Peter, of all people, came up with that one!) in my own hand, teasing him as I caress him with strokes and touches which barely touch him. Just the way that I imagine he would like it, as he squirms and writes in pure pleasure under my careful ministrations.
All too soon, I feel the familiar pressure rising in my groin and I know that my pleasuring Remus is just a fantasy – a fantasy which must shortly come to an end. I hurriedly pull the pillow lying beside me over to my face, clamping it down tightly over my mouth to dull and quieten the screams of climatic ecstasy that escape my throat and threaten to betray my current method of occupation.
I have made a mess. Oh, well, I can have Kreacher clean it up in the morning. He never asks questions about bedroom messes. And at last, as my excitement dwindles and falls exhaustedly limp in my hand, I feel sleepiness threaten to envelope me. I do not fight it, glad of the rest that will finally greet me, and the few hours of calm and peace that will accompany it. I have found a temporary cure for the pining, love-sick insomnia that rages through my mind and body without my Remus here to slay it and make it go away.
Finally, I begin to fall asleep, my mind at rest and set, firmly, in absolution. Tomorrow, I shall Floo Pete and James and set up two alibis. For under the pretence of socialising with my respectable, pure-blood school friends, I shall pay a visit to the city of Carlisle; to Remus, the half-blood bastard child who has captured and inflamed my heart.