A Friendly Proposition
Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasn’t cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And he’s like, why don’t I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)
cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot
bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words
“I dunno, I guess overall it was fine.”
“Fine?” Remus looks up from where he’s lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you don’t think he knows he does. You’re sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. “I should hope it was more than just fine.”
You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. “Not the best, not horrible. I’d call it thoroughly average.”
Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. “Not the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, I’d hope I made it worth their while.”
You can’t keep your lips from curving. “I didn’t say it wasn’t worthwhile.”
“Did he at least make you cum?”
You cough in surprise. “At least?” You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look.
Remus’ answering expression is equally incredulous.
“How common do you think that is?” you ask him.
The eyebrow lifts higher. “Well, now I’m not sure, but I’ve never had any problems.”
You scoff, turning back to the mirror. “That’s because you’re a guy.”
“No,” Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. “I mean, yes, but I meant I’ve never had any problems making other people cum.”
“Seriously?” You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. You’re doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. “Like, what’s your success rate?”
“What’s yours?”
“I asked you first.”
Remus’ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. “For women specifically?”
“Sure.”
He nods, expression turning pensive. “I can’t be exactly sure. I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly fucking loads of women.” He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. “There were a couple who didn’t, when I was younger, still learning, but since then it’s been fairly high.”
You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone you’ve hooked up with hasn’t. It’s typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You can’t say you’ve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since you’ve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise.
You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror.
“Your turn,” he prompts.
“You can’t make fun of me.”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but he’s right in that you don’t think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop.
You do your best to affect his unflappable blasé when you say, “Zero, so far.”
That blasé hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. “Never? Not once?”
You can’t bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. “Nope.”
“Not even by yourself?”
“You make it sound like it’s so easy.” There’s some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. “I haven’t tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldn’t. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.
You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but it’s thoughtful. Contemplative.
“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” you remind him. “I feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Let’s not act like it’s some great tragedy to not have cum before.”
“No, I’m…it’s not that. You’re right, there are worse fates.” One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. “I was just thinking that I could…well, I might be able to help.”
“What?” A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. “Do you have some kind of manual or something?”
“Would you want my help?”
“Is there a diagram you’re going to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen those.”
“Answer the question, love.”
You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure, I’d be curious.”
Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if you’d like.”
Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. “On…” you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him.
“On you,” he confirms. “Would you want that?”
You’re nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like you’re navigating a dream. “Yeah,” you manage. “If you’re alright with that.”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. “C’mere, love.”
“What—like, now?”
“Do you have another engagement?” He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You shake your head, and it’s like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. “No, sorry, I’m good with this. I think I’m just a bit nervous.”
“That’s alright,” he reassures you. “You don’t need to be, though. It’s only me.”
You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If there’s anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, it’s him.
When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. “Probably want to lose the pants first,” he suggests.
Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remus’ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out.
“Underwear too, or…”
“No, we’ll keep those for now.” Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. It’s impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. “Do you usually start with everything off?”
“Yeah,” you say. “Isn’t that sort of the point?”
“Sometimes,” he hums. “Sometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?”
You murmur an affirmation, though you don’t actually know. There’s never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesn’t matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat.
“You have to start slow,” he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. “Everyone responds to different things, and it’s about feeling out what works for you.”
You can’t imagine how this wouldn’t work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex.
“Are you feeling more relaxed now?”
You wet your lips. “I think so.”
“Good. If you’re feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.”
Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remus’ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch.
“There you go, sweetheart. You’ve got it.”
Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You can’t tell which one of you is warmer.
Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp.
“Is this okay?” Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties.
“Yes,” you breathe out.
“Alright. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”
One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt.
“Oh, poor girl,” he coos. “Is all this for me?”
Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately.
“Sorry, I’m only messing with you. Is it always like this?”
You lie. “Yeah.”
Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast.
“I usually start here,” he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess you’ve already made. “You do the same?”
You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you.
Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remus’ fingers fall away.
“Your turn,” he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.
When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit.
“Show me how you’re gonna do it, sweetheart.”
Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in they’re still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch.
Remus doesn’t leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder.
Instantly, you’re aware of how much better this feels. Remus’ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure you’re soothed.
The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated.
He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought you’ve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants.
“You’ve got it, darling, keep going. You’re doing so well.”
Your fingers and Remus’ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name.
The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, you’re doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry you’ll shatter if he doesn’t keep ahold of you.
“Let go,” he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. “You’re alright, just let go.”
You choose to trust him, and your body—your being—snaps.
You make sounds you can’t hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh.
Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front.
Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. “Good job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.” He smears a kiss over your cheek. “How was that?”
You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. “Really good.”
Another soft laugh. “Yeah? Glad to hear it.”
“Thank you.” You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice warm with amusement. “Honestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.”
You hum bemusedly. Remus’ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now.
“Really? Why?”
“I just,” he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. “I just can’t believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.”
“Oh.” You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. “Sorry. Was I very loud?”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. “You were perfect.”
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