(no subject)

[onewizardwolfpack]

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.

Comments

[blackedout]

That's typical, really, both the way Remus relents and the begrudging way in which he does it, but under the current circumstances it feels sharper than normal and Sirius, who had been thinking of nothing but burying his nose in the crook of his friend's neck and just living there for awhile, hesitates.

"I'll go," he says instead, and turns, hands already sliding over his pockets to locate a cigarette.

[onewizardwolfpack]

"Don't," Remus replied immediately, leaning slightly away from the door, not quite taking a step after him.

"Please," he added more quietly, watching Sirius closely, frowning faintly at Sirius' readiness to bolt. That had always been more Remus' habit than any of the others'.

"Come in."

[blackedout]

Again, it occurs to Sirius that he shouldn't. They're all better off without him, hadn't Harry made that perfectly clear? He feels so fucking untethered right now, though, and even when they'd thought Remus might be a traitor, Sirius hadn't sorted how to get on without the werewolf slotted so neatly into his life.

So he gives in, the quiet tenor of Remus' voice drawing him back like a lead. He stops the erratic searching of his fingers and slips inside without a word.

[onewizardwolfpack]

Remus waited until Sirius had passed him, then shut the door and padded back across the room. He didn't sit.

"I'd offer you something, but I haven't much." Just like it had always been, really.

"Water," he said, after a moment's thought and a slight shrug, "semi warm beer."

[blackedout]

Silent, Sirius turns and instinctively reaches for Remus, hand sliding along the warm curve of his neck to draw him in. Sirius' eyes drop and linger on the uncertain moue of Remus' mouth, but he doesn't move to close the little distance, not yet, free hand reaching between their bodies instead. As fingertips skim the top of Remus' trousers, Sirius lifts a gaze gone dark and distant, not waiting for permission, but waiting simply to see if any of this is still the same.

[onewizardwolfpack]

He shouldn't have been surprised by the immediacy or potency of the gesture. Remus' breath left him in a short, nearly silent rush and he swallowed, leaning forward under the weight of Sirius' hand. Physically, it wasn't much, but it felt like the drag of a tide, inexorable and with the push and pull of years behind it.

"Sirius-" Remus' eyes darted from the place Sirius' fingertips had disappeared under the long and half unraveled hem of his thin t-shirt up to Sirius' mouth for a moment, before he managed to meet his gaze. He wasn't entirely sure what he saw there. He wished everything was clearer.

"Is this what you want?" he asked quietly. There was no judgement in the question- he didn't think he necessarily had it in himself to turn Sirius down, anyway, if he even wanted to- but they'd gone so far without falling into the old traps and habits of their relationship. It didn't mean he didn't want them back, sometimes, and fiercely, but it was as unnerving as it was tempting to contemplate giving in.

[blackedout]

The catch of Remus' breath can be felt in the sharp pull of muscle beneath Sirius' fingers, and when Sirius presses the flat of his palm warm and possessive over Remus' abdomen, he can feel the fine tremble that's slipped in after, too. Remus looks half-drunk when he finally lifts his eyes and Sirius feels as much or worse, intoxicated from how fast he can pull Remus into this, dizzy himself from falling so quickly in to meet him.

"When have I ever done anything but what I want?" he asks in a low, velvet rumble, gray eyes dropped to fix on Remus' mouth. He sways in but drags his lips up Remus' jaw instead, and presses his mouth against the shell of his ear.

"I'm going to fuck the shit out of you," Sirius murmurs, and slides his hand down into the sparse hair beneath Remus' waistband.

[onewizardwolfpack]

It wasn't what Remus wanted. Not really. It never had been, but he'd taken it, because it was what he could get. Not that he was settling for Sirius, but he was certainly settling for whatever parts of himself Sirius was willing to give. Never enough. It still wasn't and probably wouldn't ever be.

But he would take it.

Remus rocked toward him, spine bowing so he could press into the pressure of Sirius' hand as he shivered, head tilting toward the hot breath in his ear. His hands caught at the back of Sirius' hips and he slipped tapered, calloused fingertips up under his shirt to the warm skin and too-prominent bones of his back.

It felt so good that he could actually ignore all the memories of waking alone in bed, having hoped every time it would be the morning he wouldn't. He only turned his head enough to nose at the curve of Sirius' ear, a sound slipping from his throat soft enough to be nothing more than breath.

[blackedout]

Sirius strips off his t-shirt and immediately sways back in, all sharp, pale angles as he pulls Remus forward with both hands, murmuring, "Come here," with all the sudden urgency of a man starved. If there was ever one, single thing in all of Sirius' life that truly belonged just to him, this is it: The desperate breath and yielding body of Remus John Lupin.

