Fic: Desde Que Te Amo (Ever Since I Love You) for ceredwensirius
Title: Desde Que Te Amo (Ever Since I Love You)
Author: cacklesthewitch
Recipient: ceredwensirius
Rating: NC-17
Highlight for Warnings: *graphic sexual acts, some angst, bittersweetness, references to Tonks (but not in a bad way!), vague references to the past and Remus being human. You'll know what I mean.*
Word Count: 3,215
Summary: Remus just wants to comfort Sirius, but Sirius has plans of his own.
Author's notes: Many thanks to brknhalo241 and brighty18, both of whom were invaluable in helping me bring this fic together.
ceredwensirius, you had a long list of likes and I tried to include as much of your wish list as I could, using this poem as inspiration. AU, post-Azkaban/post DH, and not technically a holiday fic. But I really hope you like it! Happy Holidays!
Remus supposes it should be different. After so many years together, too many years apart, growing up together and growing older in each other's arms, they know each other well. Remus knows all of Sirius' little looks, what every tilt of his head means, the myriad emotions reflected in his eyes. He knows what Sirius' hair feels like through his fingers, soft silky strands, once shiny jet black, lately more liberally sprinkled with grey, and the feel of his permanently sun-kissed skin against the flat palms of his hands. He knows his lover's tempestuous moods - knows when to comfort, when to back off and when to duck and hide. Remus knows all of this, knows the feel of Sirius' body pressed against his before he falls asleep at night and when he wakes every morning in their shared bed, yet it never ceases to amaze him that Sirius, his Sirius, is there beside him.
There was a time, many years in fact, when the space beside him lay empty - occasionally filled by a warm body, never the same one twice. For a short time it was just one, but his heart and mind betrayed him, longing for the one body he thought he'd never have beside him again and he suffered for it, as did his marriage. He doesn't suffer like that anymore.
Remus is grateful every day of his life for the second chance that fate has given them, yet he finds himself dreaming of other lives: one where he died on the battlefield defending the mother of his child instead of surviving the blow of deadly curses to see James and Lily's only son defeat the Dark Lord, one where Sirius fell through the Veil instead of being caught and pulled back by his own hands or one where Sirius has ceased to exist except in the memories of a lonely, broken man. He wakes from these dreams bathed in sweat and tears burning his eyes, even now, so many years later, the ache of a dozen years apart from his lover, the guilt of thinking the worst of this man by his side, and the time he wasted trying to deny what his heart wanted heavy in his chest. But the soothing sound of Sirius' voice, a husky murmur of words whispered like prayer and absolution into his hair, always temper the flare. Every time it happens, it takes him a while to shake off the horror movie images in his head and he can sense Sirius' concern for him. It's probably the worst part of those dreams, seeing how much they upset Sirius.
When he wakes up from another nightmare, the one where Sirius falls repeatedly from his sight, tumbles away to nothingness as he looks on helpless, Sirius' hooded grey eyes are the first thing he sees glinting silver in the dark.
"Another one?" Sirius asks, though from the frown on his face, it's obvious he already knows.
Remus shakes his head, wondering if he cried out loud. "Just a dream," he answers, aware of the night still draped around them.
"About?" Sirius asks, looking down at him. He is propped up on his elbow as he lies by Remus' side, his bare chest marred by crude tattoos bleeding into one another and dissected by old scars, but still solid and muscled and firm underneath, heaving slightly up and down.
"Can't remember." His senses take in the howl of the wind at the window, the biting chill in the air and the faraway sound of rustling trees. It makes more sense now, the look on Sirius' face, his breathlessness and the fact that he's awake in the middle of the night. Storms have always had this affect on Sirius as far back as Remus can remember.
Sirius stares for a moment, his eyes flicking over Remus' face. "You’re a terrible liar, Lupin," he states, his voice deep and low, "always were." There is a stiffness to his lower lip that tells Remus that Sirius is more annoyed than he's let on, more unsettled by the battering wind outside than he'd like Remus to know.
