[fic] Before You I'm Falling (Sirius/Remus, NC-17)
Before You I'm Falling
Rating: NC-17
Ship: Sirius/Remus
Summary: "It's not that I want you gone," said Sirius. "It's just too dangerous having you here."
A/N: I hesitated before posting this story here, but decided that the porn, though fairly graphic, was seconary to the tension. I hope the mods agree. This one is for tesseract_5. Beta read by penknife and underlucius. Approx. 3,200 words.
The Potters' ancestral home was surrounded by several acres of undeveloped land - space enough for Remus Lupin to lose himself when the party's atmosphere became too oppressive. Gloved hands stuffed in his pockets, chin tucked under his woolen scarf, he made his way across the snowy ground.
The moon was waxing, not that you could see it behind the thick clouds. It would be full on the third of January, the night after his return from New York. If he went.
"See how it all works out?" Sirius had said eagerly while waving the Portkey and hotel confirmations under Remus's nose. "With luck you'll've got yourself so fucked that you won't even notice the transformation."
"With luck," Remus had replied tightly, through his teeth, "you'll get so pissed tonight that you'll fall on your arse and die."
"That's not very nice," Peter had observed.
"Remus isn't very nice," Sirius had said with a barbed smile. "He needs shagging badly. I suggest he make a night of it with Calvin…"
"Clarence," Remus had corrected.
"See? I've only just introduced you two, and already you've learned his name! I've been working with him for three months and I still haven't a clue."
"You're barking mad."
"Arf, arf."
Sod it all.
Remus fingered the wadded up confirmation slips that Sirius had pushed into his hand before wandering off with Peter. He could lose them, he supposed, drop in the snow, tell Sirius that they fell out of his pocket, he didn't know where.
Or he could not tell Sirius anything. He could continue to pretend he'd accepted the gift, spend the days he was supposed to be in New York holed up in his flat, or maybe crash with his dad in Aberdeen. They hadn't spoken, he and his dad, since Remus had admitted he was queer, though he supposed that was because his dad simply didn't know what to say. His only son, a werewolf and a poof. Poor Dad.
A good plan, that. What Sirius didn't know couldn't hurt Remus. Though it would mean being alone for New Years. His dad would go off to the pub with his friends, while Remus would probably stay home, get pissed, and have a wank. While thinking about Sirius, no doubt. Sod it all.
He'd come to a wooded area. Sparse grass blades jutted like yellow stubble through the snow. The trees were stark black lines. At least they afforded some shelter from the wind, which was rising.
Glancing back, Remus could just make out the Potters' house on the crest of the hill he'd just walked down. It was James's house now, he told himself. Since his parents' deaths this past spring, James was the only Potter and the owner of all this land. Remus wondered briefly just how much land the Potters - not James's parents, but their antecedents - had once owned. The whole countryside, as far as the eye could see? He could imagine it. The name Potter was nearly as ancient and noble as the name Black.
Perhaps it was the beer he'd had, but for a moment, through the blur of fast-falling snowflakes, Remus saw not the stately mansion he'd just left, but a fortified keep surrounded by little huts with thatched roofs. The woods would have been thicker centuries ago, and there would have been wolves, real wolves.
Remus felt dizzy suddenly, and he knew that it had nothing to do with the beer or his empty stomach. He felt knocked out of time, suspended. Everything was so quiet, so ashen. He felt as if he were the only living thing in the world.
He staggered, and eventually found his way to a low stone wall that ran through the woods, connecting nothing. He leaned against it and wished that he had another beer or a cigarette, though he doubted that either would warm him. He felt the cold of thousands of winters seeping through his battered overcoat.
So quiet, except for the wind in the bare branches. And James owned all this: the wall, the woods, the hill, the house, the quiet. Remus scratched his nose, saw the hole in his glove.
I don't even own my entire glove.
He could have Calvin - or Clarence, or whoever he was - he supposed. For a night, anyway. Fuck Sirius for inviting him to the party and trying to fix them up. What had he been thinking?
Remus scratched his nose again, but his nostrils still felt oddly clogged. His snot had frozen, he realized, and almost laughed. It was fucking cold.
