fic for 09 january
title: an inconstant force
author: pink_faerie81
rating: R
word count: 485
disclaimer: jkr owns them, i just play with them.
a/n: i swear, if i catch up today... RUM for everybody (of age or with a fake ID)! :D
day: [1][2][3][4&5][6][7][8][9]
There is a definite and steady rhythm to the storm as it rages just beyond the stone walls and stained glass windows of Gryffindor Tower. Remus’ bed trembles as the thunder claps overhead, low and close to the turret.
It trembles again, moments later, when Sirius slides between the sheets.
He palms the smooth skin of Remus’ belly, and that is how it always begins on stormy nights when there is little else to pass the time. Fingertips run lightly along the waistband of Remus’ pyjama bottoms, dipping beneath the fabric at his hip. He lets his eyes slide shut as Sirius slinks down his body, lips warm and soft where they press to his flesh. As a flash of lightning illuminates the darkened room, Sirius pulls the cotton trousers down past Remus’ hips and moves back up his body. The wet glide of a tongue trailing up his abdomen leaves cool paths in its wake, and Remus tangles his fingers in Sirius’ inky hair.
All Remus can properly register of the next few moments are grey eyes locking onto his, lips pressed against his mouth in a bruising crush, and his entire body igniting with a once-discomforting-but-now-oddly-pleasurable burn.
Sirius moves in tune with the intensity and ferocity of the storm. Remus stares up at him, transfixed by the line of concentration etched into the dark-haired boy’s brow. He studies Sirius’ face - eyes shut tight, lips parted, tip of his tongue just visible at the corner of his mouth - with an odd mixture of fascination and sheer lust. Fascination because he sometimes still cannot believe that Sirius wants him and sheer lust because, well, Sirius is simply gorgeous.
And it’s moments like these, a soft oh escaping his lips, when he is at his most breathtaking.
Seemingly hours (but really only several minutes) later, the two boys lay tangled in the sheets and each other. Remus watches the pale skin of Sirius’ back rise and fall, and he can’t help but wonder how much longer he’ll be allowed the privilege of such a sight. Because, despite Sirius’ firm assertion to the contrary, Remus often fears that theirs is a tenuous bond - driven and held together by a force as inconstant as the storm that brought them together this night.
But as the rain subsides so, too, go Remus’ fears. If nothing else, he has slowly learnt from his years with James and Peter and (most of all) Sirius to not worry as much over the things he cannot control. The annual frost, the inevitable end of all things, the day when they will no longer love each other... these things will all come regardless of what Remus says or does. So he just lies there, tracing idle circles between Sirius’ shoulder blades and waiting for the imminent fall.
And he is strangely, uncharacteristically content with being absolutely uncertain of a thing.
author: pink_faerie81
rating: R
word count: 485
disclaimer: jkr owns them, i just play with them.
a/n: i swear, if i catch up today... RUM for everybody (of age or with a fake ID)! :D
day: [1][2][3][4&5][6][7][8][9]
There is a definite and steady rhythm to the storm as it rages just beyond the stone walls and stained glass windows of Gryffindor Tower. Remus’ bed trembles as the thunder claps overhead, low and close to the turret.
It trembles again, moments later, when Sirius slides between the sheets.
He palms the smooth skin of Remus’ belly, and that is how it always begins on stormy nights when there is little else to pass the time. Fingertips run lightly along the waistband of Remus’ pyjama bottoms, dipping beneath the fabric at his hip. He lets his eyes slide shut as Sirius slinks down his body, lips warm and soft where they press to his flesh. As a flash of lightning illuminates the darkened room, Sirius pulls the cotton trousers down past Remus’ hips and moves back up his body. The wet glide of a tongue trailing up his abdomen leaves cool paths in its wake, and Remus tangles his fingers in Sirius’ inky hair.
All Remus can properly register of the next few moments are grey eyes locking onto his, lips pressed against his mouth in a bruising crush, and his entire body igniting with a once-discomforting-but-now-oddly-pleasurable burn.
Sirius moves in tune with the intensity and ferocity of the storm. Remus stares up at him, transfixed by the line of concentration etched into the dark-haired boy’s brow. He studies Sirius’ face - eyes shut tight, lips parted, tip of his tongue just visible at the corner of his mouth - with an odd mixture of fascination and sheer lust. Fascination because he sometimes still cannot believe that Sirius wants him and sheer lust because, well, Sirius is simply gorgeous.
And it’s moments like these, a soft oh escaping his lips, when he is at his most breathtaking.
Seemingly hours (but really only several minutes) later, the two boys lay tangled in the sheets and each other. Remus watches the pale skin of Sirius’ back rise and fall, and he can’t help but wonder how much longer he’ll be allowed the privilege of such a sight. Because, despite Sirius’ firm assertion to the contrary, Remus often fears that theirs is a tenuous bond - driven and held together by a force as inconstant as the storm that brought them together this night.
But as the rain subsides so, too, go Remus’ fears. If nothing else, he has slowly learnt from his years with James and Peter and (most of all) Sirius to not worry as much over the things he cannot control. The annual frost, the inevitable end of all things, the day when they will no longer love each other... these things will all come regardless of what Remus says or does. So he just lies there, tracing idle circles between Sirius’ shoulder blades and waiting for the imminent fall.
And he is strangely, uncharacteristically content with being absolutely uncertain of a thing.