Flying Lessons
by Jain

Written for Pervy Werewolf's Lusty Month of May Challenge.


Peter rubbed his bottom surreptitiously. No matter how he tried, flying continued to be his worst class...and given how he was doing in Arithmancy, that was really saying something.

He grimaced at the broom in his hand, a present from his parents, and wondered if it were better or worse than having to use a school broom. At least with a school broom he'd have an excuse for being so awful. On the other hand, if he were stuck with one of the crotchetier school brooms, he might not even be able to stay on.

"Peter!" Remus called, slipping through the crowd of students.

Peter instantly stopped massaging his aching muscles. "Yeah?"

"Well..." Remus came to a halt in front of him, and Peter waited patiently. "It's just...I was thinking about your flying, and I wondered... You know that James is a natural, and Sirius has been flying ever since he was old enough to bypass the lock on his family's broom closet, so of course neither of them is really any good at giving advice on learning to fly. And that's before you take into account the fact that they have the attention spans of toddlers and the patience of one of Hagrid's pets. So I thought, you know, that even though I'm not as good as they are, I might be able to help you a bit better than they could. If you wanted me to, that is. And I...am I making any sense?"

"Of course you are. I just wanted to see how long you'd keep babbling if I didn't interrupt."

Remus smacked him in the arm, and Peter grinned.

They didn't have time right then, of course; as it was they were late to Transfiguration and slid into their seats under the weight of McGonagall's surprised, yet still disapproving, glare. And then Sirius decided that they needed to play Exploding Snap until James lost, which took up the rest of the afternoon...and James never did end up losing, after all.

But it was a Friday, and if they wanted they could practice flying all day tomorrow, or at least until Remus remembered that he had homework to do.

The next day, Peter woke up earlier than he had all year and lay in bed wondering why. And then Remus pulled his bedcurtains aside and said, "Oh, good, you're up already. Sirius and James are still sleeping. If we're quiet, I'll bet they don't even realize we've gone until noon."

"No bet," Peter laughed, and scrambled to get dressed.

"We'll fly tandem first," Remus decided when they'd reached the grounds, "so you can get a feel for what you ought to be doing. Then when you're a bit more comfortable, we can try it separately."

"All right," Peter said, suddenly feeling a little desperate. "Er...my broom, I suppose."

"Unless you don't want to chance warping it."

Peter rolled his eyes. Even knowing that Remus was trying to give him a polite way out didn't make that statement any less ridiculous. The two of them put together probably weighed less than Peter's father did.

"My broom it is. Who should sit where?"

"It's best if you can see what you're doing, and I can guide you more easily from the back if you do something wrong."

"All right."

Peter straddled his broom awkwardly. A moment later, Remus settled against his back, warm even through his robes, and grasped the broom right beneath Peter's own hands.

"Go ahead and take us up," Remus said.

The wind whipped in their faces, and Peter was surprised to realize that it did feel different. He didn't even think that Remus was doing much, but just knowing that he was there and ready to correct the broom's path if necessary seemed to make everything easier.

"How're you doing?" Remus asked in his ear, breath warm and a little ticklish.

Peter squirmed the tiniest bit. "Fine. I'm going to go higher, okay?"

He'd barely felt Remus's answering nod before he'd tilted the broom up and they were climbing. Remus leaned closer to keep from sliding off the broom, his chest both bonier and more solid than it looked against Peter's back.

It felt good, all of it, and Peter swooped them around in a wide circle and then just decided to keep going. He lost track of the time as he did laps, occasionally following Remus's instructions to dip higher or lower or to try a certain turn or stop.

He could feel Remus's thighs along the outside of his, too, he noticed at some point, and the broom between his legs was hard and firm, and there was the faintest pressure of Remus's body against his backside. He felt oddly oversensitive, humming with it, almost, and even his cock--Peter blushed at the thought--pulsed noticeably to the rapid pace of his heartbeat.

Before he quite realized what was happening, Peter was shuddering, and his trousers were flooded with a sticky warmth that he hoped to God hadn't stained his robes, too.

"Cold?" Remus asked.

Peter cleared his throat. "Yeah, a bit. Why don't we go back down?"

When they were standing next to each other on the ground, Remus asked, "So, did that help at all? I mean, do you think you might want to try it again sometime?"

"I...I don't think so," Peter said. "Thanks anyway."

Remus's mouth twisted in a little smile. "Of course, Peter. It's nearly twelve-thirty, anyway. We should probably wake Sirius and James up for breakfast."


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