Title: The Thought of Leaving You
Author: Glimmer Girl
Archive: my page, anywhere else, sure, just send me an email to tell me!
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Category: Angst; POV (Sirius)
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash!
Spoilers: A few tiny ones for PoA (maybe).
Feedback: Sure, on- or off-list! :)
Disclaimer: Everything that looks like it belongs to JKR, does.
Summary: Trust, even in those closest to you, is hard to hold onto during
times of darkness. (bad summary, I know)
THE THOUGHT OF LEAVING YOU
Lovers sleep together. Back pressed to chest, chin resting on shoulder, legs brushing together under the tangle of sheets and blankets - that's how lovers sleep.
We hardly ever sleep together anymore. Either I stretch out on the couch down here and sleep for a few hours or I creep upstairs after you've fallen asleep and lay awake until dawn. 'Sleeping' and 'being together' no longer happen at the same time for us. We might as well be apart.
Tonight, I'll go up to our bed and watch you sleep. The stinging in my eyes and throat tells me that I need rest, but I don't think I could bear to see that look in your eyes again. You walked downstairs this morning, hair all a mess, wearing that old nightshirt. It's practically see-through, has holes in the elbows and doesn't keep you warm. I don't have a clue why you sleep in it. Fuck, I love when you sleep in it. When I saw you walk toward me, a hand running through your hair as that tattered sleeve fell to your elbow, I was the one who felt guilty.
"You slept down here, Sirius?" One hand still clutching the banister, you stopped and stared at me.
What the hell was I supposed to say? I was sprawled out on the couch, fully clothed, in need of a shave, with a killer backache and a hollow heart. Should I have told you no, that I came up to bed after you fell asleep and left before you woke up? What would be the point, you could always smell a lie faster than I could tell one. Or should I have told you the truth? That I can't tell who my friends are anymore and sometimes I feel like that includes you? I kept quiet.
"Doing an awful lot of that lately, aren't you?" You don't even get mad. I wish you'd thrown some piece of crockery or that ugly magical alarm clock at me. Or stormed off upstairs. You just passed by the couch, dropped a smile as you passed me and I closed my eyes.
You just walked by me and I closed my eyes. I had to after I saw that sad, confused look in your pale eyes. Those aren't the eyes of a traitor, damnit. They haven't looked in your eyes. If they did, they would be haunted by that vision, as I am haunted by their words.
*You can't trust a wolf. He'll bite, even those closest to him, he does not care.*
We don't usually talk much over breakfast. I like to watch you make tea without using magic: put the kettle on, measure out the tea leaves, bring the steaming pot to the table. I think I burnt the toast the first time I saw you leaning over the teapot, steam twisting before your lips and eyelashes. Today the silence was unsettling. You spilt tea leaves all over the counter and waved your wand as your mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace. We had breakfast in five minutes, perfectly browned toast and complete silence. I hated every crumb of it.
I haven't heard you laugh in weeks. There's no laughs left; maybe we laughed them all. It's all my fault. I bet I exude guilt and suspicion and god knows you can smell it on me. It really isn't fair sometimes, Moony, that you have such heightened senses.
I wish I could bury my face in your neck, your groin, and breathe you -- sharp, masculine, wolf. And for those dizzying moments, your scent in my nose and taste in my mouth, I would be firmly convinced of your innocence. I would smell no guilt with your cock hard and hot inside my mouth and my face pressed into the rough hair below your stomach. No guilt, just lust and love and you, Remus, you.
I would shove you, aroused and naked, out the front door. Running one hand over your chest, I would let you hold my hand in yours. So beautiful, you look so beautiful with that just fucked look all over your face. We would stand there, hot and sticky, my cock pushed up against your ass. I'd shout and dare everyone to look at you and see that there is no mark on your body, none save the ones I'd give you. No mark of darkness on your body. You'd stand tall, proud and elegant. And innocent. Everyone would believe you were innocent. I would believe it. I'd make myself believe it.
Lovers do not betray each other. If you should go to Azkaban, I will go with you. If someone should point a wand at you and shout *Avada Kedavra*, I will take my wand in hand and murmur a suicide curse. But if my fears should come true and you are indeed a spy for Lord Voldemort, I will hand you over to the dementors. The thought of leaving you weighs heavy on my mind. If I could just leave, I wouldn't have to hand you over. How long can I delay?
When night falls, I return to our bed. I haven't spoken to you since breakfast, if that series of half formed sentences and embarrassed grunts counts as conversation. It feels like we've run out of things to say. When I walk into the bedroom and see you lying there, covered in dripping moonlight, the last thing I want to do is talk to you. I drop my robes to the floor, heading toward the bed. The sheets are warm from your body heat as I slide between them. You turn to me, pale eyes glittering
"You came back." Hoarse and broken, you sound like you don't believe it.
"Yeah." Too much time, not enough time; too many words, nothing to say.
