Disclaimer: If they actually belonged to me, this wouldn't be fanfiction, now would it?
Warning: 6 drabbles. Oneshots. Slash. Duh. Continuations of the first five drabbles in Five Ways Remus Kissed Sirius In The Shrieking Shack (And One Way He Didn't) and of The Extra Way Remus Kissed Sirius In The Shrieking Shack (A.K.A. The Sassy Way), but they can all be read on their own. Rating for safety.
Five Ways Sirius Kissed Remus Back In The Shrieking Shack
(And One Way Extra)
1.
Sirius hums into the kiss, glad he's back, too, now more than ever. Remus's hands cupping his face are callused, but soft against his own rough skin. The detached part of his mind identifies each familiar callus – that one from holding a quill, those from roughly thirty years of running on four paws once a month – while the rest is simply content to savor the feel and the taste of the man he'd never thought he would be this close to again.
He tightens his arms around the other man, knowing he's clinging, but not caring, because now… he's home.
2.
Sirius meets Remus's kiss, knowing nothing else to do, and why would he want to do anything else anyway? But the moment Remus's lips touch his, the voice he hasn't heard since he was a teenager chimes in, fretting about bad breath – Sirius knows his teeth are yellow, oral hygiene not being a top priority either inside Azkaban or on the run from it, and he's been living as a dog for the past year, and there's a reason it's called 'dog-breath' – but then Remus is sighing into his mouth and he tells the voice, very firmly, to shut up.
3.
Sirius melts into the kiss, forgetting for the moment that they have an audience, forgetting Peter, forgetting that he is dirty and hungry and broken and in pain. All that matters is Remus, who believes him, Remus, who understands what he has wanted forever to tell him, Remus, whose hands are gentle and whose mouth is hot and drugging.
He has needed this for so long, and now there's nothing for him to do but succumb to the moment and let it wash through him, sweet and healing.
And when they finally part, he's ready to face the world again.
4.
Remus's kiss is rough and angry, full of hurt. Sirius understands and doesn't blame him, but he fights back. With tongues and teeth they battle, warring for retribution, for salvation, for dominance. Hands grip tightly in clothes, in hair, tugging, clutching, hanging on for dear life.
Sirius tastes blood, he's not sure whose and he doesn't care. There's something welling up inside of him, trying to break free, almost as if the dog he becomes is trying to howl, but whether in pain or glory he doesn't know. All he can do is cling tighter and let the kiss soften.
5.
Sirius is on fire, he's sure of it, but he couldn't care less. His blood, cold for so long, blazes through his veins like molten lava, he can feel it hammering through his skin, trying to break free, but his skin is alive, too, sparking, thrilling to every touch.
They shouldn't do this here, now, with three children and a cat staring in stunned silence, but he can feel Remus's pulse humming under his fingertips as he drags them down the other man's throat, caressing the smooth skin, feeling the shuddering tremors of response, and it's too good to stop.
And One Way Extra
Sirius knows a challenge when he see one – or feels one – and responds accordingly, kissing back, nipping lightly at Remus's bottom lip.
For a moment he fears he might have misread the situation, or that he won't remember what to do after so long, but then he feels the chuckle vibrate through Remus's chest and he knows he hasn't misread, and kissing, it seems, is like riding a broom, one never really forgets how.
It's going quite nicely, too, just like it always used to, Remus's tongue tangling playfully with his own, when the girl shrieks and ruins the mood.