Chapter 2
Sirius hadn’t meant to go up to Remus’s room when the worst of the thunder had started. He didn’t want to burden him, Remus had done enough already by just letting him in in the first place.
Sirius had tried to bear it on his own, had turned himself into Padfoot and buried his head in between the couch cushions, had covered as much of himself as he could in Remus’s sweater, had tried his absolute best to ignore the thunder and lightning outside by shoving pillows over his ears until he couldn’t breathe. But regardless of what he tried, he still couldn’t calm down. The storm outside was too overwhelming.
The only thing that would make it less so was the man that he had so shamefully run away from. The man that he spent years missing and wanting and loving more than anything. That he truly didn’t deserve, because Remus was right, he had left, and he couldn’t act as if he hadn’t. And yes, Remus didn’t know that Sirius had left to protect him, but that didn’t change that he had still done it. Going to Remus for comfort now would be shitty. Selfish and indecent.
But with the storm bringing him to the brink of panic and exhaustion, Sirius had little room for what was decent. As quietly as he could, he crept up the stairs but each bolt of lightning outside made him freeze up and the stairs creaked underneath him.
When he got to the door—the one that led to Remus’s bedroom, that Remus was surely sound asleep in—Sirius questioned if he should even knock at all. He raised his hand to, told himself that he’d just do it lightly, and if Remus didn’t answer he would just head back downstairs, let Remus sleep in peace. Wasn’t sure if he could, but knew it was the right thing to do.
But before he could the door opened to reveal the scarred and handsomely disheveled man he had been looking for. Sirius couldn’t help but tense up, feel shame at even being there—begging to be let in because the noises outside were scary. But they were scary, and really he only wanted Remus, even if it was too much to ask and though he definitely didn’t deserve it. He only wanted to fall asleep in his Moony’s arms and feel safe for the first time in years.
“I wasn’t going to come up,” Sirius started and Remus rubbed at his eyes with his hand. The thunder was still crackling loudly outside and Sirius felt shaky in a way he didn’t like at all. “I know it’s selfish. ‘Nd that you probably hate me and you need your sleep, but-” he continued, but he was cut off by a horrible thunder and lightning combination, louder than he’d ever heard it.
Sirius froze up in fear, severely hating that he would have to go back to the couch after that, but was pleasantly surprised when he felt a warm hand wrap around his wrist, pulling him in. Remus looked at him with kind, albeit pitying, eyes.
“It’s okay, Pads,” he spoke smoothly. “You can sleep with me tonight.” A weight came off of Sirius’s chest as he let himself be pulled in, Remus’s hands gentle but firm like they always had been. It wasn’t enough to fully quell his fear, but it was enough to significantly cool it down.
He had long ago pulled his jeans off to sleep and now crawled into Remus’s bed in only his sweater and a pair of women’s underwear he had gotten in America a year or so ago. A silky red thong that if the two of them were still properly together Sirius would’ve been very sure Remus would more than appreciate. But they weren’t properly together, and the storm was far too loudly roaring and pounding outside and he couldn’t think about anything else besides desperately wanting it to stop.
Sirius cozied himself in the blankets as Remus slid in beside him, and he felt a bit bad for asking what he was about to ask, but knew that he needed to.
“Is it okay if I get close to you, or…” he said the next part more reluctantly, “do you need space?” Please don’t need space, he thought. Sirius scooted an inch or so closer to Remus in hopes that he wouldn’t.
Delightfully, Remus wrapped a rather solid arm around Sirius and pulled him into his side.
“Whatever you need tonight. I’m here, alright?” He ran his hand up and down Sirius’s waist, Remus’s fingers getting closer to his hip before they were under Sirius’s sweater, touching his bare skin, smoothing in circles to take his mind off of the sounds outside.
Sirius nodded wordlessly into his chest. It was warm, and Sirius was always cold now. He fleetingly wondered if Remus noticed just how cold he was, because few people had touched him since the change but the ones that had always noticed.
“Thanks for letting me in Re,” Sirius mumbled into said warm chest, didn’t think he could convey just how grateful he was that Remus had even opened that door—given him tea and dry and cozy clothes, how Remus had let him in again when he was shaky and couldn’t sleep because of the storm that threatened to eat them both alive. Multiple mercies Sirius was sure he didn’t deserve.
Slowly, he felt himself calming, listening to Remus’s heartbeat and trying his best to focus purely on that. On the soothing touch that still lingered at his hip, Remus’s calloused fingers distracting him enough that Sirius was able to breathe again.
“Yeah, well, no matter what you do to me, I think I’ll always let you in,” Remus chuckled dryly, making the revelation sound much less raw and devastating than it was. Sirius didn’t know what to say to that, whether to be grateful or feel so incredibly guilty, and maybe he was both. Or maybe he just desperately wanted things to go back to the way that they were but knew that they couldn’t and that that was indisputably his own fault and no one else’s.
He missed him, regardless of why he ran away, and while Remus’s touch acted like a balm for the thunder around him it also stung with the knowledge that it was only there as a temporary measure and not as a surety.
. . .
Hogwarts, Seventh Year:
Sirius had always had a bad habit of goading the rougher aspects out of Remus, of toying with the wolf as the full moon approached in hopes of Moony taking out some of his unreleased tension on him. Using and abusing Remus’s possessive streak and all but demanding his boyfriend’s usually gentle hands to hold him so much more firmly.
