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The glass of whiskey was cold against his fingers. The cubes of ice had barely started to melt, yet already this was his third drink. Sirius downed it in one gulp, then set the glass back on the counter, and the dry thud echoed in between the unopened cardboard boxes cluttering his empty flat.
The sun had gone down half an hour earlier, but he still hadn’t found enough care in himself to switch the lights on. No other time made him feel more alone than this: when the nightfall made it clear that yet another day had passed, and he was still seven feet deep inside this rotten hole. The shadows took over the surfaces slowly, and when everything became dark and silent at last, he often thought that maybe jumping out of the window wouldn't be such a bad thing.
That’s when he drank.
The break up had happened three months ago. It was supposed to be fine – Sirius wasn't new to break ups, after all. At thirty-something, he’d already been through more than he could count on one hand (maybe two) and as the years went by, handling them had become easier. He would even go as far as calling himself a pro. He’d walked that road so many times, he knew he would survive it just fine if he just kept going.
It seemed, though, now, that if you keep going for long enough, it eventually came full circle.
As if you could somehow do a complete three-sixty and end up exactly where you started: feeling that if this one relationship failed, if this one person wasn't the one for you, then it probably meant you’d be alone for the rest of your life.
It was severely pathetic. He thought he’d outgrown his childhood trauma by now. He’d thought Walburga’s sharp words and Orion’s slurred ones meant nothing to him, ten years of therapy later. Yet now, all that went through in his head was: You’re a failure. You’re unlovable. Who’d want to put up with you?
Well, Fabian had. For a while, at least. The longest while anyone had – which was six years, nine months and twenty-three days.
In many ways, Sirius could see it now, why it wasn’t right. Why it couldn’t have lasted. The cracks in their relationship had been there for some time, he knew that. Still, he’d tried and tried and tried, because he couldn't bear the thought of his parents being proven right.
He’d still be trying now, if Fabian hadn’t called it quits first.
So, instead, he now drank, trying to muffle the ghost voices that silently echoed off the walls of his empty, dark flat. You’re a failure. You’re unlovable. Who’d want to put up with you?
There was a notebook in front of him. Small, hand sized; it was his old address book.
He’d made a decision three weeks ago. Two months of moping was more than enough; he needed to start moving on. So he left – went back home, to Godric’s Hollow, where he probably should have stayed this whole time.
And the old address book, it was filled with the names and numbers of his old friends and acquaintances. People who also lived here (or at least had, years ago). It physically represented what he had decided was the next logical step on his moving on journey: fucking someone else.
Which, strictly speaking, didn’t actually mean moving on. He knew that. But proving to himself that he could, if he wanted to, somehow did.
Problem was – who?
Fabian was a hothouse flower, and being with him had slowly killed Sirius’ social circle until there was nothing left. Moving eight hours away to follow his boyfriend’s dream job probably hadn’t helped. Now, the truth was: he had no one to call.
His hands turned the old, yellowed pages. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. A mate to go to bars with, play his wingman? A straightforward bootycall?
The latter seems more likely. Most of the names in the book were random hookups from the last couple of times he’d been single, anyway. It felt like some sort of twisted heirloom left to him by a younger, more optimistic version of himself.
Jessica, Emmeline, Marvin, Benjy. He ran his fingers over the names, picked one at random.
“Yes, this is her husband,” a man snapped at him down the line.
Figured. It had been, what, nearly a decade? It was actually astonishing that the number was still in service. Sirius hung up, tried another. He was told that Emmeline moved, this phone number no longer belonged to Marvin and Benjy had tragically died two years ago.
He sighed and poured himself another glass of whiskey before continuing his roulette of humiliation – but when he turned the page, the name staring back at him made the breath catch on his airways.
Remus Lupin.
Sirius’ heart skipped a beat, maybe several ones. He could claim he hadn’t thought of that name in years, but that would be a lie. He thought of him constantly, at least once a week. Had, consistently, all these years.
The first boy he ever kissed, first hand that ever touched him, first eyes that ever showed him love. The same eyes that had watched Sirius in quiet desperation through the car window as Mrs Lupin drove away one morning with their lives packed inside. They’d promised to write, to call. And they did, for a while. And then, they grew up.
On a whim, seven years ago, Sirius had paid someone to track Remus down; get him an address, a number, anything. He just wanted to know he was alive, that he was happy. It turned out to be an easy job, and Sirius wrote the number into this book, heart pounding when he realised they were living in the same city again. He told himself he just needed a bit more time to work out the courage to call. But then, six months later he was moving away with Fabian, and it felt too strange to go after an old boyfriend then.
