So this is just a dumb story I thought up years ago and decided to write now that I am significantly more comfortable with my love for gay men. Lol. More like fictional characters who I have just decided love the D purely coz it's hot. I'm not trying very hard to sound very British or even very like it's the 70s because I am simply not bothered and I wanted to practice writing with a more modern way of speaking anyway. The language is atrocious and occasionally offensive, hence the rating. Also smut. There also might be more serious feels and issues dealt with later but yah I haven't decided yet. It's supposed to be funny, mostly. I'm aiming for seven/eight chapters. Let's see how that goes :D

Thanks for clicking, and I hope you enjoy reading! Plz review if you like it, as I am always in need of self-assurance ;)

SIRIUS

I'm not gonna lie, the girl sitting in front of me had fairly massive tits. And I'm not making a mountain out of a bloody B-cup here, alright? They were fucking H for humongous. M for monstrous. P for planetary, or something. I dunno. I'll ask Moony for more adjectives later. What I'm saying is, these yokes had their own gravitational field, and I knew more than one poor fool was likely to get sucked into orbit anytime soon.

But not me.

No. In fact, I found this field's force a little more on the repulsive side.

But I'll get back to that later.

So, dear friend, here I was: spending a highly unextraordinary evening in the Gryffindor common room, sat in an armchair with a fittie in my lap and these massive bongoes bludgeoning me every time I bloody budged. I can't get over this. They were just HUGE. OK? It was like … a fat bloke's arse crack bursting out of her blouse. Or ol' Slughorn's stomach slapped twice to her chest.

I mean, when did that even happen? Last I heard Wormtail had the biggest tits in our year, but suddenly there was a whole lot of puberty hitting everyone all at once.

It was revolting.

She had all this hair, too, that kept getting in my mouth, and she wore so much makeup that she looked like my great aunt Irma. And these BOOBS — I'm so sorry to go on about them, old boy — but this skank was showing them off ever-so proudly, with her blouse unbuttoned all the way to her fucking belly button, or might as well have been, so I could see right down her top, y'know: all the way to the prissy frills around the edges of her hot pink bra and the bulging flesh of the beasts crammed inside it.

And I felt FUCK ALL.

I guess I got back to that earlier than I expected.

But — I mean — what the hell was wrong with me!? I must have been having some sort of haemorrhage.

And when I say FUCK ALL, I'm talking ABSOLUTELY NOTHING here. NOT - A - FUCKING - THING. Not even the least bit hard, not itched with the slightest desire to do anything, or be anywhere near her, really. She looked liked one of those dollies I used to play with when Bellatrix came over.

That Reggie played with, I mean.

And, y'know, I didn't even bother to avert my eyes, since she was practically THRUSTING them on me anyway. But the thing was, I really couldn't seem to look away. Like a chasm of doom, or the time I gashed my knee open on that loose nail in the shack. It was disgusting and made me want to vomit or faint or something when I looked at it. But I still couldn't stop looking at it.

Yeah, so that was sort of how I felt right now.

"Sho you gign't fug 'er?" asked Prongs, his mouth dripping toothpaste, as he turned from the bathroom mirror to shoot me a look of utter betrayal.

He was disappointed, the pervert. I suppose he's a tits man, our James.

I was lying on my four poster with my hands behind my head, my knees sticking up. "Who says I didn't fuck 'er?"

Prongs punched his fist into the air and grinned at me stupidly with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. I rolled my eyes. That boy disgusted me sometimes.

I didn't fuck her, of course. But I wasn't about to tell him that. Fucking embarrassing … I couldn't even get HARD, for Merlin's sake. I had ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION, or some shit. For fuck's sake! What the hell was wrong with me!?

I glanced at Moony for help out of habit, then mentally hit myself and turned away into my pillow. In fairness, Moony WOULD be easier to tell these kinds of things to than Prongs, but … nope. I was probably still too ashamed. Somehow, it might have been even more mortifying with Moony, since he would take everything so very SERIOUSLY and want to talk about my FEELINGS or whatever.

Ugh.

I hated feeling. I just liked sex.

Fuck you, my cock.

That guy — Moony, I mean — was sitting on the edge of his bed with his pyjamas all folded neatly on his lap. And yes, I KNOW, I said that I GLANCED, but I definitely stole a bit of a stare if I'm being totally honest. Just I was curious, y'see, since he was all tensed up the way he is whenever he's about to say something, or do something, or something something. Then he stood up, clutching his clothes to his chest, and hovered towards the bathroom door.