He could accuse Sirius of the same thing. "I'm an excellent liar," he retorts out of habit.
Sirius only slightly rolls his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything more and Remus doesn't have to respond - they've had this conversation a thousand times before, it seems. Instead Remus shifts a little closer to his lover, pulls his arm from beneath the covers and lets it rest on Sirius' arm. "The details don't matter, do they?" Before Sirius can say anything he adds, "None of it's real, anyway." His fingers absently stroke the soft skin at the crook of Sirius' elbow. Its intention is twofold, to comfort and placate, though he hopes Sirius only recognises the latter; the former would only serve to irritate him further.
"No," Sirius agrees, "it's not." He rolls over and slides half onto Remus, settling a thigh between Remus' legs. "This," Sirius intones as he slides his left leg slowly up and down, his rough foot scratching Remus' shin, knee nudging Remus' legs apart while the hard muscled thigh prods the tip of Remus' half-hard cock, "this is real."
This is what Sirius always does to settle his own discomfort, assuage his own fears. He reaches for Remus and pulls him in, pulls him under, and Remus willingly lets him, beholden to his long-time lover, pleased to be Sirius' anchor.
Remus feels himself stiffen fully and is marvelled by how his body, older, more battered and aching than he's ever been, can still respond to Sirius like it did when he was sixteen and being touched by that zealous, cocky boy for the very first time.
He rasps Sirius' name as Sirius dips his head and slides his lips over the pulse at Remus' neck, then slowly begins to lick along the length of his shoulder.
He can feel the curl of Sirius' lips against his skin just before he bites down gently on Remus' collarbone. Remus lets out a strangled noise and gently nudges Sirius away.
"Stop," he urges, "Teddy might hear us." His son is in the room down the hall, visiting from London for a few days, where he's spending Christmas hols with his mother, her Muggle husband and their two kids.
"That boy sleeps like his father," Sirius teases, "he wouldn't wake if someone let off fireworks in his room."
Remus grins, recalling the second year incident Sirius is referring to with clarity. James and Sirius, having discovered they could mail order from Gambol and Japes, had ordered the deluxe set of Dr. Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks and accidentally set it off in their dorm.
"I wasn't asleep," Remus argues (this is another argument they've had many times before), "I was hiding from you idiots. I didn't want to get anything singed off," he goes on, referring to Sirius' lack of eyebrows after the incident.
Sirius chuckles, a soft look of reminiscence on his face. "That's your story and you’re sticking to it, are you?" he asks, the look clearing like wind-blown clouds across a sunny sky, replaced by an amused and smug smile. It's a testament to how much Sirius has managed to heal for him to hear James' name or remember the past without that broken look marring his beautiful face and Remus is more than a little grateful to the gods for this every time.
"Fuck off."
"The first part of that sounds good," Sirius responds, and slides a hand to the back of Remus' neck, pulls him up as he catches his bottom lip in his teeth. Remus envelops the bow of Sirius' top lip between his own and darts out his tongue, opening his mouth just enough for Sirius' tongue to chase his back inside. The kiss is like every kiss and no kiss they've had before. The familiarity of the taste of Sirius' mouth, the flesh of his lower lip soft and luscious between Remus' teeth like the pulp of a sweet, ripe plum, is heightened by the heady feeling of those nips and licks and suckling mouth on his, moving instinctually, feral and fevered. Remus' every thought, fear, worry, is ripped away with every stroke of his lover's tongue, each soft press of lithe fingers on sensitive, oft-scarred skin, until the world consists only of the vaguest notion around them and they are one amorphous entity. It takes every bit of strength Remus possesses to push back the overwhelming feeling enough to break the kiss. He feels the familiar tinge of sadness at the loss of it, the shock that jolts him as their surroundings - the dark room, the house beyond, the storm raging outside - rushes back to him. It quickly dies away at the press of a hand to his chest.
"I'd like," he murmurs, voice barely audible beneath gulps of air, "I'd like not to scar my son for life."
"You think he doesn't know what adults get up to behind closed, warded doors?"
"It's warded?"
