onewizardwolfpack | (no subject)

Entry tags:

amnesia,
sirius

(no subject)

Remus wasn't drunk, but he would have liked to have been. His house wasn't the spacious luxury abode that Sirius' was, but whoever had built it had done so very carefully. The breeze moved through it wonderfully, and the floors were always cool and smooth, despite grooves left from what he knew were the claws of a large canine. Possibly more than one. It was like a charming tropical version of the shack, in that way, which he probably should have found more off putting.

What little furniture he'd bothered acquiring subsisted of a bed and some chairs and a low bench with thick woven palm fronds in place of hard seats. He hadn't bothered for a coffee table. Single lamp on, casting a warm orange glow over the hut's primary room, Remus sat with one knee drawn up and his back against the sofa's front, turning the pages of a book he wasn't really reading and drinking a beer he'd pilfered from the Winchester. It wasn't cold any longer, but beggars couldn't, he had frequently been told, be choosers.

It ought to have sunk in by now, he figured, but some lessons were harder to take to heart than others.

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For all that Sirius has a very particular, very bitter resentment for the disease which placed the scars all over Remus' body, the scars themselves he adores and always has done. His tongue and fingertips trace the delicate, spidery shape of them from Remus' throat down to the taut muscles of his abdomen, until Sirius transfers his mouth to the soft curve of Remus' erection, rocking the other man's hips up with the firm press of his palms against the back of trembling thighs.

He nuzzles once against the glorious, musty nest of hair and then drops his mouth lower, nuzzling into the cleft of Remus' arse instead. With a low, gratified hum, he reaches an arm instinctively up, hand cupping the rough curve of Remus' jaw as his thumb presses past lips and teeth into the warm of Remus' mouth.

"Oh," he gasped, breath leaving him in a rush, lips parting with a moan as he sucked Sirius' thumb into his mouth, licked at it, dug his teeth into the pad. It dimly occurred to him that he should possibly mention the fact that he hadn't done this in quite some time, not merely to quell any potential disappointment but because- Because it had been a while, and as utterly, almost painfully aroused as he was, as sharp as the memories were, his body really didn't know what it was asking for, any longer. There wasn't a bloody chance in hell he was going to take his mouth off Sirius' skin long enough to do so, however. Anyway, he had no control over the sounds Sirius' mouth was drawing out of him at that point, let alone if the ability to manage speech. He just knew he hadn't heard those rasps or that husky, broken keening in what felt like a lifetime.

Edited 2012-07-19 21:13 (UTC)

As much as part of Sirius that would like to truly revel in this, to sink into the tremble of Remus' body and his quiet, needful noises, it's soundly overruled by the heat under Sirius' skin and heavy ache of his own cock, caught between his instinctively rocking hips and the blanket. He might not know precisely how long it's been for Remus, but he knows it's been quite some time, that the work of his tongue (and now his fingers) is important, but Sirius also feels half fucking blind with the need to be buried inside the man writhing beneath him. He wants and wants and wants, with an overwhelming intensity he's not felt, at least not with Remus, since their first gasping fumble in a Hogwarts bunk.

With a haste that makes clear his mounting desperation, Sirius pulls himself abruptly away and practically launches himself at his abandoned blue jeans, which he'd had the misfortune to abandon by the door. In the pockets he finds condom and lubricant both, and he returns immediately to the bed, sacrificing his typical cool confidence for speed.

"Turn over, love," he says, and kisses against one of Remus' bent knees.

The world is a dizzy mess of sound and feeling. Remus isn't entirely certain he hasn't been drugged. He's languid and boneless as he slides- woefully- away from Sirius' mouth, fingertips dragging briefly over his friend's jaw, his lips, before he does as instructed. His body aching and hot and desperate for something to rock back against- for Sirius- and something deep and animal that he spends a lot of time pushing down wants to snap the condom out of Sirius' hand and toss it away, but he merely digs his fingers into the sheet and bows his head, spine stretching, a low, shaking hum of want working through him.

Edited 2012-07-19 22:20 (UTC)

Sirius is surprised to find a tremble in his fingertips as he rolls the condom on and opens the lube, could possibly attribute it to physical desire but knows, in a quiet and distant way, that it isn't merely that. He works Remus open again, fingers pressing more sleekly inside, and he knows that he ought to give it more time but doesn't think he can, his entire body all but humming with want.

