Current mood:	amused
Current music:	Scenes from an Italian Restaurant - Billy Joel
Entry tags:	sirius/remus:dogdays

day 22: Paradise By the Dashboard Light
dogdaysofsummer day 22: Paradise By the Dashboard Light | 836 words

Paradise By the Dashboard Light

“I think we’re lost,” Remus says, shading his eyes from the merciless noontime sun and peering through the windshield. “I think we missed the exit. What does the map say?”

Sirius turns his head slowly, as if he’s just woken from a nap (and Remus knows he was sleeping, but doesn’t have the patience for a “was not, were too” argument at the moment), eyes hidden by the black sunglasses that make him look like a Muggle rock star, and says, “What map?” though the map is crumpled in his right hand.

“You’re not much of a navigator,” Remus says.

“You’re not very adventurous,” Sirius replies. “First, you won’t let me drive--"

“You’ve never driven a car.”

“I have a motorbike.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

"Close enough."

“And this car belongs to Lily’s dad," Remus continues as if Sirius hasn't spoken. "Do you really want to face a brassed off Lily Evans if you wreck it?”

“And you’re not worried about Evans’s wicked right hook?”

“She likes me better than you, Padfoot. Always has.”

Sirius growls low, obviously not liking the reminder that his boyfriend had once been Lily’s.

“I won’t wreck it, I swear. How hard can it be?”

“Sirius, please. Find something else to entertain yourself, would you?”

Sirius complies, poking at the radio buttons and rifling through the (very poor, in Remus’s opinion) set of eight-track tapes Mr. Evans keeps in his glove box. He changes into Padfoot for a little while, and when he changes back, his eyes are alight with mischief.

Remus braces himself, wondering if perhaps Sirius will lunge for the wheel or some other insane thing, and offers up a silent prayer of thanks that the road is empty and they are in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere else to be now that they’ve missed the start of the film. But all Sirius does is remove his sunglasses and scoot over on the white leather seat so he’s pressed up against Remus’s side. He rubs his head against Remus’s shoulder for a moment and Remus strokes his hair, then throws an arm around him. He feels almost normal like this, which makes him laugh out loud.

Sirius rests a hand on his thigh, warm even through the material of his denims, and Remus drops a kiss on the crown of his head. He’s not prepared for the way Sirius’s hand slowly slides up and over, until it’s resting over his prick, which has taken a decided interest in the proceedings.

“Sirius.” Remus tries to sound threatening, but only succeeds at sounding hoarse. He clears his throat and is about to try again when Sirius unzips him and reaches inside. Now when he says, “Sirius,” it’s more a gasp that wants to grow up to be a moan, and Remus feels his concentration slipping.

“Is this entertaining enough?” Sirius asks, stroking him slowly and then sliding down on the seat.

“Sirius, please,” Remus says in a strangled voice as Sirius draws his prick out of his pants and bends to place a kiss on the head. “Please don’t. Stop.”

“Please don’t stop?” Sirius’s breath is warm and moist, and God, Remus wants his mouth right there, wants those full, red lips wrapped around his cock “I do love it when you beg.”

“Sirius--" Remus’s brain isn’t sure now what he’s asking for, though his prick is pretty certain, and his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “Sirius, please--" He pulls over onto the shoulder as Sirius wraps his lips around the head, engulfing him in tight, wet heat. Remus twines a hand through Sirius’s hair, which tickles against sensitive skin, and tries not to thrust up into his mouth, mindful of the small space in which Sirius is operating, even as coherent thought deserts him and that’s all he wants to do.

Sirius sucks and licks and hums, a hundred little tricks he’s learned over the years, and Remus can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel as Sirius slides his lips as far down the shaft as he can and swallows. Remus comes with a hoarse shout, hands tangled in Sirius’s long, silky hair, and Sirius takes it all in, swallows it down, and when he’s done, he licks his lips clean, and smiles.

“Now that’s what I call entertainment,” he says.

Remus slumps back against his seat, boneless and content, and Sirius kisses him softly. Remus has never grown used to the taste of himself on Sirius’s tongue, and it always sends a thrill through him.

“Much better than the film would have been,” he says finally, pushing Sirius back and undoing his flies. “Please, let me return the favor.”

Sirius grins at him and spreads his legs a bit, getting comfortable. “Can I drive when you’re done?” Remus, his mouth full now, can only grunt in response. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Sirius says, and then moans when Remus laughs around him, giving in.

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Feedback is yummy.

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The prompt was this picture. Red convertible, baby.