Was it as cold in New York? Surely not in the hotel room Sirius had reserved for him, and not in the clubs Sirius meant for him to try. It had been years since he'd stayed in a Muggle hotel, and he'd never been to a Muggle club. He imagined crisp, clean sheets, and tiny, paper-wrapped bars of soap. Then he imagined a room full of sweaty, half-naked men grinding against each other. Everything would be pulsing with music.
Sirius meant for him to be happy, Remus thought. Meant for him to have a good time. Pull. Shag. Live a little. That was why he'd invited Clarence to the party. Sirius cared. He just had a fucked-up way of showing it.
Clean sheets would be lovely. And maybe a warm body to lie beside. Rough hands on his body. A hot, hungry mouth sucking his nipples and his cock. Fingers spreading him wide. Yes, show me more. Give me more. Let me in.
Or maybe it wouldn't be any sort of love job. Maybe there'd be lots of men wanting to get inside his skinny arse, and he'd let them because who the fuck cared? He couldn't have the one he wanted, so he might as well take all the ones who wanted him.
Remus dropped his head back and said, "Talk of the devil."
"Evans says that when I show up sometimes," Sirius said, approaching. "I don't know what it means. You heard me coming?"
Remus shook his head.
"Smelled me, then?"
"My nose is stuffed with ice."
"Mine too. You just knew I'd come around, realize what a twat I've been, and come looking for you, is that it?"
"Sure," said Remus, not sure at all.
Sirius leaned against the wall, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was covered with snow. "You'll never guess who pulled," he said. "Corin."
"Who's Corin?"
"Bloke from the Ministry. Left with one of Evans's friends. I thought he was queer."
"I thought his name was Clarence."
"Nah, I was just taking the mickey out of you."
"Right." Remus looked at Sirius. He wasn't wearing a scarf or a hat, and his coat hung open. His face was flushed with cold, and probably alcohol. There was a leather thong around his neck, which Remus hadn't noticed before. A single amber bead rested in the hollow of his throat. Remus found his gaze drawn to it, and to the flash of white skin.
"I was going to tell you his real name," Sirius said. "If you liked him."
"Whether I liked him or not is irrelevant now, don't you think? Which of Evans's friends did he pull?"
"The blonde one."
"Leanna? She's all right."
Sirius kicked the snow. "I could've sworn he was a poof. That's why I sodding invited him. Dressed like a poof, talked like a poof. Told me he'd never had a girlfriend."
"That," said Remus, "is no indication." And he couldn't resist adding, "I mean, look at you."
Sirius snorted. "What do you mean, look at me? I don't dress like a poof. I sure as fuck don't talk like one."
The words stung, but Remus ignored that. "You've never had a girlfriend."
"I haven't got time." Sirius lurched away from the wall and for a breathless moment Remus was sure that he was about to pitch forward into the snow - and he wasn't all that inclined to stop him. But Sirius swung around, hooked his arm around Remus's shoulders, and all but squashed him against his side. Remus could taste the alcohol on his breath.
"If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn't have any time for my mates."
His lips were awfully close to Remus's cheek. Remus squirmed. "James has got time," he protested. "And he's practically engaged to Evans."
Sirius let go abruptly, and Remus fell back against the wall. "Ow."
Sirius acted as if he hadn't heard. "James is better than the rest of us. If I got a girlfriend I'd probably drop you lot, whether I meant to or not."
"That's what you're afraid of?"
Sirius lifted an eyebrow. "Who says I'm afraid? Anyway," he continued, sounding petulant, "You haven't got anyone, but you never seem to have time for us."
"That's not true." Remus busied himself with brushing his coat free of snow. "I came tonight, didn't I? What was with the gift, anyway? You book me a Portkey and a hotel room, then whinge about how I'm never around. You also try to fix me up."
"I was trying to get you laid. Cold? Have a drink."
"Of what? Oh."
Sirius, he saw, had drawn a thermos from his inside coat pocket. He unscrewed the cap and a curl of aromatic steam drifted up into the chilly air. Sirius sniffed. "Coffee. Irish coffee," he added.
"Haven't you had enough to drink?" Remus asked dubiously.
"You haven't." The thermos's cap doubled as a small mug. Sirius poured some coffee and passed it to Remus. "Drink up."
Remus cradled the mug between his hands, savoring the warmth. "Thanks."