*Don't trust him, the werewolf.*
The thought rattles in my mind and clanks down my throat, until I swallow and feel my stomach clench around it. What is it about you that makes me suspect you, Remus? You, lying next to me, your sad eyes staring past me, your strong hands twisting that wretched nightshirt to shreds.
"Sirius, what's wrong?" You finally look at me, but I close my eyes again. I can't stand it.
"Nothing." Right, good answer. Nothing, just a little mistrust, it'll pass.
"Is it James and Lily?" You prop yourself up on one elbow and look down on me as I open my eyes at that question.
"No. They're safe." Oh, I made sure of that. James and Lily are safe; I no longer keep their secrets.
More silence. More time stretches between us. I can feel it tapping on my forehead, more empty time. I'm just about ready to leave again when your hair falls over your shoulder and brushes against my cheek. With one finger, you brush the lock of hair off my face. You lean forward. I can feel your breath against my face, your finger tracing my jawbone, your hair tickling my skin again. My stomach unclenches; the feeling that was trapped there rises and threatens to come out as a sob. Distrust is such a horrible, sickening feeling. In this moment, however, all I want to believe is that you are my lover and that nothing else matters. I pull your body close to mine and inhale. You smell like the bed does after we wake up.
Such a long time has passed since we've been lovers. You could always make me forget my problems here in bed. Make me forget this one, Remus?
I reach my hand up under your nightshirt and push it off your body. Your chest is warm and smooth as I press my lips to it. Desperate to lose myself in feeling, I grab your hand and lead it to my groin. Oh, it feels so good to have your touch on my skin again. The way your body moves with mine, the way you kiss me as you bring me to hardness. Quickly, almost harshly, we make love, as if we are trying to reach for something that is just out of our reach, something that could make everything all right between the two of us again. So close to orgasm, I beg you to come inside of me, slam inside me, push yourself as far as you can inside my body. The pain is so precious, I don't care how much it hurts, because I trust you, I trust you so much, Remus, I trust my lover. Trust you as you come hard and fast inside me and I bite my lip until it bleeds. Trust you as you roughly jerk my erection and make me spill sticky white semen all over the sheets and your nightshirt. Oh, god, I just want to be able to trust you again.
*Lovers sleep together.*
Yes, lovers sleep together, I muse as you drowsily pull my arm over your hip and rest your back against my chest. Maybe it'll be for a few hours, maybe only a few minutes, but we'll sleep together for a while tonight.
~finis~
Author: Glimmer Girl
Archive: my page, anywhere else, sure, just send me an email to tell me!
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black
Category: Angst; POV (Sirius)
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash!
Spoilers: A few tiny ones for PoA (maybe).
Feedback: Sure, on- or off-list! :)
Disclaimer: Everything that looks like it belongs to JKR, does.
Summary: Trust, even in those closest to you, is hard to hold onto during
times of darkness. (bad summary, I know)
THE THOUGHT OF LEAVING YOU
Lovers sleep together. Back pressed to chest, chin resting on shoulder, legs brushing together under the tangle of sheets and blankets - that's how lovers sleep.
We hardly ever sleep together anymore. Either I stretch out on the couch down here and sleep for a few hours or I creep upstairs after you've fallen asleep and lay awake until dawn. 'Sleeping' and 'being together' no longer happen at the same time for us. We might as well be apart.
Tonight, I'll go up to our bed and watch you sleep. The stinging in my eyes and throat tells me that I need rest, but I don't think I could bear to see that look in your eyes again. You walked downstairs this morning, hair all a mess, wearing that old nightshirt. It's practically see-through, has holes in the elbows and doesn't keep you warm. I don't have a clue why you sleep in it. Fuck, I love when you sleep in it. When I saw you walk toward me, a hand running through your hair as that tattered sleeve fell to your elbow, I was the one who felt guilty.
"You slept down here, Sirius?" One hand still clutching the banister, you stopped and stared at me.
What the hell was I supposed to say? I was sprawled out on the couch, fully clothed, in need of a shave, with a killer backache and a hollow heart. Should I have told you no, that I came up to bed after you fell asleep and left before you woke up? What would be the point, you could always smell a lie faster than I could tell one. Or should I have told you the truth? That I can't tell who my friends are anymore and sometimes I feel like that includes you? I kept quiet.
"Doing an awful lot of that lately, aren't you?" You don't even get mad. I wish you'd thrown some piece of crockery or that ugly magical alarm clock at me. Or stormed off upstairs. You just passed by the couch, dropped a smile as you passed me and I closed my eyes.
You just walked by me and I closed my eyes. I had to after I saw that sad, confused look in your pale eyes. Those aren't the eyes of a traitor, damnit. They haven't looked in your eyes. If they did, they would be haunted by that vision, as I am haunted by their words.
