Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Remus was stretched along the sofa completely naked. His bare shoulders were resting on a large throw pillow, one leg was bent and leaning against the back cushion, and the other was extended, toes barely reaching the opposite armrest. He held a tattered old copy of a paperback in his left hand while his right hand idly wandered.

His hand drifted first to his stomach, running his fingers through the coarse hair that led downward from his navel. He followed the trail and ghosted the tips of his fingers gently between his thighs. When he reached the soft skin of the head, he touched and teased its ridge with his thumb, the way one might absently fiddle with a button or a ring on a finger, and he turned the page.

Circling the silky pink head with his fingers, he tugged gently this way and that way, letting it flop lazily against his thigh. He turned the page, then drew his forefinger along the side, base to tip. A chill spread to his toes. After a faint twitch, it stilled, lying heavier and thicker than before.

Remus used his right hand to bring his ceramic mug to his lips. After sipping the warm milky tea and returning the mug to its coaster, he flipped to the next page. His fingers moved to the head again, rolling across and around its smooth skin and dragging along the slit. Much stiffer now, it fell against his stomach instead of his thigh when he let go to turn to the next page.

Moving down to his neglected balls, he teased them with the pads of his fingers, sending goosebumps across the sensitive skin. His cock pulsed once and swelled a little more. He carried on like this—page after page—alternating between running his fingers across his balls and squeezing gently while his length steadily grew and heated up against his stomach.

The slow, leisurely touching eventually became a quicker, more deliberate attempt at pleasure, but Remus still had so much of the story ahead of him. So, he let go of his balls, took a deep breath, and returned his focus to the beautiful, yet obviously dangerous man in the book. As he laid his now-unoccupied hand on his stomach, his palm dragged against the head of his cock and a throb surged down his shaft. A wave of heat pulsed through his body, and he licked his forefinger before turning the page.

He held the book with both hands as he continued reading. The main character had begun to piece together the mysterious man’s secrets, and she knew she should be afraid of him—given what he was—but she found herself drawn to him despite it. Remus’s nerves were alive and screaming; his body apparently found itself quite drawn to the man too. His hand fell back to his stomach and he squeezed his cock gently. A soft moan hummed through his lips. He lost his place on the page.

After one indulgent stroke down then up, he let go of his cock and it slapped against his stomach with a smack. He read the page again and turned to the next. The words eventually blurred and swam across his vision as the lazy strokes became tighter and faster. His eyes fluttered closed and his head hung back. Moisture bloomed from the tip and he slicked his shaft with it, pumping faster with each stroke.

His balls tightened and his arms quivered. The book fell face down onto his chest. Its cover was worn and a thick crease bisected the face of a woman with honey-coloured curls that swept around her waist. A wolfish man with icy grey eyes and a mane of tangled black hair stalked her hungrily from between the trees in the distance.

His left hand, now free to wander, travelled between his legs and two fingers pressed delicately against his tight rim. The touch made the muscle clench and he teased around the edge in circles. Remus released his cock and it bobbed and curved towards his chest, swollen and red. Opening the side table drawer, he fumbled for the tiny bottle of lube he kept stashed there inconspicuously. He found it half-full and hiding under takeaway menus for restaurants they had never patronised.

He squirted a glob onto his first two fingers, closed the cap, and tossed the bottle onto the table. He reached urgently for his hole again, still clenched tightly closed, and he massaged his first finger inside. The intrusion caused his breath to catch and he worked the finger in circles until it couldn’t reach any deeper. The muscle pulsed gently against his finger like breaths as he wiggled it around to make room for the next one. He inserted his second finger slowly and scissored and stretched more, his rim burning delightfully as he pulled out. Another squeeze of lube dripped around his fingers and he massaged around the aching hole. The cold, soothing lube sent shivers across his skin.

The long black curls and icy grey eyes in Remus’s mind morphed into something more familiar. Wavy hair that just reached broad shoulders instead of tangled around a waist. Eyes that were icy, but a bit more blue than grey. A toothy, friendly smile rather than the furled lip of a predator.

Two fingers pressed back in, spreading as they dipped deeper and, after some effort, they made room for the next one. His third finger slid in carefully, slowly. The stinging intensified with each push, until it didn’t anymore. Searching desperately to find the right spot, he crooked his fingers as he pumped them in and out with pleasurable friction. It didn’t take long at all. He cried out when he hit it and his back arched high with a jolt. The book slid between his body and the back of the sofa.

Remus drove his fingers in and out, hitting the spot with nearly every push. His cock stirred and begged for attention, wet with precome that dribbled from the tip and pooled on his stomach.

A vibration rattled against the table. It may as well have been buzzing on another continent. Remus continued to pump his fingers, watching his cock swell and pulse, and thinking of hair and eyes and that mouth. He teased his forefinger along the length of his cock and it spasmed, the sensitive head darkening almost to purple. Desperate to ease the pressure, he wrapped his hand firmly around it and stroked.

His hole twitched around his fingers as they massaged and probed deeply into his sweet spot. His cock pulsed, his balls constricted, and sparks exploded throughout his abdomen. As his orgasm crashed through his body, another buzz came from the table, but he hardly heard it and then immediately forgot it. Remus groaned and whimpered to the empty room.