"See? I do look out for my mates. M'not all bad, am I?"
"Yeah, you are." Remus swallowed a mouthful of steam before taking a sip. The coffee was hot and - no surprise there - Sirius had been liberal with the whiskey. Warmth slid down his throat, past his heart and lungs, into this belly. It pooled there, rich and dark. Remus leaned against the wall again, heedless of the snow.
"Better?" inquired Sirius.
Remus mumbled his assent.
"Going to New York, then?"
Remus shrugged.
"It'll be fun. I've heard Fire Island is a good place to meet other poofs. Casual sex. Brilliant. I'll lend you some Galleons. You can get them changed at the embassy when you get there. I'll give you the address, tell you who to see."
"I wish you wouldn't."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Are you?" Remus took another sip and glanced at Sirius, who was fumbling with a cigarette. He got it out of its pack, stuck it between his lips, and the tip ignited. In the sudden, brief flare Remus saw the grey eyes, just a few shades lighter than the clouds. Snow had fallen onto his lashes; they stuck out like the points of a star, making it look as if he'd been crying, which wasn't possible. Despite his penchant for the dramatic, Sirius did not cry, at least not in front of his mates. Still, Remus found himself oddly stirred by the illusion.
What would it take to break Sirius Black? Not any girl, thought Remus. When Sirius wanted someone, he had her, though he never kept her long. Not his family; he'd turned his back on them three years ago and, as far as Remus knew, had no regrets. Not James's parents, despite the fact that he'd loved them. If he'd wept at their deaths he'd done so in secret; in public he'd been James's crutch. Half a pair of crutches, Remus thought. Lily had been the other half. Between them, they'd kept James from falling apart.
Sirius caught Remus's gaze and smiled around his cigarette. "What?" Then, slyly, "See anything you like?"
"No," Remus said, and that was a blatant lie. He should have looked away, but that was another impossibility. His fingers curled tightly around the mug's handle and he stared at Sirius, who was staring back, the black brows drawn together in puzzlement.
His skin was so white. The flush had drained away, leaving just the pallor and the shadow along his jaw. Snow was falling on the heavy black hair and melting, giving it a tousled, almost feathered look. The long fingers holding the cigarette when he exhaled. The bony wrists. The red lips.
Remus swallowed.
Sirius said, "Maybe you'll find what you're looking for in New York. Though now I think of it, I'm not sure I like the idea of you and an American." His voice was low and the wind was rising; Remus had to strain to hear.
"I haven't said if I was going or not. The Order might need me."
"Dumbledore can spare you for a few days."
"You might need me. Or James or Peter or Lily," Remus added quickly.
"I doubt very much that we will."
"Fine, then." It didn't hurt anymore, really. He thought.
"So, you'll go?"
Lightly: "I suppose. I've never seen New York. And you're paying."
"You're actually taking my money?"
"You're giving it," Remus said. He didn't want to fight. "You obviously want me gone. So, I'll go." He swallowed the last of his coffee, which had gone cold, then thrust the mug back at Sirius. "I'm freezing and I'm knackered. Think I'm just going to Apparate home. No sense bothering James and Lily. Peter left already?" He took Sirius's silence as a yes. "Fine. Then there's no one I need to say goodnight to." He started to walk away from the wall.
The cigarette sizzled as Sirius dropped it into the snow. "It's not that I want you to go. I mean, it's not that I want you gone."
"I'm freezing." Remus couldn't feel his feet anymore, or his ears. He wished he'd brought a hat.
"Are you listening?"
Remus stopped and turned. "I can hear you."
"That's not the same." Sirius hadn't moved, he saw. Against the white of the snow, among the trees, he was just another black line. Straight black line. His face was a smudge. Even his lips and the amber bead at his throat seemed to have dulled. "Look," he said.
"I'm looking," replied Remus.
"Look." There was a desperate note in Sirius's tone, as if he were pleading. "It's not that I don't want you around. I can't have you around. You're dangerous."
"Dangerous. How?"
"Don't ask me."
"How?"
Later, Remus would insist that the kiss came out of nowhere, though of course that wasn't true. There were several meters over which Sirius had to stumble. There was the crunch of snow, then his face caught between big, cold, rough palms. Then a warm puff of air that tasted like alcohol, nicotine, and whatever else Sirius had consumed that evening.