Sirius stared at the number in the address book, and the number stared back at him.
It was probably wrong by now.
Remus had probably moved away again.
Even if he hadn’t, even if the number still worked, who was to say he’d even want to talk to Sirius? Who was to say he even remembered him?
Sirius got up. Ran his hand through his hair, poured himself another glass, paced around the room while he drank it.
And then he switched on the lights, and dialled the number.
“Hello?” A voice said on the other side. Sirius would love to say he recognised it right away, but it had been too long.
“Yeah, hi!” He said, voice pitched too high, as unstable as he felt inside. “I’m looking for– Um, Remus Lupin?”
There was a pause on the other side. “It’s him speaking.”
Sirius felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He dropped back down on the chair. “Shit– Sorry. Oh God. Um– Remus, hi. Sorry for calling out of nowhere. I don’t even know if you’ll remember me–”
“Sirius?” An astonished chuckle came through the line. “Jesus, is this Sirius Black?”
Sirius smiled. He remembered. “Yes. Yes, hi. It’s me.”
“Dear Lord, is this a prank call? I thought– I thought you were dead, I–”
Sirius frowned. “I’m not dead.”
“I looked you up, so many times. Every article I could find on your family only mentioned Regulus inheriting everything, I thought–”
Sirius snorted. “Oh yeah, they… Uh, they disowned me. Not long after we lost contact, actually.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
“So… uh. What’s… up, I guess?” Remus asked awkwardly.
Sirius let out a shaky breath. “Fuck– I’m sorry for calling you like this, I was just– I found your number on this old phone book, I had– I had looked you up years ago, but I never worked up the courage to call–”
“I’m glad you did,” Remus interrupted him. “Call, I mean. Now. I– I think about you all the time.”
A knot rose in Sirius’s throat, and when he spoke, his voice came out small. “I think about you all the time too.”
“Just the other week, I walked into a shop and they were playing Lady Stardust. And all I could think about was you and that old record player of yours, and how your room reeked of weed–” He cut himself off with a laugh. “It seems like it was yesterday, doesn’t it?”
Sirius remembered it too. He remembered it so clearly – Bowie’s voice and the poorly rolled out spliff being passed around; how he used to hold Remus’ hand while they danced, how Remus had to climb out of the window to escape whenever Walburga came home, because she didn’t approve of Sirius being friends with a boy of his kind. She never even knew Remus was more than a mate to him.
Sirius felt like he might start crying. He shook his head, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m– This will probably sound mad but, are you busy right now? Would you like to come over?”
-
He spent the next thirty minutes trying – and failing – to tidy the flat. He hadn’t considered the fact that he barely had any furniture, his mattress lay directly on the floor and his TV was balanced on top of a cardboard box. If he had considered it, he would have suggested something else. A pub, a restaurant, anything.
But now, Remus was already on his way, so all Sirius could do was do the dishes, change the sheets of his sad mattress and hope not to be judged too harshly.
He’d had about five glasses of whiskey at this point. By all logic, he should be drunk now, or at least a little bit unsteady, but the thought of finally seeing Remus again after so long (fifteen years!) had sobered him right up. When the doorbell rang, he felt more aware than ever.
Sirius didn’t dare to peek through the peephole. Didn’t want his first look at Remus after all those years to be through warped lenses. Instead, he just drew a deep breath and swung the door open in one impulsive movement.
“Hi,” said the man standing there.
He looked exactly like the Remus Sirius remembered, and nothing like him at all. Had he always been this tall? The eyes were certainly the same, though: big and kind and brown, even if they were edged with discreet, soft wrinkles now. The freckles were still there too, and the scar on his left eyebrow from when he fell out of the swing set when he was a kid; it looked a bit fainter now.
“Hi,” Sirius said as his face broke into a smile. For a moment there, he thought he wouldn’t find enough voice even for that. “Did you– Did you have trouble getting here?” He added, striving to keep a casual tone. “I know it’s a bit out of the way…”
Remus stepped inside when Sirius gestured him to. “No, not at all. It was fine. It’s… uh, it’s a great flat you’ve got here.”
Sirius chuckled as he shut the door. “It’s a mess, I know. I’ve only just moved in.”
Remus shrugged and smiled kindly. “I take it that you don’t have wine glasses, then?” He asked, and only then Sirius noticed the wine bottle in his hand.
He probably shouldn’t drink any more tonight, but what the hell.
“I’ve got… mugs?” He said, nodding toward the two recently washed ones resting by the sink, beside his lone whiskey glass.
