It has been a long and rather tedious day for Remus Lupin, full of exam preparation classes and unnecessary staff meetings, and all he wants to do when he gets home is collapse onto the sofa and do nothing for at least fifteen minutes. Then he wants to get changed into his comfies, order a House Special Chow Mein with Salt-and-Pepper chips, and snuggle up with his other half in front of the television. They'll probably watch a film, his choice this week, and then they'll watch an episode or two of Taskmaster before going to bed at a reasonable hour. Bliss.
When he does finally arrive home, however, he finds something else waiting for him: his fiancé, Sirius Black, standing by the staircase with an excited grin on his face.
Remus pauses, instantly suspicious. He and Sirius have been united in coupledom for seven years now, but he has known Sirius for over a decade, first as friends during their university days and then as more when they moved into a flat together afterwards. That amount of time spent living with and getting to know someone allows one to know another inside and out, which means that he knows the look on Sirius's face, and he knows that it only spells trouble for him.
With a deflated sigh, he closes the door behind himself and throws his keys into the dish on the side. He kicks his shoes off and places them, along with his briefcase, onto the rack by the door. Finally, he removes his coat and hangs it up. Once he is suitably ready for whatever insanity awaits him, he turns to Sirius and offers a sedated smile.
"Hello, darling," he greets.
Sirius's grin widens as he rushes forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and giving him a hello kiss. When he pulls back, he says, "Hello, my beautiful duck. How was your day?"
Remus is a maths teacher at Goodrich's Comprehensive School, and he enjoys his job, he really does, but it can come with its challenges. Today, for example, had been filled with boring staff meetings and end-of-year exam study sessions. His year 10s, the pre-GCSE students, had been the problem. They seemed to think that because their GCSEs weren't until the next year, they could just piss about and not bother to study for their upcoming tests. Arseholes.
Remus shrugs and encloses his arms around the other man. "Fine," he answers. "Long. What about you? Get much done?"
Sirius is a writer of fiction and a successful one at that, with a couple of bestselling series under his belt. He is currently working on the third and final instalment of his current fantasy series about a werewolf who goes to a magical school, finds some good friends, and must defeat an evil villain who wants to make himself immortal.
"I drew a picture of a duck with a top hat, and finished chapter twenty-one, thank you for asking," Sirius replies, taking a step back and putting his hands behind his back. "Please go into the living room. I have a surprise for you."
Intrigued, Remus does not argue. He goes into the sitting room and takes a seat on the sofa, allowing himself a second to sink back and relax before Sirius flounces into the room, something hidden behind his back. There is an impish look on the man's face, but something else as well; like he isn't sure how the next ten minutes are going to go. It sets Remus on edge.
Sirius takes a seat next to him, facing him with one leg bent and the other foot on the floor. He reveals what he had been hiding behind his back: a bag, which he drops into Remus's lap. He bites his lip in anticipation, and Remus stares at his other half for a long second before he opens the bag. What he finds there makes him pause, an icy wave of anxiety washing over him.
An explanation:
When Remus was fourteen years old, he went to a party at Raine Shu's house. Raine was a popular girl but not the mean kind. She was the kind of person who was friends with everyone, regardless of creed or colour or class. Remus had maybe had two conversations with her but Bertram, his best mate at the time, was friends with her friend, so they had been invited to her party.
Remus had been on his second bottle of Frosty Jack's when Nancy Truelove, arguably the prettiest girl at his school, had come up to him and asked him to meet her in the big bathroom on the second floor. Nancy was two years older than him and so pretty.
"O-okay," he replied, utterly starstruck by her presence.
"Great. See you in ten," she murmured with a wink before she wandered off.
"Bloody hell, Remus," Bertram said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Remus swallowed and looked at his friend who was grinning at him. Bertram took his Frosty Jack's, put the bottle on a side table, and corralled him up the stairs and into the bathroom.
"Good luck!" Bertram said, and left Remus alone in the bathroom before he could say anything.
Remus cleared his throat and glanced at himself in the small mirror above the sink. He and Nancy had never spoken before, so he was a bit unsure what they were going to do in the bathroom. He could guess, but he doubted Nancy Truelove would want to do that with him. His curiosity kept him where he was. His reflection stared back at him, cheeks flushed pink and hair a mess. He frowned at himself and fussed with his hair. When a minute had passed and he was no better looking, he turned away from his reflection and waited nervously for Nancy to show up.
And show up she did, with two shots of something green.
"He'are," Nancy said, handing him one of the glasses.