Then the kiss.
A sloppy kiss, because Sirius was shaking and Remus just stood there, frozen in every way possible. Because Sirius seemed to have forgotten how to kiss - how the neck was supposed to tilt, where noses and lips went. Because their teeth were so cold that Remus shuddered when they clicked.
"I…" Sirius was trying to talk and kiss him simultaneously. It wasn't working; his stubble scraped Remus's cheek. "The thing is…"
"Don't," whispered Remus.
"But, the problem… You see the problem now."
He must have thought that Remus was still clueless because he kissed him again. It was a bit better this time; Remus responded, albeit awkwardly. He clutched at Sirius's coat, bunched the folds of it in his fists. He opened his mouth so Sirius's tongue could explore it.
Sirius was drunk, he thought, and the New York trip would be a good thing.
Then they were stumbling and there was a tree at Remus's back. Sirius pinned him against it and, between harsh, shuddering breaths said, "Now d'you see?"
"No," said Remus.
Sirius pawed at his scarf, got it loose, and began to nuzzle his neck. His nose was cold and wet. Like a dog's, thought Remus. He slid the fingers of one hand into Sirius's hair and held his head down.
"This is wrong," mumbled Sirius.
"It feels good, though." Remus had to fight the urge to thrust, though he was painfully hard. "If it feels good, how is it wrong?"
"I'm not a poof."
"All present evidence to the contrary."
"Fuck you." Sirius lifted his head. His gaze met Remus's, then flicked away. The pads of his thumbs pushed brutally against Remus's cheekbones. "You don't understand. If you stay here, if you don't find someone, if you don't let someone-"
"Fuck me?" Remus interrupted. "You'll end up doing the job? You won't be able to help yourself? Is that it?"
Sirius had the grace to flush with shame. "I'm just not ready for this."
"What makes you think I'd want you, even if you were?"
"Look at you."
"Look at you," retorted Remus. The pool of warmth in his belly began to bubble. He stuck his hand between Sirius's legs and cupped his erection. "I think you're the one who needs to go to New York and get himself fucked. Though a knob might not fit, with everything else you've got stuffed up there."
For once in his life, Sirius was slow. Remus saw the blow coming and ducked. He grabbed Sirius's arm, yanked hard, and they both tumbled into the snow. Sirius kicked, but Remus gathered a handful of snow and shoved it in his face. Sirius fell back, spluttering, and Remus got on top of him, straddling his hips.
He unbuttoned and unzipped Sirius's denims, peeled them away from the jutting hipbones, then went to work on his cotton pants. Sirius lay there dumbly for a few moments, before reaching up and fumbling with Remus's coat buttons.
Between them, they got everything undone. Remus wrapped the flaps of his coat around their erections, then began to push against Sirius, roughly first, then gently. Sirius laid his hands on Remus's thighs, dropped his head back again.
Snowflakes grazed his cheeks, nose, and chin, melted, and ran into his hair, which spread around his face like an ink stain. Please, he mouthed, and Yes,, and Remus. The amber bead at his throat bobbed with each thrust.
Remus shot his load first, crawled off Sirius, then sucked him until he shuddered and came. Remus teased him a little after that, ran his tongue over the tip of his softening cock. Sirius whimpered.
Remus's trousers were soaked through, and his legs were going numb. His stomach felt pinched and empty; all the liquid warmth had left him - was pooled on Sirius's quivering belly, he thought wryly.
If he'd wanted to, he could have turned Sirius over onto his hands and knees and given him the thorough fucking he seemed to think Remus needed. If he'd wanted to.
He slid Sirius's cock from between his lips, started to tug his pants and denims back up.
Sirius lay there.
"I'm going to New York," Remus said, deciding right then. New York, he thought dizzily. Dirty, dangerous, different New York.
"I…" began Sirius.
Remus leaned over him, leaned very close so Sirius could taste his own spunk when Remus's breath fanned his lips.
"You're going," Sirius acknowledged faintly. He caught a whorl of Remus's hair between his thumb and forefinger, twisted it, then let it go.
"We both have to think." Remus swiped his tongue across Sirius's chin. "So, I'll go. We'll think. And then…" He kissed Sirius's mouth. "I'll come back."