"You don't think I'd fuck your brains out with your son in the house and not take precautions to ensure our privacy, do you?"
Remus smiles. "Who says I'm going to let you fuck my brains out?"
"You'll be begging in a moment," comes the husky response.
"Will I?" The tone in his voice is one of challenge. Clear to Sirius, clear in his own head, and he knows that his lover won't be able to help but rise to it (he never can), but a part of him can't shake the worry that Teddy, his teenaged son, is close enough to hear or, Merlin forbid, walk in on them.
"Did you cast Muffliato?" he asks as Sirius' fingers skate over his chest and circle a dark nub, reigniting the ever-present flame that burns inside, a candle at the window of his soul for close to thirty years.
Sirius only pauses enough to give him his "Are you serious?" expression, eyes twinkling with mischief and need, forehead crinkling as a dark brow shoots up. It's a look that is the most reminiscent of the boy Sirius used to be, and Remus can see that boy clearly now, soft pout of his lips and red flush high on his cheeks plucking at the tight cord in Remus' stomach connected directly to his groin. He feels the pull and knows that Sirius feels it, too.
"Just try not to scream," he whispers as he smiles - can't help but smile, "even your spellwork isn't powerful enough to contain those noises you make when you - "
Remus never gets to finish that sentence. Sirius kisses him hard, stealing his breath with wet hungry kisses. The urgency melts away as Remus coaxes Sirius down with soft darts of his tongue and a hand at Sirius' back, rubbing slow circles at the small of it, his other hand slipping to the nape of Sirius' neck to grip his hair and ease him away. Sirius responds to this gentle coaxing quickly tonight - another sign that he is not as fine as he pretends to be - and Remus is aware that they haven't had to do this quietly in a while.
"Maybe we should - " Remus starts, turning his head to the side so he can speak. Sirius' breath hits his cheek as he nuzzles his nose at Remus' jaw.
"What is it?" Sirius asks, concerned and showing incredible restraint.
He wants to comfort Sirius, sprawl out over his body and let him feel the press of Remus' chest against his, feel the slow, steady beat of his heart, force the frightened, hammering beat of Sirius' to match his own. But he knows that this is something Sirius won't allow, not in these moments when he is determined to seem braver than he feels. It's these moments that remind Remus that he wasn't the only one suffering all those years.
"Te - Teddy," he stammers instead in explanation.
"He's fine with us now," Sirius says, immediately grasping Remus' concern. "He really is."
Sirius' words, meant to reassure, only serve to remind him that there was a time, not so long ago, that Teddy abhorred Sirius, could barely stand him, regarded them both with a loathing only a child who felt betrayed by a parent could feel. Guilt wells up as it always does when he thinks of the way he left his wife and young son and followed his heart back to Sirius. Although it turned out for the best - for all of them - Remus can't help that niggling feeling of remorse creep in, but he does his best to push it away. Before he can gather his thoughts, Sirius' lips are kissing a steady trail from jaw to abdomen, pausing only to dart his tongue into Remus' navel and suck at the jut of bone at his hip. As Sirius lazily laves the bite mark Remus received as a child, just below the knobbly bit of bone, all dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him have gone from Remus' mind.
"Padfoot," he whines, the disfigured skin there still as sensitive as a newly pink scar.
The flutter of his eyelashes tickle Remus' skin in response as Sirius' head moves lower still and Remus can't help but wriggle, tiny breathless gasps of delight turning to pants when Sirius stops to nuzzle at the coarse, dark hair at the base of his cock. Remus begins to writhe wantonly beneath him, control slipping from between his fingers, even as the storm continues to batter the outside of the house, wet snow pelting the roof and wind rattling the windows in their frames like an unwanted visitor trying to break their way inside. The room beyond their bed becomes a series of shadow and light and merging noises as Sirius licks the head of his cock and slowly takes it between his lips. Remus moans loudly and bucks, eager and needy, but Sirius holds him down, pinning him to the mattress with a firm hand on each hip. Sirius teases the head with flicks of tongue, pre-come leaking more liberally with each tiny stroke, before he takes Remus in further and sucks. Remus grips the back of Sirius' head with both hands at the feel of the heat enveloping him, not sure whether he means to pull Sirius off or hold his head there or force it down further, but Sirius pushes, muscles bunching as he strains against the grip of his lover, drags his tongue along the underside of Remus' cock as it slips out of his mouth with a wet pop.
