Fic: Under Your Spell
Title: Under You Spell
Author: xglamorousgluex
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None (unless you count the potential heart ache because the boys are perfect)
Word Count: 2,941
Summary:The first night without Remus is proving to be a living nightmare for Sirius. Until he finds a way to solve the problem.
Author's Notes: If you need a song to listen to while reading this, I suggest Under Your Spell by Desire. Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, wildknees, who did more butt kicking than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. Thank you, I love my bruises.
Sirius stares at the ornate window frame in James’ room, unable to sleep even though he’s exhausted from a long day of traveling back from Hogwarts and then being forced by a very bossy Mrs. Potter to put all his things away before he and James could do anything else. He can tell that Mrs. Potter must have bought the frame someplace expensive - it’s something he’s learned to recognize after years of living with a woman who bought nothing but expensive things to decorate her home. He cringes at the thought of his mother and mentally thanks the Potters for the umpteenth for inviting him to stay the first half of the summer with them.
It could be worse. He could be staying in the London townhouse by himself with his “family” all summer. Instead, he’ll be spending his summer with both James and Remus and the last week before school with Peter. He’s looking forward to seeing Remus for very obvious reasons, but the thought of not having him for such a long time is already starting to affect him. It will be a whole month before he’ll be with Remus again. The thought is enough to keep him from falling asleep even though it’s nearing two a.m.
He tells himself that he should go to sleep unless he wants to fall asleep during breakfast in the morning, a time he would like to spend with Mr. Potter and James before his surrogate father had to leave for work but his mind won’t quiet. Restless, he looks around James’ room and notices just how boyish it is, with limited edition Quidditch figurines of his favorite team and clothes thrown messily over chairs and doors.
He shifts in his bed. Despite having a warm duvet at the foot of the bed, he’s uncomfortable and cold. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sleep alone in a bed, without the solid warmth of a body pressing against his, without soft skin within arm’s length for him to touch. He misses the feel of hot puffs of air being breathed onto the back of his neck and an arm wrapped securely over his chest as he slept.
Suddenly he feels claustrophobic. It’s a silly thought, he knows, since the room is enormous enough to fit the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and then some, but he can’t help it. He feels so alone. The simple act of lying in bed feels incomplete, as if he couldn’t possibly fall asleep without doing something very important first.
The cool night air blows in through the window just then, rustling the curtains apart to make way for a ray of moonlight that shines through and reflects off the shard of glass that’s sitting on James’ dresser on the other side of the room. It’s the magical mirror that the two of them use to communicate during detentions. The glass’ companion is with Remus now, as it always is during the summer when it’s more difficult for the others to join him during the full moon. The mirror allows Remus to let the others know first thing in the morning that he’s alright. Now, the way the light of the moon and the streetlights outside reflect off its surface makes it look like a guiding light in the dark room. Sirius stares at it for a while, knowing it would be so simple to get up and walk over all the food crumbs and bottles littering the floor to retrieve it.
James snores loudly right at that moment, and the trance that Sirius had been enveloped in breaks like the wine glass his mother threw against the wall when he’d ducked away in time before it hit his head. It happened last Christmas, the last time he’d stayed in his childhood home before he decided to leave the next day.
Once again, the wind parts the curtains to let in more moonlight, and the mirror shines bright so that it makes Sirius squint. Before he can change his mind, he jumps out of bed and walks purposefully across the room, snatching the mirror almost angrily before walking back. He can’t believe he’s caving in so soon, barely the first night. At the same time, he can’t think of anything else but talking to Remus, seeing his face, making sure that he isn’t some vision Sirius’ imagination conjured up. The mirror they always used had been a blessing during detentions but now it seems like it’s mocking him, tempting him and making him itch as he stares at his reflection.
One word. One word was all he had to say for the itch and desperation to go away. It would be so simple to just whisper one word.
But even after five minutes he is unable to do it. He hears James flipping over onto his stomach and the house elves walking around the rooms above, and even the faint sound of Mr. Potter’s snoring. He immediately thinks he’s going mad, since no one has such an amazing sense of hearing like Remus does.
Remus.
The itch is back and it’s gnawing at Sirius even harder than before. The body he misses in his bed belongs to his best friend, and now he needs to have him close because it’s been months since they’ve slept apart. He wants to be able to run his palm over the skin of Remus’ thigh, feel that same leg hook around his as he smiles into the skin of his neck. He wants to hear Remus’ quiet little sighs as he tightens his hold around his chest.
