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"Tell me I'm a bitch. Tell me—tell me I'm a little bitch and you fucking can't stand me." Remus is furiously stroking his cock, desperately trying to stay hard, but Becca? (Samantha? Alice?) is just not doing it for him. He picked her up at The Mercury Lounge after his set earlier in the evening. She seemed cute, if not a little dim—but she had a great rack, and she gave as good as she got when he had her pressed up against the wall outside the bar. They fumbled their way back to his flat, and now she’s in her bra and panties, kneeling on the end of his bed, just…watching him—but not in a sexy I like to watch kind of way. More in an unnecessarily judgemental sort of way. He’s been trying to get her to talk shit at him, but she seems weirdly reluctant. "...But you're so hot? And sweet? Why would I tell you that you’re a bitch?"
Remus groans. “Oh, come on Becca!”“It's Bella!”Bella. Right. "Look, come on, Bella—you can do this! Tell me I’m a worthless piece of shit. Call me a c—cunt." Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can't even get the word out without nearly coming anymore. Goddamn Sirius Black, ruining his sex life and he isn't even here."Look, I'm really uncomfortable, Remus. You're really hot and everything, but I...I think I should go..."Fuck. "No, no wait, I'm sorry. Just...I dunno.” He lets go of his rapidly softening cock to raise his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. “D’you want me to eat you out? Seems like the least I could do…"She smiles shyly at that, but she’s already out of the bed, putting her clothes back on, and grabbing her purse. "You're a gentleman, Remus—really. But I need to go, I’m sorry. You played really great tonight, for what it’s worth. Love your sound. That song about the prick in the Zeppelin shirt was really funny."He sighs, defeated. "Thanks."As soon as the door to his apartment closes behind her, Remus pulls up his boxer briefs and grabs his phone from the nightstand. He hits the number at the top of his contact list.
Black, Sirius - Emergency Contact
It rings a few times, but just as it has the last thousand times he's called, it just goes to voicemail.
"I can't come to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I’ll think about calling you back—unless this is Remus, in which case the old Sirius can’t come to the phone right now, cause he’s dead.”
Remus collapses back onto his mattress and stares at the ceiling. "Sirius, come on. Answer your fucking phone. I know you're screening my calls. I—I'm not going to ask you why you couldn't wait five goddamn minutes for me that morning at my place, instead of just bailing like you always seem to—at least, I won't ask this time...Uh...I don't know why I keep calling you. I guess I miss you? God, I sound like a right tit. It’s just…I’ve never met anybody like you. When I’m with you I feel like I don't have to, or even want to hide who I am. When I’m with other people—with girls, I just feel empty. Like, I'm with them because it feels like that's what I’m supposed to do, not because I actually want them. I put on this front, like I'm confident and charismatic, and I’m really...not that. And its wild because I really fucking hate you. I do. I hate you so much, but I only feel like me when I'm with you. What the fuck is that? It’s like—like you already see me, so I don't have to pretend to be someone I’m not with you. It’s a wild fucking trip, you know? You feel like home, and I don't know what that says about me—probably nothing good, but you do. I know I’m fucked up, but I’m not scared, or embarrassed…or well, I’m a little embarrassed—but I just want to be fucked up and embarrassed with you…whatever that means.”Remus swallows around a tightness in his throat as he rolls over onto his side and stares at his bookshelf where the 8-ball from months ago still sits. “No one I have ever known or spoken to is anything like you, Sirius Black.” He laughs, but it comes out choked, and a little wet. “This is generally a good or bad thing depending on my mood—but why do you think I let you get away with all the vile, insane shit you say to me? I like you, you fucking asshole. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, none of it. You’re really fucked in the head, but like I said, so am I—hell, I’m the one leaving you this insanely long voice message when you won't even text me back. Fuck, you're gonna take the piss out of me if you listen to this, aren't you? Nevermind."
Remus hits the pound key and deletes the message before hanging up the phone and tossing it across his bed.
He'll try calling him again tomorrow.