8:06 in the Morning, an interstitial story
Title: 8:06 in the Morning, an interstitial story
Author: rjlblack
Word count: 684
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC17
Era: Post-Hogwarts fluff
Summary: This is an "interstitial" story because it takes place between the scenes of another story. Go thee now and read the great Closet Zebra's "8 O'Clock in the Morning" at http://closet-zebra.livejournal.com/45024.html#cutid1. Then come back and read this story, which takes place just after "8 o'clock in the morning, Wednesday."
It's 8:06 a.m. when Remus drags Sirius into the flat's bedroom. It's been a bitch of a morning already, with the Blacks' pretentious insanity all over The Prophet; Sirius can almost see his father's glare, his mother's sneer, in the printed lines. He'll go mad himself if he thinks on it too long, but how can he think of anything else? Only Moony can make it all go away.
Remus will have to make a run for it to get to work on time, but he closes the bedroom door calmly, props Sirius up against it, and gathers him into a slow and tender kiss. Relief enters him with Remus's breath. This is good, this is familiar, this is right. The world is not entirely fucked up, for it contains Remus.
"We don't have much time, Pads, so you're going to do exactly as I say, yeah?" Sirius closes his eyes and nods against Remus's collarbone, grateful to be held safe within Remus's strength. "Good boy. Take off your clothes."
Sirius strips obediently, watching through his eyelashes as Remus loosens his trousers and reaches into the nightstand for the lube. He shivers when he realizes Remus is not undressing. This means Sirius is going to be taken; wonderful Remus knows exactly what he needs. He drops onto the bed on elbows and knees, and waits.
Remus's warm hands are sliding over his back, his arse. "Padfoot," Remus asks in his precise way, "To whom do you belong?"
"To you, Moony," Sirius sighs.
A slick finger is circling his hole now. "And do you belong in any way whatsoever to your... family of origin?"
"N-no. Aaah. No, I don't." His cock swells as Remus's fingers scissor inside him, and thoughts of his family are melting away in the building heat.
"That's right. You belong only to me. Say it." Remus's fingers are gone; the tip of his cock is pressing against Sirius's opening.
"I belong to you--" he gasps as Remus enters him in a single, long stroke.
"That's right," Remus growls, pulling back and slamming in again. "Don't forget it, will you?" he says almost conversationally, before gripping Sirius's hips and setting a breathtaking in-and-out rhythm.
All thought is driven from Sirius's mind; all that's left is heat and sensation, the cock sliding into his core, the long fingers cradling his erection, the haven of Moony's body curved over his. A canine whine of submission and desire escapes his throat.
"Padfoot," Moony pants in his ear. "I'm going to mark you as mine. So you can remember all day long. All right?" Sirius nods urgently, blindly. "You're going to come when I mark you." Sirius moans; the order alone is nearly enough to undo him. "Here we go then, my Padfoot. Tell me again, who do you belong to?" Remus shifts, his cock pressing Sirius's sweet spot just as his teeth press Sirius's shoulder.
"Moony! Moonymoonymoony... ohgod, b'long to you, Moony, just you, always you..."
Distantly, through the roaring in his ears and the tightening in his balls and the glorious releasing of his cock, he can hear Remus crying out his name. He feels the heat of Remus coming deep inside him, the slowing of his thrusts. He slumps forward onto his forearms, Remus sprawled against his back, breathing raggedly.
A few moments later, Remus is clean and zipped and gazing fondly at a still-naked Sirius, who is examining the red mark on his shoulder. Sirius looks up and grins.
"It's perfect! I'll be able to feel you all day," he crows, ridiculously pleased.
It's past time for Remus to get to work, but he cups Sirius's face and gives him one last possessive kiss before hurrying to the kitchen to grab an apple on his way out.
"Thanks, Moony!" Sirius calls cheerfully, rummaging on the floor for his shirt. He dons his clothes, wrapping treasured love tokens under the fabric: the pleasant stretched feeling inside, the slight soreness on his shoulder, his beloved's woodsy scent. He buckles his belt, ready to face the day.