Behind his eyelids, he pictured his hand gripping and tangled in black curls and icy blue eyes staring into his, as wild spurts of come streaked his chest in white. Each pump drew out smaller bursts until he was spent and trembling. His chest heaved and sweat rolled down his forehead as he panted to catch his breath.

Remus’s cock slowly softened in his hand and he retreated to a lazier pace. When the stimulation became too much, his hand stilled and rested with a loose and lazy grip. He pulled his fingers out of his arse and the hole constricted around them, begging to hold them in place. He traced slow, soothing circles around his puckering, open rim as his body calmed and his nerves settled.

Remembering the buzzing he had heard moments before, he let go of his cock to check for notifications. While he felt around the table in search of his mobile, the sound of the door handle rattling echoed through the quiet room, and his heart stopped.

⸺

Sirius freezes in the doorway, mouth open and ready to yell ‘Moony, I’m home!’ the same way he does every time he walks through the door, but the words never form. The sight in front of him—Remus laid bare on his back as his lovely, long fingers slide away from his arsehole, past his balls, and over his long, soft cock—sends a bolt of lightning through his body. Is that come on his chest? Holy shit.

Static fills his ears and his vision darkens around the edges. Heat pools low in his stomach. His heart crashes against his ribcage. Remus’s mouth hangs open and his eyes bore into his. What is he supposed to do if his feet are nailed to the floorboards and his eyes aren’t willing to look away?

Drop to his knees and pray for a sinkhole to open under him and send him plummeting straight to hell?

“Moony, I’m home!” He tries for levity, but the words strangle on the way out. He forces a smile but manages, at best, a grimace. His hand slaps over his eyes five seconds too late and a horrible, booming laugh bursts out of him and hangs grotesquely in the air between them.

Even as he becomes aware of how royally he is fucking this up, he doesn’t know how to correct it. The only thing his malfunctioning mind clings to is the way Remus’s arsehole had puckered as he dragged his finger across it.

When he peeks through the gap in his fingers, Remus is reaching for the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and yanking it across himself. Their soft, cosy, film night blanket, knitted by Hope as a Christmas gift for Sirius a few years ago, now hides Remus’s come-covered chest. But the blanket isn’t hiding his balls. Or his wide-open arsehole, which Sirius still can’t seem to tear his eyes away from.

Sirius turns abruptly towards his bedroom without a word, but before he looks away, his eyes meet Remus’s, and Remus turns into the cushion like he’s been slapped. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s grasping the blanket with tight fists. Sirius stares at his own feet as he walks to his door.

Plagued by an utter inability to let an awkward silence lie, he clears his throat as he opens his door. “I’ll just, er, leave you to it, then?” A dry, humourless laugh echoes across the walls. He thinks he hears a quiet gasp from the sofa.

The door clicks behind him, and he slides down the worn wood into a crouch. Breaths shake through his chest, ragged and shallow. He runs his fingers through his hair then twists it into a sloppy bun, just to get it off his sweaty neck.

Had Remus been able to tell where he was looking? That he was staring? How will anything between them ever be normal again? Will he ever be able to stop seeing it behind his eyelids? Will time forever be delineated by the before and after?

It’s less than a minute before he hears footsteps pad down the hall and past his bedroom. The bathroom door closes and the shower head sputters on. He pictures the come-stained blanket falling and pooling around Remus’s feet before he steps onto the cold, wet tiles. He pictures Remus running his soapy hands over the sticky trails along his chest and then further down, down—

No, no, no!

For fuck’s sake, this is Remus Lupin, his best friend of ten years! His completely platonic best friend who has never been the object of his sexual fantasies. He has never gazed too long, distracted by his full, pink lips and the cute bump on the bridge of his long nose. And he has definitely never noticed the way his little round arse looks in a pair of tight, light-wash denim. Fuck.

Trying to ignore the sound of running water and the tingle of heat between his thighs, Sirius stands and throws himself onto his bed. He unzips his jeans and palms himself over his boxers. Looking to the heavens, he prays for the strength to calm his stiffening hard-on, to make him stop imagining Remus in the shower, to make him forget the sight of Remus’s gorgeous, naked body on the sofa. He curses himself as his cock twitches, and he slides his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

Minutes go by as he strokes his pulsing cock, bringing himself to the edge. The shower turns off, the bathroom door creaks open, and, as Remus’s bedroom door clicks shut, he remembers the beautiful curve of Remus’s limp cock resting against his thigh, sticky and spent. Ashamed, he gives himself two more tugs and spills over his hand with a moan he hopes is quiet enough to go unheard through the two doors that separate them.

Sirius cleans himself up as best as he can with a tissue before trading his boxers and jeans for pyjamas. He decides that he’s not going to stay embarrassed and hide in his room all night and neither should Remus.

So, he opens his door slowly, cautiously, and walks to the bathroom. The air is thick and hot and condensation covers the mirror. He runs his hand across the damp towel hanging across the bar and wonders where the soiled throw blanket is now. At the sink, he watches what’s left of his shameful wank as it dissolves in the water and disappears down the drain.

He flicks on the kettle when he reaches the kitchen. As he waits for the water to boil, he tries to tear his eyes away from the sofa. He counts to ten. He will not get another—another!—stiffy because he saw his best friend’s finger-fucked arse. With his palm firmly against his swelling cock, he breathes deeply in and out, in and out.

