Title: A Night in December
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating:PG-13
Word Count: 441
Summary/Description:It is a cold starry night in December, and he has Sirius in his arms, cradled and treasured like a song.
Warning/Spoilers: Making out. Nothing else.
A/N: 31 days, February 20th: clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. Takes place in the pre-Azkaban years. Thanks to measuringlife for the idea. :3
Disclaimer:Harry Potter is not mine.
The moon is beautiful and cruel tonight.
The light of its sheer, sphere body puts the most ethereal glow in Sirius' hair, catching the pure white of the snowflakes that Remus hasn't yet brushed away. It is cold, but Sirius is warm; his hands make homes for themselves in Remus' coat, burrowing under his many layers to get to his skin, trace his pectorals, stutter along his ribs. It is very late at night, and the park is deserted, and this bench has become their little world, so Sirius' hands venture lower.
Remus kisses him like he is saying a prayer; carefully, reverently. He wraps his lips around Sirius', breathing his air and tasting it. It tastes like cigarette smoke and curry, tastes like things mundane and wonderful and it's beautiful because it comes from the cavern of Sirius' soft, sweet mouth. Remus grips him tighter, because he is never complete except when they are touching, point to point, perfectly structured like an equation that does not need to be solved. Remus runs his fingers through Sirius' hair, and the snow continues to fall around them.
The moon is mocking him, Remus knows, with its full bright body. This time tomorrow, he will know nothing but terrible pain, the agony of wanting to rip and tear and kill; to gouge the beast out of his body and eat his own heart. He will howl to his mistress the moon, and there will be nothing fencing him in except a scurrying rat, a fierce stag and a great shaggy black hound; any of whom he could kill easily if the wolf took their tumbling and tossing too far.
But he doesn't think about that now, because it is cold and he has Sirius in his arms, cradled and treasured like a song. They kiss deeper and harder, and Sirius' hands abandon the soft skin of Remus' belly to wrap around him, and Remus mirrors the action. Their noses press into each other's cheeks; the tip of Sirius' is bitingly cold. Remus hears 'I want you' in the soft sounds Sirius makes in the back of his throat, sees 'I need you' in the light of his eyes, feels 'I love you' in the twist of his tongue.
It is cold, so cold tonight, as the snow continues to fall and whiten Sirius' hair, but it does not matter, not when they are locked so tightly in each other's arms. The moon is high and beautiful and cruel tonight, but it does not matter, not when thousands of stars are out as well, shining and glimmering and dressing Sirius in their radiant beauty.
A/N: I always feel so pretentious when I write about winter and snow, seeing that I live in the Caribbean, and have never experienced anything lower than what, 17-18 degrees Celsius, for the most?
Anyway, your thoughts are appreciated. :D