Crossroads | Marauders

Chapter 37: A Wolf's Cry

        He breathes through gritted teeth, stroking himself harder and faster, his mouth parting as he longed for a taste of you. He imagines your lips on his, his jaw, his neck, trailing lower and lower past his stomach. He wondered how it would feel with your mouth on him, gripping your scalp as he dips himself in between your wet lips.

        "Fuck," he hisses.

        Remus pumps hard and fast, his voice filling the large expanse of the empty bathroom. He moans as he feels the ghost of your body against his skin, hot and alive.

        He spurts out onto the wall when he abruptly stops moving, gripping the base of his cock and bringing his head up with a groan. He resumes his movements after the second stream reaches the tile, this time slower, prolonging the pleasure and dragging out another couple of spurts.

        Finally spent, he releases himself and rests his forehead next to his hand on the wall, heavily breathing. He was both sated and unsatisfied at the same time. He had the impression he'd never be fully satisfied until he had you completely, until you were his to make love to as much as you liked.

        "You sure have been coming here more often," a soft high-pitched voice whispers close in his ears, "and I mean that in both literal terms."

        Remus glances over his shoulder, his nose going right through Myrtle's ghostly face sticking out the door. He abruptly steps back deeper in the shower, almost slipping under the wet tiles. "For fuck's sake, Myrtle!" he curses, startled.

        He quickly collects himself, not even bothering to cover up after the number of times she's seen him naked over the two years he's been prefect. Only grumbling in annoyance, he rushes past through her, feeling the eerily cold sensation for a brief moment as he exits the stall, and grabs a fresh towel from the rack.

        "No need to get riled up about it. I'm just stating a fact," Myrtle says nonchalantly, hovering just behind Remus as she watches him dry off his shaggy hair.

        "Then stop sneaking up on me or better yet, stop watching."

        The hardest part of puberty, exploring one's body changes, and spending most of one's days in a crowded boarding school was that privacy was hard to come by these days. Regardless of whether Remus was in the regular bathrooms or a prefect one, Myrtle's ghost constantly haunted him and his mates. Disturbed at the level of familiarity over the years, they'd slowly grown used to her popping out of nowhere to watch.

        But today, Remus was too caught up in the moment to remember the ghost of a teenage girl when all he needed was to relieve himself of the ache between his legs.

        Myrtle rolls her eyes. "And pass up the chance to enjoy the view? No, thank you." She casts a quick glance at the previously occupied shower stall then at Remus. "Hmm, lucky girl. I mean the girl you were just getting off to. If only someone thought of me that way."

        "Go haunt someone else's cock. I'm done here," Remus snaps with a harsh tone in his voice, frustratingly grabbing his clothing off the floor and throwing them over his shoulder.

        Myrtle smirks, her gaze trailing down to Remus' groin as he wraps the towel around his waist. "Clearly." She gives him a dismissive wave before adding, "Oh, stop glaring. I will." She rolls her eyes and floats off in the direction of the next bathroom. "There's only so much a dead girl could do around here."

—

        Late one night, the Marauders sat around the quiet common room, occupying the fireplace, and miserably guessing and scribbling on their star charts for Astronomy class. You'd gone to bed early, already finished with your own homework. Remus had completed his own too, and was luckily not on patrol tonight. But he was just as eager to get some shut eye until Peter begged him to stay and help.