They downed the sour shots together and put the small glasses on the sink basin. Then Nancy moved forward and pushed him up against the bathroom wall, leaning in close. Her lips were inches from his skin, Remus felt his entire body flame up. God, it seemed that they were going to do that.
"I've seen you around, Remus," she said, her sea blue eyes piercing.
"You have?" he asked, because it seemed like he and Bertram kind of flew under the radar.
Nancy hummed and took a step back. "Wanna do something fun?"
Remus nodded, willing to do pretty much whatever she wanted in order to keep her near to him. The older girl smirked and unwrapped a scarf from around her neck. She turned Remus around, threw it over his eyes and tied it tight. She then turned him back around and pushed him against the wall again.
"You ever done this before?" she asked.
"Uhh... no?" he replied, not entirely sure what 'this' was. He didn't want to seem like a loser, but he also had no interest in lying.
"That's okay," she said. "I'll lead."
Remus swallowed and allowed the older girl to remove his jacket and then his shirt. He scrunched his eyes shut and tried not to get too excited when her hand accidentally brushed over his arm.
"You're surprisingly toned, Remus," she muttered, dropping his clothes on the floor.
"Thanks," he said, unsure if that was the right response. He spent most of his summers with his nana and grandad on their farm, down in Wales, helping them out and doing manual labour whilst earning some pocket money. The resulting muscle was almost definitely because of that.
Nancy ran a light hand down his chest before she stepped away. With the makeshift blindfold, he didn't really know what she was doing, then he felt her delicate fingers unbutton and unzip his trousers. He felt his face heat up and he tried to think of unsexy things: like Mrs McGonagall's science classes, or that gross scene in The Fly where Seth throws up on his food. It seemed to work. He was about ninety percent sure that he was only slightly hard.
Once he was standing there with his trousers around his ankles, his boxer shorts and mismatched socks on display, and the blindfold covering his eyes, he felt Nancy step back again. He felt more than a bit self-conscious, semi-naked and uncertain what her expression was thanks to the blindfold.
There was a second where nothing happened, and he wondered if she was staring at the scar on his collarbone – a gift from him going arse over tit on his bike when he was seven.
Then he heard a click and a snigger.
He frowned, "Nancy?"
There was another giggle.
Remus pulled the blindfold down and felt his stomach fill with lead and sink to his socks.
Nancy was still in the bathroom with him, but she was leaning against the wall next to the door which was wide open and filled with other partygoers – most from the upper years. Remus felt his cheeks heat up in humiliation as everyone burst out laughing at him. He couldn't move, frozen with fear and embarrassment and a whole plethora of negative realisations. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry and shout and fight. But he just stood there.
"What's going on? What the fuck is this?"
Remus stood there until Raine showed up and started screaming bloody murder. Her shouting pushed him out of his stasis, and he ducked down to grab his clothes, hastily pulling his trousers up and shoving his arms into his jacket.
Head down, Remus pushed his way past Nancy and Raine and the larger-by-the-second crowd, and hotfooted it down the stairs and out of the house. He heard Bertram and a few others call after him, but he was too far down the street to turn back. He ran home as fast as he could and immediately locked himself in his bedroom. He managed to convince his mam to let him stay off for the last week of the term. The summer holidays came and went, and he was forced to go back to school. Some people forgot about the thing at Raine's house, but a lot didn't, and they didn't let him forget about it either.
It had taken Remus a long time to move past what had happened; a long time before he trusted others, before he even let anyone see him without a shirt on. Meeting Sirius and James and Peter and Lily had certainly helped with his confidence. Sirius was the only person to have ever seen him fully naked, and that was because Sirius made him feel safe.
Remus has grown a lot since his teen years, but it twinges sometimes when he thinks about it or when the after-trauma disrupts something in his otherwise ideal life. When he looks into the bag and sees a black length of silk, he knows what it is, he knows what it means, and he finds himself thinking that maybe he hasn't moved past what happened at all because ice fills his veins, and a heavy feeling settles in his stomach.
"Remus?" Sirius ventures carefully. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Sorry," he says. "I'm just, um..." He clears his throat and glances up at his other half. He doesn't quite understand why Sirius has given this to him. Sirius knows what happened. "Sirius, what is this?"
Sirius worries his lip between his teeth, a clear sign that he is nervous. "What do you think it is?"
"I think it's a blindfold," he replies stoically. "But I know that can't be right, because I told you that this was a no-go for me."