Against his will, Sirius has to fight the memories, the visions of previous nights with his best friend. Dinner with the Potters had brought back thoughts about how Remus liked to wipe his cutlery clean each time after using it, even though he’d use it again a minute later. Sirius had caught himself smiling into his water glass as he remembered how their playful kicks under the table turned into soft brushes of ankles and calves. Sirius felt foolish for not being able to hide his emotions, especially after James smirked and made eyes at him when he caught him smiling.
He couldn’t resist any longer.
“Remus,” he whispers. There’s no response; he had said it so quietly that he starts to wonder if Remus could have even heard it, but then he sees something move on the other side. He thinks it looks like a bed sheet, then a pale leg before a sleepy face is brought into focus.
Remus.
“Isn’t it past your bed time, Sirius?” comes Remus’ groggy reply. He rubs a hand over his face before running it through his bed hair. There’s a rustle of sheets and a quiet mumbling of words and suddenly Sirius can see Remus’ face and bare chest illuminated by a faint wand glow. The view is doing nothing to help ease the itch Sirius had felt earlier but he doesn’t have the heart to look away just yet.
“I just wanted to say hello, that’s all,” Sirius says, ignoring how stupid he must look and sound, ignoring that it was well past two a.m. and he’s sleeping in a room next to his best friend.
Remus laughs softly, tilting his head so that the tips of his fringe fall over his eyes. “Missing me already, Sirius?” he asks, amusement lacing his words but not in the way that lets Sirius know that he was making fun of him.
“Are you alone?” Sirius blurts out before he can stop himself.
Remus stares at him for a while, eyes focusing on Sirius’ face before going lower to take in his shirtless chest. Sirius feels a strong sense of longing at that look, wishing for what he thought was the hundredth time that they were both in their dorm, warm and close to each other in the safety of their canopy bed.
“My parents went out for the night and they’re not returning until morning,” Remus answers, eyes still focused on Sirius’ chest.
“James is asleep.” Sirius turns the mirror over his shoulder to show Remus, smirking when he notices his best mate’s new sleeping position: knees tucked under him with his arse raised in the air. Sirius shifts the mirror back so it once again focuses on his face. “He won’t be waking up for a while.” He doesn’t know why he blurts that out either.
Remus continues to stare before he pulls the duvet off himself in one swift movement, making Sirius bite his lip at the sight of his nearly naked form. There’s only silence, and it reminds Sirius of their first night together when they had been too nervous to even speak as they touched and kissed and licked at each other’s necks, soft gasps turning into deep moans as they gained confidence.
“I’ll take my pants off if you do,” whispers Remus. His previous bravado is gone and his cheeks flush at his own bravery.
Sirius, moved by that alluring blush as much by his own cock, places the mirror upright against the wall and slides the flimsy material of his boxers off his hips and down his legs. He lays back down to hold the mirror closer to his face again. Remus, in Sirius’ opinion, was more graceful than he was. Even their first time, when both had been more nervous than any other moment in their lives, Remus had managed to slide out of his clothes in a way that made Sirius look like he’d just yanked them off.
“I miss touching you, Remus,” Sirius murmurs. “I just want to touch you here.” Sirius tilts the mirror slightly down to show Remus his fingers moving idly over his chest, moving over his wildly beating heart. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”
When Sirius turns the mirrors towards his face again he’s able to admire Remus’ own long, elegant fingers imitating what he had just done. “Yes, I like it,” Remus says breathily.
That breathy voice reminds Sirius of a particularly cold night a month ago, when Sirius moved his hand slowly, achingly slow over Remus’ cock, placing tiny kisses on his neck as Remus squirmed under his ministrations. Sirius had asked if he liked it, and Remus had used that same voice, those same words before bucking his hips harder into Sirius’ fist.
It had been enough to make Sirius’ own cock hard and afterwards, he’d kissed Remus until exhaustion had made it so that he couldn’t keep his mouth moving anymore. He hadn’t minded since Remus was still close and available for his touch.
Unlike now.
After a quick glance to make sure James is still asleep, Sirius turns onto his right side, arm stretched out to keep the mirror turned towards him.
“I know it sounds pathetic but I just need you here, Remus. It’s pathetic because it’s barely the first fucking night,” Sirius whispers furiously, angry at himself for not being there with Remus, angry about the way Remus made him ache. At the same time, that ache is a reminder of what he has, of what is his, and he’s more than sure that Remus feels it just the same.
“I need you too. You’ve no idea how much I need you to be near me,” answers Remus, his voice sounding almost as if the words were being ripped out from him, as if he didn’t want to say something so intimate but felt it so strongly that he had no control over his tongue to stop them from spilling out.
