Title: Itchy Back

Author: KateKintail

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R (unless specifically stated otherwise, you may assume characters are of legal age in their respective countries)

Disclaimer: JKR’s characters and world fill me with delight, but make me no money. I write this only for fun and mean absolutely no harm.

Summary: Remus has an itch… and Sirius knows how to scratch it. Literally.

Notes: Written for the 10_hurt_comfort community.

                Remus’s small amounts of shifting about caught Sirius’ attention right away, but the young man did not say anything. Since it was such a lovely afternoon, they had decided to do their homework out on the grounds. There was still enough daylight left for another several hours at least, during which could work on their assignments in the warm spring air. Between the shade of their favorite tree and the occasional gentle breeze, it was an ideal location for almost anything. Sirius found himself nodding off more often than actually working on his assignments. However, he was rather surprised when he realized Remus was not doing much work either.

                Remus fidgeted about, but not in a restless way. He leaned slightly to one side, then to the other twenty seconds later. He raised one shoulder then the other and let them settle back down again. He stretched without yawning. And, finally, he started squirming.

                That was all Sirius could take. “Remus, what’s the matter with you today?”

                Mortified, Remus sat still again, his back against the tree as if glued there or spelled there or both. “Nothing,” he said shortly, indicating that there was something quite wrong indeed.

                Sirius frowned but said nothing until Remus moved again. This time it was a deliberate shift to the side, as if to read a passage from the book he could easily have seen without moving. Sirius exhaled a bit louder than necessary. “Remus, why are you…” And then it hit him. He smiled almost malevolently. “You’ve got to wee, don’t you?”

                “I don’t!” Remus insisted.

                But Sirius was laughing and didn’t care. He waved one hand towards the Forbidden Forest. “If you can’t wait until we go inside, you should go find yourself another tree, mate. Won’t take long. Just mark a tree like a wolf and come on back. I won’t laugh.”

                “You’re already laughing,” Remus pointed out. “Besides, that’s not my problem.”

                Sirius quieted, but there was still laughter in his eyes. “So you definitely have a problem then.”

                Remus blinked and his head automatically bobbed up and down in a tiny little affirmative nod.

                Sirius cocked his head and put on what he intended to be a thoughtful expression. “So… are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you just going to suffer in silence?”

                Remus worked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Silence,” he said. “Obviously.” He shifted again, then squirmed and pretended to be settling back into a proper sitting position though he’d just been in one. “I’ll be fine.”

                Suspicious, Sirius leaned over. Remus pulled his parchment away, but not soon enough. “You’ve been working on that essay for the past three hours. How far along are you?”

                With a sigh, “About two inches.”

                Sirius fixed his gray eyes upon Remus’ amber ones.

                “All right. More like one and a half,” he admitted reluctantly. He reached down and slammed his book shut. The ink bottle was already capped closed but he set the quill and parchment down next to it on the grass. He looked at Sirius, then looked down at his lap, embarrassment rushing red to his cheeks. “I itch.”

                Sirius’ eyebrows rose in unison. He spoke gruffly, concernedly. “Down there, you mean?”

                Remus gave him a swat on the upper arm. “No!” he laughed. “Not that kind of itch. I think… I think there’s a flea infestation in the Shrieking Shack or something. Likely someone’s idea of a trick.”

                Immediately, Sirius looked around, as though someone might be standing nearby, wearing a shirt that read ‘culprit’. “Or someone’s way of finding out who goes into that shack.”

                Remus nodded. He’d obviously thought of that, too. “I’ve got at least a dozen bites on my back. There are a couple on my arms and legs but I can put up with those. My back just itches so much.” He moved from side to side almost imperceptively, rubbing his back against the rough bark of the tree; even through the shirt and robe fabric it must have felt good, because the corners of his mouth lifted up into a brief smile.

                “If it itches, you should scratch it,” Sirius said, sounding far more reasonable than usual.