There is a strangled cry that fills the room and it takes Remus a moment to realise it's him.
"Ssh, Moony," comes Sirius' amused reprimand, "you'll wake the kid."
"Bastard," he growls, his voice quivering with need.
He gets a chuckle in response. If Remus could think clearly right now, he'd take the teasing for what it is - comfort and affection - knowing that the teasing always leads to something more, something better, absolute, but he's past all rational thought. He needs release. The urgency hits him like it used to, like it always has when it comes to Sirius.
He feels a huff of hot air across the tip of his cock just before Sirius' lips return, sucking lightly and driving him mad. He lets out a stifled groan of frustration, desperate to move but unable to, while Sirius continues his slow ministrations, all tongue and lips. Remus tries to bend his knees unsuccessfully and settles for sprawling his legs further apart, shameless and coming apart at the seams. Sirius goes even slower then, pulling off for a second time in order to press soft kisses from base to tip and back again, over and over, while he runs his tongue over Remus' balls, tracing wet patterns over the tight, aching sacs. Just when Remus feels himself about to unravel, Sirius suddenly releases the pressure at his hips, slides both hands beneath to grip the cheeks of Remus' arse and pulls him up, thrusting his cock deep into Sirius' mouth. Remus goes limp, a little shocked by this particular move - which Sirius generally uses only when they are vertical and up against a wall - and relinquishes control to Sirius, allowing him to thrust his body up and jerk him down repeatedly a few times before he reaches his tipping point and spills himself into Sirius' demanding mouth. Sirius sucks harder, swallows around his cock until it twitches in his mouth, spent and sore. Sirius continues to suck, like he can't get enough, like he isn't really conscious of what he's doing and pleasure begins to ebb to discomfort.
Remus lets out a pained cry and Sirius pulls off, muttering an apology as he snakes his way back up Remus' body to rest his head on the pillow beside his spent lover.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you," Remus rasps noticing the blown look of Sirius' pupils as he blinks back at Remus with a small, lazy smile.
"Never," Sirius breathes, earnest. A shadow of something Remus can't quite identify flits across Sirius' face and it takes him a moment (his mind still reeling from orgasm) to realise what it is - it's a different fear from the one he saw earlier. It's a fear that Sirius still harbours, that one day Remus won't be there beside him, won't want to be. It's a fear that Remus has tried to assuage though he knows it's tied to those years alone, imprisoned in a tower where the howling wind and lashing rain taunted Sirius and drove him half-mad. Feeling his heart swell with anguish and devotion for this man, Remus pulls him close and attempts to kiss the fear away.
Once again, if only for a moment, the world seems to fall away.
When they emerge from the haze of kisses and unspoken promises, it's to the realisation that the storm has died away.
"It's almost morning," Sirius mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Remus' neck.
He sounds content, his body relaxed and warm in Remus' arms.
"Yeah," is all Remus can answer.
"After last night, I think I deserve a big breakfast," Sirius states into the silence of the morning.
Remus grins.
"Pancakes?"
"And bangers and eggs."
"Would you like some toast with that, too?" Remus asks in a lightly mocking tone.
Sirius considers. "Only if you and Teddy want some. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, Moony."
Despite Sirius' much better mood and the shadows gone behind his eyes, Remus can't resist shoving his lover off the side of the bed.
"OW!" Sirius cries as his bare arse hits the cold wooden floor.
Feeling like the boy he used to be, Remus, in rare carefree form, dives off the edge after him.
"What's this?" Sirius asks when he recovers enough from being suddenly pressed into the floor with Remus draped over him.
