Chapter 1
Remus sits, and feels the world drop out from under his feet.
“No,” he says low, and furious. “I won’t. I can’t- I can’t do that to them- to Sirius, and James, and Lily, I won’t. Don’t you see, that would destroy us! All of us!”
Dumbledore watches, patient, and infuriatingly calm. “Yes.”
“How long?” He demands. “How long, Dumbledore?”
“As long as it takes.”
He’s angry, now, the fury of the moon rising in his bones. “A week? A month? Two? Six? A year?How long?”
“Possibly.” Dumbledore’s voice is infuriatingly even. “You’re the only one who can do this, Remus.”
“I’m one person,” he spits. “I’m one fucking person, I’m not that important! I’m not going to win the war single handedly, so tell me before I ruin everything good in my life!”
“Hopefully no longer than months, at the most,” he says evasively. “No less than two.”
Betrayal curdles deep in his gut and he knows that if he does this, he will be throwing away the last vestiges of trust his friends ever had for him.
And Sirius.
Merlin, Sirius.
“This is going to kill them,” He murmurs hopelessly.
“Yes.”
It’s both an acknowledgement and a brush off.
Because Dumbledore knows.
He knows it will destroy this little family Remus has managed to build around him in the wreckage of the war, and he’s not sorry for it.
Not for the first time, Remus looks at Albus Dumbledore and hates him.
Hates him with everything he has left, and he knows he’ll give in.
Because this will help save them.
And he can live with them hating him, grieving him, if he doesn’t have to grieve them.
It’s selfish, oh it’s so selfish, but he doesn’t want to grieve them
Remus rants, and he argues, and he fights, and all the while knows that as sure as the night is long, he’s going to give in.
“I have conditions,” he says evenly, when the worst of his storm has died down.
Albus watches, and waits.
“I’m going home,” he says sharply. “One week. I’m going to tell them about the werewolves, so they won’t come looking for me when they get the news. They’ll believe it. I just need one more week with them. And then I’ll come here, and I’ll be your puppet. Those are my conditions.”
There’s silence for long enough that Remus fears it being broken.
Secrecy has been of utmost importance, and he knows that Dumbledore is vehemently against any information being spread around.
But just as surely as he knows that Dumbledore will not approve, Remus will not bend.
This is his last hope, his final throw of the dice, because he knows things aren’t good between him and his friends right now.
Between him and Sirius, most of all.
He needs time, a last few good nights where he can have them all around him, before breaking their hearts.
Maybe that makes him selfish, or maybe that makes him human.
“Alright,” Dumbledore says, and Remus waits for the other shoe to drop.
It doesn’t, though.
“I know this is too much, what I’m asking of you,” Dumbledore acknowledges. “And they won’t dig into it after, so you may share. With discretion of course.”
He would have anyway, but it’s a relief that Dumbledore won’t fight him on it.
“I’ll be here,” Remus says heavily. “One week from today. Noon.”
“Acceptable.”
Remus leaves with a burning hatred for Dumbledore, and a heart that’s rending in two.
He apparates home immediately.
The flat is silent, and he sets to work.
It’s been wasting away, gathering dust and sorrow in the time they’ve been away.
That can’t stand.
He banishes the dust with a spell, straightens the furniture, and sweeps the floor with another.
The air hangs thick, and he summons candles from his collection to sit and burn in the different rooms.
The living room smells like the forest, now, and he gets a fire going in the hearth with ease.
There’s a new life to his movements, almost.
If this is going to be his last week with them, he’s going to make it good.
Remus cleans, until the sun starts to set and the flat is lit up with the fading warmth of the las rays.
Then he cooks.
He does it the Muggle way, as he grew up learning, because it’s soothing.
The repetitive movements of chopping vegetables and stirring pots, and he’s left with a thick stew and a sense of satisfaction.
For a moment, the war feels far away.
Then the door rattles, a key inserted into the lock, and it opens and shuts.
Footsteps.
Then Sirius is there, in the kitchen doorway.
He looks tired, no, drained, and there’s something empty in his eyes when he looks at Remus, but he still smiles.
It’s faint, but it’s there.
“Remus?”
“Hi.” He fidgets, anxious, and sweeps a hand at the table behind him. “I made dinner.”
Sirius glances over it slowly, but his gaze returns to Remus. “It looks good.”