                “Can’t.” Remus looked stricken. “What if whoever infested the shack is watching? Besides, scratching will only make it worse. I’ve tried lotions and charms and nothing helps much. There’s still an annoying, unbearable itch I just… argh! It itches!” He rubbed his back against the tree trunk again. “Talking about it only makes it worse.” Remus grabbed his book and tried to distract himself, though it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate for long. It wasn’t five minutes before he shifted again and scratched at his shoulder. His hand hesitated there, longingly, like it wanted to reach down further, but he settled for letting his bitten fingernails scrape at his shoulder through the several layers and left it at that.

                Sirius was far less disciplined. “When I’ve got an itch, I can’t keep from scratching it,” he said with sympathy.

                “Don’t tempt me.”

                “I only—”

                “Sirius!” Remus whined. “I’m having enough trouble as it is resisting the urge. See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” He pressed his back hard against the trunk. “Itchy- itchy, itch- itch,” he repeated softly to himself, teeth clenched, as if saying it like a mantra would make the itches die down on their own.

                Sirius reached over and took Remus’ hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going inside.”

                “What for?” Remus asked. “Dinner’s not for another hour.”

                “Because you don’t ask the right questions and I can’t stand to see you like this.” Sirius helped Remus up and ushered him straight up the stairs.

*

                Remus blinked at the pile of school items lying on the floor of their dormitory room. One second he’d been walking in with his books and parchment neatly stacked in his arms and the next Sirius had grabbed them and tossed them aside with his own. Remus wanted to bend down and at least stack them neatly. But his back itched so much it almost hurt and if Sirius was even half as sympathetic as those handsome gray eyes led Remus to believe, whatever the young man had up his sleeve had to be worth a few crumpled papers.

                And, speaking of sleeves, Remus suddenly had none. Sirius pulled his robes up over his head before Remus knew what was happening. Then off came tie and shirt and shoes. Sirius circled him then, like a dog herding its charge, forcing Remus a few steps closer to Sirius’ bed. “Poor Remus,” Sirius whispered.

                It felt good to be free of the clothing at last. The fabric, especially at the seams, had rubbed against him, causing the itches to feel infinitely worse. Now, Remus closed his eyes. Even though his friends knew about his furry little problem, as James liked to call it, Remus was still self-conscious when it came to anyone inspecting him. This time it wasn’t just the scars Sirius was seeing but the dozen ugly, red blotches as well.

                “I’ll help,” Sirius promised. “You’d better lie down to start.”

                The promise of help had Remus obeying immediately. He lay down on his side, as he usually did when he fell asleep. But Sirius reached over and pushed him so he lay face-down. Sirius’ hand had come in contact with Remus’ hip and the little bites on his thigh roared back with almost irresistible need. Remus scratched at the area through his khakis. On the third scratch, he was surprised to find Sirius’ fingers on top of his.

                Sirius climbed onto the bed and straddled Remus. Remus wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected Sirius to do, but the sudden weight of Sirius sitting on the back of Remus’ legs was startling. And sort of nice. Remus shifted a little, out of habit, as a particularly strong urge to scratch seized him. “Scratching’s only going to make it worse,” Remus worried out loud, thinking of giant red bumps instead of tiny ones. Again, he bit his lower lip.

                “Look at you squirming. How much worse could it get?” Sirius responded. And then his fingers found Remus’ back.

                A needy whimper escaped Remus, who immediately grabbed Sirius’ pillow and buried his face in it. The touch was torture for a second, two seconds, three, four, but then Sirius’ fingernails scraped down his back, passing over a few of the little bites along the way. It was like an intense shot, bringing glorious relief. The spot almost hurt afterward, as if irritated and now in the absence of pressure, but that sensation, too, was brief and when it was over, the itch there was gone. Remus moaned. “Oh Merlin! Ohhhhhh do that again!” he begged. “If you don’t I’m going to curse you with everything that I can think o-ohhhhhhh!” Sirius scratched him again and Remus sighed deeply into the pillow. “Thank you, thank you.”

                “I’m only getting started,” Sirius said, not letting his hands rest now. “Just relax and enjoy.”

