DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. j k rowling owns everything.

The grunts, the moans, the giggles, the hormones. They swam over him, over them both. They mingled with each other, toes pointed down, and noses lifted up. He grunted, and heard Remus echo him. They moved together but their rythyms were unmatched. Unequal. It just added to the effect.

Arch back, grind down, offer more of yourself. Pull hair, squeeze thigh, knead muscle. Electric.

Bone meets fingertip as my left hand travels south from his sweaty head. Pause. Hesitation. Continue. I can feel his arse now, bony and yet it feels like muscle.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how it felt. No. Remus was skinny, sure, they both were, but normally muscle covered bones, and defined limbs and abdomen.

Remus seemed to be fading.

He wanted to stop it. It felt wrong now, because he knew something was not right with Remus. But Sirius could hear Remus' guttural moans and knew he couldn't deny him.

And maybe it was nothing?

And so, nails sunk into Remus' inadequately fleshy thigh, they came together in a violent jutting of hipbones and curling of feet.

Sirius lay comfortably on top of Remus. But he wasn't comfortable. It wasn't right. It shouldn't feel like this. He could feel their ribs pressing together, and it was painful; his own were bending inwards due to the angle of Remus'.

And as he thought about it, and traced his rough fingers over Remus' jaw and lips and cheeks and eyes, he noticed that his cheeks felt more sunken, the cheekbones more pronounced.

He opened his eyes and rested his chin on Remus' bony chest. He examined his face. The worn-out expression was no surprise after their session, but the utter exhaustion spread across that faintly lined, sleeping face was unfathomable. That was not from sex. Sirius still felt as if he could run a marathon; well, as much of a marathon as he could have run before the sex.

Eyes. Bags, paper, recycled, new, old, familiar and yet they haunted him now. Was it the lighting or did they seem darker?

Remus was dreaming, his dark eyelashes quivered in evidence of that. But what was running across his mind, playing in his thoughts. What was Remus Lupin thinking?

His collarbones were jutting out and the ribs in his chest were more visible than Sirius ever remembered them being. The tattoo from his registration looked as though it had stretched in its place over his sternum, as if there wasn't enough there to flesh it out. And he felt the uncomfortable pressure of his own ribs against Remus'; his hip bones and knobbly knees.

Sirius shifted his legs so a knee parted Remus' thighs. He played with Remus' feet, hooking their ankles together and rubbing his feet against Remus' legs. His fingers rubbed Remus' shoulders and chest. And then he pulled himself up on elbows either side of Remus' stark waist, letting the white sheet fall to the base of his spine, stretched himself impossibly forward and grazed his lips and teeth roughly against Remus' smooth, pink lips, inciting a small sound from the sleeping one.

As he stirred, Remus lifted his head quickly and they bumped heads blindingly. Sirius didn't mind, Remus was looking at him, eyes gluey from the remnants of his nap.

He had his full attention.

Sirius looked in those eyes, stormy instead of gleaming with pleasure, dull instead of bright with love, hooded instead of open to him. He spoke up.

'Remus, I know you're skinny but this isn't like you. Where have you gone? Where have you disappeared?' and as he saw the blank stare close off Remus' eyes, he repressed a sigh. 'What are doing to yourself?'

He sounded angrier now, but his voice was weakened with worry, breaking in places and ruining any effect of demand in his tone. His hands clutched desperately at the hair shrouding the back of Remus' neck.

Remus felt ill. He felt that natural high dripping off him into the mussed sheets. He felt that familiar, customary low seeping into his flesh, pricking his skin and dousing him in a cold that felt unnatural, and made his stomach lurch uncomfortably.

His neck was stiff now.

His back ached.

His lips were sore and bruised.

His mind was closed.

He felt nothing.

'I'm not trying to be selfish and make this about me, but Remus if I have done something, said anything to upset you, please tell me. And if not just tell me what it is, so I can tell you it'll be okay. I can't tell you that unless you speak to me; which you never do anymore. You never talk to me, not really, you don't eat and you never sleep.'

Pause.

Thankful.

Oh, wait, there's more.

'In fact, that isn't true, is it? You sleep after sex. You sleep after having sex with me; after I fuck you, or you fuck me, or we rut like fucking animals. You sleep then.

'Shit. That's why you have been wanting it more and more. Sex. Me. You wanted some sleep.

'Look at you, Remus, you look like shit. You need to fuck someone just to get some kip. And I don't know why the fuck you do. I don't have a fucking clue what is going on in your head. You shut me out. Always have, to be honest.

'Remus for fuck's sake, look at me you absolute arse! I fucking love you and you won't even give me the courtesy of your attention!'

Remus had finally closed his eyes; pressed them together painfully tight and had tilted his head as far back as it would go, exposing his neck and shielding his face from Sirius.

He remained stock still, as did Remus, until Sirius felt that shivering which told him that Remus was suppressing something awful, not letting him in. Not letting go.

AUTHOR: please let me know if this something i ought to continue or do i give up now?