Sirius doesn’t know if it’s the lost, pained looked on Remus’ face or the strangled quality of his voice but it makes him slip his palm over his own cock the same way he did when they slept in the same bed.
The sight makes Remus’ breath hitch. He’s gotten used to hearing Sirius wanking during the night, turning or lifting his head off Sirius’ chest to look at his grinning face as his hand sped up, his legs falling open. Remus would often snort or shake his head or throw a sock at Sirius’ face to make him lose his concentration.
But more often than he’d care to admit, Remus enjoyed laying back and watching. He’d watch Sirius’ hips as they’d buck off the bed and his heavy breathing turned into soft moans. He’d watch Sirius’ face scrunch up just moments before coming over himself, and he’d smile at the sight of Sirius being utterly spent. Remus would then move close to kiss Sirius’ still panting mouth, smoothing his hair away from his eyes and feeling him shiver ever so slightly at his touch.
Remus can’t touch him now. He’s never felt so desperate to touch him.
“I want to be able to kiss you right now,” Remus moans, eyes fixated on a strong, flexing forearm that meant Sirius had added more pressure to his strokes.
“Together?” pants Sirius. His head falls back onto the pillow as he twists his fist on the upstroke. “Remus, please. Let’s do this together.”
Remus’ hand is wrapped around his cock before Sirius finishes talking. He pauses briefly as he frantically looks for something to lubricate his palm before he grabs a bottle on his nightstand and hopes it isn’t some type of cock-melting acid that somehow had been placed there. His hand returns to his cock and he feels self conscious at first, but he forgets about it as he watches Sirius’ abdominal muscles begin to clench deliciously.
“I can’t go another night without touching you, Remus,” Sirius moans, desperately trying to hold on to a small portion of his composure as his fist moves quickly over his cock.
“Sirius,” hisses Remus. He places the mirror to stay up against the wall before turning to kneel on the bed so he can clench one hand in the covers and give the other more space to stroke and stroke. “Fuck, I miss you being near me… miss you touching me, miss you just being here.”
Sirius doesn’t bloody care if he’s breathing too loud. He doesn’t care that his best friend could wake up and see him wanking furiously in his bed. The desperation, the itch he had felt earlier was back with such a force that the only way to get rid of it was by squeezing his fist tighter around cock, whimpering at the pressure and writhing as he stared at Remus getting off while watching him.
“Tell me you miss me, Remus,” he demands. “Tell me, please.”
Remus, who has dropped his head and spread his legs farther apart on the bed, lifts his gaze to look directly at Sirius. He takes in Sirius’ scrunched up face and strained neck, and he breathily whispers, “I miss you so fucking much, Sirius”
It’s enough. It’s more than enough to make Sirius’ mouth open, barely managing to bury his face in his pillow as his hand becomes slick and warm and his hips jerk into it. He doesn’t have time to relax, however, as he lazily watches Remus who’s beginning to breathe faster, giving a lovely keen as he rocks on his hand and knees. He went on longer than Sirius did, and Sirius feels more than smug as he attributes Remus’ intense wank to himself.
He watches as Remus rests the side of face on the bed, now moving the arm he’s been using to hold himself up to touch his cock and his chest, and then to scratch across his stomach as he starts to come. Sirius watches Remus’ mouth fall open as he lets out a breathless gasp before he moans Sirius’ name. Sirius is in awe. Nothing, nothing will ever match the beauty of Remus coming, of Remus’ muscles moving beneath skin so smooth, and the sight of it is enough to make Sirius’ cock interested again. Remus shifts to settle down on the bed and gazes at Sirius with tired, contented eyes.
James snores again, the noise breaking the sweet and delicate moment they had as they simply looked at each other. A smile plays at Remus’ lips, shy and adorable as he keeps his head down on the bed. That tiny smile is enough to make Sirius believe he won’t go mad, that he can survive the rest of the month without having Remus close.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice sleepy and his eyes closing more and more each time he blinks.
“Same time tomorrow,” Remus mumbles, smiling broader now. He’s pulled the sheet to cover his lower body now.
It doesn’t matter. They’ll have time to talk tomorrow. Sirius will tell Remus about how he spilled water on himself after James had tripped him. Remus will describe the creek he wants to show Sirius when he comes over. The itch will disappear after a few days but the ache will stay and make itself known each time Sirius does something that he knows Remus would have liked to do. But it doesn’t matter.