Before he even opened his mouth, Prongs jumped back inside, shouted, "Shumboggy in 'ere!" and slammed the door in his face.

I laughed (accidentally) loudly and Moony shot me a quick glower.

I sat up cross-legged in my bed and stretched my arms out, yawning luxuriously and scratching myself. "Merlin, Moony, why can't you just change out here like a man?"

He shuddered a little, and shook his head. "Ah, yes … very manly of you to ask me to undress in front of you," he sighed. Moony always spoke in sighs somehow.

I snorted even though it wasn't really funny in any way whatsoever. Why would I want to see a bloke undress? That's bloody preposterous. I guess that's why it was funny, though — totally as a joke, I mean — so I snorted again with a hint more derision and we glared at each other for a moment. I don't really know why. He pursed his lips and I raised one of my eyebrows because I knew he could never stare me down. And he knew it, too, yet he still tried. That was admirable, alright, but … well, fuck that.

He flicked a strand of hair from his face, and then resigned to turn his back to me and swiftly lift his shirt over his head.

Oi, it's not like I was watching him do it. I'm not a pervert, thank you very much.

I guess big tits just aren't my thing, you know? And should I be worried about that? Eh, no. Of course not, my friend. Mary MacDonald practically had a hunchback since her buzoombas grew in. Now THAT'S unattractive.

Tits in general are fine small, in my opinion. Perky and petite: that's a saying, right? There's nothing wrong with a good pair of knockers, don't get me wrong or anything, but they're just a bit useless, aren't they? They just wobble 'round, and that's supposed to be attractive, somehow? And, anyway, girls just use them like artillery because they know they make a bloke's mind turn to nothing but libido and white noise.

It's annoying. As in it PISSES me OFF.

Yep, I was never a big man for the titties. I don't worry about that, though. Worrying is for ponces like Moony over there.

But … my target pool sure had grown smaller with all this puberty shit going on.

… Wait, why do I sound like a fucking pedophile? I like WOMEN, OK? Grown WOMEN with grown TITTIES that just happen to be … er, pre-pubescent?

No no no — not that — just … small. Or, non-existent. Or … fuck.

I glanced back at Moony as he pulled his nightshirt over his head and tucked his hair behind his ear without realising it was all messed up in the back. It was getting a little long, I guess, reaching the nape of his neck already. And it's not like I was STARING at his body or anything but I had just happened to notice he was looking a bit skinnier lately. Was the full moon approaching, perhaps? It's bad enough at regular times — his weight, I mean. Moony just never eats or something. You'd think a wolf-baby would eat a family of garden gnomes plus extended cousins for starters, but he hardly eats bloody anything. Not even anything BLOODY. That simply couldn't be normal for a teenage boy, right? I mean, I had caught a glimpse of his ribs sticking out from his side just now, before his shirt hid him again. Made me wanna poke him. Don't ask me why. I always noticed how flat his chest was, come to think of it. Peter had breasts, and James was ever so slightly beefy across the shoulders because of his epic Chaser abilities. I was supposed to be the one with the SUPER FIT BOD, but I dunno. Moony's ridiculously flat chest always made me feel a little inadequate.

It looked … natural.

Pure, or some shit.

Er, I don't know why I thought that, since his body was actually torn up and scarred to shit because of, like, being a werewolf and shit. He was always careful not to show it, though, at least not long enough to be properly examined. It's not that I had a fetish for scars or anything, I was just curious. It looked kinda badass, right? And I had only ever managed to sneak a real peek once before. OK, that's not how it sounds. I'm no fucking peeping Tom, OK? AS IF I'd need any more wank material in the first place since it's easy enough to get a girl to do THAT for me around here.

And — wait, it's not like I'd have a dude's scrawny bod in my wank bank to begin with.

Ha. As if.

Why am I talking about this?