That made Remus laugh. And that laugh – dear God. It flew Sirius straight back to sixteen, feeling his heart pound whenever Moony laughed at his jokes. It was strange how this much time could feel like no time at all.
“I reckon drinking wine from coffee mugs must be a rite of passage when you move into a new place,” Remus said, placing the bottle on the kitchen counter.
Sirius had been drinking lots of things out of coffee mugs lately, but he didn’t mention that, just handed Remus the corkscrew and laid the mugs on the counter too.
“My ex got most of the kitchenware,” he explained. “I got the books and the records.”
Remus smiled, starting to work the cork. “Sounds like a fair deal to me. Divorce, then?”
“Oh no, just a break up,” Sirius sighed. “But we were living together for six years, so it gets complicated.”
A huff of air left Remus’ nose as he poured the wine onto the mugs. “Six years? Impressive. That’s… about three times what my marriage lasted,” he added with a self-deprecating laugh.
Sirius barked out a laugh of his own. “We’re quite the pair of losers, aren’t we?” He said, raising his mug toward Remus’. “To failure.”
Remus shook his head, tapping his mug against Sirius’. “To old new friends.”
-
Hours later, sprawled on his brand new couch with his socked feet resting on Remus’ lap, Sirius thought about how remarkable this was. That in just a few minutes (and a few glasses – well, mugs – of wine) they could so easily travel back in time, and now they’re just two teenagers again, talking the night away.
He had dug up his record player out of a cardboard box and set it on the floor beside the sofa, where it was now, spinning Bowie as the background noise for their endless conversation. There was lots of catching up to do; a lot can happen in fifteen years of a person’s life. Leaving school, going to uni, making new friends and then losing them too. So many boyfriends and girlfriends, breakups and weddings and – in Remus’ case – even a birth and a baby.
His name was Teddy, Remus had pulled a photo of him from his wallet. He was almost three; the eyes were all Remus’, but the gap on his front teeth was the same as his mother, according to Remus. They had divorced a year ago, thankfully amicably. Sirius had found it strange, at first, to think of Remus as a Father when in his head he was still that lanky boy tripping over his too-big feet, but he was starting to reconcile the two.
Remus had grown up into a wonderful man. As he went on, telling Sirius about his work as a professor at Godric's University, about his mother’s passing and how his father still lived here, at a retirement home, and how he took Teddy to visit him every Wednesday, Sirius thought – hey, maybe there’s something here.
Maybe there had always been, and the biggest misstep of his life was letting all those years of silence stretch in between them for so long.
“You know what?” Remus said, letting out a long, yearning sigh. His thumb was lazily tracing circles on the sole of Sirius’ foot; casually, like it was no big deal. “I’d never thought I would say this in this day and age, but… God, I really wish I had a spliff.”
Sirius barked out a laugh. “And I can’t believe I’m agreeing. I haven’t had one in… six years, probably.”
“Make it ten,” Remus said with a crooked, dopey smile.
He had his head tipped back against the couch, and lazily turned it towards Sirius, meeting his eyes. The room was dark again, except for the city lights slipping in from the uncurtained windows, catching on Remus’ eyes, making them glint. The darkness didn’t feel suffocating now, or heavy, like it did before. It was comforting when Remus was with him.
“We were always high back then, weren’t we?” Remus said dreamily. “Probably for the best. Don’t think I’d ever have worked up the courage to kiss you otherwise.”
Absurdly, Sirius felt himself blush.
“Oh yes, my very first kiss,” he said in a saccharine tone, then sat up and gave Remus a teasing kick in the ribs. “Not yours though. You had to go and waste yours on that insufferable boy… What was his name again?”
Remus burst out laughing. “Oi! He was the one who kissed me! I only ever wanted to kiss you, I’ve always wanted to… kiss you,” his voice dropped soft and Sirius caught the flicker of his gaze; down and then up again.
Their eyes locked, and Sirius swallowed. The silence was suddenly charged, not comfortable, and he desperately wanted to know what happened next. Sirius pulled his feet back from Remus’ lap and shifted closer, kneeling onto his heels. Slowly, he leaned in and touched Remus’ cheek.
Remus didn’t flinch.
“Maybe I wasn’t your first kiss,” Sirius murmured. “But I could definitely still be your last…”
Remus smiled, biting his lower lip. “What, is this a threat? Are you a serial killer now? Did you lure me here to–”
Sirius laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “It’s called flirting, you prat. I’m trying to be romantic.”
“Oh, shut up,” Remus said, and then he kissed him.