After pushing all arsehole images from his mind, he shouts, “Remus, don’t hide in there all night!” He cringes at his petulant, whiny tone and tries to sound casual when he chirps, “Kettle’s on. I know you can’t say no to a cuppa!”

Remus groans from behind his door. “Please, Pads, just leave me alone.”

Sirius paces between the kitchen and the living room, glancing at Remus’s door with every turn. He can’t bear the tension. They can’t just not talk about this.

Busying himself, he grabs the mug from the coffee table to bring it to the kitchen. Remus’s abandoned mobile on the table provides him an opportunity. “You left your mobile out here!” he calls. Then chills dance up his spine when he spots a bottle of lube. The words roll over his tongue in slow motion, but he can’t stop them. The devil speaks through him. “And your lube…”

A gasp and a whispered “oh my god” escape through Remus’s door, and Sirius’s toes tingle. An image of Remus pouting on his bed makes Sirius smile and he thinks he’s so cute. His legs carry him automatically to Remus’s door, the empty mug still in one hand as the other lifts and brushes against the door handle. “I’m sorry, Moons. Come out. I’ll stop… promise.”

Footsteps behind the door draw nearer. A pause, then a breath, and the handle turns. Sirius is standing too close to the door when it opens and suddenly they’re face to face, just a breath apart. Remus drags a hand down his face and sighs. “Don’t say it,” he whispers.

“Alright, I won’t say it,” Sirius breathes.

He doesn’t step out of the doorway, though, and Remus is forced to squirm and squeeze around him to get through. Sea salt and lavender waft through the air as they brush against each other and Sirius recognises it as his soap. His bar of soap which Remus must have used to… to…

Sirius feels a twitch in his boxers and pushes the sensation down, away, anywhere else, before it becomes a problem, again.

Sirius is dancing on a knife’s edge. It’s dangerous. He knows this, yet it doesn’t stop him from raking his eyes up and down Remus’s body. His pyjamas hang low on his bony hips and his shirt is threadbare and stretched at the collar. It doesn’t stop him from following Remus to the kitchen and standing close enough to brush shoulders, close enough to smell mint toothpaste on his breath.

The kettle clicks off and Sirius jumps and backs away. He busies himself preparing their tea with his back to Remus. “So… you didn’t see my texts? I told you I was on my way home,” he says, attempting nonchalance.

“Obviously I didn’t see your texts, Sirius,” Remus snaps.

Sirius recoils at the edge in his voice. The mugs rattle against the counter as he picks them up with shaky hands.

Remus walks ahead and palms the lube bottle as he passes the table, and Sirius pretends not to notice. They sit at opposite ends of the sofa—leaving a wide chasm that normally isn’t there—and they lean away from each other. Sirius doesn’t think about the things these cushions have seen tonight.

Tension swells and Sirius starts babbling, desperate to break it. “You should have seen Prongs and Lily tonight. They were snogging so hard his glasses fogged up, and their moaning got the attention of loads of other tables. It was really quite obscene. I don’t think they even noticed that I left.”

It’s quiet for a beat too long, and Sirius draws a sharp breath. Then, the cackle that bursts out of Remus startles Sirius into his own laughing fit, and suddenly they’re both doubled over and wheezing. “I figured,” Remus pants between breaths. “They’re always like that now. That’s why I stayed home.”

Oh, is that why you stayed home, the devil taunts, but Sirius chokes it back.

Their laughter fades, and they don’t lean away from each other as they sink back into their corners of the sofa.

“Telly?” asks Sirius as he clicks it on and starts scrolling through their ‘Up next’ list.

“Just pick whatever,” Remus says, reaching behind his back to adjust his cushion. He curls his legs into the empty middle seat and settles in, closing the chasm a little bit more. “Mind handing me my tea, Pads?”

Sirius does and their fingers brush. The brief touch is enough to send tingles across his raw nerves. Has he ever before paid so much attention to Remus’s fingers?

Two hours later, a bubbly rom-com trailer starts playing at a volume far too loud. It startles Sirius from his reverie. He can’t recall having seen a single frame of the film that had just ended. The electricity that had crackled between them was all he’d been able to think about. Now, he lifts his hand from his knee and presses the back button on the remote. The buzz of silence fills the room. Emptiness swells around him.

Sirius slowly swivels to his right. Remus’s eyes are closed, long lashes fanning across his freckled skin. Hoping he can avoid needing to touch him to wake him, he clears his throat and whispers, “Moons, wake up.”

After a moment, Remus’s eyes flutter as he stirs. “Oh, it’s over?” he asks. His voice is thick and husky with sleep.

Beautiful, Sirius thinks. He realises he’s staring and quickly wipes his dreamy smile away.

As Remus swings his feet to the ground and leans forwards to stand, Sirius sees a book wedged behind his back. He lunges to grab it. “What’s this?” Sirius asks, clutching a small paperback in his hand.

Remus’s face flushes instantly, scarlet blotches spreading from his neck to his cheekbones.

“Moons, really? Not another one of those trashy novels…” The pieces fall together as he reaches to hand it back to Remus, and he gasps. “Is this… earlier, were you… with this?” He clutches the book to his chest as he chokes back a laugh, and then wishes he hadn’t when mortification settles on Remus’s face.

Remus scoffs and his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he dives forwards and grabs for Sirius’s wrist just as Sirius raises the book above his head. Their bodies crash together, and they grapple for possession of the book.

