Remus/Kingsley is one of my Sekrit OTPs. (The other is Hermione/George.) When kestrelsan was working on Three Days, a Remus/Sirius story that you really ought to read, we joked a lot about Remus and Kingsley's secret affair. And Kest was kind enough to put Kingsley right into Remus's bedroom for me. So what could I do but write some missing scene fic? (I actually started writing it in the margin while I was beta-reading.) This is not, of course, official story canon. :) But Kest said I could post it so here it is.
Takes place at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, mid-OotP. Remus/Kingsley. PWP. R for M/M sexual situations. I am not JKR.
Remus opened his eyes to find Kingsley standing over him, still and solemn as a tall tree. Remus blinked and stared. "Morning, Lupin," Kingsley said.
"Good morning." Remus tried to work out why Kingsley was there. Kingsley was fully dressed and fully awake. Remus was neither and he felt at something of a disadvantage. Maybe Kingsley had brought a cup of tea. That would help. Remus squinted, but no cup or mug was in evidence.
"I've been talking with Sirius downstairs," Kingsley said. "He said to wake you." He smiled and it was like a ray of light in the darkened room. "But he didn't say how."
Remus only had time to draw one swift, shivering breath before Kingsley lay down beside him, and kissed him. The kiss was long and slow and deep, and it didn't wake Remus; rather, he felt like he was sliding back into sleep, sinking into hazy, lustful dreams. Remus touched Kingsley's face, moved his hand up to cup the back of Kingsley's head, traced the arcing bones of his bare scalp.
Kingsley pushed the blankets aside, stripped away the sheet. The air was fresh with cold and Remus moved close for warmth. Kingsley rolled and then he was on top, pressing Remus down into the mattress, further down into the dream. The dream -- and maybe it was memory -- was of another bed, another day, but this same man kissing him with careful concentration, kissing with deadly focus and a lot of natural talent.
Remus pulled at Kingsley's robes but couldn't seem to find where they began. Kingsley broke the kiss, spelled them both naked, and threw his wand to clatter on the floor.
The dream was fuller now, more vivid. Remus was half-hard, morning-stiff, but as Kingsley worked his way down Remus's body, all Remus's blood went with him, and soon Remus was rampant, tumescent, and seventeen years old.
He lost another couple years when Kingsley took him in his mouth. But when he realised what Kingsley could do, the sheer cocksucking expertise to which Remus was being treated, he blessed his age and stamina, and held on as long as he could before the dream spun him away into dark, dizzying pleasure.
Remus opened his eyes to find Kingsley leaning over him, smiling and wearing nothing more than his earring. "My turn," Kingsley said and licked Remus's lip.
"Hm-mm," Remus said and reached up for a kiss. He ran his hands down Kingsley's back, then round to take him in hand. They lay side by side, Kingsley's nose on Remus's cheek while Remus fisted Kingsley's cock, up down slip slide, about all he could manage in his muddled morning post-orgasmic state.
When Kingsley came, he sent his breath down Remus's back in one warm huff. Remus wiped his hand on the sheet. They kissed once more, moist and drowsy. Then Kingsley got up. He was dressed before Remus had even pushed himself to sit.
Kingsley raised his eyebrows. Remus frowned. "I'll be down in a minute," he said.
"Tea'll be on by now," Kingsley said. Then he left.
Tea, Remus thought, and smiled.