Disclaimer: the pups are not mine, no matter how much I wish
Chapter Two
The barman's eyes widened slightly at Sirius' words. He rose slowly, as though to keep from frightening his customer, and approached him with an almost predatory stride. Sirius swallowed thickly when the man pushed him back against the closed door and heard him turn the key in the lock, bolting them in the room.
"Liar," the man breathed in his ear, sliding a hand up Sirius' chest, "Unless—"
Sirius jumped and swore when the barman made a sudden movement, pinning him roughly to the door and holding something sharp to his throat. Knife, he though, feeling a rash thrill rush through him.
"Unless you're a cop." The man hissed, his brown eyes flashing warningly. Sirius flicked his gaze over him admiringly, enjoying the way the muscles of his thigh flexed against his crotch where he had him pinned. Sure, he realised this man could probably take him out of action for a few weeks with his knee positioned and ready like that, but he highly doubted the knife pressed against his Adam's apple was going to do him any harm. 'Course, it was getting uncomfortable, so Sirius shook his head a fraction. The knife was pulled back slightly to allow him to talk.
"I'm not a cop."
The man laughed humourlessly, pulling back a little and leaning a hand on the door beside Sirius' head. Sirius watched him spin the penknife between his fingers in fascination. "That's what they all say." The barman said with a roll of the eyes, "Could be undercover."
"Honestly, my life isn't that glamorous." Sirius shrugged, "I'm an author."
The barman raised his brows and retreated back to the chair, draping himself over it, "An author, huh? Anything I'd have read?"
Sirius' first thought was, he reads? But saying that may have been considered rude, so he shrugged again and answered, "Heard of Eternal Legacy?"
The man grimaced, flicking the penknife closed and tucking it back into his pocket, "You're the reason Lils is obsessed with fucking vampires and werewolves. Seriously, mate, couldn't you have kept all that shit to yourself?"
"No can do," Sirius smirked, "Had to put bread on the table somehow."
"And you couldn't have got a job in Tesco." The man sighed dramatically, propping an elbow up on the arm of the chair and dropping his chin in his hand, "So, you're here for more material, right?"
Sirius shifted his weight and moved closer, hands in pockets, "If I am?"
"You expect me to give you my life story so you can sell it to the world?" the man laughed, "Right, sounds like a great idea. Do me a favour and fuck off so I can do someone who will actually pay me for my time."
"I'd pay you." Sirius placated quickly, thinking on his feet, "I'd give you…fifty percent of the profits."
The man blinked, clearly surprised. Sirius felt a foolish sense of accomplishment for making someone so obviously streetwise and cynical think twice about his first impression on someone.
"You'd pay me? Fifty fucking percent? Mate, that's not funny."
"I'm not joking. I want to do this." Sirius said seriously (excuse the pun), taking his hands from his pockets and folding his arms, "I'll tell you why – I'm sick of screwing around with plotlines involving vampires and heroines who couldn't lift a finger to help themselves. I've made my money and now I want to write something gritty and dark, something that interests me. Goofy teenage audience be damned."
The barman lifted a brow in a supercilious manner that Sirius had to admit he admired, considering he was just offering himself up for money, "You assume my story's dark? How d'you know I didn't just want to shag strange men and women?"
"Then I'll go talk to someone else," Sirius shrugged, turning to leave. The man laughed loudly, making Sirius turn back again with a triumphant smile.
"Fine, fine. Yeah, my life hasn't exactly been a blessed one." He snorted.
"So you'll do it?" Sirius asked hopefully.
"What, you wanna just talk now? I'm supposed to be on duty, y'know."
"No. I want your number. I'll call and we can have lunch or something."
The man laughed again, "This some way to get me in your bed, mate."
Sirius sighed heavily – it was going to take a lot to convince this guy he was being genuine, "I don't want you in my bed. Look, I'll get a contract drawn up if you really don't trust me."
"You don't want me in your bed?" the man asked with a smirk.
"Well, you haven't exactly been friendly," Sirius reasoned, "You've threatened my life and that isn't exactly a turn on." He didn't mention the fact that the feel of the blade against his skin had given him a kick; that had been more of a sad lack of excitement in his life rather than an actual fetish for knives or danger. The man's face changed in an instant – he went from standoffish and slightly laughing, to seductive and inviting.
"I don't turn you on?" he asked, standing and slinking forwards, sliding a palm up and over Sirius' shoulder to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He smiled slightly, the action picking up one side of his mouth, his eyes crinkling. He's laughing at me, Sirius thought with amusement.
"Of course you do, it's your job." Sirius answered cockily. The man laughed again, but the sound was low, this time, and reverberated in Sirius' abdomen because of the way the barmen was pressed up against him.
"Yes. I'm very, very good at my job." He murmured and before Sirius could react, lips were on his, hands pulling him closer, a tongue forcing it ways into his mouth. Sirius quickly gave in, needing little persuasion, knotting his fingers in the long hair.
