Chapter Text
“Jack and coke please.”
“Single or double love?”
“Double. Definitely double.”
Remus sighs. He wraps his knuckles on the bar anxiously, focusing on the wood that’s sticky from spilled beer and liquor. Waiting for his drink, he looks around and decides that he rather likes the hole-in-the-wall bar he finds himself in. You could live in London for eternity and still find a new boozer on every street.
Not a new job though. Unlike bars, those were few and fucking far between.
The bartender comes back into view, approaching Remus with a smile. “Here you go love,” she says, setting down the glass as Remus reaches for his phone to pay.
“Don’t worry, it’s on the house. You look like you need it.” The woman raises one eyebrow curiously.
Remus scoffs. Was his misery that obvious? Was he walking around Soho with a sign on his back that read ‘JUST FIRED’? Still, the girl behind the bar looks at him earnestly rather than with pity, so he smiles back.
She is very pretty actually, he realises distantly. Sort of ethereal with her huge afro, glowy skin, and wide smile - adorned with excessive amounts of gold jewellery that glisten as she moves.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” He replies, smiling as genuinely as he can muster.
“What’s your name then?” The woman continues, picking up a glass absentmindedly and drying it with a cloth she had thrown over her bare shoulder.
“Remus. Yours?” He looks down, swishing the ice around the short glass, wondering how many of these it will take to forget about today's unfortunate events. And the undeniable patheticness of his existence.
“I’m Mary.” She reaches out her hand, bangles clanking loudly. “Enchanté Remus.” She smiles warmly, a hint of mischief in her brown eyes.
Remus sets his drink down - perhaps a little too heavy-handedly - to shake hands with Mary. He pretends not to notice how her eyes flit down to his callous scars, a serious juxtaposition to her freshly manicured fingers and soft palm.
“It's nice to meet you too Mary. Could I get another one of these please?” She raises a single brow, probably judging him for how quickly his drink disappeared. “It’s been a day. I’m not usually like this, I promise.” Remus adds, internally scolding himself for feeling the need to justify his (poor) choices to this woman who knows nothing about him and is essentially a stranger. Always so defensive.
“Sure thing Remus. And I wasn’t judging you, by the way. You don’t look like the type of guy to sit at a bar alone on a Friday night and down four jacks in ten minutes. Hope everything’s ok?”
Remus could tell she was trying not to pry whilst also trying to be nice. It’s sweet. Another night he might have engaged with her more, got to know Mary a bit… maybe even gone home with her. But tonight he had neither the energy nor the mental capacity for conversation that exceeded small talk. Tonight he was going to get wasted, stumble back to his shitty flat, and sleep for as long as he wanted.
It wasn’t like he had anywhere to be tomorrow.
“Eh, you know how it is,” he shrugs, nonchalantly. Mary hums in agreement as she mixes his drink before placing it in his waiting hand.
“Indeed I do Remus, indeed I do. Shout when you need another, yeah?” Mary replies before giving him a wink and slinking away to deal with another customer.
Briefly he wonders how many sob stories Mary hears on a daily basis working at the bar. It’s somewhat of an unspoken rule that bar stools are for the lonely wallowers; the guy who just got laid off, the woman who just lost out on a promotion, the person who just got dumped…
Remus is just another depressing but insignificant little anecdote, it seems. But sitting in his spot in the corner, shrouded in the dingy red light, he feels an odd sense of comfort at that fact. That he’s a nobody. It’s a liberating kind of nihilism, he thinks. Maybe it’s the whiskey talking- he was on his third round now- but Remus felt a spark of restlessness in him, an inkling of something impulsive and irresponsible and everything he might need to distract himself from his angst.
He glances up at the screen above the shelves of booze behind the bar, and watches as the TV displays what he’s pretty sure is a ‘The 1975’ music video. Getting lost in a hazy dissociation where he lets himself sink into the cacophony of noise that bounces around the bar, swimming in the sound of laughter and chatter and music, Remus almost misses the sound of a bell as the door swings wide open.
Almost.
He almost doesn’t see as a mass of black curls waltzes into the bar, throwing his head back in a laugh that Remus hears from the opposite side of the room; a laugh that makes Remus’ ears go pink. He almost doesn’t notice the toned, pale arms that reveal a smattering of tattoos as the man shrugs off his leather jacket. He almost fails to catch sight of the way the man's t-shirt rides up as he hangs the jacket up, revealing a tiny - frankly, slutty - waistline. He almost misses the positively endearing way that the man has to lift onto his tiptoes to reach the hook.
But he definitely does fail to avert his eyes quick enough when the man spins around and consequently catches Remus’ gaze from across the bar. Fuck.
Remus clears his throat ungracefully, blinking furiously and spluttering as he downs the remainder of his glass. How did the man even know Remus was staring? He wasn’t even staring! He was just… observing. Surely a man who looks like that from behind is used to being looked at - right? He swallows thickly and tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks which is the product of both embarrassment and arousal.
You see, regular Remus would take this as his sign to leave the bar and call it a night. He did not need to pine over some nameless hunk in some random bar in Soho - no thank you. He didn’t need to know who the other guy was that the mystery man had arrived with, absolutely not. And he definitely did not need to wonder if there were more tattoos under that tatty black v-neck shirt, no sir.
