These Inconvenient Desires

S

Sirius is saved from having to try to sort out his pathetic life by the fact that Much Ado goes into its last two weeks before opening night. With interminable rehearsals every evening and dozens of errands to run during his free periods, he only sees Remus for short snippets of time.

He's had to give up lunchtime for the sake of putting the finishing touches on the set and rounding up props, so even that is gone. Most of his interactions with Remus lately are down to a few unanswered text messages in his inbox and brushing by Remus on his way out the door with a strangled apology thrown back over his shoulder.

Thankfully, this means he is spared from having to look Remus in the eyes for any extended period of time, because he might actually have a stroke if that happened. He's tuned up so tightly right now that he can hardly even stand the thought of Remus on top of everything else, much less having to see him right in front of his face. The last damn thing he needs right now is to be forced to deal with the person who's keeping him up at night, fists in the bedclothes and aching for hands on his skin.

High stress plus excruciating sexual frustration does not a winning combination make.

It seems like Remus's picked up on the fact that his behavior is more than just a mad dash to get everything ready in time for the first performance. Even running into him by the vending machines is still enough for him to figure out that Remus isn't quite touching him as much as he normally does, isn't quite smiling at him the same way. He feels guilty for pushing Remus away, because beyond his endless idiotic wanting, Remus is one of his closest friends, but he just can't cope with everything at once. He'll figure it out later when he isn't neck-deep in Shakespeare, trying to drag a couple dozen teenagers through their final few rehearsals.

'Stop, stop,' Sirius yells from his seat in the audience. The two actors onstage turn to look at him, lines halfway out of their mouths, as Sirius stands and walks toward the stage. 'It's not worth running this scene if you two aren't off-book. And you aren't.' Two days before opening night, and his leads aren't off-book. Jesus. 'Go run lines outside in the hallway.' They walk offstage, his female lead looking peevish. 'Marjorie, if you don't have that soliloquy memorized tomorrow, I'll, I'll—I don't know what I'll do, but none of us will like it.' Sirius shouts after her. He rubs his hands over his face and tries not to hyperventilate.

'You look like you could use this,' someone says behind him, and oh God please no.

Sirius turns and is abruptly confronted with the sight of Remus Lupin in his theatre, because the universe is trying to send him into a psychotic break.

'What are you—' Sirius starts, but then looks down to see the cardboard cup in Remus's hands.

'Yorkshire tea, no sugar,' Remus says, pushing it into his hands. Sirius accepts it wordlessly. 'Footy practice was cancelled, it's raining. What do you need?'

It's too much, Remus standing there asking to be whatever Sirius needs except for the one thing he needs most, and Sirius stares into the tea and tries to pick one emotion to feel. Exasperation seems like the least terrifying choice, considering his options. 'Go keep an eye on the kids who are setting up the lights, try to make sure they don't kill themselves.' He holds back from thanking Remus, rude as it is, because if he starts letting himself react to things Remus does he isn't going to make it through the night alive.

Remus nods once and walks toward the back of the theatre, and Sirius takes a deep breath and turns back to see his cast milling around aimlessly. 'You,' he says, picking out two of the boys. 'Run your Act III scene again. With the blocking.' They groan and Sirius is going to snap. 'You'll thank me when you don't trip in front of hundreds of people. Run it.'

'What about the rest of us?' says one of the girls playing a bit part. Sirius rubs his temples. 'Go and make sure all your costumes are finished and fit. Practice costume changes. Run your lines. Know that if I catch you slacking off I will mount your head on my wall as a trophy.' They scatter, and he turns back to the two boys. 'Why aren't you running your scene? Go!'

He watches them critically, stepping in every once in a while to point out where they've messed up their blocking or dropped a line. It seems like only a few minutes have passed, but suddenly he feels a light touch on his shoulder. He turns, and of course it's Remus, with a concerned look on his face that makes Sirius want to cry.

'All the lights are ready,' he says. 'I'd run through the cues to make sure everything's hooked up right, but I wanted to check with you first since you're using the stage.'