Their chests heave against each other, and Sirius imagines how nice Remus’s bare skin would feel against his. Breaths mingle between their mouths and Sirius gazes at his lips. If he tips his head forwards just a little bit…

Pouty pink lips distract him and he stops resisting for a split second. The shift in weight sends him backwards onto the arm of the sofa. Remus falls onto him, catching himself with his hands on either side of Sirius’s head. He breathes heavily, and Sirius must be imagining Remus’s eyes flitting to his mouth.

“Give it back!” Remus demands, but it comes out breathy and light, and the puffs of air warm Sirius’s face.

“All you had to do was ask,” Sirius whispers, just as breathless. He sets the book on the table and lets his arms fall to his sides, careful not to touch the man on top of him.

It’s too long before Remus pushes himself up. He flips the book face-down, hiding the cover. As he sits back against the cushion, he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

Sirius sits up and spits out, “Christ, Remus! So you read some erotica and wanked on the sofa. Big bloody deal!”

Remus looks at him, mouth hanging open, and Sirius knows it was too harsh. All the close contact and tension—fingers touching and chests heaving and mouths breathing the same air—have sapped his patience and tested his self-control.

An apology for being a prick would be appropriate. Instead, he watches the long lines of Remus’s throat as he swallows. Instead, he stares at the light brown freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. They run across his shoulders and disappear under the stretched collar of his shirt.

He longs to count and kiss each one, to trace lines between them with his tongue, like he’s mapping the constellations in the sky. Does he know how beautiful he is?

“H—” Remus clears his throat and tries again, quietly. “How much exactly did you, er, see?” He doesn’t meet Sirius’s eyes when he asks.

He could lie: ‘Oh, Moony, I barely saw anything! The angle was all wrong, really.’ No, Remus is smarter than that.

He could honour his promise: ‘Dunno what you’re talking about, mate.’ No, not when Remus is opening up.

He could tease: ‘Didn’t know you were fucking hung, Moons.’ No, that would be mortifying for both of them—as true as it might be.

Honesty, then. “Just…” he hesitates, unsure how to say it. Using his hands to gesture vaguely in a circle around Remus’s body, he clarifies, “Well… everything. I saw it all. Sorry, Moons.” The confession makes him cringe.

Remus buries his face in his hands, and he looks as if he’s ready to summon his own sinkhole to swallow him up.

Eventually, after a long, uncomfortable silence, Remus sighs deeply and peels his hands from his face. Standing from the sofa, he rubs his palms on his pyjamas, then pats Sirius on the shoulder. “Right. I’ll just go crawl in a hole then.”

Before Sirius can stop himself, he stands and grabs Remus by the wrist. Neither of them breathes, neither of them moves. “Remus…” Sirius starts, tugging gently at Remus’s wrist, urging him to please turn around.

And he does, so slowly. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his eyes rake over Sirius’s face. “I don’t know what to say. This is so… so… awkward, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet and shakes as he speaks and all Sirius thinks is that he hates that Remus is feeling like this, so stuck in his own head.

Sirius slips his hand down Remus’s wrist and grips his hand. He feels the same electricity burst through his veins and chills crawl up his spine. “I—” he starts, voice dropping to a whisper, “—can’t stop thinking about it.”

Remus closes his eyes and raises a hand to cover his face. “Sirius…”

“Your long fingers…” Sirius trails a finger down one of Remus’s. “And the way you must have used them.” Remus shifts his weight between his feet. “Then I wondered,” Sirius continues as he adjusts his grip to squeeze Remus’s first three fingers. “What you would look like after something… bigger… than a few fingers.”

Remus’s eyes open wide and he stares at Sirius incredulously. “Don’t joke, Sirius. Not about this. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Sirius leans closer and he opens his mouth to say ‘I mean it, Moons. I’ve never been so honest in my life. Say you feel it too. Please, say it.’ But he doesn’t have the chance.

The next moment exists beyond time. It happens so quickly, in less than two seconds, but it also takes ten years. They’re eleven years old, laughing together and telling scary stories in a fort made of blankets, and he doesn’t know why he makes sure he gets the sleeping bag next to Remus. They’re fifteen, shifting conversations from jokes and games to girls and what they think sex will feel like, and he’s starting to understand why it hurts when Remus smiles at someone else. They’re eighteen, moving into their first flat together, all four of them, and Sirius is sick with jealousy as nameless men and women pass in and out of Remus’s life, sometimes for one night, sometimes for months on end. Now they’re twenty-one years old, teetering on the edge of something that’s been building for too long, something that’s grown too big to ignore.

It happens so quickly, in less than two seconds. Remus’s fingers curl into Sirius’s shirt, and then he’s leaning forwards and pulling Sirius in. Remus kisses him hesitantly at first. Relief spreads through his body and the tension lifts and fizzles out of the room.

They press their lips together over and over, searching for and discovering angles that feel like destiny, like their mouths were made to be joined together. Sirius wraps his arms around Remus’s waist and presses his tongue between his lips. He sighs as their tongues slide against each other, slow and sweet.

After a while, when their lips are swollen and their lungs are aching for breath, Remus pulls back, locks eyes with Sirius, and presses their hips flush together. They moan in unison at the friction, and Remus releases his grip on Sirius’s shirt and dips his hand into Sirius’s pyjamas. “You’re not—” Remus’s fingertips graze against his bare cock, and he pulls his hand out quickly.