"You did," Sirius agrees. "And I get it. I do. I just... It affects you, Remus. It still affects you, even to this day. We go to the beach, and you cover yourself up. I tell you that you're sexy, and you hide your face. We go somewhere and hear a laugh that I assume is similar to one you heard all those years ago, and you duck your head. I just wanted to, I don't know, help you."
"Help me?"
"I just mean that I was hoping to maybe bring you a bit of peace," Sirius explains. "You know. Take away the power that this piece of material has over you."
Remus looks at his fiancé, at the man's earnest face and imploring eyes. When Remus first told Sirius about what had happened during his school years, Sirius had said to him: "I'm going to make blindfolds fun for you." Remus had scoffed and thought it was a lark, but apparently it was not.
Remus frowns down at the material. He understands what his fiancé is trying to do. In Sirius's lovely but chaotic mind, this is his way of showing Remus that they can trust each other; that they can get through the worst together; that they can face their fears and their pasts if they have one another.
Remus thinks about what to say and eventually comes up with: "You have helped me. More than you know. I'm just not... I like looking at you."
"I know," Sirius replies. "I like looking at you, too. This isn't about that, though. This is about us. I want you to know that you can trust me, whatever the circumstance."
"I do trust you," he says quickly.
Sirius smiles, "I know you do. I just want you to be able to do that without worrying that something bad is going to happen."
Remus puts the blindfold back into the bag and tosses it onto the coffee table. "I'm not sure about this, Sirius. I see what you're trying to do, I just don't know if I can do it."
Sirius stares at him for a moment, then he shuffles forward and takes Remus's hand in his own. "Okay," he says. "That's okay, Remus. I understand."
"You do?"
"Of course," he replies. "I don't want you to do anything that you're uncomfortable with. It was just a thought. We don't have to do it. I can take it back."
"Hold off on that," he says before he can think about it. He's looking at Sirius, who looks so earnest and who he trusts with his everything. He doesn't know what to do about it, really. So he says, "Just, um. Can I have some time? To think about it?"
Grey eyes lighting up, Sirius nods, "Of course."
Remus smiles and gives the other man's hand a squeeze. Sirius returns the smile and pushes forward so that they are both half-lying on the sofa.
In ten minutes or so, Remus will get up so that he can get changed into his comfies. Sirius will order their takeaway. They will lie on the sofa together and they will watch Shaun of the Dead or Lake Placid (he hasn't decided yet), and then some Taskmaster. They will then go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Now, though, they sit in solitude together.
Remus stays true to his word, and he does think about it.
In fact, he spends weeks (nearly a month) agonising over it. He thinks about the possible repercussions, about what he might feel if his eyes are covered, about what might happen to their relationship if he goes through with it and what might happen if he doesn't.
He thinks about that time when he was fourteen years old. He thinks about how excited he had been to go into the bathroom with Nancy and how humiliated he had been after. He thinks about the ridicule that he received for months (until he turned sixteen and went to sixth form, really) thanks to that incident. He thinks about how it all felt, and how much it controls him still, and how much he wants to stop thinking about it. He can still hear their laughter sometimes, when he glances at himself in the bathroom mirror. He would like to not hear that.
He feels anxiety well up at the idea of putting himself into such a vulnerable position, but he supposes that's the point. He needs to put himself into that position if he wants to stop that anxiety welling up. He needs to be vulnerable with the one person he can be vulnerable with.
And it's that thought – being vulnerable with Sirius – that decides it for him.
When he gets home from work on the last day of school, he finds Sirius in the kitchen. He walks over to the man and kisses him so fiercely that it makes them both stumble a bit. Sirius doesn't waste any time, though. He wraps his arms around Remus and returns the kiss eagerly. When Remus pulls back, he looks at Sirius and decides again that he wants to be vulnerable because there is no one he trusts more than the grey-eyed, dark-haired beauty in front of him.
"I trust you," he says. "And I love you. And I know you only want the best for me, so let's do it."
"It?" Sirius asks.
"You still have that blindfold?"
Sirius's eyes light up as he nods. "Somewhere, yeah," he replies. "In the study, I think."
Remus nods back and says, "Alright. You go and get it; I'll meet you in the bedroom."
Ten minutes later, Remus and Sirius are in the bedroom. Remus is sitting on the edge of the bed, palms sweating and heart racing. Sirius is standing in front of him, the silky blindfold in his hands.
"Remus, are you sure about this?" Sirius asks. "You know we don't have to do this."
"I know," Remus replies. "I want to."