12/14/05
Rating: NC-17
Ship: Sirius/Remus
Summary: "It's not that I want you gone," said Sirius. "It's just too dangerous having you here."
A/N: I hesitated before posting this story here, but decided that the porn, though fairly graphic, was seconary to the tension. I hope the mods agree. This one is for tesseract_5. Beta read by penknife and underlucius. Approx. 3,200 words.
The Potters' ancestral home was surrounded by several acres of undeveloped land - space enough for Remus Lupin to lose himself when the party's atmosphere became too oppressive. Gloved hands stuffed in his pockets, chin tucked under his woolen scarf, he made his way across the snowy ground.
The moon was waxing, not that you could see it behind the thick clouds. It would be full on the third of January, the night after his return from New York. If he went.
"See how it all works out?" Sirius had said eagerly while waving the Portkey and hotel confirmations under Remus's nose. "With luck you'll've got yourself so fucked that you won't even notice the transformation."
"With luck," Remus had replied tightly, through his teeth, "you'll get so pissed tonight that you'll fall on your arse and die."
"That's not very nice," Peter had observed.
"Remus isn't very nice," Sirius had said with a barbed smile. "He needs shagging badly. I suggest he make a night of it with Calvin…"
"Clarence," Remus had corrected.
"See? I've only just introduced you two, and already you've learned his name! I've been working with him for three months and I still haven't a clue."
"You're barking mad."
"Arf, arf."
Sod it all.
Remus fingered the wadded up confirmation slips that Sirius had pushed into his hand before wandering off with Peter. He could lose them, he supposed, drop in the snow, tell Sirius that they fell out of his pocket, he didn't know where.
Or he could not tell Sirius anything. He could continue to pretend he'd accepted the gift, spend the days he was supposed to be in New York holed up in his flat, or maybe crash with his dad in Aberdeen. They hadn't spoken, he and his dad, since Remus had admitted he was queer, though he supposed that was because his dad simply didn't know what to say. His only son, a werewolf and a poof. Poor Dad.
A good plan, that. What Sirius didn't know couldn't hurt Remus. Though it would mean being alone for New Years. His dad would go off to the pub with his friends, while Remus would probably stay home, get pissed, and have a wank. While thinking about Sirius, no doubt. Sod it all.
He'd come to a wooded area. Sparse grass blades jutted like yellow stubble through the snow. The trees were stark black lines. At least they afforded some shelter from the wind, which was rising.
Glancing back, Remus could just make out the Potters' house on the crest of the hill he'd just walked down. It was James's house now, he told himself. Since his parents' deaths this past spring, James was the only Potter and the owner of all this land. Remus wondered briefly just how much land the Potters - not James's parents, but their antecedents - had once owned. The whole countryside, as far as the eye could see? He could imagine it. The name Potter was nearly as ancient and noble as the name Black.
Perhaps it was the beer he'd had, but for a moment, through the blur of fast-falling snowflakes, Remus saw not the stately mansion he'd just left, but a fortified keep surrounded by little huts with thatched roofs. The woods would have been thicker centuries ago, and there would have been wolves, real wolves.
Remus felt dizzy suddenly, and he knew that it had nothing to do with the beer or his empty stomach. He felt knocked out of time, suspended. Everything was so quiet, so ashen. He felt as if he were the only living thing in the world.
He staggered, and eventually found his way to a low stone wall that ran through the woods, connecting nothing. He leaned against it and wished that he had another beer or a cigarette, though he doubted that either would warm him. He felt the cold of thousands of winters seeping through his battered overcoat.
So quiet, except for the wind in the bare branches. And James owned all this: the wall, the woods, the hill, the house, the quiet. Remus scratched his nose, saw the hole in his glove.
I don't even own my entire glove.
He could have Calvin - or Clarence, or whoever he was - he supposed. For a night, anyway. Fuck Sirius for inviting him to the party and trying to fix them up. What had he been thinking?
Remus scratched his nose again, but his nostrils still felt oddly clogged. His snot had frozen, he realized, and almost laughed. It was fucking cold.