Eager fingers make quick work of Remus' trousers, slide inside and take him in hand like they're entitled, giving him one slow pull before drawing away to work fabric down skinny hips. Remus hates this part, Sirius knows, and would have the lights out every time despite that Sirius has, since age sixteen, anointed nearly every scar on that battered body with roaming tongue and fingertips and not been deterred yet. Seeing Remus stripped down and breathless is practically a need now, though, and there's no chance to balk before Sirius is tugging up on the thin cotton of Remus' t-shirt and silencing any potential protests with the insistent press of his mouth.

[onewizardwolfpack]

It was already overwhelming and they hadn't yet started. Remus had almost successfully forgotten the hot anticipation Sirius' touch generated, the incredible high of being wanted paired with the old familiar anxiety and shame. He did want to protest, wanted to move into the bedroom where the light wasn't on, where the wreckage would only be felt and not seen. The scars were so much worse. The worst had mostly faded, the ones from the late fall and winter of '81. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought the wolf was trying to dig out his veins and several vital organs to make an end of it. Five years had faded them but not enough, not nearly. He didn't want Sirius to see them.

But, God help him, Sirius Black was kissing him, and all of his protests caught in his chest along with his breath and stayed there. He was still for a moment as the taste and the fit of Sirius' mouth against him registered, a wave of nostalgia and immediate, desperate want that slammed into him, and then his hands were at the back of Sirius' neck, gripping his hair, cupping the corner of his jaw, pulling him closer and kissing him back.

[blackedout]

There's no suitable place in the parlour for this, not unless Sirius pushes Remus up against a wall and fucks him that way. They've done as much before, ages ago when they were still teenagers and overwhelmed by hormones, but Remus deserves more than that, wants more than that although he'll never say. Sirius isn't good for much, but he can at least hold his cock in check until they make it into the bedroom.

Hands clasped against Remus' bare arse and mouth still occupied, he walks them toward the bedroom door, feet catching on discarded clothing as they go. He's barefoot but still in his blue jeans, and when they reach the threshold he lets Remus go, inertia stumbling the smaller man back a step as Sirius unbuckles and unzips, and shimmies the faded fabric to the floor.

[onewizardwolfpack]

The back of his leg hit the edge of the bed and Remus caught himself with one hand, then let himself sink the rest of the distance down to it. The repose lasted all of a second before he was leaning up, reaching for Sirius' body and running his mouth over the sharp jut of one hipbone.

[blackedout]

Guided by the imploring tug of Remus' hands, Sirius plants himself between the other man's knees and drops his gaze to the mouth pressed against the arch of his pale hip. Humming appreciatively, he pushes fingers through the brown tousle of Remus' hair, gentle at first and then gripping harder as his hips rock forward on instinct.

[onewizardwolfpack]

The tug of Sirius' hand was shockingly familiar. For all the casual touching, even in their tenser moments, Remus had felt a certain precious distance, a tentative buffer created by the years between them. That buffer was gone.

Remus bit back a groan, hands flattening over Sirius' waist and sliding down his thighs, and was turning his head to drag his lips where instinct, habit, and a genuine if long dormant hunger demanded when it hit. This wasn't an extended hallucination, it wasn't a dream. Sirius Black was warm and against him and innocent, if only in one way. The only way that mattered. And Remus had missed him, terribly, missed this, more than he had allowed himself to acknowledge. His hands went to the small of Sirius' back and he pressed his face against his stomach, shakily breathing in the moment.

[blackedout]

Sirius swallows against the instinctive bite of impatience, and pushes his fingers through Remus' hair again in an attempt to ground himself. He doesn't begrudge Remus the pause or even the emotion behind it, but Sirius can't stop now, might fucking shatter all to pieces himself if he stops now and gives into this.

"Look at me," he gently prompts, although he can't quite help the subtle, constant rock of his hips.

[onewizardwolfpack]

Remus did as instructed, lifting his face up to meet the familiar grey gaze and leaning a little into the touch of Sirius's fingers. His own hands trailed down, slowly mapping out bare skin and muscle until they were anchored on his friend's hip bones again, the pads of his thumbs sliding lightly over too-pronounced hollows.

[blackedout]

"You're gorgeous," Sirius says, the word so casually tossed out it would seem flippant were his tone and expression anything but genuine. Like most other compliments directed Remus' way, Sirius expects this one to fall on deaf ears, but he also reckons that sometimes Remus needs to hear it said.

"And you think too much," he adds, slipping nicotine-stained fingers from Remus' hair to trace the curve from cheek to chin. "I've fucking missed you. Let that be enough."