He had gotten scolded for it plenty of times, Remus reminding him that he couldn’t always control himself then, control Moony then, voice going deeper and sterner in warning. And maybe Sirius would have listened, if he didn’t find it so hot when Remus lost control—scolded him like that, reiterating, ‘this is important Sirius, I don’t want to hurt you’ with those darkened eyes and twitching muscles that meant business. Remus’s eyes yellowing and voice dropping several octaves deeper than usual, making Sirius feel all kinds of things he probably wasn’t supposed to.
Maybe he’d listen if Remus’s frustration with him—and Moony’s frustration with him—didn’t translate directly into nights that ended with Sirius hardly able to move and pumped so full of come that he could feel it in his guts. With bruises that lasted for days and impatient hands that reminded him not to misbehave but really just prompted it more.
With being pulled somewhat roughly onto Remus’ lap in the common room like he was now—the full moon only two days away—, while his boyfriend grumbled about what Sirius was wearing.
“What’s wrong with my outfit, Moons?” Sirius feigned innocence. He wanted to feel Remus’s hands on him, more than just the one on his lower back.
“It’s slutty.” Remus all but growled, tightening his grip on the exposed skin of Sirius’s waist. His fingers squeezed him tight, Sirius hoped they would leave imprints.
“I thought you liked it when I dressed slutty?” He questioned, shifting his weight around on Remus’s lap, his admittedly quite short skirt rising up his thigh a bit when he did.
“Not. Fucking. Today. I don’t.” Remus got out tightly. Sirius thought he saw Remus’s eyes turn slightly yellow for a moment. “Change.” He demanded through gritted teeth.
Never one to say no to his Moony, Sirius immediately agreed. He had already gotten the reaction he’d wanted after all.
“Can I wear your sweater Moons?” He bounced a bit on his boyfriend’s lap. Remus didn’t seem to appreciate the movement, holding him steady to restrict it, but smiled at him nonetheless.
“Take this one, love,” Remus removed the dark red cable knit he was wearing and gave it to Sirius, who happily pulled it over his head only seconds later. It smelled like him and was warm from being on Remus’s body, who always ran warm to the point where Sirius liked to joke that he was his own personal heater.
“Thanks Re,” Sirius felt himself going warm and gooey inside, because it felt so good to be on Remus’s lap, wearing Remus’s sweater, with Remus’s hands gripping him tightly at the waist and his head nuzzling its way into Sirius’s neck. Sirius easily leaned into the embrace. “But do I have to change my skirt?” He whined a bit. He was pushing it, he should be happy enough with Remus’s wandering hands on him, and he was. But spoiled as he was by Remus, he wanted more.
“Yes.” Remus pulled Sirius off his lap decisively. Smacked his ass (which was maybe a little visible in his skirt) and motioned for him to go up to the dorms and do exactly that. Change.
Sirius pouted but obeyed anyway, wanting to behave so that later maybe he could get a reward. Besides, when it really came down to it he always listened to Remus, was too far gone for him not to, and was really only a brat until Remus put him back in his place—which Sirius hoped his boyfriend would do at the soonest opportunity.
And Moony was far too good to him for Sirius to ever want to really displease him. Just have some fun so he could wear his sweaters and earn himself a couple hickies. And there was no harm in that really.
. . .
Present Day:
“You’ve gotta keep your hands to yourself darling.” Sirius heard from above him and it was only then that he realized that his hands had been wandering, slipping underneath Remus’s sleep shirt like Remus’s had slipped under his, but Sirius was being far more explorative. Trailing up and down Remus’s body reverently and he hadn’t even been aware of it as he dozed off.
Remus, however, had kept his hand appropriately in place, not letting it drift anywhere it shouldn’t like Sirius’s, caressing and touching like he no longer had any right to, and he quickly pulled them away in embarrassment. Not even able to spare a moment to fixate on how Remus had called him ‘darling’, although that had thrown him too. Would have felt nice and fluttery in Sirius’s stomach if it wasn’t accompanied with a scolding.
“‘M sorry Remus. I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have,” He looked down in shame. But unfortunately down was the direction of where Remus’s shirt had risen up and now exposed several inches of his stomach—toned and tanned and not Sirius’s to touch, he reminded himself. He couldn’t do that anymore. Remus was kind enough to let him sleep in with him, he shouldn’t give him reason to kick him back out.
“It’s fine, just- go to sleep Sirius,” Remus acknowledged gruffly, “preferably without trying to feel me up again.”
“I really am sorry-” a boom of thunder cut him off as he tried to apologize again. He really did hate disappointing Remus. Absolutely despised it when he was mad at him. Sirius was sure it was the worst feeling in the known world. And he had been crucioed more times than he could count, so he should know.
“Just sleep, Pads,” Remus did little in the way of reassuring him. “You’re fine.”
Eventually Sirius did get to sleep, carefully making sure that his hands didn’t brush against any areas they weren’t supposed to until he did and praying that they would continue to so after he wasn’t conscious enough to make sure of it. Remus held him through the worst of the thunder and lightning, soothed Sirius when he jerked up a little at the sounds, and really was far more gentle and generous with him than Sirius deserved after everything he’d put him through.
But it all ended with Sirius sleeping safely and soundly on him, very likely drooling on Remus’s chest, despite the storm and how badly it had shaken him.