Sirius studies him for a second before he nods. "Alright," he says. "But if at any point you want to stop, you'll say—"
"Treebeard," he cuts in. "I know."
"Good."
Sirius moves forward and carefully puts the blindfold over Remus's eyes. He pauses before tying it, not too tight but secure. Remus's hands automatically come up to rip the blindfold off, but he stops himself at the last moment and instead grabs Sirius's wrists.
"Okay?" Sirius checks.
Eyes closed, Remus takes a deep breath, trying to temper his heartrate. He grounds himself by thinking about his senses: what he can see (darkness, his eyes closed beneath the black material); what he can hear (rain smashing against the windows, all hail the English summers); what he can smell (Sirius's aftershave and Lynx combo); what he can taste (his tea from earlier); and finally, what he can touch (Sirius's wrists, the heartbeat steady beneath his fingertips).
After what feels like an eternity but is probably less than a minute, he nods in response and loosens his grasp on Sirius's wrists. He doesn't release the other man completely. Sirius moves his hands and pushes his fingers into Remus's hair. It is a comforting action, and it makes Remus relax slightly.
"Remember, Remus, if you need to..."
"I'm fine," he croaks. He clears his throat and says, a little more steadily this time, "I'm fine. I'm okay. I promise."
Sirius's fingers flex and rub soothing circles into his scalp, then soft lips press against his and he reacts immediately. After a few seconds, a solid weight settles on his lap and presses close to him. It is Sirius straddling him, a knee on either side of his hips, arms around his neck. The kisses are slow and lingering and serve to further relax him.
Sirius pulls back and mutters, "I'm going to take your shirt off. Is that okay?"
Remus swallows but nods and allows Sirius to remove his tie and then his shirt. Sirius removes his own shirt and places Remus's hands on his torso, his own hands returning to cup Remus's face. Sirius presses kisses to his forehead, his chin, his cheek, his nose, his other cheek, and finally his lips. Remus lets his own hands roam.
It is a strange thing, not being able to see and yet knowing every inch of the skin beneath his fingertips.
Remus has spent years studying and memorising and getting to know the other man. He doesn't need to see in order to know where each tattoo and scar and mole is on Sirius. He already knows the shape of the ivy spread out across Sirius's right-side ribs; the silhouettes of three birds flying free on Sirius's left shoulder; the eclectic rumble of symbols, letters and hieroglyphs on Sirius's collarbones and arms. He knows every shape, every animal, every word, and every plant beneath his hands.
"I'm going to stand up, okay?"
Remus hesitates but nods. Sirius climbs off his lap and Remus automatically tenses. There is a sound behind him: like Sirius is rummaging around in the bedside drawer or something.
"Sirius?"
"I'm here," he replies. "I'm just getting something."
Remus frowns and bites the inside of his cheek but stays put and valiantly doesn't remove the blindfold. A few seconds later and Sirius is by his side again. Sirius pushes him back, climbs over him, and coaxes him further up the bed so that he is lying down, head resting against their soft pillows.
"I'm going to remove your trousers now, okay?"
It is a weird sensation, wearing a blindfold. His other senses seem to be heightened. He knows where Sirius is; if he were to lean up only a few inches, his lips would make contact with Sirius's face. He can feel the heat of Sirius's body as the man hovers over him, and he can smell Sirius's masculine cologne clearly.
"Remus?" Sirius checks in when he doesn't answer.
"Uh, yeah. Yes."
Sirius doesn't move, just stays over him. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Remus's neck and says, "Are you okay?"
It is a difficult question to answer, Remus thinks. Is he okay? What does 'okay' even mean, really?
"I think so," he answers carefully.
Sirius doesn't seem satisfied by this, as he says, "Treebeard?"
"No," Remus replies, reaching out to take hold of Sirius's face and placing a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth. "No, I'm good. You can take my trousers off."
Sirius hums and seems to accept this as his nimble fingers quickly unbutton and unzip Remus's trousers whilst he presses his lips to Remus's face and neck and chest. He moves down Remus's body, leaving a trail of hot kisses behind as he manages to tug down and remove Remus's trousers and pants in one, throwing them away without care if the thump in the far corner is anything to go by.
Sirius's hands glide over Remus's legs, pushing them up so that his knees are pointing at the ceiling and his feet are planted firmly on the mattress. Sirius presses his lips to the inside of Remus's thighs, getting lower and lower.
"Is this okay?" he checks.