"I just really wanted to," Remus confesses and Sirius, his eyes alight with that look that seduced Remus all those years ago, pulls him down and kisses him.
Author: cacklesthewitch
Recipient: ceredwensirius
Rating: NC-17
Highlight for Warnings: *graphic sexual acts, some angst, bittersweetness, references to Tonks (but not in a bad way!), vague references to the past and Remus being human. You'll know what I mean.*
Word Count: 3,215
Summary: Remus just wants to comfort Sirius, but Sirius has plans of his own.
Author's notes: Many thanks to brknhalo241 and brighty18, both of whom were invaluable in helping me bring this fic together.
ceredwensirius, you had a long list of likes and I tried to include as much of your wish list as I could, using this poem as inspiration. AU, post-Azkaban/post DH, and not technically a holiday fic. But I really hope you like it! Happy Holidays!
Remus supposes it should be different. After so many years together, too many years apart, growing up together and growing older in each other's arms, they know each other well. Remus knows all of Sirius' little looks, what every tilt of his head means, the myriad emotions reflected in his eyes. He knows what Sirius' hair feels like through his fingers, soft silky strands, once shiny jet black, lately more liberally sprinkled with grey, and the feel of his permanently sun-kissed skin against the flat palms of his hands. He knows his lover's tempestuous moods - knows when to comfort, when to back off and when to duck and hide. Remus knows all of this, knows the feel of Sirius' body pressed against his before he falls asleep at night and when he wakes every morning in their shared bed, yet it never ceases to amaze him that Sirius, his Sirius, is there beside him.
There was a time, many years in fact, when the space beside him lay empty - occasionally filled by a warm body, never the same one twice. For a short time it was just one, but his heart and mind betrayed him, longing for the one body he thought he'd never have beside him again and he suffered for it, as did his marriage. He doesn't suffer like that anymore.
Remus is grateful every day of his life for the second chance that fate has given them, yet he finds himself dreaming of other lives: one where he died on the battlefield defending the mother of his child instead of surviving the blow of deadly curses to see James and Lily's only son defeat the Dark Lord, one where Sirius fell through the Veil instead of being caught and pulled back by his own hands or one where Sirius has ceased to exist except in the memories of a lonely, broken man. He wakes from these dreams bathed in sweat and tears burning his eyes, even now, so many years later, the ache of a dozen years apart from his lover, the guilt of thinking the worst of this man by his side, and the time he wasted trying to deny what his heart wanted heavy in his chest. But the soothing sound of Sirius' voice, a husky murmur of words whispered like prayer and absolution into his hair, always temper the flare. Every time it happens, it takes him a while to shake off the horror movie images in his head and he can sense Sirius' concern for him. It's probably the worst part of those dreams, seeing how much they upset Sirius.
When he wakes up from another nightmare, the one where Sirius falls repeatedly from his sight, tumbles away to nothingness as he looks on helpless, Sirius' hooded grey eyes are the first thing he sees glinting silver in the dark.
"Another one?" Sirius asks, though from the frown on his face, it's obvious he already knows.
Remus shakes his head, wondering if he cried out loud. "Just a dream," he answers, aware of the night still draped around them.
"About?" Sirius asks, looking down at him. He is propped up on his elbow as he lies by Remus' side, his bare chest marred by crude tattoos bleeding into one another and dissected by old scars, but still solid and muscled and firm underneath, heaving slightly up and down.
"Can't remember." His senses take in the howl of the wind at the window, the biting chill in the air and the faraway sound of rustling trees. It makes more sense now, the look on Sirius' face, his breathlessness and the fact that he's awake in the middle of the night. Storms have always had this affect on Sirius as far back as Remus can remember.
Sirius stares for a moment, his eyes flicking over Remus' face. "You’re a terrible liar, Lupin," he states, his voice deep and low, "always were." There is a stiffness to his lower lip that tells Remus that Sirius is more annoyed than he's let on, more unsettled by the battering wind outside than he'd like Remus to know.
He could accuse Sirius of the same thing. "I'm an excellent liar," he retorts out of habit.