He’ll see him at the same time tomorrow.
Author: xglamorousgluex
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None (unless you count the potential heart ache because the boys are perfect)
Word Count: 2,941
Summary:The first night without Remus is proving to be a living nightmare for Sirius. Until he finds a way to solve the problem.
Author's Notes: If you need a song to listen to while reading this, I suggest Under Your Spell by Desire. Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, wildknees, who did more butt kicking than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. Thank you, I love my bruises.
Sirius stares at the ornate window frame in James’ room, unable to sleep even though he’s exhausted from a long day of traveling back from Hogwarts and then being forced by a very bossy Mrs. Potter to put all his things away before he and James could do anything else. He can tell that Mrs. Potter must have bought the frame someplace expensive - it’s something he’s learned to recognize after years of living with a woman who bought nothing but expensive things to decorate her home. He cringes at the thought of his mother and mentally thanks the Potters for the umpteenth for inviting him to stay the first half of the summer with them.
It could be worse. He could be staying in the London townhouse by himself with his “family” all summer. Instead, he’ll be spending his summer with both James and Remus and the last week before school with Peter. He’s looking forward to seeing Remus for very obvious reasons, but the thought of not having him for such a long time is already starting to affect him. It will be a whole month before he’ll be with Remus again. The thought is enough to keep him from falling asleep even though it’s nearing two a.m.
He tells himself that he should go to sleep unless he wants to fall asleep during breakfast in the morning, a time he would like to spend with Mr. Potter and James before his surrogate father had to leave for work but his mind won’t quiet. Restless, he looks around James’ room and notices just how boyish it is, with limited edition Quidditch figurines of his favorite team and clothes thrown messily over chairs and doors.
He shifts in his bed. Despite having a warm duvet at the foot of the bed, he’s uncomfortable and cold. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sleep alone in a bed, without the solid warmth of a body pressing against his, without soft skin within arm’s length for him to touch. He misses the feel of hot puffs of air being breathed onto the back of his neck and an arm wrapped securely over his chest as he slept.
Suddenly he feels claustrophobic. It’s a silly thought, he knows, since the room is enormous enough to fit the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team and then some, but he can’t help it. He feels so alone. The simple act of lying in bed feels incomplete, as if he couldn’t possibly fall asleep without doing something very important first.
The cool night air blows in through the window just then, rustling the curtains apart to make way for a ray of moonlight that shines through and reflects off the shard of glass that’s sitting on James’ dresser on the other side of the room. It’s the magical mirror that the two of them use to communicate during detentions. The glass’ companion is with Remus now, as it always is during the summer when it’s more difficult for the others to join him during the full moon. The mirror allows Remus to let the others know first thing in the morning that he’s alright. Now, the way the light of the moon and the streetlights outside reflect off its surface makes it look like a guiding light in the dark room. Sirius stares at it for a while, knowing it would be so simple to get up and walk over all the food crumbs and bottles littering the floor to retrieve it.
James snores loudly right at that moment, and the trance that Sirius had been enveloped in breaks like the wine glass his mother threw against the wall when he’d ducked away in time before it hit his head. It happened last Christmas, the last time he’d stayed in his childhood home before he decided to leave the next day.
Once again, the wind parts the curtains to let in more moonlight, and the mirror shines bright so that it makes Sirius squint. Before he can change his mind, he jumps out of bed and walks purposefully across the room, snatching the mirror almost angrily before walking back. He can’t believe he’s caving in so soon, barely the first night. At the same time, he can’t think of anything else but talking to Remus, seeing his face, making sure that he isn’t some vision Sirius’ imagination conjured up. The mirror they always used had been a blessing during detentions but now it seems like it’s mocking him, tempting him and making him itch as he stares at his reflection.
One word. One word was all he had to say for the itch and desperation to go away. It would be so simple to just whisper one word.
But even after five minutes he is unable to do it. He hears James flipping over onto his stomach and the house elves walking around the rooms above, and even the faint sound of Mr. Potter’s snoring. He immediately thinks he’s going mad, since no one has such an amazing sense of hearing like Remus does.
Remus.
The itch is back and it’s gnawing at Sirius even harder than before. The body he misses in his bed belongs to his best friend, and now he needs to have him close because it’s been months since they’ve slept apart. He wants to be able to run his palm over the skin of Remus’ thigh, feel that same leg hook around his as he smiles into the skin of his neck. He wants to hear Remus’ quiet little sighs as he tightens his hold around his chest.