Sirius looks at his watch and fuck, fuck, he's going to have to let the kids go soon. 'Give me a minute,' he says to Remus, who just nods again like he's got the patience of a fucking saint. Sirius wants to hit him, wants to say something cruel just to get a reaction, because he does not have the emotional resources to deal with Remus being a good person right now.

Instead he turns back to the stage, cups his hands, and yells, 'Everyone out here!' It takes a few seconds, but soon everyone is assembled, actors and crew alike, looking at him expectantly. 'You've all put in good work tonight,' he says. 'We're going to need you to put in a lot more over the next two days. I know I'm driving you hard, and I know you've all got the end of term to deal with, but we're all going to have to push ourselves to get this show off the ground in time. Before you leave tonight, please, for the love of God, make sure that everything is cleaned up. If you're an actor, make sure you know where your costumes are. Crew, make sure the props are stored in some way that makes sense. If I have to clean up after any of you I will not be pleased.' He pauses, making sure they're appropriately terrified. 'Then you can go home.'

They give a ragged cheer and disperse. Sirius drops into one of the theatre seats and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to think about how much there is left to do. He looks up and sees Remus helping one of the members of the crew push the prop stairs off to the side of the stage, the muscles of his back visible through his t-shirt, and Sirius really can't afford to process that.

He stands up and heads back to the sound booth, because someone really does need to check the lighting cues. As he runs through them, he can't help but watch what's happening onstage. Remus walking stage right, arms laden with props. Remus hugging a cast member who looks like she's about to cry. Remus picking up a table, arms flexing. Somehow when it's happening on the stage it's harder to ignore, and Sirius stands in the booth, pressing buttons, wishing Remus were a worse person.

If he were worse, if he weren't so genuinely fucking pleasant to be around, Sirius could just fuck him and get it over with. He could just get him, it, this, whatever it is, out of his system and never see him again and go on with his life. Sure, when Sirius gets involved with someone it usually all goes to hell immediately, but if Remus could just be a shittier person that wouldn't matter. Half of the men Sirius has ever slept with probably hate his guts, and Sirius couldn't give less of a shit.

Except Remus isn't a shittier person: he's alone onstage folding costumes for Sirius' play. Looking at him there under the spotlight, Sirius can't lie to himself. If Remus ever hated him, he would be lost. And right now, it makes Sirius fucking angry.

He walks out of the sound booth, slamming the door, and stalks down the aisle of the theatre. Remus and he are the last ones left, it looks like, which is good, because if Sirius has to interact with one more person he's going to tear out his hair. He climbs the stairs without a word.

'Hey, I folded these but I don't know where—' Remus starts, but Sirius has already grabbed the costumes from him. 'Okay. I guess you know where they go,' Remus says, a note of worry in his voice. It's probably in his face, too, but Sirius will be damned if he looks at him. He walks stage right with the costumes, pulse roaring in his ears. He wants Remus gone, needs him out of his space before he loses it. 'I don't want you to help,' he says bitingly, and God, he knows already it was a bad idea. There's a moment of silence, and Sirius turns to look at Remus, to see what he's done.

'Sirius,' Remus says carefully, holding up both hands, 'what's going on?'

'I'm fucking exhausted, that's what!' Sirius snaps. 'I'm tired, and I've got a play to put on in two days, and there are forty-five papers on my desk that still need to be marked, and I've got to give final exams tomorrow, and there's no fucking time for anything, and my lead missed two weeks of rehearsals because he had pneumonia and he's still missing cues, and I had to change all the blocking for half of the scenes to hide Rupert Baker's bloody broken leg, and my rent's overdue, and I haven't had time to do laundry in two weeks, and then there's you walking around with your face and your shoulders and your football shorts and your being a good fucking person, and it's distracting, and I haven't got the fucking, fucking time.'

The words register to his own ears before he's even aware of them leaving his mouth, and Sirius freezes, mouth hanging open, arms still wrapped around the bundle of costumes.