Was it as cold in New York? Surely not in the hotel room Sirius had reserved for him, and not in the clubs Sirius meant for him to try. It had been years since he'd stayed in a Muggle hotel, and he'd never been to a Muggle club. He imagined crisp, clean sheets, and tiny, paper-wrapped bars of soap. Then he imagined a room full of sweaty, half-naked men grinding against each other. Everything would be pulsing with music.
Sirius meant for him to be happy, Remus thought. Meant for him to have a good time. Pull. Shag. Live a little. That was why he'd invited Clarence to the party. Sirius cared. He just had a fucked-up way of showing it.
Clean sheets would be lovely. And maybe a warm body to lie beside. Rough hands on his body. A hot, hungry mouth sucking his nipples and his cock. Fingers spreading him wide. Yes, show me more. Give me more. Let me in.
Or maybe it wouldn't be any sort of love job. Maybe there'd be lots of men wanting to get inside his skinny arse, and he'd let them because who the fuck cared? He couldn't have the one he wanted, so he might as well take all the ones who wanted him.
Remus dropped his head back and said, "Talk of the devil."
"Evans says that when I show up sometimes," Sirius said, approaching. "I don't know what it means. You heard me coming?"
Remus shook his head.
"Smelled me, then?"
"My nose is stuffed with ice."
"Mine too. You just knew I'd come around, realize what a twat I've been, and come looking for you, is that it?"
"Sure," said Remus, not sure at all.
Sirius leaned against the wall, apparently oblivious to the fact that it was covered with snow. "You'll never guess who pulled," he said. "Corin."
"Who's Corin?"
"Bloke from the Ministry. Left with one of Evans's friends. I thought he was queer."
"I thought his name was Clarence."
"Nah, I was just taking the mickey out of you."
"Right." Remus looked at Sirius. He wasn't wearing a scarf or a hat, and his coat hung open. His face was flushed with cold, and probably alcohol. There was a leather thong around his neck, which Remus hadn't noticed before. A single amber bead rested in the hollow of his throat. Remus found his gaze drawn to it, and to the flash of white skin.
"I was going to tell you his real name," Sirius said. "If you liked him."
"Whether I liked him or not is irrelevant now, don't you think? Which of Evans's friends did he pull?"
"The blonde one."
"Leanna? She's all right."
Sirius kicked the snow. "I could've sworn he was a poof. That's why I sodding invited him. Dressed like a poof, talked like a poof. Told me he'd never had a girlfriend."
"That," said Remus, "is no indication." And he couldn't resist adding, "I mean, look at you."
Sirius snorted. "What do you mean, look at me? I don't dress like a poof. I sure as fuck don't talk like one."
The words stung, but Remus ignored that. "You've never had a girlfriend."
"I haven't got time." Sirius lurched away from the wall and for a breathless moment Remus was sure that he was about to pitch forward into the snow - and he wasn't all that inclined to stop him. But Sirius swung around, hooked his arm around Remus's shoulders, and all but squashed him against his side. Remus could taste the alcohol on his breath.
"If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn't have any time for my mates."
His lips were awfully close to Remus's cheek. Remus squirmed. "James has got time," he protested. "And he's practically engaged to Evans."
Sirius let go abruptly, and Remus fell back against the wall. "Ow."
Sirius acted as if he hadn't heard. "James is better than the rest of us. If I got a girlfriend I'd probably drop you lot, whether I meant to or not."
"That's what you're afraid of?"
Sirius lifted an eyebrow. "Who says I'm afraid? Anyway," he continued, sounding petulant, "You haven't got anyone, but you never seem to have time for us."
"That's not true." Remus busied himself with brushing his coat free of snow. "I came tonight, didn't I? What was with the gift, anyway? You book me a Portkey and a hotel room, then whinge about how I'm never around. You also try to fix me up."
"I was trying to get you laid. Cold? Have a drink."
"Of what? Oh."
Sirius, he saw, had drawn a thermos from his inside coat pocket. He unscrewed the cap and a curl of aromatic steam drifted up into the chilly air. Sirius sniffed. "Coffee. Irish coffee," he added.
"Haven't you had enough to drink?" Remus asked dubiously.
"You haven't." The thermos's cap doubled as a small mug. Sirius poured some coffee and passed it to Remus. "Drink up."
Remus cradled the mug between his hands, savoring the warmth. "Thanks."
"See? I do look out for my mates. M'not all bad, am I?"