Somehow, through sheer force of will, he's able to stop himself with cock in hand, head of it pressing against that hot ring of muscle, entire body now trembling with the effort.

"If I hurt you, you tell me," he insists, but can't wait for an answer, instead bending close to push slowly inside, a long, low moan stuttering out against the arch of Remus' spine.

Remus' toes curl into the sheets and he bites back a soft, harsh sound that lies somewhere between a moan and sob because oh fuck he'd forgotten, after all. It's no longer instinctual to relax against the intrusion and so he tenses everywhere, tightening mercilessly around Sirius and pressing his forehead against the sheets, gulping down a breath. There's an almost fitful urge to move, and he rocks back slowly, another strangled noise fighting its way from its throat.

Sirius hisses an expletive through clenched teeth and then bites instinctively against Remus' shoulder, just enough to be felt, to center them both. Propped on one hand, he splays the other against Remus' throat, directing his head up and back so that Sirius can whisper raggedly against his hair.

"Relax," he pleads, knowing it's easier said than done. "This is where I belong, right here, just fucking— Let me in, baby. Let me in."

The way those long fingers cradle his throat, the soft rasp of Sirius' voice in his ear, and the words, God help him, they all earn a whimper. The concept of belonging has always been a powerful one with Remus, and as in all things, involving Sirius only makes it more potent. He breathes deeply, gasping down two full breaths before his muscles uncoil and then it doesn't feel like being broken into, it just feels like being filled.

By Sirius.

Remus turns his head to lick and nip at Sirius' fingertips, one of his own hands sliding over Sirius' wrist, relishing the contact.

"More," he says softly.

A low, breathy moan sighs out of Sirius as he sinks in to the hilt, Remus holding every inch of him. He could stay just like this, he thinks, could just fall utterly into that feeling of belonging somewhere, but his body has its own agenda and his hips begin a slow, steady rhythm that wrenches more shuddering sighs from his lungs, hot exhalations across Remus' ear and neck.

"You feel so good," he murmurs against Remus' shoulder, and slides his hand from Remus' throat down and around to take hold of his cock, immediately stroking in sync with the easy pulse of his hips.

"I want you to come so hard," he adds, lips moving against warm skin.

He shudders, tries at once to pump into Sirius's grip and rock back into the press of his hips, the amazing pressure that trumps any lingering pain. Words are not something that've factored into sex for Remus in a while, and he's happy to leave those to Sirius, especially given the way they make the already considerable heat coiled inside him spread, burn hotter. He settles for moaning, breaths moving noisily through him in time with the pulse of Sirius' body. Remus can't reach Sirius' mouth but he can try, and turns his head to rub his forehead against Sirius' jaw, arcs beneath him and dig his fingers into the mattress for purchase, for leverage, to move harder back against him.

Which feels, God, he'd forgotten what it could feel like, that anything could be this good, and that startles words from him, if nothing more than Sirius' name and, "fuck, yes, please."

It works on Sirius like a drug, the way Remus says his name, all that breathless yearning shooting up under his skin and hot through his veins. His hips stutter and then pick up a faster tempo, rocking both of their bodies forward with each firm thrust.

He wishes, desperately, that he'd gone without the condom. There were reasons to use one—Very solid, important reasons—but he wants nothing more right now than to come inside this man and then lick it back out again.

"Touch yourself," he says after his rhythm falters again, and draws both hands back to grasp against Remus' hips as he leans back.

He rolls hips hips back in the moment Sirius is paused, moving him at a different angle and uttering a short, strained cry at the result. He props himself up on his forearm and hides his faces against it, reaching down to stroke himself fast, almost rough, panting harshly.

"Come on," he gasps, not entirely clear on whether he's encouraging himself or Sirius. He just knows he wants the feeling of Sirius moving in him harder, wilder as his control slips and fails and he falls apart.

Edited 2012-07-29 23:41 (UTC)

No one gets this part of Remus Lupin but him. No one. Sirius knows that Remus is far from a saint, that he can't have been celibate all this time, but he knows too that it can't be only arrogance that assures him in this. Gasping, arse in the air and desperate to swallow Sirius back up again, Remus is completely fucking glorious and for nobody else but him.