A kiss that tasted like coming home. Chaste at first, just their lips meeting and a soft sigh escaping Sirius’ throat. Never in a million years had he thought that a night that started so miserably would’ve ended up here.
“Is that okay?” Remus murmured, pulling away just slightly, his breath ghosting over Sirius’ face.
Sirius only hummed in response, eyes still closed. He didn’t want to lose the proximity, so he grabbed the back of Remus’ neck and drew him in again. Experimenting this time, seeing how much of this was just like he remembered, how much was completely new.
It was silent now. The record had stopped spinning and the only sound filling the room was their ragged breathing and the shuffling of fabric as they moved to get closer, mouths still glued together. Sirius ran his tongue lightly over Remus’ lower lip, asking for permission, and that’s all it took for the kiss to escalate – from experimental to passionate and hungry in just a second.
Sirius wasn’t sure they'd ever kissed like this. Urgent and rushed and desperate for each other, yes. That's how teenagers usually do everything. But it was never as deliberate as it was now – like two grown-ups, two people who knew what they were doing and couldn't wait to prove that to each other.
Remus’ hand was on Sirius’ hips, skating up and under his shirt, fingers tracing lightly then grabbing, leaving crescent marks on his skin where his nails dug in. Sirius shivered and moaned, Remus pulled him closer, closer, closer – until closer could only mean this: sitting astride Remus’ hips, their chests as flushed as their mouths.
The hands under his shirt kept roaming higher, circling his waist, feeling his chest. One came out through the collar of his shirt, fingers curling loosely around his throat. Sirius broke the kiss, a helpless sound spilling from his lips.
“Is that okay?” Remus asked in a whisper.
“Yeah,” Sirius nodded.
“Still like that?” He insisted, fingers tightening around Sirius’ neck just a fraction, then loosening again.
Sirius let out a disbelieving laugh. “How could you even remember–?”
Remus smiled too. Sly, crooked. “How could I forget?”
They were kissing again, even deeper now, forgetting how to breathe amidst the entanglement of their tongues, of their bodies. Sirius’ shirt was being pulled off, tossed somewhere on the floor, and he had his back laid on the couch now, Remus on top of him.
The hand that had been firm on his neck earlier now found his wrists, pulled them over his head and held them there, together, the rest of his body pinned under Remus’ weight. Sirius bucked his hips up instinctively, chasing some contact, friction – things he hadn’t even realised he was starving for. God, it had been years since he’d felt this desperate for someone.
Remus broke the kiss, chuckling.
“So impatient,” he teased, putting some distance between them, just enough to let Sirius catch a breath.
“And you’re meaner than you used to be,” Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him.
Remus chuckled again. “You have no idea, baby,” he whispered, rolling his hips just so, and then swallowing the gasp that escaped Sirius’ lips. “But don’t worry. Not going to be mean tonight, I promise.”
Sirius feigned a pout. “Why not?”
Remus stared at him intently, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth as he let go of Sirius’ wrists. His hand skated down, caressing Sirius’ cheek softly. “Because I think you need something else tonight. You need me to take care of you.”
The words left Sirius winded in a whole different way. Sex was one thing, being vulnerable was another; and right now, he felt like he had no place to hide. Remus could still read him like an open book, even fifteen years later. He blushed, and to cover it, he reached for some cheeky defiance, his specialty.
“But I like mean,” he said in an overly sweet tone.
There were kisses being placed down his neck now, each one making him shudder and writhe, helpless to stop it.
“There’ll be other times,” Remus whispered against his skin.
“Oh, will there?” Sirius teased.
“If you’re a good boy.”
“See, you’re mean. You can’t help but being m– ah!”
His playful teasing was cut out by a surprised moan when Remus took one of nipples into his mouth. The pierced one – Christ, he’d forgotten how very sensitive it was. Sirius shuddered at the feel of Remus’ tongue circling it, toying with the small piece of metal, playing him like he knew every weak spot by heart
“I’m going to make you come in my mouth,” he said in a low murmur, now kissing down Sirius’ stomach. “Then on my fingers. And then I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll beg me to never leave.”
The words left Remus’ mouth and coursed all over Sirius’ skin like rivulets, flowing down, down, down until they pooled right in between his legs. He felt himself harden almost all at once. Sirius wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to wait, that he’d beg right now if Remus only asked, but the words just morphed into another helpless sound.
Remus looked up at him, pupils blown so wide there was almost no brown left in his eyes. “Sounds like a good plan?” He asked.
“Hmmm. I don’t know if I can, I've had a lot to drink tonight…” Sirius drawled. He was trying for careless, nonchalant, but his chest was heaving as he watched Remus pop the button on his trousers open, heart beating so fast he felt like it could explode.