[onewizardwolfpack]

Remus swallowed, lashes fluttering briefly at the light touch. He turned his head enough to graze Sirius' fingertips with his lips, his own hands skirting down the fronts of Sirius' hips, trailing through dark curls and before he wrapped one around the hot skin of Sirius's length, the weight familiar, wanted, and then let the purse of his mouth graze along that tip instead.

He looked up again, needing to see the want on Sirius' face as much as hear the words. For the first time in a while, he didn't second guess them.

"Want you so fucking much," he murmured, almost rasped, flattening his free hand over Sirius' stomach and leaving it still as the other moved, almost experimentally. He tilted his head down, pressing his lips to the head of Sirius' cock, parting them to smooth the flat of his tongue over the tip. It had been years. Not just since Sirius. Since anyone, and those others he would just as soon have forgotten. With a soft, guttural sound of real need, he took Sirius into his mouth.

[blackedout]

There's a handful of seconds, in that first overwhelming moment when Remus draws him inside his warm, slick mouth, when Sirius thinks his knees might just buckle. His head falls back with a softly hissed expletive, fingers tightening instinctively in Remus' hair, and he stays like that, all a-tremble and wavering, with eyes closed and lips parted, until he feels solid enough on his feet again to bear witness to Remus' mouth wrapped around his cock.

Eyes gone dark and glassy, he finally tips his head forward again, peering down the long, pale length of his torso to watch, and remembers himself enough to uncurl his fingers a bit. There's always been something particularly obscene about Remus like this, precious prefect Lupin with his prim facade stripped away and sucking cock like a master, and Sirius is transfixed.

"Look at me," he murmurs again as his hips sway gently forward.

[onewizardwolfpack]

He bit back an outright moan, pushing forward with his mouth to take another few inches with the rocking of Sirius' hips, sliding a hand around to palm the deliciously familiar shape of his ass, already moving his tongue against the smooth underside of his cock. Most wizards wouldn't be familiar with the old adage about riding a bike, but Remus Lupin was a halfblood, and it came easily it mind.

After a moment of adjusting, of remembering the thousands of times he'd made Sirius make just that noise by sucking just so with the slit of Sirius's cock grazing the roof of his mouth, he looked up. There was a moment where Sirius' face was obscured by the shadow of Remus' own lashes, and then it was gone, hazel eyes clear and locked on grey, and Remus slowly bobbed his head, lips tight, cheeks hollowing out.

[blackedout]

He can't do this. He can't look at that perfect mouth and those wide open eyes and not completely fucking lose it. They've barely gotten started and Sirius ought to be pro at this, has had this man's lips wrapped around his cock beyond counting, but the sight of it now hits him hard, reverberates in his chest and down to his prick as soundly as if he'd been struck.

"On the bed," he breathlessly says, sure now that he'll come if this keeps on and suddenly feverish with the need to be inside Remus as soon as possible.

[onewizardwolfpack]

It was one of the exceptionally few situations in which Remus had ever had any control over Sirius Black, and he closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in that old familiar knowledge before he drew his mouth away in a long, slow, sucking pull.

He pushed himself back onto the well-made, if thin, mattress, breaths already coming faster, reaching for Sirius to pull him down. He'd gone five years without kissing the man, and now after only a few minutes he couldn't bear the lack.

"Sirius," he murmured, "please-"

[blackedout]

"Come here," Sirius says again, drawn in by the imploring tug of Remus' hand and the long, naked lines of his body stretched out across the bed. Their mouths meet again, hot and urgent, the slight musk of Sirius' cock on Remus' tongue, and Sirius slides his body over the other man's like a shadow.

When he breaks for breath, Sirius draws away, lips dragging over chin and down the column of Remus' neck, licking into the hollow of his collar bone. His hands don't stop moving, sliding palm and fingers from thigh to shoulder, down Remus' arms and across the sparse hair over his stomach. Remembering.

[onewizardwolfpack]

He couldn't pull him close enough, couldn't possibly, and as overwhelming as it all was, as much as it set him shaking, a tremble he'd be embarrassed by in front of anyone else, the real shock was that he hadn't forgotten this. Not a moment of it, not a breath. Their bodies were different, difficult years altering otherwise familiar landscapes, but being beneath him again, feeling the drag of those fingertips and licking at the seam of those lips, it was perfectly clear that all the anger and shutting himself away had been completely useless, because how could he ever get away from this.

"Oh, God," he breathed, head tilting back and throat pulling taut, body rolling up, angles and wiry muscles sliding together. He could almost forget about the scars, like this. Almost. He dug his fingers into Sirius' hair and turned his head to hide his face against it.

[blackedout]

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.