As predicted, Remus really has made everything okay again.
Author: rjlblack
Word count: 684
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC17
Era: Post-Hogwarts fluff
Summary: This is an "interstitial" story because it takes place between the scenes of another story. Go thee now and read the great Closet Zebra's "8 O'Clock in the Morning" at http://closet-zebra.livejournal.com/45024.html#cutid1. Then come back and read this story, which takes place just after "8 o'clock in the morning, Wednesday."
It's 8:06 a.m. when Remus drags Sirius into the flat's bedroom. It's been a bitch of a morning already, with the Blacks' pretentious insanity all over The Prophet; Sirius can almost see his father's glare, his mother's sneer, in the printed lines. He'll go mad himself if he thinks on it too long, but how can he think of anything else? Only Moony can make it all go away.
Remus will have to make a run for it to get to work on time, but he closes the bedroom door calmly, props Sirius up against it, and gathers him into a slow and tender kiss. Relief enters him with Remus's breath. This is good, this is familiar, this is right. The world is not entirely fucked up, for it contains Remus.
"We don't have much time, Pads, so you're going to do exactly as I say, yeah?" Sirius closes his eyes and nods against Remus's collarbone, grateful to be held safe within Remus's strength. "Good boy. Take off your clothes."
Sirius strips obediently, watching through his eyelashes as Remus loosens his trousers and reaches into the nightstand for the lube. He shivers when he realizes Remus is not undressing. This means Sirius is going to be taken; wonderful Remus knows exactly what he needs. He drops onto the bed on elbows and knees, and waits.
Remus's warm hands are sliding over his back, his arse. "Padfoot," Remus asks in his precise way, "To whom do you belong?"
"To you, Moony," Sirius sighs.
A slick finger is circling his hole now. "And do you belong in any way whatsoever to your... family of origin?"
"N-no. Aaah. No, I don't." His cock swells as Remus's fingers scissor inside him, and thoughts of his family are melting away in the building heat.
"That's right. You belong only to me. Say it." Remus's fingers are gone; the tip of his cock is pressing against Sirius's opening.
"I belong to you--" he gasps as Remus enters him in a single, long stroke.
"That's right," Remus growls, pulling back and slamming in again. "Don't forget it, will you?" he says almost conversationally, before gripping Sirius's hips and setting a breathtaking in-and-out rhythm.
All thought is driven from Sirius's mind; all that's left is heat and sensation, the cock sliding into his core, the long fingers cradling his erection, the haven of Moony's body curved over his. A canine whine of submission and desire escapes his throat.
"Padfoot," Moony pants in his ear. "I'm going to mark you as mine. So you can remember all day long. All right?" Sirius nods urgently, blindly. "You're going to come when I mark you." Sirius moans; the order alone is nearly enough to undo him. "Here we go then, my Padfoot. Tell me again, who do you belong to?" Remus shifts, his cock pressing Sirius's sweet spot just as his teeth press Sirius's shoulder.
"Moony! Moonymoonymoony... ohgod, b'long to you, Moony, just you, always you..."
Distantly, through the roaring in his ears and the tightening in his balls and the glorious releasing of his cock, he can hear Remus crying out his name. He feels the heat of Remus coming deep inside him, the slowing of his thrusts. He slumps forward onto his forearms, Remus sprawled against his back, breathing raggedly.
A few moments later, Remus is clean and zipped and gazing fondly at a still-naked Sirius, who is examining the red mark on his shoulder. Sirius looks up and grins.
"It's perfect! I'll be able to feel you all day," he crows, ridiculously pleased.
It's past time for Remus to get to work, but he cups Sirius's face and gives him one last possessive kiss before hurrying to the kitchen to grab an apple on his way out.
"Thanks, Moony!" Sirius calls cheerfully, rummaging on the floor for his shirt. He dons his clothes, wrapping treasured love tokens under the fabric: the pleasant stretched feeling inside, the slight soreness on his shoulder, his beloved's woodsy scent. He buckles his belt, ready to face the day.
As predicted, Remus really has made everything okay again.