The kisses trailed even lower, and Sirius felt, more than saw, when Remus’ sly smile curled against his skin. “I’m sure you can do it,” he said teasingly, then winked up at Sirius. “I believe in you.”
Sirius exhaled, grinning in disbelief as he threw his head back against the couch cushions, feeling Remus pressing kisses along his thigh, then biting sharply at his hipbone. How the hell had he managed to stay away from him for this long? It felt criminal now; a waste of years.
All thoughts left his head, though, as soon as Remus finally took him into his mouth. His brain suddenly couldn’t process anything but hot and wet and so good, and he realised with a jolt that he was saying it out loud – completely incoherent already, and they had barely even started.
Remus let go of him with a ‘pop’ once Sirius forced his lips shut, trying to contain his embarrassing sounds. Remus looked up at him, an obscene string of saliva and pre-come still linking them together.
“Oh no, baby, you’ve got to let me hear you,” he cooed, soft yet still very commanding. His hand wrapped around the base of Sirius’ cock, and he started to stroke up and down. “C’mon, make pretty sounds for me.”
Sirius propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at the absolutely devastating view in between his legs. Remus’ hair was tousled and messy from how much Sirius’ hands had tangled in it before, as they kissed. His eyes were dark, his lips were wet. His hand still moved on a steady rhythm on Sirius’ cock.
“Doesn't work like that,” Sirius said, really trying to sound casual, even when his broken voice betrayed him. “You’ve got to make me– ah! Fu-uck–” The curse cracked into another moan as Remus took him in his mouth again.
He seemed to take Sirius’ response as some kind of a challenge – exactly how many embarrassingly high-pitched sounds could he rip from Sirius’ throat before this was over? His hand kept setting on the rhythm, now accompanied by his sweet, sweet mouth; tongue swirling around the head of Sirius’ cock until he saw stars.
He fell back against the couch, hips twitching despite his best effort to keep them still. One of his hands found home in Remus’ hair again, pulling at it like it was his lifeline, and then shuddering when Remus moaned around his cock in answer.
God, it felt so good, being wanted like this, consumed like this. He hadn’t for so long.
As Remus pulled out for a breather, his hand skated up Sirius’ chest again. His fingers found the same pierced nipple, rubbing it softly in between his thumb and index. Sirius’ felt his cock twitch at the stimulation, hips circling to their own accord.
It felt too much, on the edge of unbearable.
“Remus, fuck–” Sirius moaned, pull tightening in Remus’ hair, trying to get him back where he wanted him. “If you keep that up I'm gonna come–”
“Then come,” Remus said, smiling wickedly before swallowing Sirius whole again.
No hand at the base this time, just his greedy mouth. Sirius felt himself hitting the back of Remus’ throat, and God – how he then relaxed around it, welcoming him in. He was beautiful like that, Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off him. His long nose pressed to the coarse hair at Sirius’ base and the muffled hum that escaped his throat, vibrating around Sirius’ cock.
“Oh, you’re so good at that,” Sirius breathed, completely taken aback by the vision and the feeling.
Remus had closed his eyes, and at the sweet words, he opened them again and met Sirius’ gaze. He couldn’t smile, not like this, mouth so obscenely stretched around Sirius’ cock, but the smugness was still crystal clear in his eyes. Sirius smiled too.
He cant his hips up, short thrusts pushing him deeper into that perfect heat. His grip on Remus’ hair tightened, fingers digging into his scalp, and he felt his whole body starting to tense at the build up of pressure, curling tighter and tighter and tighter–
“Remus– Fuck, I’m–”
With a loud groan, he was over the edge. The release, held back for months of loneliness and weariness and isolation, hit harder than he could’ve expected it. He arched his whole body off the couch as he came, endless strings of helpless cries spilling from his lips and stars bursting on the inside of his eyelids. Remus stayed with him, swallowing every pulse, throat still working around Sirius until he was soft and dry.
When he came back down, Sirius collapsed back into the cushions. He forced his eyes open and saw Remus, sat up now in between his legs, licking his lips like he’d just tasted a five star meal.
“Turn around,” he said, and Sirius obeyed.
He was still coming down, chest still heaving, heart still thrumming. Remus leaned over him, covering Sirius’ body with his own, pressing soft kisses along the ridges of his spine, his shoulders, his neck. Remus was still fully dressed, yet the thick fabric of his trousers did nothing to disguise the hard volume of his cock pressing against Sirius’ arse. As the waves of Sirius’ release dissipated and he could think straight again, he started lifting his hips, pushing back against Remus’ crotch.