“Not wearing pants. Nope.” Sirius laughs and trails a finger along the waistband of Remus’s pyjamas.

In an instant, their mouths are on each other again, and their hands fumble at pyjama ties. This kiss is messier, urgent, and teeth knock and tongues lap together sloppily.

Stepping out of his own pyjamas, Sirius breaks the kiss to relieve them of the rest of their clothes. His eyes run up and down Remus’s naked body and his breath stutters. He reaches up to brush a finger along the freckles that scatter across his collarbone. Fucking beautiful. Remus’s breath hitches at the touch, and heat crawls up Sirius’s cheeks.

Sirius pushes Remus onto the sofa by his shoulders and flips him onto his stomach. “Wanna taste you,” he groans, kneeling behind him. He spreads his cheeks apart, squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh, and he presses the flat of his tongue to the hole and—Christ—it slides right in.

The hole clenches around his tongue, and he teases along the tightened rim with two fingers, crooking his tongue against its walls, until a finger is able to slip in. He replaces his tongue with two more fingers and says, “Moony… you’re still open for me.” It comes out as a question, but it’s not.

Remus groans and pushes his hips back, sinking Sirius’s fingers deeper. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Pads, I want—need—to see you.”

His fingers slide out and he grabs Remus by the hips to help him flip over. He licks a line from his hole to the base of his balls, where he lingers for a moment, sucking on the salty skin. His hands run along bony hips and Remus leans back on his forearms.

“When you went back to your room tonight, did you stretch yourself, hoping I’d find you like this?” Sirius presses his tongue against his hole again, licking in a circle, soothing the puffy edges, and dipping in and out of the tight muscle.

A whine escapes Remus as he admits, “Y—yes. Couldn’t stop thinking about it since you walked in.”

Sirius lifts his head up. “Tell me, baby, what were you thinking about?” he asks before diving his head back between Remus’s legs, teasing at his rim with his tongue again.

“Th—this. You… inside me, your cock splitting me open.” Remus throws his head back and sighs. His legs twitch around Sirius’s shoulders.

Sirius holds him in place by his hips and licks up his cock slowly, teasing circles around the head before closing his mouth around it. He bobs his head, working his cock deeper each time. “You’re so big,” he says as he pulls off to take a breath, before wrapping his mouth around it again. He gags as the head brushes the back of his throat and he hears a gasp. Remus’s legs squirm and Sirius groans as his hips buck and his cock sinks farther down his throat.

“You feel so good, Pads. So good,” Remus moans.

He meets Remus’s eyes as he pulls off and slides his tongue around the tip and over the drop of precome that leaks from the slit. Then he kisses the tip with a smack of his puckered lips and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Crawling up Remus’s body, Sirius peppers kisses up his stomach and chest and neck, and he pushes every other thought from his brain. He could overthink this. He could wonder if he’s pushing Remus faster and further than he wants to go. But he’s not going to do that. He pauses to give Remus a chance to stop him, to slow him down, and when Remus doesn’t do any of that, Sirius presses their lips together and runs a hand through his tawny curls.

Nipping at his bottom lip, he smiles because this is real life, and asks, “Where’s the lube gone?”

Remus blushes and reaches between the cushions to fish it out. Sirius spreads kisses along his cheeks and jaw and down his neck. His teeth graze against his nipple and Remus’s back arches.

“Fuck,” he pants, and he hands the lube to Sirius.

When Sirius sits back to handle the lube, he spots the book, still face-down on the table. He picks it up and takes in the cover for the first time. The woman in the foreground is running and her long, tawny hair swirls behind her in perfectly tousled curls. Behind her, hiding in the shadows, is a figure that looks like both a wolf and a man. Sirius won’t allow himself to consider that the wolf-man might resemble him. He doesn’t note their similarities—wavy black hair, icy grey eyes, bulging biceps, rippling abs.

Remus protests and looks like he’s ready to lunge at him again, to rip the book from his hands. It’s quite endearing, watching as blush creeps up his cheeks, still embarrassed, even though Sirius just had his cock down his throat.

Sirius fans through the pages, stopping somewhere in the middle. He exaggerates clearing his throat—which he regrets, as it’s been fucked raw quite recently—and he runs a finger down the lines on the page.

“My sweet, sweet Moony, what the fuck is this? ‘His cock sprang out and, just, wow. It was hot and hard and so damn big,’” Sirius reads. He can’t hold back the laugh as it sputters from his lips.

“I hadn’t gotten to that part yet,” Remus says through barks of laughter. “Spoilers!” he shouts as he bats the book out of Sirius’s hand. It hits the floor beside the sofa, the cover facing up.

Sirius presses his body flat against Remus’s and kisses him slowly. “You’re very cute,” he whispers into Remus’s mouth.

Then he pulls away and reaches for the lube again. “Is this what you want, Moons?” he asks as he squeezes some onto his hand. Remus lets out a moan as he nods and spreads his legs farther apart. Sirius watches his open hole clench in anticipation, and he presses a finger against it as he slicks down his cock. “I think you’re stretched enough,” he says, mostly to himself, before looking up at Remus again. He’s panting and wiggling around and Sirius feels a rush of adoration bloom through his stomach.