"Yeah, you are." Remus swallowed a mouthful of steam before taking a sip. The coffee was hot and - no surprise there - Sirius had been liberal with the whiskey. Warmth slid down his throat, past his heart and lungs, into this belly. It pooled there, rich and dark. Remus leaned against the wall again, heedless of the snow.
"Better?" inquired Sirius.
Remus mumbled his assent.
"Going to New York, then?"
Remus shrugged.
"It'll be fun. I've heard Fire Island is a good place to meet other poofs. Casual sex. Brilliant. I'll lend you some Galleons. You can get them changed at the embassy when you get there. I'll give you the address, tell you who to see."
"I wish you wouldn't."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Are you?" Remus took another sip and glanced at Sirius, who was fumbling with a cigarette. He got it out of its pack, stuck it between his lips, and the tip ignited. In the sudden, brief flare Remus saw the grey eyes, just a few shades lighter than the clouds. Snow had fallen onto his lashes; they stuck out like the points of a star, making it look as if he'd been crying, which wasn't possible. Despite his penchant for the dramatic, Sirius did not cry, at least not in front of his mates. Still, Remus found himself oddly stirred by the illusion.
What would it take to break Sirius Black? Not any girl, thought Remus. When Sirius wanted someone, he had her, though he never kept her long. Not his family; he'd turned his back on them three years ago and, as far as Remus knew, had no regrets. Not James's parents, despite the fact that he'd loved them. If he'd wept at their deaths he'd done so in secret; in public he'd been James's crutch. Half a pair of crutches, Remus thought. Lily had been the other half. Between them, they'd kept James from falling apart.
Sirius caught Remus's gaze and smiled around his cigarette. "What?" Then, slyly, "See anything you like?"
"No," Remus said, and that was a blatant lie. He should have looked away, but that was another impossibility. His fingers curled tightly around the mug's handle and he stared at Sirius, who was staring back, the black brows drawn together in puzzlement.
His skin was so white. The flush had drained away, leaving just the pallor and the shadow along his jaw. Snow was falling on the heavy black hair and melting, giving it a tousled, almost feathered look. The long fingers holding the cigarette when he exhaled. The bony wrists. The red lips.
Remus swallowed.
Sirius said, "Maybe you'll find what you're looking for in New York. Though now I think of it, I'm not sure I like the idea of you and an American." His voice was low and the wind was rising; Remus had to strain to hear.
"I haven't said if I was going or not. The Order might need me."
"Dumbledore can spare you for a few days."
"You might need me. Or James or Peter or Lily," Remus added quickly.
"I doubt very much that we will."
"Fine, then." It didn't hurt anymore, really. He thought.
"So, you'll go?"
Lightly: "I suppose. I've never seen New York. And you're paying."
"You're actually taking my money?"
"You're giving it," Remus said. He didn't want to fight. "You obviously want me gone. So, I'll go." He swallowed the last of his coffee, which had gone cold, then thrust the mug back at Sirius. "I'm freezing and I'm knackered. Think I'm just going to Apparate home. No sense bothering James and Lily. Peter left already?" He took Sirius's silence as a yes. "Fine. Then there's no one I need to say goodnight to." He started to walk away from the wall.
The cigarette sizzled as Sirius dropped it into the snow. "It's not that I want you to go. I mean, it's not that I want you gone."
"I'm freezing." Remus couldn't feel his feet anymore, or his ears. He wished he'd brought a hat.
"Are you listening?"
Remus stopped and turned. "I can hear you."
"That's not the same." Sirius hadn't moved, he saw. Against the white of the snow, among the trees, he was just another black line. Straight black line. His face was a smudge. Even his lips and the amber bead at his throat seemed to have dulled. "Look," he said.
"I'm looking," replied Remus.
"Look." There was a desperate note in Sirius's tone, as if he were pleading. "It's not that I don't want you around. I can't have you around. You're dangerous."
"Dangerous. How?"
"Don't ask me."
"How?"
Later, Remus would insist that the kiss came out of nowhere, though of course that wasn't true. There were several meters over which Sirius had to stumble. There was the crunch of snow, then his face caught between big, cold, rough palms. Then a warm puff of air that tasted like alcohol, nicotine, and whatever else Sirius had consumed that evening.