However, rather conveniently, regular Remus had disappeared around whiskey number two. Drunk, nihilistic, and increasingly hedonistically inclined Remus is now steering the ship and he thinks it’s a rather good idea to abandon his lonely bar stool and indulge curiosity.
So, Remus stands up, definitely without swaying backwards, as the next song - still ‘The 1975’ - groans to life overhead. He rakes his hands through his scruffy brownish hair, smoothes out his regrettably chosen green flannel shirt, and makes his way over to where the mystery man is leaning against a pillar chatting enthusiastically to the guy that Remus really hopes is not his boyfriend. That would be a fitting end to this shitty day. Hah.
And this is how it starts. Take your shoes off in the back of my van.
His hands fidget nervously as he approaches the group, picking at a hangnail before realising that an evident lack of confidence is not very sexy actually, and links his fingers behind his back instead.
Before he can say anything, the man notices Remus and turns his head with a smirk. His face, which Remus is seeing properly for the first time now, is… well, absolutely fucking stunning.
He has this sort of devil-may-care look to him, but the harsh slant of his jawline and razor-sharp cheekbones somehow make him also look distinctly regal. Black curls cascade down to his shoulders, sleek and bouncy, and Remus has the overwhelming and totally inappropriate urge to reach out and tuck the disobedient strands back behind his ear.
His ear. Fuck. He has an earring. A silver hoop. Remus wants to bite it. What on earth is happening to his brain right now? He needs to say something…
“Hey,” the mystery man announces. Remus is snapped out of his daydream to meet with a pair of dangerous looking silver eyes. He really needs to say something, but he’s unbearably preoccupied with noticing how pretty the man’s long, dark lashes are and how they cast a shadow on his pale cheek as he looks up at Remus.
Remus clears his throat, which is suddenly very dry. “Um, hi. How are you doing?” It’s tentative, and pathetic, and not at all as flirtatious as he had intended. Regular Remus was somewhere inside him screaming right now. He’d barely said five words and he was already fucking this up.
“I’m uh- I’m Remus, by the way,” he continues before the man can reply. Remus watches as his smirk transforms into a quizzical smile. He leans away from the pillar to face Remus directly, before looking him up and down slowly and answering,
“Remus huh? That’s an unusual name. Remus. Remus - ” The way that the man rolls Remus’ name around his tongue, considering it with an inscrutable focus, makes heat rise up the back of Remus' neck. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously. Why does it sound so good coming out of his mouth?
“- I like that. It’s nice to meet you Remus.” He bows his head slightly, nodding towards him with his hands still in the front pockets of his tight black jeans.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” Remus asks. “Or do I need to buy you a drink first?”
The man raises his eyebrows and smirks again. “Well, Remus, I certainly wouldn’t say no to a beer.”
“Sure thing,” Remus replies, probably too hastily.
“Oh, and - tell Mary I say hi.” He winks and Remus’ breath catches in his throat before nodding curtly and turning on his heels to walk away.
Back at the bar, Remus waves Mary over frantically. She laughs at his clearly flustered state, which Remus thinks is very rude, and asks what he needed.
“Don’t laugh at me Mary, I’m clearly vulnerable right now.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.
“I see you’ve met Sirius.” She replies with a knowing smirk.
“Sirius? His name is Sirius? What kind of a name is that?” Remus splutters, incredulous. “And he said Remus was a weird name! Not as weird as fucking Sirius. What is he, like a Lord or something. How do you know him anyway? And-”
“Woah woah woah. Take a breath, rambly Remus.” He groans at the nickname.
Mary inhales deeply before explaining that “Sirius is a star. He's not a Lord as far as I know. We’re friends from school. And before you ask, no, James - the guy he’s with is not his boyfriend - they’re best mates. He is gay though, if that was gonna be your next question.”
Remus’ mouth hangs open at the sequence of revelations, and he gawks at Mary - who’s looking much too smug for his liking.
“You’re welcome,” she gloats. “Here’s the beer he’ll want. And one for you too - since you clearly don’t know what to do with your hands. Happy flirting Remus!”
“Mary, you’re an angel. I’m so confused. I love you. What is happening right now? Thank you!” Remus babbles, grinning. Okay. This is good. Sirius is single, and gay. This increases Remus’ probability of success by at least 20%. He grabs the beers and heads back over to Sirius.
My shirt - my shirt looks so good. When it’s just hanging off your back.
A newfound confidence thrums through Remus. He doesn’t know if it’s the music, his unexpected camaraderie with Mary, or the alcohol in his system, but nevertheless he knows what he wants (Sirius) and he is going to get it.
“Ahem. A pint of Camden Hells for the mystery man in black.” Sirius reaches out eagerly, only for Remus to pull the pint to his chest, tutting. “I do believe payment was required.”
Sirius rolls his eyes, but Remus swears he sees a slight flush in the man’s pale cheeks. “It's Sirius. Sirius Black.” Remus hands over the pint without breaking eye contact with Sirius.
“Like the star?” he asks.