After all these years, all this waiting, he thinks he might die if he lives another minute without his cock inside of this man.

Remus grips Sirius’s thighs and groans, “I want you inside of me, now.”

“You’re the boss,” he says as he presses the tip against the puckering rim. “Let me know if you need me to stop,” he says as he starts to press in slowly, working the head past the ring of tight muscle. He sits back and watches as the hole stretches to take him. It’s pink and puffy from earlier, he thinks. Just before the tip sinks in, he pulls back almost all the way, watching the swollen edges drag with the movement, and he rubs a finger along the taut circle.

Remus lets out a gasp and pants in loud, hard breaths. “More!” He tries to push his hips forwards to press Sirius’s cock in deeper, but it slips out and slides to the side instead.

Sirius can’t help but laugh. “Bloody impatient,” he says softly, guiding his cock back to Remus’s entrance before moving his hands to Remus’s hips to hold him firmly in place.

“You have no idea how many of these novels I’ve read. Every cock is y—” Remus moans and twitches under his grip. “—yours.”

“Fuck, Moony,” Sirius groans, as he slides in again, inch by inch, and he knows then that he’s never felt pleasure like this.

“You’re taking me so well, love, so tight, so perfect,” he groans. Their hips finally meet and he moves in slow, small circles, fully buried and relishing the heat of Remus’s body around him. “If I let you go, will you be good?” he asks, squeezing his fingers tighter into his hipbones.

“No,” Remus pants, running his hands from Sirius’s forearms up to his shoulders. He pulls him down, flush against his body, and licks up his throat. “Now fuck me,” he says, low and deep, and it sends a chill down Sirius’s spine. Without sparing another thought, he pulls back and snaps his hips forwards, punching a guttural cry from Remus’s throat.

He tries to keep a steady pace, but he stutters when Remus scrapes his teeth along his jaw and nips at his bottom lip, catching him in a sloppy, imprecise kiss. He rocks in and out in shallow drags, and he knows he strikes gold when Remus yelps, breaking their kiss. Sirius holds his face in his hands and presses their foreheads together as they pant into each other’s mouths.

Remus’s cock twitches between their stomachs just as Sirius feels a crackle of heat spread from low in his abdomen through to his fingers and toes. He keeps his thrusts precise, dragging against Remus’s prostate over and over.

“Hold on, Moons, can you hold on?” he pants.

Remus’s voice quivers as he says, “No. I’m cl—close.”

Sirius kisses him again before he pushes himself up. He grabs the book from the floor on the way up and settles deep into Remus as he flips through the pages.

“What the fuck,” Remus shouts and he tries to push the book away.

“Just one more! To properly set the mood.”

“What mood is that?”

“‘I think a part of you will be mine to love in every life.’” he reads, and Remus’s eyes widen at the words. “No, that’s not the vibe… I’ll save that gem for next time.” Sirius flips a few more pages. “Here we go. ‘I wanna feel you milking me, baby.’”

“Alright, mood set,” Remus grumbles before pushing his hips against Sirius’s and grinding into him. “Will you finish fucking me now?”

“Of course, love,” he says as he brushes the hair off of Remus’s sweaty forehead. He kisses him down the long line of his nose, his lips, and his chin. He moves his hips back, pulling out almost completely, before sliding back in, slowly and deeply. Remus gasps as Sirius wraps his hand around his cock and spreads beads of precome around the head.

“Come all over me, baby,” Sirius says, as he arches his back and thrusts his hips over and over. He pants as he strokes Remus’s leaking cock and it throbs under his grip. Angling it at his own chest, he pumps—once, twice—and milky ribbons spurt through the air, painting his chest in shiny streaks. Remus fingernails dig into Sirius’s thighs as his orgasm rolls through him.

Another punishing slam shatters through his spine and Remus howls. “Fu—fucking hell,” Remus chokes out, barely. Sirius strokes him slowly, coaxing out his last drops of come. He drags his finger through the mess dripping down his abs and Remus’s eyes are on Sirius as he sucks the finger into his mouth with an obscene slurp.

Sirius lifts Remus’s leg and hooks it over his shoulder, searching for a deeper angle. He leans forwards and braces himself against the arm of the sofa, folding Remus nearly in half as he presses their bodies closer. He plants one foot on the floor for leverage and pulls out almost completely, then snaps his hips hard, burying himself impossibly deep, and pushing Remus’s shoulders into the armrest. Remus whimpers, eyes watering at their crinkled corners, and Sirius kisses the tear that rolls down his flushed cheek.

“Please, Sirius,” Remus growls, voice low and rough. “Come inside me, pl—please.” Pressing his forehead against Remus’s, Sirius snaps forwards one more time, pushing as deep as he can and rolling his hips in circles. His hot release fills Remus and seeps out around his cock, dripping onto the sofa. Sirius scoops it up with his fingers and spreads it around the swollen, beaten hole as his cock slides slowly in and out in shallow thrusts.

Remus tilts his head up and presses their lips together in a deep, hard kiss. Sirius pulls away after a while to lift the book from the table and he recites another line, “‘Deep down, it’s every girl’s fantasy to be fucked by the big, bad wolf.’” The laugh that escapes Remus is so, so beautiful. Heat swoops low in Sirius’s abdomen.

