Summary: Tonks tells the story of the New Year's Eve when she, Sirius, and Remus all got drunk on firewhiskey and fell into bed together.
Warning: Blindfold, very light bdsm, Blackcest, alcohol use. And I think I used a few swearwords.
Word Count: 1,813
Notes: This is mostly a het story. There is implied "offstage" slash, but this story probably isn't for those who don't like het. No HBP spoilers, though there's a bit of foreshadowing if you're looking for it. The story takes place during OotP at Grimmauld Place.
ETA: Thanks to my lovely beta, sionnain. xposted to pervy_werewolf.
“I resolve…” began Remus Lupin, screwing up his face in thought, “to tolerate Severus Snape, and try to trust him no matter what a git he was in school.”
“Leave it to Moony to make a goody-goody sort of resolution,” said Sirius Black. “As for me, I resolve to have some sort of bloody big adventure this year. Get the hell out of this stuffy old house and go somewhere new, if it kills me. How ‘bout you, Tonks?”
It was I who had told the boys all about New Year’s resolutions, an annual Muggle ritual my father had always practiced, and which I had always enjoyed. But I found that I was the one who was stumped for a resolution. Muggles always resolved to do boring things like lose weight or give up drinking. I didn’t need to lose any weight—being a Metamorphmagus carried the distinct advantage of allowing me to be whatever size I wanted—and it was already too late to give up drinking for the year 1996. It was a few minutes past midnight, you see, and we still had a good deal of Ogden’s best that I had no intention of wasting. I poured myself another shot, and sipped it. Maybe inspiration would strike.
The firewhiskey burned my throat on the way down. “Merlin! This stuff’ll put hair on your chest.”
“So,” said Sirius, grinning wickedly, “Can you grow hair on your chest? Just by wishing it there, I mean? Let’s see.”
I sniffed. “Oh come now, aren’t I allowed the slightest bit of dignity?”
“No,” said Sirius. His grin was even wider now.
“Come now, Nymphadora,” said Remus. “I get hairy once a month…”
I snorted firewhiskey through my nose. Never do that.
Once I’d regained my composure, I smirked at Remus. “So? I bleed once a month. But do you see me laying into you with a knife, just so you can share the…wonder…of the experience?”
“Touché,” said Sirius.
“Oh, and don’t call me Nymphadora,” I shot.
“I rather like Nymphadora,” said Remus, his smile turning predatory. “It sounds like all sorts of lovely things. Like nymphomania, for example.”
“Are you calling me a nymphomaniac?”
“Merely wishful thinking,” said Remus.
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“And you haven’t made your New Year’s resolution yet,” said Sirius.
“All right, then.” I thought for a moment. I stood up grandly, holding my shot glass aloft. The room wobbled a little. I couldn’t think of anything, except…”Oh, I know. I resolve that in 1996 I will keep both buttocks firmly attached.”
I felt hands touch my butt through my jeans. “Personally, I’ve always rather liked your buttocks,” whispered Sirius in my ear.
I wanted to make a smart-aleck comment to him, but then Remus kissed me, and I couldn’t say anything, obviously, as my mouth was, well, busy. I completely forgot whatever smart-ass remark I was about to make, and kissed him back instead.
Remus tangled his hand in my short spiky hair, turning my face up toward his, kissing me harder. His lips moved down to my chin and planted a little kiss there, then traveled down to my neck. I felt his teeth graze my neck, and he bit me, slowly, sensually, but hard.
“Careful, now,” said Sirius, still caressing my backside and hips. “She doesn’t want any hair on her chest, remember?”
“Fear not, Padfoot,” said Remus in between bites. “It’s only…”—nibble—“a problem”—bite—“if I break the skin. And besides, ‘s not the full moon. And she likes it. Don’t you, Nympha—Nympho--bugger, I’m too drunk to say your name.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” I said, surprising even myself with the raw breathlessness of my voice.