Sirius looks impressed. Remus only knows because Mary told him, but Sirius doesn’t have to know that…
“Hmm, indeed.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Sirius. What do you do?”
“It’s complicated. What do you do?”
Remus scoffs. Yesterday, he would have said that he worked at the coolest record shop in all of London. But today?… “It's complicated.”
“Well,” Sirius mused, “cheers to that then.”
“Cheers indeed” Remus raises his glass to smack against Sirius’ and, as expected, their drinks froth up and spill over onto the floor. What Remus does not expect, however, is the way his heart stutters when Sirius’ ring-clad fingers graze his. He could have sworn that Sirius' gaze fluttered away at the sudden touch too.
Remus steps closer, towering over Sirius. The music pounds incessantly overhead, out of time with the loud rush of blood beating in his ears. He reaches out and traces the silver on Sirius’ hand. The touch burns. “Nice rings,” he says softly.
“Thanks. Nice hands.” Sirius replies without missing a beat. Remus doesn’t know how or when it happened, but Sirius’ friends seemed to have cleared out, leaving the two of them alone in the corner. The room was getting hotter.
“So, Sirius. What are you doing after this?” Remus asks casually, focusing on his hands that are playing with Sirius’ like putty, twisting the other man’s ring with his thumb and forefinger. Sirius’ breath hitches slightly as Remus’ fingers push up to his wrist.
In a voice just above a whisper, Sirius replies salaciously. “You, hopefully.”
Use your hands and my spare time. We’ve got one thing in common, it’s this tongue of mine.
Remus had not anticipated this. He doesn’t really know what he thought was going to happen when he decided to flirt with a random guy at a random bar, but it definitely wasn’t this.
Somehow, in defiance of everything Remus has ever known or experienced, he finds himself standing between Sirius’ open legs, crowded against the door of the bar’s bathroom.
“What the fuck am I doing right now?” Remus curses under his breath as Sirius sucks on a tender spot just beneath his jaw. He’s convinced his knees are about to give out.
“Huh?” Sirius murmurs distractedly, his lips and hands moving hungrily across Remus’ throat. His breathing is heavy, black curls all over the place as he moves to kiss Remus again.
The kiss is hungry, but still gentle. Sirius tastes like cigarettes and beer and something oaky, something sexy. His lips are so fucking soft Remus might just die. He can feel all the tension of this shitty day just oozing out of him, being replaced with a different, much more pleasurable kind of tension.
Remus chases the feeling eagerly, reaching up to cup Sirius’ jaw, thumb stroking lightly across his cheekbone. He kisses him again, deeper this time, and notes absently how cold his neck feels in the absence of Sirius’ mouth. Before he can lower his lips to return the favour, Sirius’ tongue swipes past Remus’ lips for the first time. And Remus feels something. Something cold, metallic almost.
Holy fuck.
Remus can’t help but lay a hand flat against Sirius’ firm chest and push himself upright. He’s so fucking overstimulated that he actually can’t seem to see or think straight. His heartbeat is pounding hotly in his ears, and in other places, as he blinks his eyes back into focus.
“I just-” he pants. Sirius looks confused. Maybe a bit butthurt? “I just need a second,” Remus explains. “I’ve uh. Well, I’ver never done this before.” As soon as Remus admits it, he regrets speaking at all. How pathetic is he? Sirius is clearly a professional at bathroom quickies and his little interjection is absolutely killing the mood.
“You’ve never kissed a boy?” Sirius singsongs with feigned sincerity, making a pouty face. Remus groans at the sight of Sirius’ lips wet with spit, red, and swollen. He tries desperately not to think about the piercing that sits on his tongue.
He swallows. “Don’t be a dick. I mean I’ve never done something like this. Here. with someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Sirius grows more incredulous by the second, clearly enjoying seeing Remus squirm.
“You know what I mean. A stranger. Someone I don’t know.”
“It’s okay Remus. I mean, I did assume that you had, but only because you’re the one who approached me at the bar. And cos you’re hot. As fuck.”
Sirius reaches an arm out, then, to Remus’s waistline, annunciating that last “fuck” with a salicious smirk. Slowly, cautiously, he walks his fingers up Remus' chest. Sirius waits, looking up at Remus for some kind of permission to carry on.
Remus breathes shakily in response, arousal settling beneath where Sirius’ fingers were surely burning a hole in his shirt.
It’s only natural that Remus is angsty. He’s never hooked up with a stranger before. He’s never hooked up with someone who looked like Sirius, whose mouth moves like Sirius’, whose jeans were as tight as Sirius’.
But then again, he had never been fired before either. He had never spent a Friday night alone in a bar, drinking his sorrows away. I guess there’s a first time for everything, Remus thinks.
“Fuck it.”
Their mouths clash together, more teeth than anything else, and Remus fists the front of Sirius’ shirt with both hands - if only to stop them from trembling. Sirius lets out a surprised sound at the unexpected contact, eyebrows raised for a moment before sinking into the door and letting Remus tower over him.
His brain is short circuiting, synapses fizzing like fireworks in his ears. Everything is fuzzy, blurry around the edges, except for one word which crowds his mind like an echo - yes.