Remus’ kisses faltered, and he huffed a laugh through his nose. “Still very much a heathen then?” He teased.
Sirius chuckled. “Don’t know what else you expected,” he countered, still rolling his hips, chasing the friction.
Remus pulled back completely, swatting Sirius’ arsecheek playfully before placing a firm hand on his hip, keeping him still.
“I expect you to lay back and enjoy for just a bit longer,” he murmured, squeezing Sirius’ cheeks firmly with both his hands, pulling them apart.
And then – in a swift, sudden movement that made Sirius gasp in surprise and claw at the couch cushions – he leaned down and dragged a broad lick over his crack.
“Fuck, Remus–” Sirius exclaimed, and the words turned into yet another filthy moan as Remus continued to work his tongue around Sirius’ hole, unhurried, hands holding Sirius open so forcibly they were bound to leave finger marks on his arse
Sirius hadn’t had anyone do this to him for a while. With Fabian, he was usually the one to top (that is, on the rare occasion that they had any sex); Fabian preferred it and, honestly, while Sirius didn’t really have a strict preference, he found it easier that way. It was less vulnerable, gave him more control – or at least the illusion of it. In hindsight, it should’ve been a sign, how the thought of sharing this vulnerability with his boyfriend had gone from exciting to frightening as the years went by.
With Remus, it wasn’t frightening at all. If this were anyone else – any other random hookup he could’ve conjured up tonight – he wouldn’t be here like this. Letting himself ‘lay back and enjoy’, being taken care of, it was all so removed from the man he’d become these past fifteen years, it was remarkable how Remus could break down all of his carefully constructed walls so easily.
Or not remarkable at all, actually. It was Remus. Of course it would be like this.
Remus was still working him open with his tongue, licking broad stripes over his entrance before pushing inside, just the tip, teasing and licking around. Sirius’ orgasm had just tore through him so powerfully that he hadn’t thought this possible, yet, against all sense, he felt his cock begin to harden again, trapped in between his body and the couch. He rolled his hips, trying to chase the friction of the fabric, the scrape of Remus’ stubble against his arse.
The sounds spilling from him echoed obscenely through the almost empty living room, and he was so lost in the feeling, so turned on, that when Remus pressed a finger to his entrance, it slid in without effort, eased in by the spit alone. He sighed, a deep, content sound at being filled, even if only a little.
“God, Sirius– Can’t wait to be inside of you–” Remus pulled back just enough to say, still a bit muffled by Sirius’ skin.
The answer that broke through Sirius’ throat was broken and helpless. “Please.”
Remus responded by pressing in deeper, flicking his finger inside, searching, until he found it – that spot that pulled higher, needier sounds deep from Sirius’ throat. The pressure began to build again slowly, like a faint echo pulsing on his lower belly that grew stronger with each thrust. Sirius circled his hips, pushing up to meet the movements, and Remus twisted his wrist in kind, shifting the finger in and out.
“Got any lube?” Remus asked, still keeping the movements.
Sirius’ mind was too hazy with pleasure. He certainly did, somewhere in one of those boxes, but it was hard to focus enough to form an answer.
“Yeah,” he panted, straining his spine to try and find Remus’ eyes. “Bed– bedroom. The box beside the mattress.”
Remus’ hand slipped away, and Sirius felt his hole clenching around nothing, suddenly aching from the loss. He craved him, had never craved anything this much, he was sure of it.
He turned around, trying to see, and Remus was already leaning back over him, chasing his mouth on a sloppy, wet kiss. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered against Sirius’ lips.
Sirius watched him disappear through the bedroom door – still fully dressed, how was that even possible? Those clothes were getting off as soon as Remus came back. He let his head fall back against the cushions, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions that laid latent underneath the physicality of this moment. It felt like Remus was picking up all his scattered, shattered pieces and carefully gluing him back together like some beautiful Kintsugi work; in just a few hours, he felt more whole than he had for the past year.
It was terrifying. What if he didn’t stay?
He forced those thoughts out once Remus walked back into the living room, the small bottle of lube secure in his hand. Sirius smiled widely, sitting up on the couch. Once Remus was close enough, he pulled him in by the hips so that Remus was standing right in front of him, in between his knees.
“Should get you out of those clothes now, I think,” He said teasingly, already reaching for Remus’ belt buckle.