“Then I’ll bet she likes this too,” said Sirius, biting me even harder on the nape of my neck—since after all, he didn’t have to worry about the curse of lycanthropy. A shiver ran down my spine, and I leaned back on him, feeling his hardness against my bum.
Meanwhile, Remus had turned his attention to my breasts; his hands explored under my T-shirt, caressing both my nipples at once. I made an inarticulate little sound.
“I think she likes us, Moony,” said Sirius.
“I think we need to take this somewhere else,” said Remus. “We’re in the kitchen, after all.”
Sirius looked around. “Hmm. So we are. All right then. Tonks, you’ve been a very bad girl. You’re going to be sent to our room.”
Our room? I had always wondered if anything was going on between the two guys; Sirius had just dropped a tantalizing clue into my lap.
But before I could think any further about that, I felt myself being picked up off my feet. Was I really so drunk that the room was spinning? No, I was actually getting picked up. Both of them had lifted me up in the air and were jointly carrying me out of the kitchen and down the hall.
“’S this our room?” slurred Remus, stopping in front of a closed door.
“Lemme think,” said Sirius, who really should have known, as it was his house. “No, don’t think so. I think that’s Gred and Forge’s room.”
Eventually they found the right room. Aiming me feet-first into the door like a battering ram, the boys forced the door open, and then threw me onto an unmade bed heaped high with quilts and pillows.
“’S a mess,” said Sirius. “Sorry.”
“Oh, bugger that,” I said. “You should see my room.”
“Right,” said Remus. “I think it’s time for bed, eh, Padfoot?”
They tossed me unceremoniously into the heap of covers, and Sirius kicked the door shut. “Now, where were we?”
I smiled. “Hmmm. I think you, Sirius, were noshing on my neck, and you, Remus, had your hands up my shirt.”
They lay down on the bed with me. I felt a lurch in my stomach. Nerves? Why now? It was as if I hadn’t been sure they were really serious about doing this before, but now was the moment of truth.
I looked up into the two faces looking down at me. My two best friends.
I couldn’t help it. I giggled.
“’S wrong, Nymphomania?” asked Remus.
“Well…” I tried to put my finger on it. “I feel a bit awkward, you know, seeing as we’re such good friends…I just can’t seem to relax.”
“Apparently, looking at our ugly mugs is distracting her from the fact that we’re going to ring her bell tonight,” said Sirius. “You know what that means?”
“No,” said Remus.
Sirius produced a long scarf from a hatrack. “It means we need to…distract her from said ugly mugs.”
“Neither of you are ugly, dammit!” I protested. As a matter of fact, both of them looked beautiful to me at that moment, looking down at me. Both of them had clearly been movie-star handsome when they were younger, but Azkaban had hollowed Sirius’s cheeks, and heartache had grayed Remus’s hair. Yet they carried beauty still, beauty that took my breath away. It was the not the unstamped-coin shiny beauty of the very young, but the weathered and altogether more complicated appeal of men who have traveled through hell and come out triumphant.
But my protests notwithstanding, Sirius tied the scarf around my eyes as a blindfold. Everything went dark. A moment later, a pair of lips covered mine. I didn’t know which man was kissing me. And—I don’t know why—I found this ridiculously hot.
A pair of hands seized my own hands and pinned them to the bed over my head; meanwhile, another pair of hands roughly thrust up my shirt to pinch my nipples.
“I think she’s wearing a bit too much clothing, wouldn’t you say, Moony?”
The hands all let go of me as both men impatiently yanked my shirt over my head. I felt a draft on my bare flesh, and heard the soft thud of a bit of cloth landing somewhere on the other side of the room. A moment later, lips closed over one of my nipples, and then a tongue.
It must have been Remus who had taken my breast into his mouth, because while his tongue still flicked at me, Sirius’s voice said, “Likes that, does she?”
And then there were two mouths. Convenient, really, that I would have two breasts.
A hand explored between my legs, caressing me through the heavy denim. Sirius, I guessed a moment later as he raised his head to mutter, “Still…too…much…clothes.”
“Gotta do something about that, eh, Padfoot?”