He moves his hands up to cradle Sirius’ face as their mouths melt together. Remus pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, delighting in the sound that Sirius makes as a reward. With his thumbs on the underside of his jaw, Remus pushes his head up to expose his lovely, pale throat and Sirius' hair splays out where he’s crowded against the door, Adam's apple bobbing erratically as he stares down at Remus through dark lashes.
“You are fucking gorgeous,” Remus grits before diving down and attacking Sirius’ throat with messy, unfocused lips, hands dropping to grip his waist to hold him harshly in place. When he only shudders in response, Remus smiles against his throat, sucking gently at the skin and increasing the pressure as Sirius’ breathing grows shallower and shallower.
It’s not just Remus who’s losing his cool though. Sirius’ hands are restless, frantic, as they push underneath Remus’ shirt, mapping the planes of his back, fingers flexing on taut muscles until they reach the nape of his neck.
One hand grasps at his hair, pulling on the honey locks in tandem with the rhythm of Remus’ keen tongue on his neck. He splays the other on the small of his back, insistently willing their hips closer.
“Please…” Sirius whispers, pulling Remus’ head back so he could meet his eyes. “Need… need more.” Remus looks down to where they’re just inches from meeting, cock twitching in anticipation of the contact. He groans at the sizeable bulge in Sirius’ jeans, imagining how it would feel pressed against him…. Or in his mouth….
Remus places a hand firmly against his chest and pulls away, running the other frantically through his curls as he wills himself to calm the fuck down.
“We… we can’t do that here.” Remus reasons, though it comes out more like a question than anything else.
“Usually I would disagree,” Sirius replies, “I’m not impartial to a bathroom rendezvous, if I’m honest. But…” he smirks, aggravatingly levelheaded, and takes a moment to appreciate Remus’ state of dishevelment.
He doesn’t know whether to be turned on or embarrassed that this is affecting him substantially more than it seems to be affecting Sirius. Either way, the tension between them is palpable, thick and sticky and eager to be pulled apart - stretched until it reaches a breaking point like taffy. And Remus loves all things sweet…
In his reckless abandon, Remus can fathom no other scenario than one which ends with him and Sirius laying next to one another, sweating and satiated. So, he returns Sirius’ smirk with the quirk of an eyebrow, and teases, “but what?”
“But.” Sirius’ voice drops lower now, his tone salacious and confident as opposed to playfully sexy. “Remus,” the name rolls around his tongue like something unholy, making Remus shiver with unadulterated want, “the things I want you to do to me would be best accommodated …elsewhere.”
Glad that they’re on the same page, Remus sighs, moving closer to where Sirius is still flush against the door before his brain snags on his choice of words. Things I want you to do to me.
Oh. Oh.
He can practically feel his entire body humming with excitement at the idea of Sirius under him, pliant and obedient to his every whim. The throbbing in his jeans is becoming unbearable… which is odd; a steamy makeout is grounds for him to be half-hard at most, not going dizzy with need for friction. But Remus tells himself it’s the alcohol that has his heart and mind racing, that the whiskey is exacerbating his desire.
And I mean, of course Sirius is stunning, a blind man could see that. There’s something ancient about his beauty, as though his figure had been carved in marble by the deft hands of Michelangelo himself. Remus can see it in the sculpted planes of his exposed midriff, in the crafted ripple of slender muscle in his arms, in the smooth juncture where neck effortlessly meets shoulder. His form is the product of artistic devotion, a work of infallible expertise that demands admiration and endless study.
There’s something picturesque about his beauty too, like his face belongs in the most coveted Renaissance painting. His features are from a portrait, distinct and aristocratic in the way their sharpness creates the most intricate shadows and highlights. Each eyelash, brow, and strand of jet black hair the precise work of the finest paintbrushes. The thundering grey of his eyes, an alluring fusion of every shade between black and white, each paint colour combined with reverence.
He is the perfect portrait, a painter’s favourite muse, a lesson in capturing something impossibly ethereal.
There’s something too, however, that is distinctly modern about Sirius. Something which tantalisingly juxtaposes his timeless beauty. It’s a personal influence, an external manifestation of his personality. The thick silver ringers that embrace his nimble fingers. The delicate chains that adorn his even more delicate wrist, his neck. The metal which pierces through the supple skin of his earlobes and the plush pink of his tongue. The remnants of kohl, smudged around stormy eyes to match the darkness of manicured brows. The devilishly tight jeans and the tattoos and everything in between that makes Sirius, Sirius.
Sirius is, in Remus’ unequivocable opinion, probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen for this reason. Because he is an infuriating juxtaposition - somehow both a violent collision and an exquisite assimilation of every manifestation of beauty that exists in the human condition.
A fusion of old and new so different that it should surely clash and oppose, but instead seems natural and effortless. He is both the storm itself, encompassing and chaotic, and also the eye, calm and simple.
Remus is quite sure that if there was a god out there, a creator of some description, then Sirius would be their Magnum Opus.
*
But these thoughts, these stupidly sappy and ridiculously poetic thoughts to be having about a stranger, were such a diversion from Remus’ usual inner monologue that they surely were nothing more than a side effect of the dangerous concoction of lust and alcohol pooling in his gut.