…

Oh right! That time I saw Moony in the nip. It was Snivellus' fault really, but in the end I'm thankful. Not in THAT way, of course. Merlin. You see, my dear old boy Moony would've NEVER told us he was a werewolf, I believe, unless we found it out for ourselves. Even though we were totally his best mates. He's a secretive git, y'know. And he was pretty peeved when we DID find out and all. ALL Snivelly's fault, again, I'm telling ya. Wormtail had bolted, Prongs had taken Snivelly to the hospital wing, but I waited it out inside the Whomping Willow until dawn. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was alright, y'know? He looked like he was in bad shape. For a werewolf, I mean. And when I crept up to the shack and found him he was all … nude and shivering and pathetic looking, lying there all alone and dripping in his own — and Merlin knows who else's — blood and spit and sweat. And Merlin knows what else. But I didn't really think it was disgusting, because … well, it was Remus, y'know? So I guess I comforted him, patting his head and the like. And gave him my coat, obviously, because why would I wanna have to look at a naked dude's ass right at that moment? It really wasn't the time. I mean, it's never the time, is it? Even if it WAS Moony. And once he came to and recovered from the shock of being stark naked and caught in the act of, like, being a secretive git and so forth … well, things got pretty sappy so I won't go into it. But he finally figured out that, y'know, we were all there for him as friends and that, really, wasn't it kinda badass being a werewolf anyway? After that he managed to force out a laugh and smile at me through that blood-stained and tear-steamed face, sighing in relief and exhaustion and contentment and — I dunno — in the way only Remus Lupin can sigh. And I remember feeling suddenly rather glad that the others had disappeared, just so me and Remus could share that moment together. It was the kind of moment where you really become aware of someone's place in your heart, if that makes sense. Even for someone as insecure as Moony, who had never seemed to have fully trusted or felt relaxed with me until then, and yet in that brief space of time he was somehow able to become convinced that I had become EVEN CLOSER than just a friend — a BEST friend, if you will.

And seeing that change in his sigh and his smile and his eyes made me so happy that my heart started beating really fast.

Whoa … I actually kinda forgot about all that! It had been awhile since I'd thought of those things. I guess.

But, Merlin, I sure was pure back then! I feel like a sap even thinking about it. These days, I was the biggest pervert going. But I had managed to stay away from blokes, thankfully.

I mean, it's not like I felt THAT close to him then, either. I don't even know why I said that. That's definitely not what I was trying to say.

I'm really not a faggot.

Back in the present, Remus Lupin turned his head slightly to see me staring blatantly at his nipples. His eyebrows contracted in bewilderment.

Well, I wasn't REALLY staring at his nipples, alright? I was just staring into space, and that space just happened to be occupied by his nipples when I came to.

Panicking, I gave him a fake 'you wish' sort of look and made some scornful noises while falling back onto my bed. And then I rolled onto my front, but not for any particular reason or anything.

I really was thinking of weird stuff today.

It was only funny because Moony clearly wasn't wishing for me to stare at his nipples. HA. Yeah. As if! And it's not like I WANTED to stare at them, anyway. I wasn't into that — I wasn't even into REAL tits. Aren't male nipples even more useless, anyway? Though I heard somewhere that some dudes can feel it down THERE if you play with them. I don't know why I hang on to information like that. It's not like I've ever tried.

Seriously.

… Well, all I'll say is that I didn't feel it.

What I'm tryna say is that a guy like Moony — if he WERE a bender — would be pretty lucky if a guy on my level had taken an interest in his nipples. Actually, even if he were STRAIGHT I bet he'd still be lucky. I could show that guy a real great time, I'd say. That's just my level of SKILL. Not that I would enjoy satisfying a man. Not that it'd satisfy me, I mean.

I don't get off on that shit.

Probably.

It's not like I tried, so I wouldn't know.

Not that I WOULD ever try.

Well …

Wait, no, I never would. What?

What the fuck.

I heard him draw the curtains around his four poster, presumably because he was too much of a prude to strip his bottoms off in front of me. Like it would even bother me. NOT THAT I WANTED TO SEE ANYWAY. I mean, I couldn't care less, that's all.

…

What the heck was wrong with me today…

I lay with my face buried in my pillow for a while, my trousers feeling rather uncomfortable.

Why?

None of your fucking business.

OK, so I was sexually frustrated right now.

Because of that P-cup slag from before, not because of Moony.

Who even mentioned Moony?

…

What?

…

Point is, I couldn't get it up with girls right now, so piss off about it already. Gosh.

Prongs was still in the bathroom. Probably wanking. That was all he seemed to do these days, now that Evans was letting him finger her.

What a bitch.

I didn't hear Moony approach until his voice reached me from the end of my bed. "… n't sleep with her."

I turned my head around to see him. He aways stands so uncomfortably, it's kind of irritating. I wish he'd loosen up sometimes. Actually, he probably just needed to get laid.

