Title: Education and Experience

Fandom: Harry Potter, Marauders’ 4^th year

Rating: R

Warning: wanking and talk of sex/fantasies, mild H/C

Pairing: pre-Sirius/Remus

Disclaimer: Like masturbation, this is all just free fun :-)

Summary: Sirius is spending the night with himself… but his thoughts stray back and forth from sex to Remus

Notes: Written in honor of the Merry Month of Masturbation, May 2004

Education and Experience

Sexual education. They hadn’t brought it up yet, but I’d heard that they would be sometime this year, fourth year. The elder students never talked about it to keep it a frightening mystery to the younger students. And frightening it was. The idea of McGonagall gathering all the Gryffindors together one evening to show us how to slip a condom onto a salami. Or of all the fifth years gathered together in the Care of Magical Creatures shed to watch two Waddleheimers mating. The subject of sex was hard enough to take from professors without having the Slytherins in the room at the same time. I was actually quite dreading the moment.

Though it was obviously a terrific opportunity to make jokes galore and prank our hearts out, we also knew there were some people among us that needed the education. The muggle-borns had little-to-no idea about wizard birth control and safety methods. In lots of schools they leave the education to parents, but as the muggle parents would have even less clue than their children, it was important to pass on the knowledge to us in a safe and responsible sort of way. And sex, though easy pray for gags, was a subject near and dear to my heart. And so Jamie and I decided, solemnly, to behave ourselves if we ever finally get to figure out how the classes are going to go.

Besides, I knew everything there was to know already on the subject, without actually having done it that is. Not that anyone knew that, not even Jamie. It wasn’t that I told anyone I had done it with a girl… I just didn’t tell anyone I hadn’t. And no one was going to believe I hadn’t done it, not with the way I grinned and strutted around the school. But truth was, the only one I’d made it with was my own hand.

So you might say that and my education in that area went hand in hand, so to speak. James and I had gone through pretty much every book on the subject that we could get our hands on. And with the secret tunnels we’d discovered leading out of the school, and a few fake mail order identities, a whole wealth of knowledge on the subject was within our grasp. Books of a technical nature with explanations and diagrams. Magazines meant to entertain with stories and articles and pictures galore. Great thing about buying the wizard ones was that the pictures moved. All the men and women in compromising positions with each other. Or standing naked giggling or lying on the bed with dreamy expressions on their faces.

I liked to look at those most of all when I had a wank. The ones of the men with their cocks thrusting into women were great and all, but there was something even more magical about the ones with the people just posing, all naked and beautiful. I could imagine better with those sorts. I liked imagining, and fantasizing. Probably because that’s all I really had. Oh, I’d kissed of course. Kissed and touched. But that was all. Well, that and the wanking. I was quite experienced in that, if I do say so myself.

And that’s the whole reason I was lying here on my back, with my pajama bottoms at my knees and my pajama top beside me on the pillow. On top of that I had one of the magazines open to a beautiful man and woman lounging together on a beach. It wasn’t the best picture of the bunch, but my game was to take what I had at the moment and work with it. It was best for the imagination, and kept me from dwelling on the same pictures time and time again. You see, I found that if I didn’t try something different each time, my mind strayed to a single, certain image. And that was one I wasn’t too sure I wanted. I mean, I obviously wanted it. It wouldn’t be a fantasy if I didn’t want it; it would have been a nightmare. But I just wasn’t sure I was ready for it… and I was absolutely sure the other person in the fantasy wasn’t.

Besides, the picture of the man and woman together on the beach, rolling on the sands was a nice one. Made me feel all warm inside. I ran my hand over my crotch to start with. The touch of skin against skin was arousing and warm, like the beach looked. If I tried hard enough, I could imagine being there. Feeling the cool waves and the hot sands. The light breezes and the heavy sun rays. I grew hard in no time, hardly surprising, really. I’d read in one of the books, or maybe James had read it and passed the information to me, I forget, that boys our age had a lot of sexual urges and if we didn’t get them out ourselves, they’d come out while we slept.