Fuck.

Remus's staring at him from across the stage. Sirius can see what he's said settle in behind his eyes and, shit, shit, bleeding buggering shit and a thousand screaming nuns.

'I... distract you?' Remus says slowly.

'I—what I mean to say—'

'I distract you,' Remus says again, and this time it spreads his mouth out into a smile.

'Er,' Sirius says.

Sirius has appreciated Remus's athleticism on more than one occasion, but it's still impressive that he manages to vault over a prop table and close the distance between them in a few swift movements, suddenly in Sirius' space, tugging the mounds of fabric out of his arms. He sets them down on the floor and Sirius doesn't know what's happening, doesn't know anything except that Remus is suddenly so close, close enough that Sirius can smell his shampoo and it smells like one of those girly kinds, like strawberries and rose petals or something and Remus would use girls' shampoo because who even is he, and Sirius is panicking, Sirius is definitely, definitely panicking.

'Did you mean that?' Remus asks him, and the corners of his mouth are still curled up in a smile but there's no trace of a joke in the way that he says it.

'Um.' Every part of his body is screaming at him to lie, lie, lie, but what he says is, 'I... Yes. I—Yeah, I did.'

And this is where Sirius gets confirmation that Remus is not a sane person, because the way he looks at Sirius makes no sense. Sirius is the human equivalent of a bus speeding off of a cliff, into a gorge, on fire, and Remus is looking at him like he's Christmas come early, which makes Remus either very stupid or very psychopathic.

Remus's hands ghost up Sirius' arms, not quite touching, and Sirius can't help but shiver at the phantom contact. Remus's expression turns soft and marveling, and Sirius would probably be more embarrassed if every emotion he has weren't otherwise occupied.

Remus reaches up and carefully, carefully slides Sirius' glasses off his face, then carefully, carefully folds them and slips them into Sirius' shirt pocket. Sirius hands hang uselessly at his sides, and his ears are full of the sound of his own hitching breaths. He's never felt so obvious in his life.

Remus leans in, impossibly closer, and Sirius doesn't quite understand how they aren't touching, because even the air around him feels like Remus, even the stage beneath his feet. Remus reaches a hand towards his face, and Sirius thinks ‘finally,’ but his hand hovers and clenches into a fist.

'Sirius,' Remus says, 'don't make me fly blind, here,' and oh, that is enough.

'You complete shit,' Sirius lets out in a rush, 'I am about to fuckingdie waiting on you and you are just mmmph—'

And there it is, there, like the explosion at the end of a mile-long fuse. There was a gap and now there isn't, Remus's mouth on Sirius' and his hands on his face. Sirius can't help but gasp, his hands coming up to clutch at the crooks of Remus's elbows, his mind one big record scratch, stuck on the thought ‘Remus kissed me he kissed me he kissed me’ and Christ, if he doesn't pull himself together in the next half-second he's going to miss it.

Remus kisses with intent, with focus, with singular purpose. Remus kisses Sirius like it's premeditated, like he's planned every slick drag of his lips against Sirius'. Sirius doesn't even try to keep up, still not quite able to believe what's happening, much less contribute to it. Remus's hands drop to his shoulders and the two of them are moving, Remus pushing Sirius up against the side of the prop stairs. They're pressed together, knees to ribcage, and Sirius is overwhelmed.

Remus pulls back, breathing heavily, one arm braced against the stairs by Sirius' head. He searches Sirius' face with wild eyes, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed.

'Sir,' he says, voice rough, and Sirius isn't sure what he's looking for but he's glad he asked. Sirius breathes once, twice, and lifts a hand to Remus's face. He drags his thumb across Remus's bottom lip, and the way Remus's eyes fall closed makes something in him give way.

And now he's the one moving, crowding into Remus's space and kissing him frantically, threading his fingers through Remus's hair. Remus's hands are around his waist and his tongue is in his mouth and Sirius is sure he had plans to do other things with his life but he can't for the life of him remember why he'd want to do anything but this.