When he wakes up tomorrow morning, the clarity of daylight and the depressing crush of reality would destroy whatever strange infatuation he felt in this drunken stupor. Right?
Comfortable in this conclusion, Remus snaps back into the present, eyes locking with the man in front of him. In the time he’s been consumed by his thoughts, Remus’ body seems to have involuntarily crowded Sirius again, pressing them flush against one another and making their want explicit. “And what is it that you want me to do to you, might I ask?” He teases, hoping to gain the upper hand.
“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?” Sirius quips back, his tone dripping with sensuality. Remus definitely does not have the upper hand…. Yet.
“Show me. Definitely, definitely show me,” Remus hurries desperately, wondering what they’re still doing in this stuffy bathroom when they definitely should be undressing each other by now.
Sirius scoffs, amused at the frantic tone of Remus’ voice, grabbing his hand and turning to face the door. “Well then, darling, let’s get out of here shall we?”
The next thing Remus registers is an unfamiliar bark of laughter. He’s much too preoccupied with concealing his obvious arousal and ignoring Mary’s suggestive looks from behind the bar.
“Okay Prongs? I wouldn’t come back to the flat for a couple of hours if I were you mate. Uh,” he looks at Remus hungrily, “maybe the whole night actually. On uh, on second thought,” he continues, turning back to face his friend.
“Sure mate, whatever you say. I’ll stay with Reg or something,” the man - James? - replies, but Sirius is hardly listening as he drags Remus to the door and outside into the cold London air.
If we’re gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck.
*****
The sound of Sirius’ door slamming shut is like the sound of a gun signalling ‘go’ in a race. The pair are on each other in seconds, mouths and bodies slamming together in a manner that is distinctly carnal. They make out fervently as Sirius stumbles around the apartment to find the lightswitch, bracing one hand against the wall as he does, so as not to topple over from the force of Remus’ kiss.
“Okay, uh,” Sirius pants, pushing away from him and looking decidedly away from his parted wet lips. Remus feels irritation bubbling up at the interruption, wanting absolutely nothing except to chase pleasure until his body is raw with exhaustion.
Sirius either fails to notice this frustration, or ignores it, because he continues, blinking furiously. “I don’t do one-night stands very often so I, I don’t really know how this works.”
He gestures between the two of them with his hands, his lovely lovely hands.
“But uh, I think it’s standard to set some ground rules, you know? Tell each other what we like, or don’t like. Yeah?” He nods eagerly, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment, willing Remus to please interrupt.
Remus drops his hands from where they’re hovering at Sirius’ waist. He steps back and takes a breath, collecting himself and his thoughts. He might have been the one to be anxious about this arrangement earlier, considering his lack of experience in pub bathroom hookups.
But somehow the dynamic between them has shifted, and Remus feels a strange confidence creeping up his spine at the look on Sirius’ face. He can see the apprehension in Sirius’ brow, waiting eagerly to see how Remus will respond. And Remus is determined to get this right.
“Okay, I’ll start, shall I? Here’s what I think,” Remus begins, adopting a tone of authority that makes Sirius’ open mouth snap shut. “I think, Sirius, that you desperately want to let go. You want to be used, for me to use you. For me to reduce you to nothing but a crying, whimpering mess who can hardly remember his own name.” He smiles brutally, watching Sirius’ eyes go wide.
“I think you enjoy the act of submission because it’s the only time you can let go of control. Because it takes effort, doesn’t it sweetheart, being as beautiful as you?” He reaches up then, tucking hair behind Sirius’ ear.
“It’s tiring, isn’t it? Walking around knowing every fucking person is staring at you, knowing everyone wants you. You don’t want the attention of everybody, do you love? No...” Remus tuts, “you want the devotion of one body.” Sirius whimpers at that declaration.
“Ooh, I’ve got it spot on don’t I?” Remus chuckles, reaching forward again to stroke Sirius’ cheek with his thumb. His tone is gentler now, eyes flitting between Sirius’ to ensure he’s saying the right things. “Well, Sirius, if you’ll let me, I am going to show you that you don’t have to be anything except mine. I’m going to look after you so well. Gonna make you feel so good, okay?” He takes Sirius’ chin between his thumb and forefinger, watching as his eyes swim with heady desire. “All you have to do is let go, Sirius. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can be a good boy for me?”
“Yes.” Sirius croaks. “Fuck - yes please.”
“Good.” Remus drops his hand. “Now, I need you to go to the bedroom and make sure it’s ready for us. Make it light, dark. Put some music on, or don’t - it’s whatever you want baby. Then, I need you to take off your shirt and sit on the edge of the bed, on the side facing away from the door. Understood?”
Sirius nods earnestly before walking down the hallway, and Remus delights in the slight quiver of his legs with each step. He stays in the hallway then, willing his arousal to subside. This was about Sirius now, not him, and the thought of devoting his attention to the pleasure of the godlike man in the other room is making his head spin with excitement. He lingers long enough that he knows Sirius will have been waiting for a while, then stalks slowly toward the open door of the bedroom.