Then the kiss.
A sloppy kiss, because Sirius was shaking and Remus just stood there, frozen in every way possible. Because Sirius seemed to have forgotten how to kiss - how the neck was supposed to tilt, where noses and lips went. Because their teeth were so cold that Remus shuddered when they clicked.
"I…" Sirius was trying to talk and kiss him simultaneously. It wasn't working; his stubble scraped Remus's cheek. "The thing is…"
"Don't," whispered Remus.
"But, the problem… You see the problem now."
He must have thought that Remus was still clueless because he kissed him again. It was a bit better this time; Remus responded, albeit awkwardly. He clutched at Sirius's coat, bunched the folds of it in his fists. He opened his mouth so Sirius's tongue could explore it.
Sirius was drunk, he thought, and the New York trip would be a good thing.
Then they were stumbling and there was a tree at Remus's back. Sirius pinned him against it and, between harsh, shuddering breaths said, "Now d'you see?"
"No," said Remus.
Sirius pawed at his scarf, got it loose, and began to nuzzle his neck. His nose was cold and wet. Like a dog's, thought Remus. He slid the fingers of one hand into Sirius's hair and held his head down.
"This is wrong," mumbled Sirius.
"It feels good, though." Remus had to fight the urge to thrust, though he was painfully hard. "If it feels good, how is it wrong?"
"I'm not a poof."
"All present evidence to the contrary."
"Fuck you." Sirius lifted his head. His gaze met Remus's, then flicked away. The pads of his thumbs pushed brutally against Remus's cheekbones. "You don't understand. If you stay here, if you don't find someone, if you don't let someone-"
"Fuck me?" Remus interrupted. "You'll end up doing the job? You won't be able to help yourself? Is that it?"
Sirius had the grace to flush with shame. "I'm just not ready for this."
"What makes you think I'd want you, even if you were?"
"Look at you."
"Look at you," retorted Remus. The pool of warmth in his belly began to bubble. He stuck his hand between Sirius's legs and cupped his erection. "I think you're the one who needs to go to New York and get himself fucked. Though a knob might not fit, with everything else you've got stuffed up there."
For once in his life, Sirius was slow. Remus saw the blow coming and ducked. He grabbed Sirius's arm, yanked hard, and they both tumbled into the snow. Sirius kicked, but Remus gathered a handful of snow and shoved it in his face. Sirius fell back, spluttering, and Remus got on top of him, straddling his hips.
He unbuttoned and unzipped Sirius's denims, peeled them away from the jutting hipbones, then went to work on his cotton pants. Sirius lay there dumbly for a few moments, before reaching up and fumbling with Remus's coat buttons.
Between them, they got everything undone. Remus wrapped the flaps of his coat around their erections, then began to push against Sirius, roughly first, then gently. Sirius laid his hands on Remus's thighs, dropped his head back again.
Snowflakes grazed his cheeks, nose, and chin, melted, and ran into his hair, which spread around his face like an ink stain. Please, he mouthed, and Yes,, and Remus. The amber bead at his throat bobbed with each thrust.
Remus shot his load first, crawled off Sirius, then sucked him until he shuddered and came. Remus teased him a little after that, ran his tongue over the tip of his softening cock. Sirius whimpered.
Remus's trousers were soaked through, and his legs were going numb. His stomach felt pinched and empty; all the liquid warmth had left him - was pooled on Sirius's quivering belly, he thought wryly.
If he'd wanted to, he could have turned Sirius over onto his hands and knees and given him the thorough fucking he seemed to think Remus needed. If he'd wanted to.
He slid Sirius's cock from between his lips, started to tug his pants and denims back up.
Sirius lay there.
"I'm going to New York," Remus said, deciding right then. New York, he thought dizzily. Dirty, dangerous, different New York.
"I…" began Sirius.
Remus leaned over him, leaned very close so Sirius could taste his own spunk when Remus's breath fanned his lips.
"You're going," Sirius acknowledged faintly. He caught a whorl of Remus's hair between his thumb and forefinger, twisted it, then let it go.
"We both have to think." Remus swiped his tongue across Sirius's chin. "So, I'll go. We'll think. And then…" He kissed Sirius's mouth. "I'll come back."
12/14/05