Remus is moving, and at first Sirius thinks it's just the momentum of his own body carrying them backwards, but then Remus is grabbing his braces and blindly dragging him towards the mess of prop furniture in the middle of the stage. Sirius feels Remus run into something, and then they're tipping over, Remus pulling Sirius down with him. There's deja-vu in that half-moment of weightlessness, but then Sirius lands heavily on top of Remus and finds he has other things to think about.

They're on a ratty prop sofa at center stage. Remus slides up to make more room, Sirius crawling after him. One of Remus's hands flattens out over the small of Sirius' back, pulling their bodies flush together, before flipping the two of them over in a single movement so slick that Sirius is almost as impressed as he is turned on.

'You're gonna have to teach me that move one day, Lupin,' he says, sliding his fingers back into the hair at the nape of Remus's neck.

Remus is grinning like a fool. 'Is this okay?' he asks, nodding down at their position.

'Yes, Jesus,' Sirius says, dragging Remus's head back down into a kiss. 'How fragile do you think I am,' he mumbles against Remus's mouth.

Remus responds by sucking hard on Sirius' bottom lip. Sirius can't help the whimper that escapes him, so, okay. Point taken.

He'll be damned if he lets that go unanswered, though, especially not when he can taste the smirk on Remus's lips. Sirius arches his back and rolls his hips up into Remus's, pressing up into his solid weight. Remus's mouth falls open in a silent moan, letting Sirius' tongue steal inside, but God, Sirius wants more, wants to make Remus shake apart. He lets his legs fall open, framing Remus's thighs, and presses up into him again, sliding his hands up under his shirt.

Remus does groan now, pulling away from the kiss. 'God,' he murmurs, his head falling into the curve of Sirius' neck. He presses back this time, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles against Sirius' as his teeth scrape his throat. Sirius draws a hissing breath and can't help but drag his nails down Remus's back, clinging on for dear life. Sirius is. Sirius is probably going to die.

Remus sits back a little, and Sirius leans up instinctively to follow him before realising that Remus's sliding his braces off his shoulders. 'What're you doing?' he asks inanely.

Remus's hands are back at his waist, tugging his shirttails out of his trousers. 'If I don't put my hands on you soon I'm going to lose my mind,' he says matter-of-factly. 'All of you.'

Fuck, Sirius thinks, trying to assess the situation rationally. 'Fuck,' he says, grabbing hold of Remus's hands. 'Remus, I can't fuck you on, on the sofa we're using in the show. That's, God, that's definitely unethical.'

Remus seems unperturbed, moving to kiss the other side of Sirius' neck. 'Whose ethics are we talking about?' he says lightly. 'My ethics are fine with this.' He bites down on Sirius' collarbone. 'I find you being clothed unethical.'

'Shit, Jesus, I am going to murder you,' Sirius says, pushing Remus's head away. Remus just grins at him, his mouth red and obscene. 'Can you, Christ, can you hold that thought for, like, however long it takes to get to my flat?' Remus rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but slides back down the sofa enough that Sirius can stand on wobbling legs.

'Keys,' Sirius says, patting down his pockets. 'Keys, fucking keys, my entire kingdom for my fucking—shit.'

'I've got your kingdom right here, babe,' Remus snickers, already crowding up behind him, breath hot under his shirt collar, and can he not, for three seconds, Christ on crutches.

'You are,' Sirius says, feeling Remus smile against the back of his neck, 'the least helpful human I have ever met. Also, my keys are in my classroom, because of course they are, so.'

'So let's go get them,' Remus says. He finally peels off and jumps ahead of Sirius, leading the way out the side door of the theatre and into the hallway. Sirius swears under his breath and takes off after him.