To his credit, Sirius has followed the instructions very well. The overhead light is off, but a lamp burns orange on the bedside table, next to a bottle of lube and a speaker which is humming a sultry tune. Sirius is sat with a gloriously bare back facing away from the door, his shoulders rising and falling in time with his bated breath.
Remus looks around the room for a moment before he finds what he’s looking for. On the back of a chair in the corner of the room is a suit, and amongst that suit, a tie. Remus grabs it quietly so that Sirius won't hear, and sinks his knee down onto the mattress. He crawls over the bed until he’s kneeling behind Sirius, who has his eyes closed and his head down.
“Don’t move,” Remus whispers into his ear, and he whimpers gently. He puts his hands on his shoulders and trails his fingers down his arms so, so, slowly. Holding his wrists, Remus pulls them behind Sirius’ back and begins to snake the tie around them.
“Oh gods. Oh, oh- fuck.” Sirius splutters as soon as he realises what Remus is doing to him. His breathing grows even more erratic and he twists his head to look at the man who is shattering him with barely a touch, but Remus merely tuts and gives him a pointed glare.
Pleased that his hands are sufficiently bound, Remus eases off the bed to stand in front of Sirius. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?” he cocks his head at the man below him. “Hmm…very naughty. I’m afraid there’s going to have to be some kind of punishment, baby.” With that, Sirius moans unabashedly and Remus drops to his knees.
Sirius’ chest is flushed now, red and blotchy with arousal. Seeing how physically reactive he’s becoming turns Remus on exponentially, makes him so eager to please Sirius.
Unable to reach forward and touch, he can only look down at Remus below him, biting his lip so as to feel something, anything other than pulsing of blood to his groin. Remus had never felt this intensely before; the sight of Sirius silently begging for his touch, his heaving breath, his cock straining against leather. Desperate for more, Remus reaches forward to unzip them and Sirius eagerly lifts his hips to allow it.
Wearing nothing but his boxers, Remus starts to slowly kiss Sirius’ legs, beginning at his ankle bone and making his way up to his inner thighs. He looks up through his lashes to see Sirius’ pained expression - the way he’s gnawing on his lip to keep quiet.
That simply won’t do, Remus thinks, pulling Sirius by the chin so they’re looking at each other. “Sirius. I need you to tell me what you want. And I need you not to be quiet. I want to hear every sound that comes out of your pretty little mouth, okay? Can you be nice and loud for me?”
“Yes. Fuck. Yes, I, I can. I want to, I. I just - I didn’t.” He mumbles, incoherent with overwhelming desire. Remus watches him patiently as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I, um. I’d really like it if you touched me, please. Oh god please touch me Remus. Fuck, I can’t, I, please -”
Remus chuckles breathily, feeling positively drunk on the power he has over Sirius. Grabbing his hips, Remus leans in and trails his tongue up the inside of one of Sirius’ thighs, stopping just below where he knows Sirius needs the pressure. The man whimpers above him, cock twitching in his boxers.
He takes the sensitive skin of Sirius’ thigh between his teeth, kissing and sucking and biting with fervour whilst his other hand reaches up to toy with his nipple and Sirius gasps at the contact, his hips bucking involuntarily, searching desperately for contact as he begs incoherently.
Satisfied with the purple bruise blooming on Sirius' thigh, Remus takes the hand that’s not preoccupied with his nipple and slowly starts to palm at his covered cock. “Holy shitting, oh my - fuck Remus,” he exclaims before letting out a loud moan and throwing his head back. His boxers are getting wet with precum, and the thought of Sirius hard and dripping in front of Remus’ eager mouth is enough for him to rip them off - bringing both hands to hold Sirius’ hips in place.
He should have expected Sirius to be well endowed, so to speak, but Remus couldn't help the gasp of shock that escaped his lips at the sight. Sirius must have heard, because he looks down from the ceiling to smirk at Remus, positively enthralled at the sight of him kneeling between his legs and practically salivating.
Now that he has his attention, Remus wastes no time taking Sirius into his mouth. He laps eagerly at the beads of precum at his tip, his head bobbing up and down to take more, more, more…. and Sirius isn’t smirking anymore.
The burning heat of Remus’ mouth has him panting and whimpering pathetically, the wicked workings of his tongue have Sirius clenching his abs so that he won’t fall back onto his tied hands. There is nothing he wants more than to bury his hands into Remus’ hair, to fuck into his mouth unrelentingly. But the feeling of Remus massaging his hip bones and keeping him pinned to the bed as he swallows his cock like a man starved…. That feeling makes Sirius want to give Remus every fucking ounce of power over him.
“I’m yours,” he hears himself saying, barely even registering the proclamation. “God, Remus, I am so fucking yours, please have me. Have me,” he moans. Remus only quickens the pace, taking Sirius to the hilt now and humming pleasantly around his length. The added pressure makes Sirius’ eyes roll and his cock twitch, hitting the back of Remus’ throat and making him gag slightly. “Shit, Remus. I don’t think I can last much longer,” he exclaims hurriedly as white hot pleasure rapidly pools in his gut. “I think I’m gonna -”
But before Sirius can finish that sentence, or indeed finish at all, Remus pulls off entirely with a pop. “What the fuck?” he blinks, confused at the sudden lack of contact. Remus only smiles before standing up.