I know for a fact that’s what happens to Peter. We lent him our books, but he was too shy to read them. Peter wakes and heads straight for the showers, he does. I don’t ask questions, because that’s private of course, but I sort of feel sorry for him. I mean, we tell him it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But he’s just too shy to have a wank in the room with the rest of us sleeping in our beds all around him. So he misses out on such wonderful feelings and sensations. And I feel sorry for him about that. This is the sort of pleasure I really hope everyone gets to know intimately.

It’s an ultimate pleasure, knowing what feels good and instantly making it happen. Touching what wants and needs to be touched for as long as you can hold out. Cherishing the sensations running, tingling, surging through you until you come so hard and so much that you can’t think of a time when you’ve felt better. Though for as lovely and wonderful as it is to touch myself, sometimes I think if I could just have that one fantasy… I would be even happier.

There was a noise in the dormitory room, and my hand, already running up and down the length of my cock, paused as I listened. I recognized the way the door closed and the soft footsteps across the room. I glanced at my watch and smiled. It was the day after the full moon, and Remus was heading up from the hospital wing. He usually came in late the day after, having slept most of the day and put up with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. I usually refrained from doing this on these nights, knowing quite well he came in late. But somehow it must have slipped my mind this time around. Either that, or I did it on purpose. No… no, it slipped my mind. I’m sure of it… I think.

As soon as I heard the sigh of bedsprings, I peeked out from behind my curtains and looked over at Remus’ bed. I could see him there, between the gap in his curtains. He unbuttoned her shirt and I could see the fresh wounds, bruises and scratches, as well as bandages covering the worst ones. He winces and scratches at one of the bandages. I know the adhesive makes his skin itch, and leaves marks for days afterwards, even after multiple showers. If I had my way, I’d order Madam Pomfrey to only use the cloth bandages and wrap them around his body instead of sticking the gauze to him with adhesive bandages. But of course there’s no telling Madam Pomfrey to do anything. And of course Remus hasn’t the heart to tell her there’s a problem with the ones she uses.

I look over at his torso as he slips his shirt off and winces again at the movement. Remus likes to sleep naked, except when he has his bandages on. Those nights he changes into a nightgown when he sleeps. Tonight is certainly no exception. I watch him slip off his shoes and slacks, but by the time he slipped off his underpants, I’d completely forgotten that couple on the beach.

My hand left the curtains and I lay back on my bed. I couldn’t see him, but I had a vision of him in my head now. Nearly naked, his pale skin adorned with colors of bruises and scars and bright white bandages. They gave him character, they gave him life. They made him who he was.

And it was because of who he was that I touched myself. Flopped back against the blankets, feeling the sweat rising on my back and soaking the sheets. I breathed hard, panted, shutting my eyes tightly at the images I saw before them and the sounds of Remus getting ready for bed. I could hear his sharp breaths as he moved the wrong way. I could hear the sound of his nightgown slipping over his head and then his arms slipping into each sleeve. I could hear him tugging at his own blankets and sheets.

I slid my hand up and down my hardened shaft, quick and urgent. If I took too long, the sounds would stop. His breaths, while asleep, were too soft to hear. I knew this for I had tired to listen before. But sounds hardly mattered now, I doubt I could hear them over my own breaths anyway, and the sliding of my hand. I held my balls with one hand, and I held my breath. I didn’t want anyone to hear me when it happened. I felt it rising in me, taking only moments it seemed. The intensity of sight and sound and memory spurred it on, made it grow immensely. My hand was a blur on my cock and I could feel it was ready and just waiting for me to let it. When I could not contain myself much longer, I dug my face into the pillow, groaning as I tense with intense pleasure. I spilled all over my chest, glad to have taken off my shirt at the beginning.