                Remus did not have to be told twice. The sensation of fingernails scraping his skin with just enough pressure was an utter joy. All the little itchies in the area died down. And every time one popped up again, threateningly, all Remus had to do was murmur, “Down and to the left” or “Right… right… there!” and the itch was immediately scratched away before it had the chance to drive Remus mad.

                Sirius scratched in long, slow strokes and in tiny, quick ones as well. Remus found himself moving along to the motions whenever they were repetitive, his body rocking slightly and a sigh or moan of happiness always at hand. Sirius was taking him over, controlling his body, fighting the discomfort for him and winning valiantly. It simply felt so good. “So bloody good,” Remus told him.

                “So glad to hear it.” Sirius’ fingers curved and all ten were busy conquering one area or another. After a few minutes, he practically anticipated Remus’ needs. He concentrated in the most itchy of areas, right where the worst bites were, but did not neglect elsewhere either. Suddenly, his hands seemed to be everywhere: Remus’ neck, shoulders, upper arms, sides (avoiding the tickling areas), the backs of thighs, waist, and, yes, even Remus’ arse. Sirius scratched the skin and through the shorts like an expert scratcher.

                Soon Remus’ back felt numb and was tingling with satisfaction. There wasn’t an itch to be found anywhere. Not wanting it to stop, however, Remus didn’t say so. He let Sirius continue with the wonderful scratching, on the right, on the left, both at the same time, right in the middle, and everywhere else. He had all he needed but couldn’t get enough. And the feeling of Sirius’ fingers against him was just too good to be believed. Finally, Sirius whispered, “How’re you doing?”

                Remus smiled contentedly back at him, over his shoulder. “Excellent.”

                “Good. Because my fingers are starting to get a little tired.”

                “Oh!” Remus took a quick survey of himself. “Maybe just one more little… scratch… right here at the top left? And then that’s it. Then I’ll be done.”

                Sirius obliged and then his fingers stilled and finally withdrew.

                Remus lay there in utter bliss, basking in the situation. It felt amazing to finally get rid of that constant, irritating itch. He knew it wouldn’t be a permanent solution. Soon enough, the itches would come back. But right here, right now, everything was perfect.

                Or, rather, almost perfect. Sirius carefully backed off and climbed down off the bed. “You can get up now, Remus. Any longer and we might miss dinner completely.”

                But Remus couldn’t get up just yet. He had his face once again buried in a pillow, which was good because his cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “Go on without me,” Remus said. “I’ll be right there, but I just need a… moment.”

                “Suit yourself,” said Sirius casually.

                Remus listened carefully to the footsteps crossing their dormitory room. He heard the door open and close. And then Remus sighed. He didn’t feel like moving; in fact, he was afraid that moving might give one of those flea bites the idea to start itching again. But the hardness down below, which would surely be seen now that his robes were off and who knew where, now competed for his attention.

                Tentatively, he reached a hand down, wedging it under his torso, and slipping it under the waistband.

                “Oh. That kind of moment.”

                Remus lifted his head, eyes wide with shock and humiliation. He stared right into Sirius’ face, which wore a smirk of amusement. “Guess I made you feel too good.” Remus’ cheeks burned and tears prickled behind his eyes. But Sirius just bent over and touched the back of his cool hand to Remus’ cheek. “I can help with that, too, you know.”

                Remus shook his head automatically though his cock jumped excitedly at the suggestion.

                “Okay, then. I really will go this time.” Remus watched to make sure Sirius left this time, feeling horribly self conscious and angry with himself the whole time. Just as Sirius’ hand closed over the doorknob, Sirius called back, without turning his head. “There’s a bottle of lube and tissues in the nightstand, top drawer. And if you need another back scratching, just ask. It won’t be weird.”

                Then he was gone. Remus flipped over onto his back, staring up at the maroon bed canopy. The feel of the warm sheet against his back inspired a couple miniscule little itches Remus was able to wiggle and get rid of easily enough. But, suddenly, he didn’t want to get rid of them quite so badly.

                Grinning as he felt another almost irresistible itch rise up, Remus took himself in hand and imagined he’d been brave enough to ask Sirius to stay.