Remus chuckled and dropped the bottle of lube on the couch, reaching for the hem of his shirt just as Sirius pulled his trousers down. He kicked them all the way off and– Dear God. As a teen, Remus had been extremely lanky, all those awkward angles and gangly limbs that you’d expect on someone who just been through some abrupt growth spurts. It never bothered Sirius (he wasn’t well built back then either, before he started hitting the gym daily), but the years had certainly been very kind to him. His edges were softer now, he was fuller around the ribs and the shoulders. Looked solid, grounded, in a way he never did as a boy. And his cock–
Sirius’ insides twisted just looking at it, impossibly hard, right in front of him. Without a second thought, he reached for it, hand wrapping around the base bringing it to his mouth.
Remus hissed loudly, his hands immediately finding Sirius’ hair, pulling it up into a makeshift bun to hold it out of the way. Sirius closed his eyes, losing himself on the feeling of Remus’ weight on his tongue. His mouth stretched around him as he bobbed his head a few times, building up heat and wetness, before pulling off to lick around the head, stroking with his hand at the base. Remus’ grip on his hair tightened and Sirius moaned around him.
“Fuck, Sirius– Look at me–” Remus demmanded, sounding coarse and husky, and like he was hanging on by a thread.
Sirius did. Took him whole inside his mouth again and opened his eyes, locking onto Remus’ gaze as he worked more of him in. He felt Remus hit the back of his throat and blinked away the tears that pricked at the corner of his eyes as he fought his gag reflex to take him in further.
He swallowed around him, drool pooling up and dripping from the side of his mouth, and Remus’ closed his eyes, letting out a deep groan. Less than a minute later, Sirius was yanked up by the grip in his hair, the obscene wet sound of Remus’ cock being set free echoing around the room.
Remus’ fingers let go of Sirius’ hair and wrapped loosely around his throat, pressing him back against the couch cushions as he covered Sirius with his body again. His naked body, now, and where their skin touched, Sirius felt sparks flare all over.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget how to say anything but my name,” Remus whispered against his cheek before crushing their mouths together again in a filthy, wet kiss.
He hooked one of Sirius’ legs over his shoulder, and Sirius heard the lube bottle being opened before the cold, lubed up fingers found his entrance again. Two at once this time – Remus hardly needed a third with fingers that size – and they slid into him with gentle pressure.
Two felt a lot for a moment, but his body quickly adapted to the stretch. A low moan escaped him as Remus pushed in deeper, and Sirius rolled his hips, chasing the sensation, trying to get more of Remus inside him. Remus had his forehead resting against his, their breaths mingling together as he stared at Sirius intently, attuned to his reactions.
At the faintest nod from Sirius, Remus started to flick his wrist faster, moving in and out of him, twisting and curling his fingers, searching–
He found it, and Sirius’ hand grabbed the back of his neck, dragging him into another kiss to muffle the needy sounds spilling out from him. The pressure started to build again, starting low on his stomach before spreading to his whole body, building up like waves that grew taller and more powerful each time. They travelled down his limbs, to almost the tip of his fingers and toes, and then retreated, only to crash harder next time.
“Remus, please–” He panted against Remus’ mouth, trembling, fingers digging into his skin so hard as a way to ground himself. “I’m not going to last–”
Remus nodded, gaze never leaving Sirius. “I know, baby. Come for me again,” he said. Not commanding this time. Not controlled and unaffected, but pleading, breathless, like he needed it just as badly.
And Sirius did. He broke down, shattered in a million pieces again, hands digging into Remus’ skull and moans being muffled by their messy, urgent almost-kiss. Remus worked him through it, fingers still thrusting into him, the obscene wet sound they made filling the room.
Just as the powerful waves of his climax receded, Sirius broke their kiss and opened his eyes, finding Remus’ in a pleading look.
“Fuck me,” he whispered, barely a breath.
Remus nodded, still holding Sirius’ close, the sweat on both their foreheads mingling.
“Just let me get a–” Remus started, but Sirius cut him off, shaking his head quickly.
“No– I tested, after the breakup. I’m clean, haven’t been with anyone else like this since. Are you–?”
Remus was already nodding eagerly. “Yeah, I got tested last month too.”
Sirius sighed, relieved. He pulled Remus into another quick kiss, then whispered against his mouth. “I trust you. Want to feel you, please,” he begged. Didn’t even know why he was begging, Remus certainly did not look opposed to it.
“Okay,” Remus whispered back. He sounded shaky now, more affected than he’d been before.
Sirius watched as Remus reached for the bottle of lube again, spreading a generous coat along his cock before settling over Sirius again. He hooked Sirius’ legs around his waist, lining himself up. He found Sirius’ eyes, as if searching for permission, and Sirius nodded. Almost whispered ‘please’ again.