It's, it's... surreal, actually. Unbelievable. He barely has his wits about him enough to pray that nobody is around this late to see him like this, shirt halfway untucked in the front, braces tugged loose on one side, mouth raw and red from Remus's teeth and the faint stubble on his jaw. He looks for all the world like a horny teenager, and he can't remember the last time he let anyone get him like this, and it hits him all of the sudden that it's Remus that's done this to him. Impossible Remus with his ridiculous hair and his wide open smiles and his heart that fills up rooms and rooms and rooms, Remus who pulled him out of a cardboard box and pinned him down on the football pitch and played Whitesnake for James at a carwash, Remus who he's been trying not to fall for for months because, obviously, in what world do things like this actually happen to Sirius Black?

And the thing is, Remus wants him. Not just accepts what Sirius wants from him but wants him right back, hungry and restless, pulling Sirius down the hall by his hand, hair and eyes wild with it. Sirius has never met anyone in his life as sure of himself and what he wants as Remus is, and what Remus wants, apparently, is him.

Sirius skids to a stop because he feels like he's about to have an aneurysm, and he pulls on Remus's arm to turn him around.

'Wait,' Sirius says, because he has to know, 'the whole time?'

'Yes, the whole time,' Remus tells him impatiently, like it costs him nothing, already picking his pace back up again. 'Now can we please keep moving?'

And, well, Sirius can't argue with that, because he's beaming now and he's pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he can't have Remus's mouth on him again in the next thirty seconds, so it's just as well that they're stumbling up to his classroom. It's the last room with its lights still on, and Sirius actually manages to let go of Remus's hand for a few seconds to dart inside. He's at his desk, hand already extended for the keys resting there, when he hears the door snap shut and lock behind him.

He turns around, and Remus's already right behind him, backing him into the side of his desk. 'I can't make it back to your flat,' Remus says. 'I can't fucking wait any more. Please, just—'

Remus cuts himself off with a kiss pressed hard and bruising against Sirius' mouth, and this is probably a bad idea but Remus is still kissing him and this is happening and there's not a single part of Sirius that wants it to stop. Sirius wraps his fist around the front of Remus's shirt and kisses him back just as hard and hopes it's enough to tell him yes, yes, God, please.

This time around, it's Sirius that reaches for the waistband of Remus's shorts first, and Remus that stops his hands. Their lips break apart, and there's a breathless, frozen moment with Remus's hands tangled up in his, their mouths just barely brushing, and he knows Remus's asking permission again.

'Anything,' Sirius says. He's terrified of the size of that word. He doesn't take it back.

Remus, the son of a bitch, actually winks. And then he drops to his knees.

'Holy God,' Sirius says. He's already hard, almost embarrassingly so and has been since Remus hips first fell in line with his, and Remus is not mucking about anymore. He makes fast work of Sirius' braces, and Sirius' breathing shudders to a halt as Remus yanks his trousers open and shoves them down just far enough. The trunks Sirius has got on are a nightmarish red polka dot number, the last clean pair he had left.

Maybe he'll find the time to feel humiliated about it later, but at the moment Remus is smiling wickedly up at him from under thick eyelashes and slipping his fingers under the waistband and snapping the elastic gently against his hip and Sirius has never been farther from caring about anything in his entire life.

It's been so long. So many months of wanting, of telling himself not to want, of imagining what it would be like and seeing ghosts of Remus behind his eyelids as he sweated into his own sheets, and none of it prepared him for this. His hands scramble behind him for something to hold onto because Remus's tugging him out of his underwear and Sirius feels like he's going to collapse or die or go flying off the surface of the earth if he can't get a grip on something immediately. One of his hands closes on the stack of unmarked papers on his desk, the other on some hideous novelty stapler he got for last year's faculty Secret Santa, and, God, hysterical laughter comes bubbling up his throat because Remus is going down on him against his desk, and—

Then Remus licks his lips and takes him all the way down in one smooth, wet motion and Sirius is not laughing anymore.

The shock of it sings through Sirius' entire body, and his torso arches forward, curved around Remus like a sapling in a hurricane. He's not sure what he was expecting. He has no real idea of how much experience Remus has with men, and for all Remus's confidence, he thought he'd have to work up to it, but no, no, Remus's nose is brushing against his stomach and it's all Sirius can do to swallow the insane, desperate noise that pulls out of his chest.

