Sirius had always adored Remus's long fingers, trim fingernails, hairy knuckles. Sirius loved to gently kiss those hands, reveled in the feeling of foolishly entwining his own fingers with Remus's. Of all the reasons he had worshiped Remus's hands, though, he had finally found the best reason.
Sprawled face down on Remus's bunk, Sirius tried not to breath, afraid movement would hinder Remus's fingers in their slow exploration of Sirius's skin. Sirius couldn't help the hitch in his breathing, though, as one of Remus's fingers slipped down the cleft in Sirius's cheeks. That
long digit stroked the puckered hole of Sirius's entrance. Sirius didn't move, didn't speak.
One slender fingertip slipped inside Sirius's hole. Sirius's pulse thundered in his ears as he gasped. He heard Remus laugh, gentle and boyish.
By the time Remus's second joint disappeared inside Sirius, Sirius was panting like a spent racehorse. He tried not to buck against the bed, afraid that Remus would withdraw.
And then there was a second digit pushing its way into Sirius, and he was unable to control himself. He reached one hand around and grabbed Remus's wrist, forcing Remus's fingers in deeper.
Remus laughed again and moved his hand deeper, and Sirius was lost to the sensation, bucking hard against the bed and back onto Remus's fingers in a frantic rhythm. Remus crooked his fingers and Sirius's whole body contorted at the sensation, a cry of pure pleasure escaping his lips. Then Sirius came, spilling over onto Remus's bed.