It’s stilted, but they sit and eat.
They don’t talk.
Remus goes round and round with himself in his own head, trying to figure out the best way to start the conversation.
Sirius seems to sense it, and they’ve barely taken their respective last bites before he’s pushing the bowls away and leaning forward. “What is it?”
And, well, he wasn’t expecting this.
He’d hoped, foolishly, that Sirius wouldn’t want to talk.
That he could put it off for at least a little while.
The longer he hesitates, the more Sirius seems to worry, though, so he sucks it up and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I love you.”
No matter how quiet the room had been before, the silence is heavy now.
“Remus…”
“I do.” He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes, presses until he can see flashes of light on the undersides of the lids. “I always have, and I didn’t always know it but I did, and now… now I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you, and I feel like I am, and it scares me like nothing else in this fucking war.”
“Remus,” Sirius says again, and his voice is soft.
“Because I don’t want to lose you,” Remus spits out, and thinks distantly that maybe he should breathe. “There’s been too much loss and anger and fighting in this hell and I can’t- I can’t do it, Sirius, I can’t. I won’t. It feels like I’m losing you, and it’s worse than anything they could ever do to me. And I need to know, Sirius- I need to know if you still love me. I need- I need-”
Hands circle his wrists, tugging him out of the safe darkness of his haven, and Sirius is there.
Not across the table anymore, but crouched on the floor beside his chair, holding him, and looking at him in a way he’d thought he’d never get again.
“I love you,” Sirius says urgently, desperately. “I do, Rem, I swear. I do. Breathe, okay? Breathe for me, please, love.”
He tries, and he tries, and he tries.
Sirius pulls him in, and it’s awkward in a way it shouldn’t be, because they’ve forgotten how to touch each other, but only for a moment and then they’re falling together in an old, familiar way.
Remus falls into him, and presses in, and tries to make himself smaller to fit in the circle of his arms and it doesn’t quite work but it almost does and that's enough.
“I’ve got you,” Sirius whispers. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
And it’s not, really, but Sirius has always had a way of making things seem alright.
If only for a moment.
It’s okay, Sirius Black says, and Remus Lupin believes it.
They huddle there on the worn wood floor, until Remus can breathe again, until their legs fall asleep, and still they don’t let go.
They haven’t had this in too long.
Suspicion rising amidst the war efforts, casting doubt on their closest of relationships, and at this moment none of it matters.
They need to talk, though.
Because in one week he’s going to break them irreparably.
Until then he needs to clear the air.
Sirius pulls away first, and he’s red eyed and pale, but he still finds a smile for Remus.
It aches, and it warms.
“You’re insane,” he murmurs, “if you think that I could ever stop loving you. What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” he says faintly, and it’s clear that Sirius doesn’t believe it. “I just… I realized that… there’s so much that I have to lose, and so much I want to hold on to, and so much that I’m risking, and I can’t even fucking tell anyone about it, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m just- drowning. I can’t ever breathe and when I do it’s just water.”
“So tell me,” Sirius says softly, not for the first time. “I can’t help with it, I know, but I can help you hold it. It’s just me, Remus. Just me. Trust me.”
Remus looks at him, and opens his mouth, and trusts him.
“Dumbledore’s missions,” he says quietly. “They’re… he’s sending me to the werewolves. Trying to win them over.”
Sirius takes this in, nodding, even as his expression hardens. “Of course he is.”
“It’s been bad,” Remus murmurs, and his voice breaks. “I don’t think I’m- I don’t think I can-”
"What?" Sirius runs a hand down his arm, circles his wrist with two fingers. "Don't think you can… what?"
"It's tearing me apart," Remus' voice cracks again, and he ducks his head. "And I don't feel real, and I think it's going to kill me."
Skirting too close to the truth, but it's true.
This war is killing something in him, and at the end of the week he'll be finishing the job.
"It won't." Sirius leans in, presses forehead to temple. "It won't. I won't let it."
"You can't fix it this time."
"I will." Voice shaking, Sirius swears it. "I'll keep you safe. This war has taken too many things from me, Remus. From us. I won't let it take you too."
And oh how it aches, knowing he's going to be forced to break that promise.
"Believe me. Please?"