Against his will, Sirius has to fight the memories, the visions of previous nights with his best friend. Dinner with the Potters had brought back thoughts about how Remus liked to wipe his cutlery clean each time after using it, even though he’d use it again a minute later. Sirius had caught himself smiling into his water glass as he remembered how their playful kicks under the table turned into soft brushes of ankles and calves. Sirius felt foolish for not being able to hide his emotions, especially after James smirked and made eyes at him when he caught him smiling.
He couldn’t resist any longer.
“Remus,” he whispers. There’s no response; he had said it so quietly that he starts to wonder if Remus could have even heard it, but then he sees something move on the other side. He thinks it looks like a bed sheet, then a pale leg before a sleepy face is brought into focus.
Remus.
“Isn’t it past your bed time, Sirius?” comes Remus’ groggy reply. He rubs a hand over his face before running it through his bed hair. There’s a rustle of sheets and a quiet mumbling of words and suddenly Sirius can see Remus’ face and bare chest illuminated by a faint wand glow. The view is doing nothing to help ease the itch Sirius had felt earlier but he doesn’t have the heart to look away just yet.
“I just wanted to say hello, that’s all,” Sirius says, ignoring how stupid he must look and sound, ignoring that it was well past two a.m. and he’s sleeping in a room next to his best friend.
Remus laughs softly, tilting his head so that the tips of his fringe fall over his eyes. “Missing me already, Sirius?” he asks, amusement lacing his words but not in the way that lets Sirius know that he was making fun of him.
“Are you alone?” Sirius blurts out before he can stop himself.
Remus stares at him for a while, eyes focusing on Sirius’ face before going lower to take in his shirtless chest. Sirius feels a strong sense of longing at that look, wishing for what he thought was the hundredth time that they were both in their dorm, warm and close to each other in the safety of their canopy bed.
“My parents went out for the night and they’re not returning until morning,” Remus answers, eyes still focused on Sirius’ chest.
“James is asleep.” Sirius turns the mirror over his shoulder to show Remus, smirking when he notices his best mate’s new sleeping position: knees tucked under him with his arse raised in the air. Sirius shifts the mirror back so it once again focuses on his face. “He won’t be waking up for a while.” He doesn’t know why he blurts that out either.
Remus continues to stare before he pulls the duvet off himself in one swift movement, making Sirius bite his lip at the sight of his nearly naked form. There’s only silence, and it reminds Sirius of their first night together when they had been too nervous to even speak as they touched and kissed and licked at each other’s necks, soft gasps turning into deep moans as they gained confidence.
“I’ll take my pants off if you do,” whispers Remus. His previous bravado is gone and his cheeks flush at his own bravery.
Sirius, moved by that alluring blush as much by his own cock, places the mirror upright against the wall and slides the flimsy material of his boxers off his hips and down his legs. He lays back down to hold the mirror closer to his face again. Remus, in Sirius’ opinion, was more graceful than he was. Even their first time, when both had been more nervous than any other moment in their lives, Remus had managed to slide out of his clothes in a way that made Sirius look like he’d just yanked them off.
“I miss touching you, Remus,” Sirius murmurs. “I just want to touch you here.” Sirius tilts the mirror slightly down to show Remus his fingers moving idly over his chest, moving over his wildly beating heart. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”
When Sirius turns the mirrors towards his face again he’s able to admire Remus’ own long, elegant fingers imitating what he had just done. “Yes, I like it,” Remus says breathily.
That breathy voice reminds Sirius of a particularly cold night a month ago, when Sirius moved his hand slowly, achingly slow over Remus’ cock, placing tiny kisses on his neck as Remus squirmed under his ministrations. Sirius had asked if he liked it, and Remus had used that same voice, those same words before bucking his hips harder into Sirius’ fist.
It had been enough to make Sirius’ own cock hard and afterwards, he’d kissed Remus until exhaustion had made it so that he couldn’t keep his mouth moving anymore. He hadn’t minded since Remus was still close and available for his touch.
Unlike now.
After a quick glance to make sure James is still asleep, Sirius turns onto his right side, arm stretched out to keep the mirror turned towards him.
“I know it sounds pathetic but I just need you here, Remus. It’s pathetic because it’s barely the first fucking night,” Sirius whispers furiously, angry at himself for not being there with Remus, angry about the way Remus made him ache. At the same time, that ache is a reminder of what he has, of what is his, and he’s more than sure that Remus feels it just the same.
“I need you too. You’ve no idea how much I need you to be near me,” answers Remus, his voice sounding almost as if the words were being ripped out from him, as if he didn’t want to say something so intimate but felt it so strongly that he had no control over his tongue to stop them from spilling out.