Sirius only slightly rolls his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything more and Remus doesn't have to respond - they've had this conversation a thousand times before, it seems. Instead Remus shifts a little closer to his lover, pulls his arm from beneath the covers and lets it rest on Sirius' arm. "The details don't matter, do they?" Before Sirius can say anything he adds, "None of it's real, anyway." His fingers absently stroke the soft skin at the crook of Sirius' elbow. Its intention is twofold, to comfort and placate, though he hopes Sirius only recognises the latter; the former would only serve to irritate him further.
"No," Sirius agrees, "it's not." He rolls over and slides half onto Remus, settling a thigh between Remus' legs. "This," Sirius intones as he slides his left leg slowly up and down, his rough foot scratching Remus' shin, knee nudging Remus' legs apart while the hard muscled thigh prods the tip of Remus' half-hard cock, "this is real."
This is what Sirius always does to settle his own discomfort, assuage his own fears. He reaches for Remus and pulls him in, pulls him under, and Remus willingly lets him, beholden to his long-time lover, pleased to be Sirius' anchor.
Remus feels himself stiffen fully and is marvelled by how his body, older, more battered and aching than he's ever been, can still respond to Sirius like it did when he was sixteen and being touched by that zealous, cocky boy for the very first time.
He rasps Sirius' name as Sirius dips his head and slides his lips over the pulse at Remus' neck, then slowly begins to lick along the length of his shoulder.
He can feel the curl of Sirius' lips against his skin just before he bites down gently on Remus' collarbone. Remus lets out a strangled noise and gently nudges Sirius away.
"Stop," he urges, "Teddy might hear us." His son is in the room down the hall, visiting from London for a few days, where he's spending Christmas hols with his mother, her Muggle husband and their two kids.
"That boy sleeps like his father," Sirius teases, "he wouldn't wake if someone let off fireworks in his room."
Remus grins, recalling the second year incident Sirius is referring to with clarity. James and Sirius, having discovered they could mail order from Gambol and Japes, had ordered the deluxe set of Dr. Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks and accidentally set it off in their dorm.
"I wasn't asleep," Remus argues (this is another argument they've had many times before), "I was hiding from you idiots. I didn't want to get anything singed off," he goes on, referring to Sirius' lack of eyebrows after the incident.
Sirius chuckles, a soft look of reminiscence on his face. "That's your story and you’re sticking to it, are you?" he asks, the look clearing like wind-blown clouds across a sunny sky, replaced by an amused and smug smile. It's a testament to how much Sirius has managed to heal for him to hear James' name or remember the past without that broken look marring his beautiful face and Remus is more than a little grateful to the gods for this every time.
"Fuck off."
"The first part of that sounds good," Sirius responds, and slides a hand to the back of Remus' neck, pulls him up as he catches his bottom lip in his teeth. Remus envelops the bow of Sirius' top lip between his own and darts out his tongue, opening his mouth just enough for Sirius' tongue to chase his back inside. The kiss is like every kiss and no kiss they've had before. The familiarity of the taste of Sirius' mouth, the flesh of his lower lip soft and luscious between Remus' teeth like the pulp of a sweet, ripe plum, is heightened by the heady feeling of those nips and licks and suckling mouth on his, moving instinctually, feral and fevered. Remus' every thought, fear, worry, is ripped away with every stroke of his lover's tongue, each soft press of lithe fingers on sensitive, oft-scarred skin, until the world consists only of the vaguest notion around them and they are one amorphous entity. It takes every bit of strength Remus possesses to push back the overwhelming feeling enough to break the kiss. He feels the familiar tinge of sadness at the loss of it, the shock that jolts him as their surroundings - the dark room, the house beyond, the storm raging outside - rushes back to him. It quickly dies away at the press of a hand to his chest.
"I'd like," he murmurs, voice barely audible beneath gulps of air, "I'd like not to scar my son for life."
"You think he doesn't know what adults get up to behind closed, warded doors?"
"It's warded?"
"You don't think I'd fuck your brains out with your son in the house and not take precautions to ensure our privacy, do you?"