“You taste so fucking good baby,” he says, licking his lips for effect. “I would have loved to taste all of you. I would have lapped up every last drop.” Sirius whimpers, a single tear cascading down his cheek in frustration and arousal.
“But, I told you that naughty boys have to be punished, Sirius.”
“Only good boys get to come, sweetheart. Now can you be a good boy?” Sirius is nodding frantically, pupils blown, before Remus has even finished asking and another tear falls from how badly he craves release, how desperately he wants to come down Remus’ throat and watch the man swallow every last drop of him.
Remus laughs and rakes his eyes hungrily up and down Sirius’ naked body, delighting in his debauched state. “Good. I’m going to get naked now, and you’re going to watch, but you aren’t going to touch,” he confirms, not that Sirius could, given that his wrists are firmly bound behind him.
Tantalisingly, and without breaking eye contact, Remus begins to strip slowly. In any other scenario, he would find this unbearably awkward, but the energy between him and Sirius is decidedly different than anything he’d experienced before.
There was an unspoken vow of trust between them, despite them having been strangers only a few hours ago. The dynamic both unsettles and satisfies Remus, but any semblance of caution he might have had is long gone. All that remains is an unadulterated commitment to drawing more of those stunning sounds from Sirius’ mouth.
Once he’s stripped to only his boxers, Remus steps forward and grabs Sirius’ hair, unceremoniously pulling Sirius toward his crotch - who immediately careens into the touch, nuzzling at his concealed cock.
It feels so fucking good that Remus is in his right mind to demand Sirius suck him off right there - he hadn’t realised just how badly he was craving contact. But in some immense feat of self control he pulls away, tightening his fingers into Sirius’ hair and pulling hard - eliciting a deep groan from the other man - before letting go and circling to the other side of the bed.
Sirius, determined to be obedient, stays deadly still. Though he can’t help but argue, “Remus, please. Let me. I wanna.” He swallows,“I want to taste you. Need it, need you…”
But Remus cuts him off. “I’m sure you do baby. But I think I know what you want more.” He gets back on the bed then, on both knees, mouth pressing up against Sirius’ ear. Every puff of hot breath makes Sirius shiver, heat flushing in his cheeks.
“I think,” he muses, deftly untying Sirius’ bound wrists. He presses a sweet kiss to Sirius’ neck, and the other man drops his head onto Remus' shoulder to give him more space. With his hands now free, Sirius takes the invitation to move, swinging his legs around to mirror Remus kneeling on the bed. A breath catches violently in his throat as he realises Remus is now completely naked, his cock heavy and full between his legs. Before Sirius can say or do anything, Remus continues, “I think what you really want is me inside of you. Isn’t that right?”
Before he could think about whether he was allowed to or not, Sirius was clambering into Remus’ lap, and without hesitation he crashed their mouths together, his lips like a wave breaking the shore. He raked his hands all over Remus’ body, desperate to touch him everywhere, everywhere…
“Please,” Sirius begged. “I don’t need any prep or, or anything. I promise. Just let me. Please let me ride you. Right now.” Remus’ brain shortcircuits first at his wording, and then at Sirius reaching to take his cock in both hands, shuffling his knees forward so he can align himself. Truly, there isn’t anything he wants more than to feel Sirius around him, to hold him tight and fuck up into him.
He almost gives in, his desire making him dizzy and desperate, but he’s seen how much Sirius likes to be wound up, and he’s thoroughly enjoying doing the winding. For once in his life Remus feels powerful, in control, respected and revered. And fuck if he didn’t to see Sirius snap.
“Gosh, you are a desperate little slut aren’t you? Willing to hurt yourself just to have me buried in you sooner, huh?” Remus taunts, taking Sirius’ disobedient hands in his own. He’s distracted by just how delicate Sirius’ wrists are, how precious and porcelain, and has a flickering urge to sink his teeth into the thrumming vein there. To consume him.
“I’m sorry, Remus. I’m sorry. You’re just - you’re making me fucking crazy. I need you. I’m so fucking empty and I need you to fill me up. Please.” Sirius knows he sounds pathetic, he should be embarrassed, but he isn’t.
His earnestness is making Remus’ head spin, the intimacy of it all overwhelming him. It was the best sex he’d ever had, and he’d barely even been touched yet. He shuddered to think what it would feel like for them to come together, repeating each other's name like a mindless incantation.
Sirius slumps forward, then, pressing his hands to Remus’ chest and resting his head on his shoulders, soft black locks tickling his neck. His chest heaves, and Remus immediately places a hand on his neck, rubbing circles at the nape.
“Shh. Sirius, it’s okay, don’t cry sweetheart.” Remus coos, suddenly nervous he’s taken it too far. But Sirius was so fucked he had no idea he was even crying, unable to fathom anything except his consuming desire. Remus lifts Sirius effortlessly, laying him on his back and stroking back the hair that clung to his sweat slicked forehead. One arm braced on the bed so he was hovering above him, Remus looks down at Sirius with the softest expression and smooths his furrowed brows with a thumb. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and Sirius smiles, eyes fluttering shut.
