Disclaimer: Ron, Sirius, and all other mentioned characters belong to J.K. What happens to them in this fic, however, is entirely my fault.
Warning: This is slash. Unusual and possibly disturbing slash. I am a H/R (Hermione/Ron) and R/S (Remus/Sirius) shipper; however, I have read many H/R or R/S only to discover they were Harry/Ron, or Hermione/Remus, or Remus/Snape, and I realized how many characters have the same initials. And that got the gears in my twisted little head turning. So I bring you now what may be the first ever Ron/Sirius. Oh, flamers beware: if you flame me about how gross this is I will write something truly perverted, like a Hagrid/Ron or a Harry/Rita(Skeeter).
Sinner's Tryst
We were the sinners. We had succumbed to anger, to pride, to jealousy, and now, together, we succumbed to our lust.
I will never love him, and I know that he does not love me. But we pretend, to protect the ones we do love. They are the innocent, the pure, and we will not corrupt them.
I look up at him where he kneels between my legs, his eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed in concentration. To him I am no longer here. His saintly Remus lies in his arms now.
I close my eyes and prepare to lose myself. What would dear Harry think if he knew I dream of him whenever his godfather takes me? The large, hard cock throbbing inside me is his own every time I enter this dream world.
Every night with Sirius is a battle. Most often I lose, but I enjoy being taken. Nothing compares, however, to winning. For when I triumph, she is there.
Hermione.
Ever since I started to grow up she has factored in my dreams. She is my one-sided soulmate. My first love.
She'll never know that. She'll be happier not knowing, for that will only inspire pity.
The hero will get the girl and I'll be asked to stand by his side at the altar and smile while only two people I will ever love are taken from me forever.
The prince and princess will live happily ever after, Remus' Catholic soul will remain saved, and I will return to my dark angel's arms.
It will be a Machiavellian victory, our sinner's tryst, but our selflessness will save them.
And, perhaps, for that our sins could be forgiven.