Remus has to smile at that. He has always been pretty big on consent – explicit permission has always been a turn-on for him. He tries not to analyse it, but the knowledge of having clear authorisation to do whatever he wants, to do whatever his partner needs, and then doing said things, makes him feel good. He enjoys bringing pleasure to Sirius, and he likes knowing that he is allowed to. He gets off on knowing that he is pleasing his partner and that he has gotten Sirius's approval to do so.
Sirius tends not to ask for permission outright. He never takes without assent, but he does tend to rely on nonverbal cues and forms of questioning. He pauses if he is unsure, or he waits, or he pulls back until Remus says it's okay to go ahead.
But right now, Sirius is asking for his permission. Sirius is checking in with him, making sure that it is all right, and it makes Remus's insides warm. Sirius has always been considerate, in a quiet sort of way. He cares for few people in his life, but those who he does care for... boy, are they lucky. And fuck, does Remus feel lucky right now.
"Yes," he replies.
Sirius hums in response and leans down to lick a stripe up Remus's cock from base to tip. Remus's hand immediately flies to his mouth, and he bites down to stop a mewl from escaping. Sirius chuckles and licks another stripe before taking the mushroomed tip between his lips and twirling his tongue. Remus wants to rip the silky material off his eyes so that he can watch but he doesn't because this is the point, this is the exercise, this is the challenge. Sirius pushes forward, swallowing half of Remus's cock, one of his hands grasping the base and stroking in time with his lips.
"Oh, fuck me," he mutters into his fist, Sirius's tongue doing ungodly things to him.
Sirius chuckles and pulls back just enough to say, "Not yet, my love," before he returns to his previous task of getting Remus to the edge. He cups Remus's hirsute bollocks with his spare hand, pulling gently. He sucks Remus's cock like a pro, full of enthusiasm, confident in his technique, and Remus's hips buck automatically, but Sirius seems to have anticipated it as he doesn't gag and instead sucks harder. He bobs on Remus's cock, up and down, alternating between hard sucks and soft licks, and then pulls back.
Remus panics for a second but it is short-lived as Sirius doesn't move away by much, evidenced by the fact that Sirius begins placing kisses on Remus's knee. Remus frowns behind his blindfold, wondering what his fiancé is doing. He hears a familiar popping sound, and then a familiar squelching sound, and then there is a finger pressing against his arsehole, not quite pushing in but staying there with enough pressure to convey what might come next.
"Remus?" Sirius checks.
"Yes," he answers immediately. "God, yes. Go on."
And then there is the alien feeling of a well-lubed finger pushing into him. He automatically tenses but quickly relaxes as Sirius presses kisses to his thighs and cock. It is always a surreal thing, his body being invaded, being overrun with overwhelming sensations, familiar yet new, but it is not unusual. He is in a same-sex relationship with a man and has been for years, and whilst he tends to take charge in the bedroom most of the time, he is no stranger to being fucked – therefore he is no stranger to something going up his arse. He would even go so far as to say he likes it, now and again; has requested it, even.
"Oh, fuck," he mutters, and bites down on his hand again to muffle his whimpers as Sirius's long finger pumps in and out, precise and fastidious, seemingly going deeper with every push. And then Sirius crooks his finger and searches until... "Holyfuckingshit!"
Sirius chuckles and Remus doesn't need to see in order to know that there is a shit-eating grin on the other man's face. And then his cock is enveloped by a wet heat again. Sirius removes his finger only to push two in and immediately finds Remus's prostate to begin an overwhelming and entirely welcome assault on it.
"Oh, God," he mutters. "Oh, fuck. You are... Fuck. Yeah, like that..."
It doesn't take long after that. A minute or two, maybe. Three tops. With Sirius's hot mouth on his cock and Sirius's talented fingers rubbing over his prostate, he comes. Loudly and without warning. He tries to control himself, but his hips move of their own accord, thrusting into the warm embrace of Sirius's mouth, and Sirius seems only too willing to take what he has to offer.
White sparks fly like fireworks exploding behind his eyelids, his whole body and all of his senses utterly overwhelmed. After what feels like forever, he finally slumps back on the bed. Sirius pulls off and licks his slowly deflating cock. The man is relentless in his pursuits, making sure to clean every inch of Remus's manhood, his fingers still massaging that small bundle of nerves within Remus. Remus groans, sensitive after coming so hard. He pushes his fingers into Sirius's hair and tugs gently.
"Sirius," he mumbles, and reaches down with his other hand to pull the other man up. "Come 'ere."