He sits up, straddling Sirius, and reaches over to take the lube from the nightstand. At the sound of the cap opening, Sirius leans up on his elbows, unsure of Remus’ next move.
“I want you to feel good, Sirius. I want to give you what you want, okay? I’m going to get you ready now, alright baby?”
Sirius lets out a strained moan of agreement and flops his head back down to the pillow. Remus sits back on his heels, hooking one of Sirius’ knees over his shoulder and gripping his thigh before coating his other hand in lube. The sight of Sirius completely vulnerable and pliant has Remus thanking every god he didn’t believe in that he ended up here tonight.
He’s the most lovely thing I've ever seen, Remus thinks to himself. Not wanting to make Sirius wait any longer, he reaches down and starts to circle one finger around the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. Sirius splutters and groans, hands going to fist at the duvet beneath him. When Remus pushes in to his first knuckle, Sirius arches off the bed with a breathy moan and stutters his hips forward to take more of Remus.
Soon enough, Remus has worked his way up to two fingers, scissoring them inside to make space for a third, delighting in the whimpers of approval coming from Sirius. Just then he curls his fingers, and Sirius sees stars as he brushes against his prostate.
“Remus, you need to stop or I’m gonna.” His breath heaves, throat constricting around his words. “Please, I’m not gonna last. I’m close already. Just fuck me. Remus I swear to god I -”
He withdraws his fingers in an instant, surging forward to claim Sirius in a fitful kiss instead. It’s impatient and desperately messy, teeth clashing and lips being bitten and tongues exploring, and it’s everything.
They were both breathless and Remus’ arms were burning from hovering above Sirius, knowing that this would be over for them if he let them touch any more.
So, he pulls back, looking down at his cock hanging heavy between them. “I want to look at you sweetheart. Want to see the look in your eyes as you take me.” Sirius could muster up little more than a nod in response. “Do I need a condom, love?” Sirius shakes his head impatiently.
“I’m clean.”
“So am I,” Remus replies. Not wanting to wait another moment, he replaces Sirius’ knee over his shoulder and eases into him at once, not stopping until he reaches the hilt. Tears slip from Sirius’ eyes at the burn, but he had never been so grateful for pain in his life. Remus stills, waiting for Sirius to adjust to the stretch. He reaches up so their faces are aligned again, one hand going to Sirius’ cheek and holding him there reverently.
When he feels Sirius relax around him, Remus begins to move, rocking his hips slowly at first before settling into a satisfying rhythm. The sound of their skin colliding mixed mouth-wateringly with the sweet noises Sirius was making and the song coming from his speaker. It was overwhelming Remus, who was sure he had never felt pleasure this intense in his life.
A moment later, Sirius’ hands are on Remus' ass, kneading the skin between his fingers and making Remus moan with each thrust. He can feel his control slipping, his pleasure mounting, but he wants this to last longer for Sirius, so he moves his hand from Sirius’ cheek to cover his mouth.
“You sound too fucking hot baby,” he explains as he continues to fuck Sirius into the matress. “It’s turning me on too much. I. won’t. Last.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, watching as Sirius’ eyes roll back in pleasure.
In response, Sirius grabs at his hand and pulls it away from where it was covering his mouth. “I don’t care. I want you to come. Please. Fill me up, I’m begging you. Remus, please.”
The way Sirius moans his name like a desperate prayer has Remus positively feral. His hips snap up, burying into Sirius before pulling back and slamming into him again, again again. Sirius cries out each time, fingernails scraping down Remus’ shoulders and breaking the skin. Just as he feels his orgasm pending, Remus curls one hand around Sirius’ dripping cock and strokes him once, twice, until they’re coming together with a shout.
*****
“Fuck.” Sirius breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Remus collapses onto him, cock still buried deep inside the other man, but he’s too tired to move after the strongest orgasm he’s ever had. Sirius wraps his arms around Remus’ torso, holding him impossibly closer still, their breathing syncing up as they come back down to earth together. Neither of them pay any notice to the mess on Sirius’ stomach.
In that moment, Remus feels intoxicated with it all. With the smell of sweat, of sex, in the room. With Sirius’ jet black hair contrasting his own pale, freckled shoulders. With every place their skin is touching, scorching. He thinks he might like to stay inside Sirius forever, to crawl into his ribcage and take refuge in the warmth he would find there. But that’s a ridiculous idea, so instead, he pulls out and falls onto his back.
Willing his heart to stop racing, he stares at the ceiling blankly. But Remus can’t seem to shake the feeling that he is on the precipice of something big, that this night has shifted something in his soul. He can feel his whole universe expanding, his mind and his senses opening up to something new and unfamiliar. Tears start to prick at his eyes with the intensity of it, and he blinks rapidly, trying instead to focus on how the paint is chipping in the corner of the ceiling.
So caught up in his own head, preoccupied with his own epiphanies, Remus is oblivious to the man laying next to him. And when the dust settles, he'll look back on this moment and wish he had turned his head, just a few inches. Because then he would have seen the way Sirius was staring right at him, caught in the same monumental liminality, his eyes wide and swimming with the very same thoughts.