The book falls to the floor and Sirius presses slow, wet kisses across Remus’s face, across his jaw and down his neck. He moans and Sirius pulls back, less than a breath away, and whispers into his mouth, “Next time, love, skip the romance novel and come to me.”

Chapter Text

Wedged into the booth in the dark corner, their bodies are pressed and tangled together. Every time Remus laughs, vibrations roll through his ribcage and then through Sirius’s. It’s more intoxicating than the pints in front of him, making his head swim and vision blur. All he can think is Remus, Remus, Remus.

The hand on his leg climbs higher every so often. It rests now just inches from the crease where hip meets thigh, fingers prodding and massaging his sensitive skin and teasing at his stiffening bulge. His world narrows to the fingers near his cock and the vibrations from Remus’s heavenly laugh. He can’t hear the story James is telling. He can’t see the band setting up for their set. He can’t taste the beer that runs down his throat. 

“Moony…” Sirius growls, so low that he’s unsure if Remus hears. It’s a warning but it’s also desire that says ‘please, please, never stop.’ Remus smirks as he slides his hand under the hem of Sirius’s shirt to hide what he’s about to do. He hooks his thumb under the waistband of Sirius’s tightest jeans and runs it along until he finds the fly. His lips press firmly to the soft skin behind Sirius’s ear.

When he expertly pops the button with one finger and slides his hand down, down—oh—Sirius moans and his back arches off the seat. At this, James raises an eyebrow and makes a face that Sirius doesn’t care to read because the only thing that exists in this world is Remus’s body on his. Specifically the hand that’s loosely curled around his cock, barely moving but moving enough for his vision to darken and fuzz around the edges.

Sirius angles towards Remus and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Sloppy tongues licking and probing, teeth gnashing and biting. Remus pulls his hand out of Sirius’s jeans, then presses Sirius’s body against the wall and all but straddles him sideways on the bench. Their bodies are flush together and heat radiates from the tease of Remus’s cock against his leg.

While the thrill of being so in public sends electricity through Sirius’s veins, the visibility of the booth keeps him from taking everything he craves.

Still, it’s fun to watch James and Lily squirm.

Sirius puts on a show and kisses Remus hard. He doesn’t try to stifle the sounds that his body naturally makes. He moans when Remus nips at his lips and he grunts when Remus presses a palm to his open fly. He whines “Moony” when goosebumps erupt on his skin. But when his cock throbs in pain and threatens to leak into his boxers, he knows they’re past the point of cheeky public displays of affection.

Remus knows too, based on the way his breath speeds to staccato beats and the way his hips rock with each puff of breath. James scoffs and turns to Lily, but she’s laughing. She knows this is revenge for the countless nights Sirius was a third wheel, an unwilling voyeur.

The temptation to tear the shirt off Remus’s body is too strong, so instead he pushes Remus back by the shoulders and gestures with his head to the toilets. They scramble out of the booth clumsily and Sirius has Remus’s fly undone before they reach the door. 

Inside, they crash into the wall, fused together again at their chests and hips. Remus pushes his thigh between Sirius’s legs and the friction is such a relief that Sirius throws his head back and nearly comes on the spot. He somehow stops himself from literally tearing the clothes off Remus’s body, but he needs skin on skin like he needs oxygen, so he slides his hands under the hem of Remus’s shirt. Fingernails scrape lines across his back as he moves them up and down to the rhythm of their hips rocking. 

They suck and lap at each other’s mouths and necks for a while—calling this kissing doesn’t seem right—and then Remus drops to his knees. He tugs down Sirius’s jeans and boxers in one swift motion. Cold air rushes against the precome smeared across the head of his cock, sending shocks through his body. Then he’s surrounded by the heat of Remus’s mouth and the warmth spreads through his fingertips.

Sirius reaches for the back of Remus’s head and runs his fingers across his scalp. Remus moans around his cock and grips his hips harder. He hopes to find bruises in the shape of long fingers in the morning.

“Get up here,” Sirius grumbles as he pulls Remus up by his shoulders and crashes their lips together.

“Wasn’t done,” Remus whines into his mouth. He sucks on Sirius’s lip and traps it between his teeth.

Sirius pulls back and presses his lips to Remus’s jaw, kissing and licking until he gets to his ear. “No, you’re not,” he breathes against the shell of his ear and he feels Remus shiver.

It only takes a half turn in this tiny room for Sirius to bend over the sink. Then, Remus is on him, his chest against Sirius’s back, running his hands under his shirt and up his sides and kissing along the nape of his neck. Sirius presses his arse backwards and wiggles. Remus grinds against him and wraps his arms tight around his waist.

“It’s going to be hard to fuck me through your jeans,” Sirius says as he looks at Remus through the mirror.

Immediately, urgently, Remus fumbles with his belt, and then a few seconds later, Sirius hears the echoes of metal clattering against the tiled floor. Remus’s hands are back on him, spreading his cheeks, kneading into the muscular flesh, and Sirius is whimpering.

Then, a gasp from Remus and a choked-out grunt from Sirius, as Remus’s thumb trails across soft silicone, shifting the plug inside Sirius. “Fucking hell,” Remus whispers as he runs a finger along the base of the plug before pushing on it, then slipping two fingers under it to pull. Sirius grips the edge of the sink and looks at Remus’s reflection. At the wonder on his face as he toys with the plug. At the flush that rises on his cheeks as Sirius’s hole clenches around it. Worth it, he thinks, as he congratulates himself for planning ahead for once.