Sirius removes his fingers and eagerly crawls up the bed, settling between Remus's splayed legs. Remus touches Sirius's face with clumsy fingers and smiles when he feels Sirius's soft lips kiss his palm. He leans in and kisses the man so deeply that he can taste himself on Sirius's tongue. He finds himself unerringly happy about this, like some possessive part of him has been satiated, knowing that he has marked the other man as his.
Sirius presses closer to him, aligning his body with Remus's so that they are touching from lips to chests to hips to knees to ankles. His cock is hard and leaking against Remus's stomach, and Remus decides he ought to do something about that, so he gently pushes until they are both lying on their sides, still entwined completely.
"I'm going to touch you," he says. "Yeah?"
"Yes," Sirius replies without hesitation, and Remus can tell he's nodding frantically. "Please."
Remus bites his lip. He wants to push the blindfold up so that he can look at Sirius, so that he can watch the other man's face screw up in pleasure, but he leaves it. He keeps it over his eyes – partly because what they're doing right now is because of the blindfold but partly because he is curious to know what it is like to make Sirius climax without being able to see it.
Remus kisses Sirius chastely and then reaches down to wrap his hand around the other man's cock. He hears Sirius's sharp inhale and starts to pump his hand, assertive and sure in his movements. He has done this countless times before. He knows what to do to get the other man to the edge, and he knows what to do to tip Sirius over that edge.
Sirius's hips thrust forward instinctively, his hands coming up to grasp uncontrollably at Remus's bicep, Remus's shoulder, Remus's hair.
Remus smirks and reaches down with his other hand to roll Sirius's hairy bollocks between his fingers. Remus doesn't need to see in order to tell that it won't be long before Sirius comes. He can tell in the way the man clutches at him with brutal fingers, the way Sirius's breathing speeds up, the way his foot curls around Remus's calf and digs in.
"I love you," he mutters, and it has the desired effect: Sirius whines and comes in waves, spurting over Remus's hand and covering their lower stomachs. Remus strokes him through it, stops when Sirius whines again, kisses Sirius gently as he comes down from his high.
"God, I love you," Sirius sighs, reaching up and pushing the blindfold up so that Remus can see again.
Remus blinks, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low light of their bedroom. He immediately focuses on Sirius and finds himself utterly mesmerised by the man. Sirius Black has always been handsome, with striking grey eyes and perfect eyebrows and a straight nose and a strong jawline, but Remus can't help but stare at the man right now: with messy hair and pink cheeks and blown-out pupils and pouty lips.
Sirius is so fucking lovely, and Remus is so fucking lucky.
"What?" Sirius asks, shifting slightly under Remus's gaze.
Remus forgets sometimes that Sirius, for all his bravado and confidence, can be quite self-conscious. It doesn't happen often, these bouts of insecurity and self-doubt, not when Remus lathers him with compliments and assurances every day, but when they do happen, it is usually in the quiet moments after sex when Sirius feels at his most vulnerable.
Remus shrugs one shoulder and says, "Nothing. I just... Thank you. For doing this."
Sirius's eyes are wide as he stares at Remus, his fingers carding idly through Remus's hair. Remus leans in and places a gentle kiss on his fiancé's cheek. When he pulls back, he finds Sirius smiling at him.
"You liked it?" Sirius asks.
Remus hums and replies, "'Liked' is a strong word. I didn't mind it. It helped, I think. I'd still much rather see you, though."
Sirius grins and cockily replies, "Well, that's understandable. I am truly something to look at."
"You are," Remus replies, all sincerity.
Sirius notices this and his grin softens into something else: a private smile, reserved for Remus only. "Would you do it again?" he asks.
"With you," Remus replies. "Maybe."
Sirius bites his lip in an attempt to temper his smile, but it doesn't quite work as his proud grin is clear as day. He pushes forward until Remus is on his back and he wraps his arm around Remus's waist, his head resting on Remus's shoulder. Remus wraps his own arms around his fiancé. Sirius's sticky come is drying on their stomachs and it's a bit gross. They need to shower and maybe change the bedsheets, but he doesn't really want to move yet, and Sirius doesn't seem too keen to either, so they lie there in the slowly dusking bedroom.
"Fish and chips for tea tonight?" he suggests.
Sirius hums, "Sounds good."
"Fancy round two before a shower?"
Sirius grins, "Or round two in the shower..."
Remus chuckles and replies, "Give me ten minutes and I'll be good to go again."
Sirius presses his face into Remus's neck and mutters, "Anything for you, Remus."