Remus smiles. "Who says I'm going to let you fuck my brains out?"
"You'll be begging in a moment," comes the husky response.
"Will I?" The tone in his voice is one of challenge. Clear to Sirius, clear in his own head, and he knows that his lover won't be able to help but rise to it (he never can), but a part of him can't shake the worry that Teddy, his teenaged son, is close enough to hear or, Merlin forbid, walk in on them.
"Did you cast Muffliato?" he asks as Sirius' fingers skate over his chest and circle a dark nub, reigniting the ever-present flame that burns inside, a candle at the window of his soul for close to thirty years.
Sirius only pauses enough to give him his "Are you serious?" expression, eyes twinkling with mischief and need, forehead crinkling as a dark brow shoots up. It's a look that is the most reminiscent of the boy Sirius used to be, and Remus can see that boy clearly now, soft pout of his lips and red flush high on his cheeks plucking at the tight cord in Remus' stomach connected directly to his groin. He feels the pull and knows that Sirius feels it, too.
"Just try not to scream," he whispers as he smiles - can't help but smile, "even your spellwork isn't powerful enough to contain those noises you make when you - "
Remus never gets to finish that sentence. Sirius kisses him hard, stealing his breath with wet hungry kisses. The urgency melts away as Remus coaxes Sirius down with soft darts of his tongue and a hand at Sirius' back, rubbing slow circles at the small of it, his other hand slipping to the nape of Sirius' neck to grip his hair and ease him away. Sirius responds to this gentle coaxing quickly tonight - another sign that he is not as fine as he pretends to be - and Remus is aware that they haven't had to do this quietly in a while.
"Maybe we should - " Remus starts, turning his head to the side so he can speak. Sirius' breath hits his cheek as he nuzzles his nose at Remus' jaw.
"What is it?" Sirius asks, concerned and showing incredible restraint.
He wants to comfort Sirius, sprawl out over his body and let him feel the press of Remus' chest against his, feel the slow, steady beat of his heart, force the frightened, hammering beat of Sirius' to match his own. But he knows that this is something Sirius won't allow, not in these moments when he is determined to seem braver than he feels. It's these moments that remind Remus that he wasn't the only one suffering all those years.
"Te - Teddy," he stammers instead in explanation.
"He's fine with us now," Sirius says, immediately grasping Remus' concern. "He really is."
Sirius' words, meant to reassure, only serve to remind him that there was a time, not so long ago, that Teddy abhorred Sirius, could barely stand him, regarded them both with a loathing only a child who felt betrayed by a parent could feel. Guilt wells up as it always does when he thinks of the way he left his wife and young son and followed his heart back to Sirius. Although it turned out for the best - for all of them - Remus can't help that niggling feeling of remorse creep in, but he does his best to push it away. Before he can gather his thoughts, Sirius' lips are kissing a steady trail from jaw to abdomen, pausing only to dart his tongue into Remus' navel and suck at the jut of bone at his hip. As Sirius lazily laves the bite mark Remus received as a child, just below the knobbly bit of bone, all dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him have gone from Remus' mind.
"Padfoot," he whines, the disfigured skin there still as sensitive as a newly pink scar.
The flutter of his eyelashes tickle Remus' skin in response as Sirius' head moves lower still and Remus can't help but wriggle, tiny breathless gasps of delight turning to pants when Sirius stops to nuzzle at the coarse, dark hair at the base of his cock. Remus begins to writhe wantonly beneath him, control slipping from between his fingers, even as the storm continues to batter the outside of the house, wet snow pelting the roof and wind rattling the windows in their frames like an unwanted visitor trying to break their way inside. The room beyond their bed becomes a series of shadow and light and merging noises as Sirius licks the head of his cock and slowly takes it between his lips. Remus moans loudly and bucks, eager and needy, but Sirius holds him down, pinning him to the mattress with a firm hand on each hip. Sirius teases the head with flicks of tongue, pre-come leaking more liberally with each tiny stroke, before he takes Remus in further and sucks. Remus grips the back of Sirius' head with both hands at the feel of the heat enveloping him, not sure whether he means to pull Sirius off or hold his head there or force it down further, but Sirius pushes, muscles bunching as he strains against the grip of his lover, drags his tongue along the underside of Remus' cock as it slips out of his mouth with a wet pop.