Remus swallows his doubt, a bloody mangled thing that claws up his throat again, and lies through his teeth. "Okay. I believe you."
There's silence, again, but it's gentle.
"These missions…" Sirius starts slowly. "Tell me about them?"
It's hesitant.
Before, he'd shy away from any questions about the missions.
It doesn’t matter now, though.
He wants to be honest about this, at least.
"I’ve been spending the moons with different packs,” he admits, almost inaudible as he waits for the inevitable anger.
Sirius surprises him, as he often does, by just… listening quietly.
The most he does in the way of reacting is hold tighter.
Encouraged by his silence, Remus takes a breath and continues.
“I’ve been trying to convince them to fight with us, or at the very least stay neutral. Voldemort is doing the same, apparently, which is why I’ve been gone more and more frequently. For every pack I convince, there’s two more that join his side. It’s a losing battle, but I’m- I’m still fighting it because if I don’t, who will?” He trails off slowly, a lump rising in his throat. “They’re suspicious of me, obviously. I smell like magic, to them.Eventually I’m going to stumble onto one of the wrong packs, and they’re going to know-”
His voice cracks again, and he turns his face into Sirius’ shirt, breathing in deeply.
They’re quiet again, and his heart leaps at the fact that they can just be.
No more silences fraught with anger, and distrust, and longing.
“The night of our date,” Sirius murmurs against his temple. “The one you missed. Was that a mission?”
The night in question had been one of their worst, and he’s not surprised that it’s his first question.
“Yeah. Things went south, and Dumbledore kept me back in the infirmary with Poppy.”
Sirius inhales slowly, his hod tightening. “How bad was it?”
Bad.
“Well, I didn’t die,” he forces his voice to be steady.
He’s trying to make light of the situation, but from the way Sirius lets out a shaky breath, it’s not very helpful.
“Remus.”
All at once he gives in, closing his eyes and sinking back into Sirius. “It was bad. I… I don’t know. Poppy said that… if I hadn’t made it back when I did, I probably wouldn’t have made it back at all.”
“Merlin,” Sirius whispers, and his voice is trembling. “And I yelled at you. I made you cry.”
“I stood you up, it was… justified.”
“Remus- please.”
He turns in Sirius’ arms, bringing his hands up to thumb away the tears steadily tracking their way down his cheeks. “Love, you didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius shakes his head abruptly, eyes shining with fear. “I could have lost you, Moony, and I wouldn’t have fucking known!”
There’s the anger he’d been waiting for.
It tears at something in him, and he’s so tired.
“Because I didn’t think you’d believe me,” he says honestly, stepping off a ledge and hoping someone would catch him at the bottom. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t… being away messed with my head, and I was surrounded by wolves, and they weren’t my pack, and they weren’t my friends, and they weren’t you, but no one trusted me, and I just- I think I made myself believe that you wouldn’t either. I’m sorry.”
He can’t meet Sirius’ eyes at the moment, but once the words are out he’s so fucking relieved to have said them, to have them out in the open.
Instead, he looks at where Sirius’ hands are wrapped around his own arms, the way he’s so strong and gentle all at once, and oh how he loves him.
As he watches, Sirius lets go with one hand and uses it to tip Remus’ face back up, until their eyes can meet.
There’s none of the judgement he’d feared, none of the anger, disappointment, or the mistrust.
Just love.
Sirius looks at him, and his gaze is full of nothing but love. “I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, and careful. “That you felt like that. I’m not going to say that it’s not merited. I… haven’t exactly given you reason to trust that I would. But I believe you. I will always believe you. I trust you, Remus. Always.”
A weight lifts at the words, and Remus feels like he can breathe again. “Thank you.”
Everything is in the open, now, and it aches in a good way.
All except for one secret, one that rises from his throat and presses behind his teeth until he swallows it down.
“Sirius-”
“Remus-”
They start to speak at the same time, and both subside with half of a laugh, barely more than a breath of shared air, and Sirius nudges Remus to continue.
“I just came from the castle,” he keeps his voice quiet. “I’ve got a week before I head out again, and I would really like to spend it with you.”
“Yes.” Sirius lets out a soft breath, a relieved gust of air. “Yeah, of course. I… I missed you.”
Remus meets his gaze again, revels in the warmth he sees there. “I missed you. Can we…”
“Whatever you want.”