He looks down and realises that his hand is on the back of Remus's neck, and he almost apologizes before he sees the laughter in Remus's eyes. Then Remus does something obscene and incredible with his tongue and fuck, Sirius' never seen anyone give a smug blowjob before, but if anyone could it would be Remus Lupin.

Remus picks up rhythm, long slow pulls, and Sirius has to close his eyes, because the way it feels combined with the sight of Remus's lips dragging down him is too much. He feels Remus's hands slide up the back of his legs, supporting him, and thank God for that because his knees are about to give out. Remus pulls almost all the way off and sucks hard, and Sirius can't help the tremor that goes through him or the choked noise he makes, and Christ, he can feel Remus respond, can feel his hum of approval, and this is going to be over almost before it begins.

Sirius forces his eyes open, because if he doesn't get a visual memory of this he'll probably convince himself it was a dream. Remus's eyes are closed, and Sirius'll be damned if he doesn't give head like he kisses, like it's the only thing he's ever planned on doing. Sirius can't keep from sliding his hand up into Remus's hair, tugging gently at the slightly sweaty curls. Remus's eyes flick up to meet his, and it's not laughter that Sirius sees there now, that has him holding white-knuckled to the desk.

Remus slides one hand away from Sirius' thigh and fuck, fuck, slips it into his own shorts, and Sirius wants to see him so badly but can't make himself move. He settles for just watching the way the muscles in Remus's arms work, the way they move under his skin as he touches himself.

Remus seems almost as overwhelmed as Sirius feels, pulling off briefly and breathing heavily. 'Fuck,' he says, his voice wrecked and his mouth slick, before sliding his lips back over Sirius eagerly. Sirius would agree, but the feeling of Remus's mouth around him and the thought that it's getting Remus off has torn his mind entirely in half.

Remus pulls off again, his hand working frantically in his shorts. He leans his forehead against Sirius' hip, Sirius' fingers carding helplessly through his hair. 'Fuck, Sir,' he says, pressing a kiss to the skin there, 'I've wanted—fuck, I can't believe I get to do this.' His breath is coming fast now, his fingers digging into the back of Sirius' thigh. 'I'm so close,' he says roughly, before taking Sirius back down all the way.

His words register in Sirius' brain about the same time Sirius feels himself hit the back of Remus's throat, and that is the end of that. Sirius has barely enough time to try to warn Remus, pulling on his hair, but Remus doesn't move, swallowing around Sirius as he comes. He pulls off a moment too early, letting a little spill over his lips, and even in his post-orgasmic haze Sirius can't keep from dragging his fingers over the mess on Remus's mouth, has to touch him to make sure this is real.

Remus sucks two of Sirius' fingers into his mouth, hard, and looks up at him unblinkingly.

'Rem,' Sirius says weakly, unable to look away.

He can't actually see Remus come, but he feels Remus bite down hard on his fingers before his mouth goes completely slack, shuddering through it with a groan.

Sirius' fingers slip out and he wants hold Remus while he comes down, wants to kiss him undone again and again, wants so many huge, aching things in that moment that it should scare the hell out of him. He wants Remus to live the rest of his life spread out in his bed if it means he can see that look on his face every day and know he's the one that put it there. He wants so many things all at once that he feels a little bit like he's been hit by a bus.

Remus's grip loosens and Sirius' knees finally do give out this time, dropping him heavily to the floor. He lands halfway on top of Remus and knocks him off balance until the two of them are a tangle of limbs pressed up against the side of Sirius' desk, breathing hard and still riding it all out.