There is a strangled cry that fills the room and it takes Remus a moment to realise it's him.
"Ssh, Moony," comes Sirius' amused reprimand, "you'll wake the kid."
"Bastard," he growls, his voice quivering with need.
He gets a chuckle in response. If Remus could think clearly right now, he'd take the teasing for what it is - comfort and affection - knowing that the teasing always leads to something more, something better, absolute, but he's past all rational thought. He needs release. The urgency hits him like it used to, like it always has when it comes to Sirius.
He feels a huff of hot air across the tip of his cock just before Sirius' lips return, sucking lightly and driving him mad. He lets out a stifled groan of frustration, desperate to move but unable to, while Sirius continues his slow ministrations, all tongue and lips. Remus tries to bend his knees unsuccessfully and settles for sprawling his legs further apart, shameless and coming apart at the seams. Sirius goes even slower then, pulling off for a second time in order to press soft kisses from base to tip and back again, over and over, while he runs his tongue over Remus' balls, tracing wet patterns over the tight, aching sacs. Just when Remus feels himself about to unravel, Sirius suddenly releases the pressure at his hips, slides both hands beneath to grip the cheeks of Remus' arse and pulls him up, thrusting his cock deep into Sirius' mouth. Remus goes limp, a little shocked by this particular move - which Sirius generally uses only when they are vertical and up against a wall - and relinquishes control to Sirius, allowing him to thrust his body up and jerk him down repeatedly a few times before he reaches his tipping point and spills himself into Sirius' demanding mouth. Sirius sucks harder, swallows around his cock until it twitches in his mouth, spent and sore. Sirius continues to suck, like he can't get enough, like he isn't really conscious of what he's doing and pleasure begins to ebb to discomfort.
Remus lets out a pained cry and Sirius pulls off, muttering an apology as he snakes his way back up Remus' body to rest his head on the pillow beside his spent lover.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you," Remus rasps noticing the blown look of Sirius' pupils as he blinks back at Remus with a small, lazy smile.
"Never," Sirius breathes, earnest. A shadow of something Remus can't quite identify flits across Sirius' face and it takes him a moment (his mind still reeling from orgasm) to realise what it is - it's a different fear from the one he saw earlier. It's a fear that Sirius still harbours, that one day Remus won't be there beside him, won't want to be. It's a fear that Remus has tried to assuage though he knows it's tied to those years alone, imprisoned in a tower where the howling wind and lashing rain taunted Sirius and drove him half-mad. Feeling his heart swell with anguish and devotion for this man, Remus pulls him close and attempts to kiss the fear away.
Once again, if only for a moment, the world seems to fall away.
When they emerge from the haze of kisses and unspoken promises, it's to the realisation that the storm has died away.
"It's almost morning," Sirius mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Remus' neck.
He sounds content, his body relaxed and warm in Remus' arms.
"Yeah," is all Remus can answer.
"After last night, I think I deserve a big breakfast," Sirius states into the silence of the morning.
Remus grins.
"Pancakes?"
"And bangers and eggs."
"Would you like some toast with that, too?" Remus asks in a lightly mocking tone.
Sirius considers. "Only if you and Teddy want some. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, Moony."
Despite Sirius' much better mood and the shadows gone behind his eyes, Remus can't resist shoving his lover off the side of the bed.
"OW!" Sirius cries as his bare arse hits the cold wooden floor.
Feeling like the boy he used to be, Remus, in rare carefree form, dives off the edge after him.
"What's this?" Sirius asks when he recovers enough from being suddenly pressed into the floor with Remus draped over him.
"I just really wanted to," Remus confesses and Sirius, his eyes alight with that look that seduced Remus all those years ago, pulls him down and kisses him.