*You can't trust a wolf. He'll bite, even those closest to him, he does not care.*
We don't usually talk much over breakfast. I like to watch you make tea without using magic: put the kettle on, measure out the tea leaves, bring the steaming pot to the table. I think I burnt the toast the first time I saw you leaning over the teapot, steam twisting before your lips and eyelashes. Today the silence was unsettling. You spilt tea leaves all over the counter and waved your wand as your mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace. We had breakfast in five minutes, perfectly browned toast and complete silence. I hated every crumb of it.
I haven't heard you laugh in weeks. There's no laughs left; maybe we laughed them all. It's all my fault. I bet I exude guilt and suspicion and god knows you can smell it on me. It really isn't fair sometimes, Moony, that you have such heightened senses.
I wish I could bury my face in your neck, your groin, and breathe you -- sharp, masculine, wolf. And for those dizzying moments, your scent in my nose and taste in my mouth, I would be firmly convinced of your innocence. I would smell no guilt with your cock hard and hot inside my mouth and my face pressed into the rough hair below your stomach. No guilt, just lust and love and you, Remus, you.
I would shove you, aroused and naked, out the front door. Running one hand over your chest, I would let you hold my hand in yours. So beautiful, you look so beautiful with that just fucked look all over your face. We would stand there, hot and sticky, my cock pushed up against your ass. I'd shout and dare everyone to look at you and see that there is no mark on your body, none save the ones I'd give you. No mark of darkness on your body. You'd stand tall, proud and elegant. And innocent. Everyone would believe you were innocent. I would believe it. I'd make myself believe it.
Lovers do not betray each other. If you should go to Azkaban, I will go with you. If someone should point a wand at you and shout *Avada Kedavra*, I will take my wand in hand and murmur a suicide curse. But if my fears should come true and you are indeed a spy for Lord Voldemort, I will hand you over to the dementors. The thought of leaving you weighs heavy on my mind. If I could just leave, I wouldn't have to hand you over. How long can I delay?
When night falls, I return to our bed. I haven't spoken to you since breakfast, if that series of half formed sentences and embarrassed grunts counts as conversation. It feels like we've run out of things to say. When I walk into the bedroom and see you lying there, covered in dripping moonlight, the last thing I want to do is talk to you. I drop my robes to the floor, heading toward the bed. The sheets are warm from your body heat as I slide between them. You turn to me, pale eyes glittering
"You came back." Hoarse and broken, you sound like you don't believe it.
"Yeah." Too much time, not enough time; too many words, nothing to say.
*Don't trust him, the werewolf.*
The thought rattles in my mind and clanks down my throat, until I swallow and feel my stomach clench around it. What is it about you that makes me suspect you, Remus? You, lying next to me, your sad eyes staring past me, your strong hands twisting that wretched nightshirt to shreds.
"Sirius, what's wrong?" You finally look at me, but I close my eyes again. I can't stand it.
"Nothing." Right, good answer. Nothing, just a little mistrust, it'll pass.
"Is it James and Lily?" You prop yourself up on one elbow and look down on me as I open my eyes at that question.
"No. They're safe." Oh, I made sure of that. James and Lily are safe; I no longer keep their secrets.
More silence. More time stretches between us. I can feel it tapping on my forehead, more empty time. I'm just about ready to leave again when your hair falls over your shoulder and brushes against my cheek. With one finger, you brush the lock of hair off my face. You lean forward. I can feel your breath against my face, your finger tracing my jawbone, your hair tickling my skin again. My stomach unclenches; the feeling that was trapped there rises and threatens to come out as a sob. Distrust is such a horrible, sickening feeling. In this moment, however, all I want to believe is that you are my lover and that nothing else matters. I pull your body close to mine and inhale. You smell like the bed does after we wake up.
Such a long time has passed since we've been lovers. You could always make me forget my problems here in bed. Make me forget this one, Remus?
I reach my hand up under your nightshirt and push it off your body. Your chest is warm and smooth as I press my lips to it. Desperate to lose myself in feeling, I grab your hand and lead it to my groin. Oh, it feels so good to have your touch on my skin again. The way your body moves with mine, the way you kiss me as you bring me to hardness. Quickly, almost harshly, we make love, as if we are trying to reach for something that is just out of our reach, something that could make everything all right between the two of us again. So close to orgasm, I beg you to come inside of me, slam inside me, push yourself as far as you can inside my body. The pain is so precious, I don't care how much it hurts, because I trust you, I trust you so much, Remus, I trust my lover. Trust you as you come hard and fast inside me and I bite my lip until it bleeds. Trust you as you roughly jerk my erection and make me spill sticky white semen all over the sheets and your nightshirt. Oh, god, I just want to be able to trust you again.
*Lovers sleep together.*
Yes, lovers sleep together, I muse as you drowsily pull my arm over your hip and rest your back against my chest. Maybe it'll be for a few hours, maybe only a few minutes, but we'll sleep together for a while tonight.
~finis~