The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was still hot – Sirius pulled back, panting, wiping a hand across his mouth mostly to hide his grin. He reached out and took the man's hand before he could pull away, producing a pen from his jacket.
"Here's my number." He said, scribbling his mobile number on the back of the barman's hand in blue ink, "Call me if you want to. If you don't want to, no hard feelings."
The man smiled slightly and motioned for him to follow. Sirius was silent all the way back up to the bar, where he leant in to be heard over the music and asked, "Your name?"
The man hesitated for a moment, before answering, "Lupin. Remus Lupin."
Sirius nodded, pleased that he had gotten an answer, "I'm—"
"Sirius Black, I know." Lupin smirked. Sirius nearly – nearly – blushed and nodded, turning to go back to his friends, hoping to god that Remus Lupin would call him.
Remus watched Sirius Black go thoughtfully, leaning against the bar. That was certainly the first time he had been offered a business deal down in The Rooms that didn't involve a private hiring. Did the guy honestly mean it? No, 'course not. He was just trying to get a shag and didn't think he'd be up for it outside of Frenzy. Little did he know, Remus wasn't exactly fussed where they did it, so long as he got paid. A guy gotta eat, right?
"What's got you lookin' so glum?"
Lily Evans stood beside him, offering a shot glass of what looked like jaeger, so he took it and threw it back without hassle, enjoying the warm, tingling sensation as it went down.
"Some guy tried something funny." He shrugged, trying to come off as unconcerned. Lily, however, assumed the worst and looked about the club indignantly, ignoring the customers hollering for service at the bar and leaving them to the regular bartenders. "No, no, nothing like that," he added quickly, "I'm fine. I just mean…I dunno. You scored?"
Lily frowned at him, apprehensive, "Not one. Some idiot with god-awful hair asked me if my boobs were real, though. Smacked him for his trouble. Seriously, if anything happened, Rem, I'll tell King right now and—"
"Lils, I'm fine." Remus stressed. King, or Kingsley Shacklebolt as he had been christened, was the owner of Frenzy and their boss, too, when it came to The Rooms. When the guy got a whiff of any trouble, it often turned out bloody. A court case had come out of one of the incidents a year ago – a nasty one that had ended up dragging Remus' past into the spotlight. He had had to stay off work for a month and hadn't eaten for most of it.
"F'you say so." Lily shrugged tugging her dress down, "I'm gonna go back out there. Man the bar for me, Rem?"
"Nah," Remus said, turning his nose up, "I'm gonna go pick someone up; shift's almost over anyway. Fancy a good shag, off the record, like."
"Rem, you slag." Lily snickered, sliding through the crowd at the bar and going in search of her next client. Remus followed, melding into the middle of the dance floor. It didn't take long for him to attract a partner. He loved the club, he always had loved clubs. The music pulsed through his body, the bass thumping beneath his feet, making him unable to resist. He started to move, eyes sliding closed to feel more of the music, more of skin moving against his, slick with sweat and need. A need to touch and a need dance. To feel connected to something larger than oneself.
He had already singled out who he wanted and one longing glance had his prey approaching him in mere seconds. Hips ground against hips, hands gripped hair and mouths found skin and lips. The song ended and the next started up. Whispered words, a taxi, an address, pleading. Remus nodded, not bothering to hide a smug smile.
Afterwards, Remus stared up at the ceiling, smoking a fag. The guy he had picked up hadn't been too bad, no, but disappointing in the way that he was way too obvious – Remus had a type. Tall, muscular, with cropped, blonde hair. There were reasons, of course. There were always reasons. No matter how much this random guy from Frenzy resembled him, it wasn't him. It never could be – no, never should be and he needed to get that into his head once and for all. Over.
Remus sighed and sat up, clenching his cigarette between his teeth to run his hands through his hair and start pulling on his jeans and t-shirt, moving silently so as to not wake up the guy who was snoring louder than a fucking chainsaw. Remus sure could pick 'em.
Clothes and shoes successfully donned and his latest squeeze still snoozing like a drugged bear, Remus started his usual post-shag scan, looking around the room for anything of value. Finding nothing, he picked up the guy's wallet instead, carelessly left on his bedside table, and took the rest of the money and the two credit cards. He could get Fabian to get the pin with his wily ways and voila! Money in the bank after a successful day – well, night – at work. Sure, the guy had already paid him and he was working off the clock so he didn't have to give it all to King, but come on. He had to eat and of course there were the necessary luxuries.
Collecting the stranger's mobile phone on his way (fully intending to sell it to someone he knew needed one for an unreasonable amount), Remus exited the apartment. He stood on the corner outside, finishing his smoke and called a cab from his newly acquired phone, not bothering the fret about whether or not the guy would call the police to report his missing stuff. What would he say, anyway? 'Yeah, my stuff's been stolen by this illegal whore I found at this bar.' Right. Remus snorted in amusement and flicked the butt of his cigarette when the taxi pulled up.
A/N: Oooo, I love writing a naughty Remus! (^.^) ^( ^.^ )^ (^.^) R&R!