I gave myself a few moments to enjoy the moment, the sense of relief, the satisfaction. Then I sighed and grabbed my wand from beneath my pillow, swapping it for the magazine it turned out I hadn’t really needed. I waved the wand to clean myself off, and I tugged my pajama bottoms back up. As lovely and wonderful as it had been, the aftermath was not something I wanted to be seen with by my friends. And especially not by the one friend I knew was still awake. Then I heard footsteps and the curtains of my bed were pulled back. “Sirius? Are you all right?”

I sat up, hoping I did not smell of myself, though I’m sure I did. I run my hand through my hair. “I’m all right, Remus.”

He looked me over critically, and I looked back. He wore his nightgown, just as I thought he would. “I thought I heard you—”

“Bad dream,” I explained, lying through my teeth and hoping that he would either not notice or not call me on it. “Sorry to wake you.”

Remus leaned on the bedpost, nodding. “You didn’t wake me. I was just coming back from hospital.”

He had a look in his eyes… a look I’d seen many times before upon return from hospital. He’d told me, told us all, about how painful his transformations were. And I knew he was strong enough to handle them. But he still looked hurt, pained. I sat up, looking worried. “Remus, are you all right?”

Quickly he nodded, then his hand snapped to the back of his neck with a sharp gasp. He pulled his hand back, blood drops on his fingers.

“Come here,” I commanded. I patted the bed beside me.

“You… you don’t mind?” he replied hesitantly, still hanging off the bedpost with his other hand.

“Don’t mind,” I said. But, because of his hesitance, I added, “You can keep me company so I don’t have another bad dream.”

So Remus climbed up onto my bed, and lay down on his stomach while I took a look at the back of his neck. It was a small scrape, starting to scab over, but had opened due to his movement. I got out my handkerchief and held it against the cut until I could reach over to my nightstand. I kept bandages there, just in case. The scrape was actually down at the base of his neck, and I pressed my hanky there while wrapping the bandages over it and around his torso. The bandages ran from the spot right at the joint between neck and shoulder, down at an angle beneath his armpit on the other side. This held the handkerchief in place.

I held my arm out and he smiled at me, rolling over and snuggling up close beside me. “You sure you don’t mind? I am hurt…” he said, looking down at the cuts that couldn’t be seen because of the nightgown.

“Of course I don’t mine. But I don’t want to hurt you. So if I kick you or move the wrong way, feel free to shove me,” I tell him, tightening my arm around him in a hug. “And wake me up if you want me to help you change your bandages.”

He smiled and nodded. “And wake me up if you have another bad dream and need to talk about it.”

“I’m not likely to have any bad dreams with you here, looking after me,” I told him.

He smiled again and closed his eyes, falling asleep quite quickly beside me. I stayed awake for a while, however. I was exceedingly glad to have just had a go at myself, or Remus would surely have noticed me hard and excited beside him. It wasn’t completely unheard of to spend the night in another’s bed. Peter crawled into mine during thunderstorms and I fell asleep in Jamie’s after scheming sometimes. And this wasn’t even Remus’ first time in mine. It felt, however, very special. Perhaps it was because I had just wanked to the thought of him… or because he surely knew I had just done so. Perhaps it was because I was one step closer to that fantasy I could not bring myself to think about.

That fantasy… about losing myself to Remus. About letting him kiss me and letting him take me. About seeing him naked up close and touching him not just to change his bandages, which I was happy to do normally, but in order to really take in the softness of his skin and the bumps upon it. The fantasy about being with Remus for the first time, and then again and again forever.

I knew, at age fourteen, almost fifteen, that this was an unrealistic fantasy. But I was young and naive still. And fantasies were supposed to be ridiculously fantastic, with the right doses of romance and smut. In my fantasy I’m all he ever wants, and needs. And I’m the same to him. But I know well it’s just a fantasy. And I try not to think about it. Besides, Remus would probably never go for blokes, and I was certain to not be his type. And there was much to be learned still about sex. However with Remus lying beside me, I felt closer to learning now and closer to fulfilling that fantasy now than I was sure I would ever do in any sexual education class.