Not that I want to be the one to do it, I'm just passing a comment. STOP TWISTING MY WORDS, BRAIN.

"Huh?" I asked lazily, rolling onto my back and spreading myself out in a manly fashion.

He cocked one eyebrow at me, and suddenly I got a weird feeling in my stomach. Felt like I wanted to retch. Because the way he was looking at me was like he fucking KNEW. "You didn't sleep with her, did you?"

HE KNEW!

I laughed and scoffed a little, turning my face back into my elbow to hide the warmth now emanating from my cheeks. "What makes you say that?"

I felt the pressure as he sat down at the end of my bed cautiously. He was so careful not to touch me. So bloody annoying. He was like a fucking ghost. He gave a slight sigh. "Because you said, 'Who says I didn't fuck her?' Bit of an ambiguous reply, for one thing. And for another, it's an easy answer, because James would just presume it's as good as saying you did. But really it's totally inconclusive. Evasive, even. Am I wrong?"

I turned my head to the side and sighed conversationally the way HE always did. When the fuck did Moony get so sly? I liked him better when he was terrified of us. Although, he still acted like that a lot of the time. I tried not to look at him as I replied, "… She was pretty vile."

"That's true," he agreed. "I guess she's just … not your type."

"Guess not," I grumbled.

We were both silent for a moment and I was feeling this weird tension that shouldn't have been there at all. And suddenly I was wondering – what the heck was my type anyway?

Usually I just fucked every girl who came on to me, EVEN IF they disgust me. Which is often the case, because desperate girls are SUCH a turn off. And they are ALWAYS desperate when it comes to me.

I'm just hot like that.

I'm in a league of my own here. I'm not even joking.

I lunged at him suddenly, knocking blankets and pillows flying, and grabbed his head — then I stuck my tongue good and deep into his damn ear.

"Ngh!" Moony shoved me off quickly, jumping to his feet and clamping a hand over the side of his head.

As I watched him wince and shudder I felt myself grin. "What's with you keeping tabs on everyone I fuck anyway?" I asked, crossing my legs and lowering my voice with a smirk. "It's fucking creepy."

Moony threw back a glower which made me immediately regret that dumb behaviour. Because Moony's face, which was angry at first, slowly changed to disappointment. There was a little bit of a blush, but he wasn't about to let me get away with this shit. And it WAS bullshit, I'll admit it. I was just like a kid, acting up for attention. But I couldn't help it.

He turned with a sigh and moved to his bed, picking up a glass of water.

My tongue still had the taste of his earwax on it and I just couldn't bear it for some reason.

I slid to the floor and crawled over to him, bowing down at his feet. "I'm sowrry!" I wailed, snuggling my head in his ankles. I wanted to kiss his shoes, I don't know why. I sniffled and cried out, "I'm just angsty because I've got erectile dysfunction and everyone is growing tits!"

Moony literally spat out the water in his mouth, and after a pause he looked down at me with the most shocked expression.

Ahhhh, I said it. WHY DID I SAY IT.

I just let go of him and sat back on my feet, holding his bewildered gaze for a moment.

Well, I guess I'm gonna try pass that one off as a joke.

Luckily, his expression was actually comical enough to make me burst out laughing. Absolutely exploded so I did. Even though I was supremely embarrassed, his reaction was so priceless. And when he tried to laugh he started to choke on the water, and I laughed even harder.

A good long moment passed with us pissing our knickers, me banging my fist on the floorboards and him slowly sinking to the floor on wobbly knees while clutching his mouth. Prongs was still in the bathroom. I guess he wasn't as pent up as I thought.

As our laughter subsided I found myself on my back and Moony beside me on his hands and knees. After a moment of heavy breathing and stifled remnants of giggles, we both looked around and caught each other's eyes somewhat awkwardly.

"Well," I said, rubbing my stomach with a wince and turning my gaze to the ceiling. I guessed I passed that off pretty successfully, if I did say so myself.

Moony sat back into a kneeling position with a little sigh. See? Always sighing, this one. He turned his face away, but eyed me up scrupulously a moment later. "What did you mean by what you just said, Padfoot?"

"Who knows, old boy," I replied with a shrug, reaching out and ruffling up his hair. "Just promise me you'll never grow tits, alright?"

He sniggered a little, hiding his smile. Dammit, Moony. Always so bloody modest. He put his hand to his chest after calming down a little, and grinned widely. "You have my word."