“Can we go to bed?” He shrugs one shoulder, cheeks pinkening. "Just to- well… I want you to hold me. I haven’t slept well in… feels like forever, and I always sleep better with you there.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Sirius teases lightly. “You’re blushing. It’s always fetching, when you go pink like that.”
“Fuck off,” he mumbles, and feels heat spread from just his cheeks to his entire face. “We don’t have to, of course. I just thought-”
Sirius drops the teasing immediately, face softening. “No, I was- I’m sorry. Bad time for jokes, I know. Of course we can. Help me up?”
Remus stands slowly, knees popping after an extended time on the hard floor, and tugs on their joined hands to pull Sirius up with him.
They hold on as they walk, even if it means bumping into each other repeatedly, and it’s light in a way it hasn’t been since the war started.
The bedroom is cold.
It’s unexpected, even as he realizes all over again that he hasn’t come home in weeks.
Sirius seems to come to the same realization, looking around with a poorly hidden frown. “I haven’t- I haven’t been in here much. Not while you’re gone. I usually sleep over at James’.”
There’s traces of guilt in his tone, as if it’s something to be sorry for, and Remus’ heart twists. “Just means we’ll have to spend more time here.” He glances sideways, and lets his tone take on a warm teasing. “It’ll be such a chore.”
Then it’s Sirius’ turn to flush, obviously catching on to his meaning. “Bastard.” His tone is fond.
“Yours,” he returns, and the way Sirius looks at him makes him feel warm to the soles of his feet.
“Mine,” Sirius breathes, joy welling up and spilling over into his smile. “You’re mine again.”
Remus tugs him in closer, and slips his hands up to meet behind his neck. “I never stopped being yours, love.”
Sirius searches his face, finds whatever he’s looking for, and smiles again. “Kiss me?”
Needing no further prompting, Remus leans in until they’re sharing the same air, and waits until Sirius sways in, eyes flickering down to his mouth.
They meet in the middle, a soft press of lips, and then further into a gentle, breathtaking touch.
He smiles into it, feels joy fluttering through his entire body, and feels Sirius’ answering grin against his mouth.
Again, and again he pulls away and comes back, a wave breaking against the hull of a ship, unable to stay but unable to leave.
Warm hands hold his waist, his hip, and gentle fingers trail over his lower back until they slip under the hem of his shirt.
Soft calloused palms come to rest against his bare skin, and the touch is his undoing.
Remus lifts one hand up to palm Sirius’ neck, fingers teasing the soft hair, and pulls him impossibly closer.
Sirius presses into his touch, lips parting around a soft breath of air, and his eyelashes slip lower to brush against his cheeks.
It’s an intoxicating sight, and he wants.
“Bed?” He murmurs, almost inaudible.
Sirius huffs a soft laugh, and his hands pull away from Remus’ waist, and find his hands.
They separate briefly, just long enough to find their way to the bed.
As soon as his knees hit the frame, Sirius sinks down onto the blanket, tugging at Remus until he’s standing between his knees.
He takes Sirius’ face between his palms, and bends to kiss him again.
“I love you,” he whispers, and he’s so achingly tender, pressing the words against his mouth. “I love you.”
Sirius kisses him right back, steals the words, steals the breath from his lungs. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”
He pushes, gentle, and Sirius drops back against the covers, grinning impishly up at him. “Going to have your wicked way with me, love?”
Remus props himself over Sirius with an arm on either side, and smiles, slow and teasing. “Depends.”
Sirius swallows audibly, dampening his lower lip with a swipe of his tongue. “On?”
He lowers his body until they’re pressed together in a long line of heat, and watches as Sirius’ eyes darken. “On how much you want it. How much you want to be mine.”
“So much,” Sirius breathes, hips twitching up. “Please, I want you to- I need-”
Remus shifts, presses his thigh up and in, watches as Sirius exhales sharply, losing focus. “What do you want?”
“I-” Sirius blinks rapidly. “I want- ah-”
He leans down, mouthing at the underside of his jaw, flicking his tongue out to taste the soft skin. “Tell me, sweetheart. What do you want?”
“I can’t-” Sirius twitches, mouth falling open as he rolls his hips upward desperately. “Oh I can’t fucking think when you-”
Remus lifts up just enough that there’s no relieving pressure between them, mouth curling up as Sirius makes a displeased sound at the loss. “Go on, tell me.”