“Baby, please,” Sirius groans, wiggling his hips again to break the trance Remus is under as he plays with the edges of the plug. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Oh, er,” Remus starts, gripping Sirius’s hip with one hand as he looks at their reflection. Their eyes lock and Remus smiles before he says, “You’re just too beautiful. Got distracted.” Then he yanks on the plug, smiling wider, and a flash of mischief sparkles across his face.

Sirius cries out as the widest part stretches him, and then as the tapered end slides out, he hangs his head, panting. Remus sets the purple plug down on the sink in front of Sirius, then drags his fingers in a circle around his puckering hole.

“I didn’t know you prepared tonight, Pads. All stretched out and lubed up. All for me,” he breathes into his ear as he bends over, pressing his forehead between Sirius’s shoulder blades.

Sirius feels a hand bump against his thigh as Remus strokes himself and lines up with Sirius’s hole. Remus rubs the head along it, up and down, as the rim pulses and clenches, like it’s reaching for it, trying to suck it in. He wraps both of his arms tight around Sirius’s waist as his cock pushes in slowly. Sirius’s rim burns as it stretches around the widest part of Remus, then his cock drags against the right spot and a shock jolts up his spine and through his fingertips. Black dots prickle around the edges of his vision.

Heavy, hot breaths pant against Sirius’s neck, and he lifts his head enough to look in the mirror, to see Remus’s face as he bottoms out. His eyes are closed, squeezed tight, and a bead of sweat drips down his temple. I love you, Sirius thinks, as he reaches for one of Remus’s hands on his waist and laces their fingers together.

“Are you okay?” Remus asks, his voice deep and cracking with each word.

“Yes, Moons, I’m great,” he assures him, squeezing his hand, “now fuck me into tomorrow, please.”

Remus rolls his hips once before setting a slow rhythm of shallow thrusts, each one knocking expertly against his prostate. Sirius can’t stop his back from arching at every jolt, but Remus holds him tight to his own body, rolling and grinding against him between thrusts. Sirius feels Remus’s thighs twitch against his and fingers dig deeper into his skin. Remus’s breaths start coming faster before his hips drive into him harder, and he pulls out farther each time, slamming in deeper and deeper.

Without warning, Remus stops. He grinds deep into Sirius and then fucking stops? Sirius feels a whine crawling up the back of his throat, but Remus speaks first. “Who’s getting fucked by the big, bad wolf now?” he says with a deep chuckle—a growl? He licks the shell of Sirius’s ear, then blows on it, sending goosebumps down his neck. He pulls out so slowly Sirius nearly cries, then pushes back in, fast and hard.

The pace is punishing, and Sirius needs to brace himself against the mirror with his forearm so his head doesn’t crash into it with each thrust. “Harder,” he cries out, his chest heaving, every nerve in his body firing into tiny crackling explosions. Remus unwraps his arms from Sirius and grips his hips as he stands up straight. Sirius’s thighs quiver and the thinks if Remus were to let go, he’d crumble.

“Pads,” Remus moans as he pounds into Sirius, dragging his hips back harshly to meet in the middle. Their skin slaps together and echoes across the tiles. Sirius tries to speak, to say anything at all, but speech has left him, leaving only grunts and moans.

“I’m gonna—” Remus starts to say, but he’s already coming before he can finish.

Sirius throws his head back as he feels the wet, sticky heat of Remus’s load fill him. Remus slows his hips, but continues to push and pull in shallow strokes, coaxing out the last dregs of his release. Sirius reaches for his own leaking cock and tugs at it roughly. He feels Remus’s warm hand on top of his and they move in unison. It only takes a couple of strokes before white streaks shoot across the tiled floor and his legs threaten to buckle.

Remus wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist again and pulls their bodies tightly together. He presses kisses across his nape, behind his ear, down his shoulder, and they stay like that, holding each other in the dirty men’s loo, until Remus’s cock slips out of him. Sirius whines as his hole clenches around nothing and warm spend drips down his balls. Remus backs off him and drops to his knees. Sirius starts to stand, but a strong hand presses at his lower back, holding him in place. Then, Remus’s hot tongue is darting around his hole, lapping at the come dribbling out of him. Sirius reaches back to hand him the plug and cries out as Remus presses it gingerly back in.

After they’re done and dressed, they kiss long and slow, less hurried and more tender. They do their best at cleaning each other, and the floor, with cheap paper towels, and leave the bathroom hand in hand. Sirius is only a little bit sorry about the queue that has formed in the fifteen minutes they occupied one of only three toilets. But not really.

As they sink back into their corner booth, still pressed together as tightly as they can manage, they hold hands and hook ankles and they share many chaste kisses among light conversation. Eventually, the lights dim and the band takes the stage. Remus presses a soft kiss to Sirius’s jaw and tips his head onto his shoulder. Sirius wraps his arm around his shoulders and is warmed by the lovely burn of heat spreading through his stomach.

‘I love you’ threatens to spill from his lips for the hundredth time. But he won’t say it, not yet. It’s early and he won’t pressure Remus—introspective, analytical, cautious Remus—to say it back if he’s not ready. So he’ll wait. He’ll love the shit out of Remus in every way he knows how and he’ll be ready when Remus says the words. And he’ll cherish every bloody second of it.