One hand at the small of Remus' back, the other clamped hard at his hip, Sirius dips his own hips down, angles his cock up and watches in open-mouthed fascination as he begins a harder rhythm. "God, I fucking love you," he exhales, eyes fixed on the slide of his cock, the words so instinctive he has no idea yet he's even said them.

It was easy to describe Remus as soft spoken. He rarely raised his voice- he had no need to- and being loud mostly only served to draw attention to oneself. That doesn't stop him from shouting now, though, crying out with every slam of Sirius' hips because no one but the man presently inside of him has ever touched that place. It's so good it hurts, and he could say as much only Sirius speaks before he can manage.

Remus' breath stutters and catches, any real sound or, potentially more damning, reply stopped in his throat. It's not just that Sirius knows instinctively, still, how to fuck him, how exactly to reduce him to a humming, desperate pile of need, or the fact that Remus' hand on his own cock moves with expertise born of years of experience. Those would be enough to have him crying out and coming hard but fucking Sirius Black and the careless abandon with which he throws around particularly weighty words, words Remus hasn't heard in years and has been desperate to, moreso than he could have possibly realized (and from Sirius most of all, always), push him over the edge with startling efficacy. Remus seizes up, every muscle going taut before he utters a guttural cry and spasms, hips pumping twice and then he's done, gone, shuddering and gasping Sirius's name in a broken, keening litany.

There's no possible way Sirius can hold off after witnessing that, and as Remus' orgasm shakes out of him, Sirius feels as if it's being shaken out of him, as well. They don't quite come together but it's terribly close, Sirius' hips going hasty and erratic as Remus dissolves into trembling gasps, and a moan catches hard in Sirius' throat as he pitches forward, skinny hips still pulsing as slumps, spent, across Remus' back.

"I missed you," he repeats, and what he intended as a quiet remark shudders out of him, too, as the hormones hit. He wraps an arm across Remus' chest and buries his face at the junction of shoulder and neck. "I fucking missed you so much."

He's not ready for it. One off handed comment was enough, but the vulnerability in Sirius' voice shakes him, and his lips are brushing the ragged edge of the oldest scar tissue on Remus' body, and he can feel the pulse fluttering in Sirius' stomach moving against his back and the smell of sex is so heady and painfully familiar. Remus' hands both grab onto Sirius' forearm, hold still for a moment, then slide over sinew and muscle and then he has both arms wrapped around himself, holding Sirius' arm to his chest, the rest of him sinking limp and heavy into the mattress under his friend's weight.

There are a million things he could say in the moment- answer in kind, tell Sirius he loves him, too. A million ways to reply but all he can manage is, "Only you. Sirius, you're the only- Oh, God, I've needed you."

Edited 2012-07-30 02:02 (UTC)

They lay like that what seems like a long time but likely isn't, Sirius not even bothering with the pretense of propping himself up; he weighs so little it hardly matters. He stays there until their breathing syncs, boneless and wrapped up in the familiar scent of Remus' skin, and by then he's gone so soft that he's barely inside of Remus anymore.

Sighing, he shifts over, lean and suddenly exhausted beside Remus on the mattress. He makes quick work of the condom and then presses a trembling hand across his eyes.

"Come here, please," he says, hand still in place.

Remus lets out a soft noise when Sirius pulls away, then turns and goes to him without hesitation, boneless and warm, draping himself along Sirius' side and tucking an arm about his waist. He presses his face against Sirius' chest, kisses the warm, pale skin, then tips his chin up and noses along the line of Sirius' jaw to his ear, his hair, nuzzling closer.

"Sirius," he murmurs softly, resting his forehead against the other man's temple, then lets out a shaky sigh and whispers, "Padfoot," fingers curling over the back of Sirius' knuckles.

Instinctively, Sirius knows this isn't going to last. Nothing he's said was a lie, but they've been in afterglows similar to this one so many times, and the light of day always proves far too harsh for such fragile contentment. Remus has fallen in love with him all over again, and somehow, some way, Sirius will ruin it in the end.