More fumbling hands, and then a slightly louder thud as my jeans sailed across the room and landed on the floor.
“Of course, you git. Can’t shag her with her knickers on, can we?”
I felt horribly self-conscious all of a sudden as the boys ripped my knickers off. I was afraid they’d notice how ludicrously damp they were. I covered up my awkwardness with a sarcastic, “”What makes you two think I want to shag you, eh? Insufferably arrogant, that’s what you are. Both of you.”
“Well. It’s easy to figure out whether a girl wants to shag you, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
Fingers slid between my lower lips. “But you do, don’t you, Tonks?” Sirius’s voice.
A kiss fell, light as a snowflake, onto my lips. “’E’s a bit blunt when he’s drunk. Sorry.”
“’S okay,” I slurred, reaching blindly toward the head I knew had to be attached to the lips. My hands tangled in Remus’s hair. I clutched at his hair, pulling his face back down to mine. “’S okay, Remus. I like you guys.”
Sirius’s fingers continued to work between my legs. “Yeah, you do like us, don’t you? Nice and wet.”
“All right, all right, I admit it!” I giggled helplessly.
The fingers pulled out of me, and I whimpered. Why had he stopped? But a moment later I was consoled by the fact that a tongue was licking at me instead. I sighed and lay back to bask in the attention. Remus continued to kiss my lips, and hands roamed over my breasts still. I was lost in sensation, unable to see a bloody thing but touched all over and still a bit more than half pissed. There was a strange sort of floaty feeling about the whole thing, and I almost couldn’t believe it was actually happening.
I climbed, coming closer to ecstasy, but just when I thought it was more than I could bear, Sirius
stopped. “I think we should shag her now. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a brilliant idea. I think we’re overdressed, though.”
More soft thumps as clothes fell to the floor.
“Hmm. But how to do it?” He paused, presumably thinking, and his fingers stroked me as he pondered. “I think doggy style might be a bit clichéd in this case.”
“You may be right, Padfoot.”
“Nonetheless…I like it. And so do you. I know.”
And with that, I was unceremoniously flipped over onto my back. I landed on my hands and knees—and that was just where they wanted me.
Someone entered me from behind, clutching my hips for leverage, and the other’s hand tangled in my hair. An organ bumped at my face, and I took it into my mouth.
It was actually a bit awkward, trying to go down on one of them while the other was pounding away at me, but I was hot as hell anyway, in part because I actually didn’t have any idea which of them was doing what.
The one inside me snaked his arm around my leg, resting right at my most sensitive spot, and I writhed gratefully, glad the boys’ attentions had returned there. I wanted to show whichever one it was how happy I was—but I couldn’t reach him. I could only reach for the other one with one of my arms. I grabbed his hips as though they were a life preserver--and indeed I did wonder if I were about to lose my precarious balance--and sucked harder at him as my own pleasure began to build again.
He moaned, thrusting hard into my mouth, and a moment later I tasted his seed at the back of my tongue. I pulled him closer, making it abundantly clear that I wanted to take it all. When he was finished, I let him go.
“That’s…so…hot…” muttered the one behind me, his voice so thickened by drink and passion that I still wasn’t sure which one it was. It was almost a growl, more feral than human. His hand was savage now, almost hurting me, and I almost wriggled away and told him to stop, but then the pleasure drowned the pain as I came.
He seized my hips harder, seeming to grow even longer and harder as he approached his own peak, until finally he spurted within me with a hot rush of seed.
I collapsed, sweaty and exhausted but quite sated, onto the bed. As I sank into the covers, I was caught by two pairs of arms, hugging me close. It was one of the coldest nights in memory, but in here it was warm.
Only then did I take off the blindfold. “So…which of you…”
“Not telling,” they said in unison.
Next morning, Harry and his friends found us nursing tea and hangovers, sitting around the kitchen table, laughing and joking. I think he thought we were talking about more Order business and leaving him out again, as we did rather fall silent when he came into the room. Poor Harry, I thought. It wasn’t as if I could tell him what we were really talking about...