There was a frown of concentration on Remus’ face as he slid in; mouth parted, breath shaky. At the first stretch, Sirius nails dug into his arms and the breath he forced himself to take came out in a low, broken moan. Remus leaned down, placed kisses down his cheek, his neck, his shoulder.
“So good– You’re so tight–” He whispered incoherences, muffled by Sirius’ skin.
Remus started to move, and Sirius thought, somewhere amidst the haze, that it had never felt this good with anyone. He’d had his fair share of partners, and he’d always assumed he’d built Remus up in his head. It’d been his first time, after all, and they’d been so young, certainly he was just seeing everything through the rose coloured glasses of nostalgia. Or maybe not, in fact. Maybe it really had been that good. Even the freakiest stuff he’d gotten up to, all that experimenting and the kinks and the fantasies, it just couldn’t ever compare to the connection he felt now, the magic energy that seemed to tangle around them, bringing them closer together.
As the pressure started to build and the pleasure began to spread through Sirius’ body, he realised he’d started halfway there, this time. Like his body hadn’t quite returned to zero after his last orgasm, and he was already teetering on the crest of another wave; ready to break and spill over.
His nails dug deeper on the skin of Remus’ back, legs hooking around his hips as if to keep him deep inside, not going anywhere, please, just keep going, keep going. He kissed Remus again and opened his eyes, moaned against his mouth–
“Moony,” the word escaped his lips of its own accord. Sirius hadn’t said it out loud yet, though it’d been on his mind all night, lingering on the tip of his tongue.
Remus faltered, his thrusts lost rhythm for a second. His face contorted in a frown and then softened a second later.
“Sirius, God– No one’s called me that in–”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Sirius didn’t let him, pulled him in again and crashed their mouths together, swallowing the rest of the words, tangling them with the moans that rose from his own throat.
His body was sinking deeper, faster into the pleasure, and the word kept slipping from his lips like a little mantra. “Moony, Moony, please, yes, fuck– Don’t stop, Moony–”
If Remus’ face was anything to go by, he must’ve been right there with him – the way his features were contorted in pleasure, mouth partially open, brows drawn tight in concentration, the veins along his neck standing out from the effort. And the sounds he was making, God– Sirius could’ve come just from that, from watching him lose control and fall apart and let go, inside him.
As it went on, the movements grew more desperate, erratic. It wasn’t about keeping a rhythm anymore, or hitting the right spots, but about the closeness they felt, like they were both trying to claw beneath the same skin. Every sound that escaped one of them pulled a matching one from the other until it was impossible to tell what came from who, which limbs belonged to each of them.
Remus’ hand slid in between them and wrapped around Sirius’ cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. It was all it took for Sirius’ body to arch up again, hands clutching at Remus as he came, spilling hot between them. Remus followed only a heartbeat later, pushing in deep and coming undone inside Sirius – and Sirius could feel it. Their bodies trembled with the feelnig together, riding the wave until they eventually stilled in each other’s arms.
And then it was quiet, for a moment. Their chest pressed together, hearts beating in sync, sweat mingling as they fought to even their breathing. Remus didn’t move at first. Didn’t pull away, and Sirius was grateful for that. He wasn’t ready for the feeling of emptiness to hit him yet. He pulled Remus closer, guiding him to rest his face on the crook of his neck and played with his hair, delicately, softly, breathing him in.
Like he never had to leave.
Later, after a shower and a change of clothes and some Chinese food being ordered, Remus – laying on Sirius’ chest – looked up at him with soft eyes.
“So… are you seeing anyone?” He asked.
The corners of Sirius’ mouth twitched. “Yes,” he said simply.
Remus’ eyes went wide, alarmed. He opened his mouth, swallowed, made a move to sit up.
“Sorry, I mean– I didn’t realise–”
Sirius laughed, pulling the arms he had around Remus tighter, keeping him close together on top of him.
“You, you dummy. I am seeing you.”
Remus looked confused for a second longer, then broke into a soft laugh. He strained his neck, placing a lazy kiss on Sirius’ mouth.
“Love how fifteen years later, you’re still just as stupid,” he murmured. “Also love how you just assumed I wasn’t seeing anyone.”
Sirius sighed, shrugging. “I didn’t. I just trusted that, even if you were, you’d still choose me, this time.”
Remus smiled. That small, crooked, soft little smile that made him look sixteen again, all of the sudden. He propped his chin on Sirius’ chest and said, “I think I never stopped being in love with you.”
And as the knot rose on Sirius’ throat and he pulled Remus closer for another kiss, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get words out now, he thought – me neither.
I never stopped being yours.