Still, Sirius pulls Remus in with both arms and nuzzles into the mess of Remus' hair, and squeezes his eyes shut against the certainty sitting like a stone in his gut.

Remus can't stop the short, heavy breath from passing his lips, pressing closer into the embrace. He wants so badly to tell Sirius that he loves him that it's a real, physical struggle to stop himself, but he does; he presses his mouth against Sirius' throat, instead, breathing him in and focusing on the sensation of his pulse against his lips. After what feels like ages of lying still and warm, he moves again, cards his fingers up into Sirius' hair and turns his face to kiss him slowly. It could all fall apart so easily- historically the evidence suggests this is, in fact, guaranteed- but Remus finds himself desperate to stave it off.

"Stay," he murmurs, leaving their lips in contact, lashes lowered but eyes not shut. The thought of waking up alone is suddenly crushing, the idea of that first moment's disorientation- not knowing if Sirius had snuck out or disappeared, back to a life with no real future.

"I want you again, and then- I don't want to wake up without you here."

The words hurt, a sweet pain that shoots right through Sirius, but he nods just enough to be felt in the brush of his lips against Remus', and presses in for another languid kiss.

"There's no place I'd rather be," he whispers, and it's the absolute truth, even if he hates himself a little for saying it, and hates himself even more for leaning in and murmuring his next words compulsively against Remus' ear.

"I meant it," he says, subdued but in earnest, and imagines himself to be the most selfish person in the whole fucking universe for wanting Remus to know that despite how wrong everything is bound to go.

Remus has to swallow, has to take a moment to fight the way his heart speeds up. He's not twenty any longer, nor is he fifteen, heartsick with want for his dashing best friend. He isn't and hasn't been since even before his world collapsed into total, utter ruin.

Save in a few key ways that mean, of course, he is, and will probably always be.

"I know," he says quietly, after a moment where his lips move without any sound leaving them at all. If there's resignation in his tone, it can't be helped. He turns his head to nose at the shell of Sirius' ear, then turns it further to chase after Sirius' mouth again.

"I know," he whispers again, and kisses Sirius again, needing to, needing the taste of him in his mouth and the feeling of their breaths passing into each other's bodies.

"I love you," he sighs against Sirius' lips, because it's true and Sirius knows it is, and there's no point in not saying it even if the ways in which it's true have shifted over the years.

"I never stopped."

For all that Sirius is so desperately greedy to hear all of that, to have Remus so wrapped up in him and only him, still he has to tamp down the part of him that feels utterly sick over it. Agitation flares sudden and hot through him, and he very nearly pushes Remus away.

He'd known better than to come here. Yet here they are, doomed to repeat history again and again.

Eyes closed, he crushes his mouth against Remus' and lets himself fall into the warm slide of limbs and tongues intertwining, hitches the other man closer and finds some brief felicity in not thinking about the fucking consequences.

Consequences were always Remus' specialty to fret over, but they hardly matter, here. He is acutely aware of the fact that life on the island cannot possibly get any worse than his life at home had been, whatever pain he willfully sets himself up for. He can recognize, nine times of ten, a truly terrible decision when he sees on, but his ability to stop himself from going along with it anyway has always been abysmal. It's fine, though, or at least, he doesn't care. A soft noise escapes him at the rough, warm pressure of Sirius' mouth, and he returns it in kind before he slides his arms around the slender frame against him, pulling him over, sliding his knees on either side of Sirius' hips and pressing up to meet him.

"Like this," he murmurs after a time, finally breaking his lips from Sirius', sucking briefly on the lower before nuzzling at his mouth and stroking his fingers through messy black hair.

It isn't normal for Remus to dictate how any of this goes, but Sirius finds himself grateful for the direction, the distraction from his thoughts much-needed. Still soft and over-sensitized, Sirius rocks easily into the space between Remus' spread thighs and catches a hissing breath in the little space between their mouths.

"You want to see me fucking you?" he quietly asks, catching Remus' eye for a slim moment before he nuzzles up under Remus' chin and fastens his mouth to the tender lines of his throat. He sucks up a mark and then licks over it, all the way up to Remus' earlobe and back down again.

"I want to come in you," he murmurs, and then flicks his gaze up again. "Let me come in you."