“You’re a bastard,” Sirius whispers breathlessly. “You’re a filthy fucking bastard. You know what I want.”
“I know,” he acknowledges lowly. “I want you to say it.”
A flush spills over Sirius’ fine cheekbones, down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. “I want you to fuck me.”
“There we are.”
Sirius narrows his eyes, fondly annoyed. “Are you happy now?”
All teasing drops away when Remus meets his eyes. “Yes.”
A slow smile pulls up the edges of his mouth, and Sirius beams, unguarded and joyful. “I am too.”
He revels in it for a brief moment, before remembering there are other things he could be doing.
Other, very rewarding things.
“Please,” Sirius breathes. “I want you.”
Remus presses into him again, kisses the dimple on his cheek, and traces a path down, across his jaw again, along his neck, and pauses to nip lightly at the skin behind his ear.
Sirius twitches again, an aborted movement, before stilling under him.
It’s clear he’s trying very hard not to move, and it’s endearing, and entirely unnecessary.
“It’s alright,” Remus murmurs into his neck, pressing a brief kiss to his earlobe. “You can.”
“I don’t-” Sirius breathes out shakily, fingers tightening around his hips. “I don’t want it to be over, I want-”
“It won’t be.” Remus rolls his hips, slow and steady, and revels in the breathless curse it draws. “I’m far from done with you, sweetheart. I haven’t had you like this in far too long, and as long as you’re willing, I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”
“I am,” Sirius laughs, breathless. “Of course I am-”
Remus grinds down, feels his body light up with sensation, and moves back up to smother Sirius’ gasp with his own mouth. “Let go, sweetheart. I want to take you, and make you mine, and I want you to feel so good.”
Sirius slips his hands under the shirt again, sliding up over his chest, fingers teasing at the fine hair. “Take it off. Please?”
He honestly hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that they were still clothed, but now there’s nothing he wants more than to get everything between them off.
Straddling him, low across his hips, Remus shifts to draw his own shirt over his head, drawing it out.
Sirius’ fingers clench against his hips, gaze dark and heavy, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Remus tosses the shirt somewhere off to the side, careless with where it lands, and starts the task of unbuttoning Sirius’ shirt.
This goes much faster, and Sirius raises up on his elbows to help with the task.
The movement presses them together again, and heat flashes through the pit of his stomach.
Pleasure burns low in his belly, and he’s helpless in the face of it, dipping forward to kiss Sirius again. “Pants.”
They separate again to rid themselves of the last of their clothing, coming back together in a rush.
Remus straddles him on the bed, hot skin against hot skin, every movement bringing a wave of sensation.
Sirius runs his hands along his bare skin, lighting up sparks in their wake, gripping his thighs, and presses their hips together in a sinuous roll that sends pleasure sparking through their bodies.
“Please,” he gasps, hips rising from the bed. “Please, Remus, I need- I need-”
“I've got you,” Remus whispers brokenly. “Come on, take what you need, take it-”
Every touch sends a wildfire through his blood, and he wants, he needs-
“Please,” he says again, “please, please, please-”
Remus slides lower, trailing his mouth in a slow journey over Sirius’ body.
Lower and lower he goes, until he finds the sharp angle of his hip bone.
He pauses there for a moment, to nip at the skin, to suck a bruising kiss over it.
Sirius jerks, swears, and laughs breathlessly.
“You love that, don’t you?” Remus murmurs, not needing an answer.
Once there’s a red mark on the skin, he leaves it, continuing with a one track mind.
He’s far from done, and he wants Sirius to be relaxed when he takes him.
The best way to do that, well…
It’s fun for both of them.
Sirius realizes his intention, and his hands drop, one curling into the sheet, the other finding a home on the back of his head. “Please, please-”
“I’ve got you,” he says again, and takes him into his mouth.
Sirius cries out, a rough, breathy sound that breaks in the middle.
His body goes tense, one long line of muscle and skin, and he spills into Remus’ mouth.
Remus swallows carefully, pulling off with a pleased hum when Sirius falls back against the sheets with a soft moan.
He rolls his hips against the bed, a careful movement that curbs the edge of desire trembling through his body.
