onewizardwolfpack | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Perhaps it was the canine in them, but the baring of and touching of throats had always been a powerfully incendiary little act. Remus lets out a soft, keening breath, whole body arcing up at the weight of Sirius between his legs and the feel of his mouth on his neck, and when he meets the other man's gaze again his eyes are dark.

"Yes," he whispers, pleased he doesn't have to ask, fingers curling around Sirius' jaw and tracing up into his hair.

"Want you to."

Gifted though Sirius is at fucking, he can only recover so quickly. He turns his attention back to Remus' neck, languidly expanding the mark there with lips and teeth as if he's got all the time the world. Perhaps, he thinks, in this place they actually do.

Impatience predictably gets the best of him, though, and it isn't long before Sirius draws away enough to place two fingers into his mouth. Eyes locked on Remus', he drags the fingers back out again and then slips the hand between their flushed bodies, his hips rocking instinctively forward as he presses into Remus with a twist of his wrist.

Remus is aware he forfeited dignity the moment Sirius had him asking him to stay merely by turning away, and so nothing stops him voicing his want, or how satisfying the expert slide of Sirius' fingers is. He shifts beneath the other man, knees settling wider apart, taking mental stock of the faint, sensitive stinging on his neck and the raw feeling elsewhere. It's fucking brilliant.

He hisses softly before gasping, pushing the breath out, and pulls Sirius' head down to lick at his mouth, past his lips, to coax at and suck on his tongue.

They stay like that awhile, all languid kisses and the slow stroke of Sirius' fingers, but there's only so long Sirius can ever go before his body seems to demand further action. He slides a third finger carefully in beside the first two and then leans up, kiss-flushed and unkempt, watching Remus behind hooded eyes.

"Tell me what you want," he says, hips hitching forward against Remus' thigh.

It's an effort not to tense again, and Remus manages it until Sirius' fingers have slipped into him as far as they're going to. He clenches, swallowing hard at the pressure, eyes closed and head tipped momentarily back, then relaxes his body and breathes softly out through parted lips. When he tilts his chin down again and opens his eyes the sight is almost surreal. He licks briefly at his bottom lip, chews it, then turns his eyes up to meet Sirius', wide and clear, steady. It's tentative, though- the pressure of those fingers threatens to set him writhing.

"I want you in me," he says softly, words that would have made him blush horribly ten years ago, and leans up enough to kiss Sirius again briefly, artless and wet.

"Fuck me. Sirius," he murmurs, rubbing their lips together, smoothing his hands over the backs of Sirius's arms and shoulders, gently curling his fingers to scrape his short-bitten fingernails up Sirius' neck.

The lube packets were lost in the wreck they'd made of the linens, and it takes a moment of one-handed searching before Sirius finds one and rips it easily open with his teeth. He's liberal when he drips the contents down between Remus' thighs, over his fingers, still pressing Remus open with long, smooth strokes. He makes a glorious mess of it before tossing the empty packet aside and dragging slick fingers free to grasp his cock.

"Tell me more," he murmurs as he looms back over Remus again, hitching one leg over his skinny shoulder.

The wet slide of Sirius' hand and the sure, quiet way he arranges their bodies gets Remus' blood up, and even as his hips shift, straining for more contact, for what comes next, he can feel himself flush at the request. He wouldn't have thought anything could manage that, anymore. Every stroke of Sirius' fingers earned a low, breathless noise, but talking? He's not sure he can.

He doesn't know how to ask for anything, he realizes, after his lips move silently for a moment. Sex has become easy and straightforward for him- the places he's worked have been conducive to it, certainly- and almost completely silent affairs. Someone approaches him, he decides yes or no, and it's in the most convenient dark corner, up against walls, wherever it's most feasible. There's no ceremony to it, and there's very little discussion, let alone this.

"I-" His fingertips dig into the sheets.

"Want- Sirius, slow. Please. And then-" his hips lift a little and he closes his eyes briefly.

"Hard."