They're silent for a few moments, just Remus's curls tickling the side of his face because his head is buried in Sirius' chest, right over the place where his heart can't seem to even back out. And then, and then—

Remus laughs, and that's it, Sirius is done, he's bent over Remus's body with laughter, both of them seizing up with it like it's the funniest damn thing that's ever happened to them. And for Sirius it kind of is, really. Last night he was torrenting Dance Moms and pouring himself a glass of wine to get him through writing up two different final exams while also going over the lighting cues and trying not to think about the way Remus's collarbones look in a deep v-neck.

Today... well.

'Jesus bloody fucking Christ,' Sirius says finally, still laughing a little and stumbling over the consonants. Perhaps not his most eloquent moment, but under the circumstances, he thinks he deserves some credit for managing actual words at all.

'Is that his full name, then?' Remus says, because he is a smug son of a bitch. Sirius opens his eyes to tell him as much, but the look on Remus's face makes all the air in his lungs leave him. He doesn't look smug, just spent and dirty and beautiful and absolutely dazed with happiness. Sirius did that.

Before he even thinks about it, Sirius grabs Remus's idiot face in both hands and kisses him, just as natural as you please. It's a short kiss because neither of them can stop smiling long enough but it's all they need right now, a little stitch to hold this moment in place.

'So,' Remus says, beaming, 'I sort of fancy you.'

Sirius rolls his eyes. 'I think I've just made it abundantly clear that I fancy you too, you wanker.'

Remus swats at his shoulder and laughs again and Sirius, God, Sirius is trying so hard to keep pace with him, to keep this easy and simple. Remus is smiling like this is the easiest decision he's ever made, and Sirius is smiling too, but taking deep breaths, trying to keep things in perspective. He's had blowjobs before, several of which were even quite memorable. And sure, maybe this one makes the rest a little difficult to recall, and maybe he never laughed like a teenager on top of any of the others, but... shit. It doesn't have to be a big deal, right? Shit.

Sirius tries to relax, to stay in this impossible moment, but he can't stop his brain from racing ahead. Remus fancies him, and said so like he was giving it away, but Sirius isn't sure fancy is really the word for what he's feeling, and fuck. He can't even remember the last time he admitted that he fancied someone, and now it suddenly doesn't even feel like enough. Deep breaths, he focuses on deep breaths, feeling his rib cage expand against Remus's solid weight.

'What now?' Remus murmurs, picking his head up off Sirius' chest. He looks Sirius right in the eye. There's no expectation in his face, but Sirius knows what he's really asking, can feel all that's behind the question even if there's no urgency in his voice. He thinks of everything he feels coiled tensely in his chest, and knows that now is the moment to let it out or hold his peace.

The moment slows and stretches. Sirius thinks ‘now I trick you into staying with me, thinks if you get up I'll kill you,’ thinks ‘I can't remember a time I wasn't waiting for you.’

'Still want to come back to my flat?' is what he says. Remus blinks and then nods, half-smiling, and Sirius pushes his guilt to the back of his brain.

Remus reaches up over him, bracing his hand on the desk behind Sirius' head and leaning in close enough that his breath is hot on Sirius' ear and Sirius can almost feel the way his mouth curls up on one side.

'You have no idea,' Remus says, and usually Remus mumbles, but this time he deliberately pronounces every sound so that Sirius won't miss a word, 'the things I want to do to you.' He catches Sirius' earlobe between his tongue and his teeth for half a second and then he's gone, standing up and dusting himself off, holding Sirius' keys in his hand, grinning like the hellspawn that he obviously is because how the fuck is Sirius supposed to deal with that?

Sirius scrambles upright and pulls up his trousers, fingers shaking. He moves to start fixing his braces, but Remus lets out a loud sigh, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

'Christ, Black, you think you could hurry up? These shorts aren't exactly comfortable anymore,' Remus says, shifting his weight back and forth.

Sirius snorts, tucking in his shirt. 'It's not my fault you came in your pants.'

Remus arches an eyebrow. 'Debatable.' He tosses Sirius his keys. 'Pick up the pace. If your dick recovers while we're still in the car then you're getting roadhead, and I don't want to die tonight.'

Sirius breaks every single speed limit on the way home.