“Come here,” Sirius whispers, tugging at his hair, his shoulder, trying to bring him level. “I want to kiss you so badly.”
Remus lifts himself back up, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and bringing him in for a deep kiss.
“Are there still supplies here?” He reaches blindly for the dresser beside them, refusing to pull away for even a brief moment.
“Mm. In the top drawer.” Sirius draws him in again, nipping at his lower lip and oh.
He’s never wanted anything more than he wants this, here and now, with this man beside him, he wants.
His questing fingers find the small bottle, and he makes a pleased noise against Sirius’ mouth. “Got it.”
Sirius hums, mouth curling up into a smile. “Get on with it then.”
“Cheeky,” Remus murmurs, so deeply fond. “Turn over.”
A swift, familiar rearrangement, and Remus settles back on his knees, straddling Sirius’ thighs.
“I love this part,” Remus tells him softly. “I love everything with you, but it takes my breath away seeing you like this. Just for me.”
He continues down, licking and nipping a path down the expanse of Sirius’s back until he’s on his knees behind him.
He kisses the dip of Sirius’ waist, marveling at the soft skin under his lips.
“Now for the fun part,” he whispers, letting his mouth trail down until he can make a first, questing lick at furled skin.
Sirius shivers, a soft gasp pressed into the pillow, and tilts his hips up in a plea. “More,” he urges. “More, sweetheart. I won’t break.”
“Patience,” Remus tells him. “I want you to be ready for me.”
“I am ready,” Sirius insists. “Come on, sweetheart, It’s been so long, I just- I want you, please.”
And Remus is a weak, weak man.
He presses in, circling the rim with his tongue, teasing, tugging, enjoying the soft sounds teased out by his ministrations.
He’s so fucking hard he can barely stand it, but it takes a backseat to ensuring Sirius’ pleasure.
He uses his teeth briefly, tugs gently on the skin and Sirius whimpers.
Oh.
Oh he likes that.
It becomes a game for him, to see how many broken little sounds he can tease out before Sirius turns to begging.
Plenty, it turns out.
He gives it his all, licking and humming, pulling out every trick in the book to make it good.
And oh the sounds, they dive into the heart of his arousal, turning it to a hundred, and he can feel every inch of his body trembling with need but he won't let himself tumble over the edge, notyet-
Sirius moans, a long sound that trembles with the same need that chokes his very being.
Remus pulls away, and thumbs open the lid of the tiny bottle beside him.
The click has Sirius whining, and the sound itself is enough to amp up the coiling heat inside him.
"Patience, love," he murmurs, despite the fact that every fibre of his being trembles with the need to claim.
Sirius whimpers again, and oh god.
"I've got you," he repeats, and he knows his voice is so terribly fond. "I've got you, love."
He slicks his hand with the cool lube, thoroughly coating every finger before shuffling closer.
"One finger," he murmurs. Sirius hums, sounding completely blissful, and shifts his legs wider.
"Good boy."
That gets a good reaction.
Hm.
He tables it for later, though.
His finger teases, rubbing the slippery lube around in a circle before slipping just the tip inside.
Sirius moans, pressing back desperately.
Remus can hardly refuse him anything at this point, and he slips inside to the first knuckle, testing the give.
He's done a good job of loosening him with just tongue and spit, and he presses with a second finger until it slips inside as well.
Scissoring them gently, he presses idle kisses to the skin around his hand, enjoying every hitching breath that he wrings out.
He draws it out, slow and more careful than he has to be, just because he loves it.
Loves seeing Sirius fall apart under his touch.
Every whimper and every moan, every shuddering breath, and bitten off curse, sends sparks through him to pool in his belly, drawing him tighter and tighter.
"More," Sirius demands eventually, shifting restlessly, mindlessly pushing back onto his hand.
Remus trusts him to know when it's too much, and so adds a third finger, carefully.
Sirius whimpers again at the stretch, rocking back onto his hand, then grinding forward against the bed, back and forth in a never ending quest for release.
Remus pulls out fully, when he judges it to be enough, knowing that Sirius has always enjoyed the slight burn.
Sirius sobs at the movement, clenching and grinding his hips forward futilely. "Please, Remus, please- I need you, please-"
"I'm here," he soothes, "I'm still here, just a moment, I know sweetheart, I know you need me."
He slicks himself up, barely slowing down to do so, and lines up.