Sirius doesn’t know if it’s the lost, pained looked on Remus’ face or the strangled quality of his voice but it makes him slip his palm over his own cock the same way he did when they slept in the same bed.
The sight makes Remus’ breath hitch. He’s gotten used to hearing Sirius wanking during the night, turning or lifting his head off Sirius’ chest to look at his grinning face as his hand sped up, his legs falling open. Remus would often snort or shake his head or throw a sock at Sirius’ face to make him lose his concentration.
But more often than he’d care to admit, Remus enjoyed laying back and watching. He’d watch Sirius’ hips as they’d buck off the bed and his heavy breathing turned into soft moans. He’d watch Sirius’ face scrunch up just moments before coming over himself, and he’d smile at the sight of Sirius being utterly spent. Remus would then move close to kiss Sirius’ still panting mouth, smoothing his hair away from his eyes and feeling him shiver ever so slightly at his touch.
Remus can’t touch him now. He’s never felt so desperate to touch him.
“I want to be able to kiss you right now,” Remus moans, eyes fixated on a strong, flexing forearm that meant Sirius had added more pressure to his strokes.
“Together?” pants Sirius. His head falls back onto the pillow as he twists his fist on the upstroke. “Remus, please. Let’s do this together.”
Remus’ hand is wrapped around his cock before Sirius finishes talking. He pauses briefly as he frantically looks for something to lubricate his palm before he grabs a bottle on his nightstand and hopes it isn’t some type of cock-melting acid that somehow had been placed there. His hand returns to his cock and he feels self conscious at first, but he forgets about it as he watches Sirius’ abdominal muscles begin to clench deliciously.
“I can’t go another night without touching you, Remus,” Sirius moans, desperately trying to hold on to a small portion of his composure as his fist moves quickly over his cock.
“Sirius,” hisses Remus. He places the mirror to stay up against the wall before turning to kneel on the bed so he can clench one hand in the covers and give the other more space to stroke and stroke. “Fuck, I miss you being near me… miss you touching me, miss you just being here.”
Sirius doesn’t bloody care if he’s breathing too loud. He doesn’t care that his best friend could wake up and see him wanking furiously in his bed. The desperation, the itch he had felt earlier was back with such a force that the only way to get rid of it was by squeezing his fist tighter around cock, whimpering at the pressure and writhing as he stared at Remus getting off while watching him.
“Tell me you miss me, Remus,” he demands. “Tell me, please.”
Remus, who has dropped his head and spread his legs farther apart on the bed, lifts his gaze to look directly at Sirius. He takes in Sirius’ scrunched up face and strained neck, and he breathily whispers, “I miss you so fucking much, Sirius”
It’s enough. It’s more than enough to make Sirius’ mouth open, barely managing to bury his face in his pillow as his hand becomes slick and warm and his hips jerk into it. He doesn’t have time to relax, however, as he lazily watches Remus who’s beginning to breathe faster, giving a lovely keen as he rocks on his hand and knees. He went on longer than Sirius did, and Sirius feels more than smug as he attributes Remus’ intense wank to himself.
He watches as Remus rests the side of face on the bed, now moving the arm he’s been using to hold himself up to touch his cock and his chest, and then to scratch across his stomach as he starts to come. Sirius watches Remus’ mouth fall open as he lets out a breathless gasp before he moans Sirius’ name. Sirius is in awe. Nothing, nothing will ever match the beauty of Remus coming, of Remus’ muscles moving beneath skin so smooth, and the sight of it is enough to make Sirius’ cock interested again. Remus shifts to settle down on the bed and gazes at Sirius with tired, contented eyes.
James snores again, the noise breaking the sweet and delicate moment they had as they simply looked at each other. A smile plays at Remus’ lips, shy and adorable as he keeps his head down on the bed. That tiny smile is enough to make Sirius believe he won’t go mad, that he can survive the rest of the month without having Remus close.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice sleepy and his eyes closing more and more each time he blinks.
“Same time tomorrow,” Remus mumbles, smiling broader now. He’s pulled the sheet to cover his lower body now.
It doesn’t matter. They’ll have time to talk tomorrow. Sirius will tell Remus about how he spilled water on himself after James had tripped him. Remus will describe the creek he wants to show Sirius when he comes over. The itch will disappear after a few days but the ache will stay and make itself known each time Sirius does something that he knows Remus would have liked to do. But it doesn’t matter.
He’ll see him at the same time tomorrow.