He presses in, slowly, and both of them let out a sharp gasp at the feeling.
Sirius rolls his hips, taking him so beautifully, and Remus slides in fully, bottoming out.
It's so much, too much, and he cries out from the feeling, falling forward to press his forehead between Sirius' shoulder blades.
"Just- hold on, don't-" he gasps, closing his eyes and willing himself not to come immediately.
Sirius whimpers again, shifting restlessly with the urge to move.
The tidal wave recedes, and he sits carefully, breath coming in sharp pants as he adjusts.
Smoothing a hand over Sirius' back, he checks in. "Alright, love?"
Sirius groans into the pillow, turning his face to the side to speak. "I'd be much better if you'd fucking move."
Remus laughs, and does as he's told.
Carefully, he rolls his hips.
Sirius clenches down, his moan muffled by the pillow.
He does it again, setting a slow pace that shores up the wildfire slowly replacing his body.
Sirius cries out with every thrust, and Remus wants so badly to hear it not muffled by the pillow.
An idea sparks the flame, and he slips his arms under Sirius, pulling him up and back until he's sitting astride his bent knees, back to chest.
"Brilliant idea," Sirius gasps, dropping his head back against Remus' shoulder. "Best you've ever had, really. I- ah- I approve."
Remus runs his hands slowly over every inch of him, marveling.
Mine.
All mine.
He speeds up, thighs burning with the effort it takes, but it's worth it.
Heat pools, and pools, and rises and rises until he's so full he could burst.
He's matching Sirius' whimpers with his own, and his breathing has gone shallow and fast, and he's so close-
He climbs, higher and higher, and he peaks-
He wraps his arm tighter around Sirius, holding him up, and gets a hand around him, stroking in time to his thrusts.
It takes very little time for Sirius to moan his way through another release, and he follows quickly.
Pleasure burns through him, cresting higher and higher until he falls, and oh god oh god oh oh oh-
He bites Sirius' shoulder as he comes, smothering his drawn out groan.
Waves of pleasure course through him, tidal, crashing into him and shaking his body with the intensity of it.
They ride it out together, until the oceans calm.
In the aftermath, they lie together, sated and happy.
Remus eventually musters up the wherewithal to move, reaching for his wand and magicking them clean before curling up against Sirius again.
He tucks one leg between Sirius’, draping an arm over his stomach, and pressing his face into the curve of his neck.
Really, his favorite place to be.
And he’s weak, so weak, because he made a promise to Dumbledore, and not even twenty four hours later he’s going to break it.
Because there’s no way he’s going to break Sirius’ heart.
He just- he loves him too much to hurt him that badly.
So he’s going to tell him everything.
In the morning, though.
And he can’t ask Sirius to lie to James, so… he’ll gather them.
Sirius, James, and Lily.
He’ll tell them all together, once he’s made them promise not to speak of it, and…
Hope for the best.
He drifts, then, dozing on and off until Sirius attempts to get up.
Then he makes a soft, displeased little noise.
Sirius laughs softly, leaning in to brush a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back, love. I’m just grabbing some water.”
“Mm. Fine.”
“You’re pretty when you’re grumpy,” Sirius informs him.
Remus scrunches his nose, ridiculously fond. “I thought you said I’m always pretty.”
“Oh you are,” he says softly. “But this is just for me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
This man.
“Grumpy, and sleepy, and soft, when your hair’s a wreck,” Sirius reaches out, trailing one finger over the corner of his smile. “And you’re looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
The smile grows, infinitesimally, and Sirius replaces his finger with his mouth, the lightest press of lips, before he speaks again. “Like I’m the world to you.”
Remus captures him in another kiss, tugging him closer and closer until they’re pressed together again. “You’re more than the world to me, love. You’re the entire fucking universe. The moon and the stars all rolled into one. I’m cold without you. Can’t live without you. Every time I look at you I’m speechless all over again because you’re something I was never meant to have but I get to have you anyway. I can’t steal the moon and stars, but it seems I’ve been lucky enough to steal you. What more could I ask for? How else am I supposed to look at you?”
Sirius meets his gaze, mouth working slightly, and arches up to kiss him again. “Fucking poet. What am I supposed to say to that?”
“Tell me you love me,” Remus murmurs breathlessly. “That works quite well."