unbeta-ed

"Does it hurt?"

Sirius laughed. "I hope that isn't a prelude to a pickup line."

Remus smacked his chest lightly. "No, silly." His finger traced the tattoo on Sirius's wrist. He swallowed. "I'm talking about this."

"I know you do." Sirius was silent for a while. "I'm not sure. I got it a long time ago. I was younger than my brother when he got his, and I became acquainted with pain much younger than that," he lied about knowing if it had hurt—you don't really forget once Dark Lord marks you—but he would spare Remus the time to hear it when they could be doing more productive things in the bed with their very limited time.

There was never a day that went by without Sirius wishing this was his life instead—the lazy mornings with Remus in his arms where Sirius would wake him with kisses and touches because he could and he wanted to. He would languidly taste Remus's scars on his chest, and they would be salty with sweat and Sirius loved it because it was Remus. It brought him satisfaction that he was the only one who could make Remus writhe in a particular way when Sirius's tongue was lapping on his nipples and nipping them. Remus's sounds always went straight to Sirius's cock; they never failed to make his manhood harder than with his own fists.

Sirius's liked it when he got down on Remus, worshipping every inch of him like he couldn't get enough. He really couldn't because this was Remus who was the owner of Sirius's heart that he himself never knew existed.

Sirius wondered often why Remus never felt filthy when he was so pure a being and here was Sirius tainting him. Sirius would always laugh at the thought; he was interested on how his family would react if they heard him feeling unworthy for a werewolf who was never even on their side.

Remus would push back on Sirius's thrusts, and here was when Sirius would be reminded that in the heated moment, they were nobody else but Sirius and Remus, joined in both body and soul, and was making love with each other with all they have to offer, no matter how little it seemed to others but themselves.

"I love you," Remus panted, smiling against the contortion of his features under immense pleasure. He reached out, brushing Sirius's soft locks out of his face as his eyes closed in release.

Sirius loved him even more for it.

"I love you too," Sirius murmured against Remus's lips that opened in a moan at a particular sharp pounding followed by Sirius emptying inside him with a growl.

Sirius didn't pull away—he loved it when he was filling Remus like this, possessiveness flaring like a delicious fire knowing Remus was his and he was carrying Sirius's seed.

He was probably sick, just as sick as his cousins and the entirety of his clan, whenever he thought he shouldn't stop fucking Remus unless Sirius was done abusing his entrance raw and he was finished breeding Remus like he was his bitch.

Instead, Sirius would run his thumb on Remus's cheek, caressing his skin gently because they might be rough at times, but they never went overboard, merely with insistency and desperation to cling to each other and making it last.

Sirius adjusted him further to the pillows, trying to make the position to be comfortable for Remus as much as possible.

Remus was staring up at him, but his eyes were far off, looking at a distance that was beyond them both. "I wish…" he trailed off.

Sirius knew what he was going to say anyway; urging Remus to finish his statement was useless, and would bring only unnecessary bitterness and regrets that they didn't need.

"Sleep," Sirius told him. "I'll be here when you wake."

Sirius didn't leave because it was the only promise he could keep.

I wish things were different. I wish I wasn't the Dark Lord's right-hand man. I wish there were never any sides to pick. I wish you were not my enemy. I wish I was never born Black. I wish we don't have a war looming over us. I wish I betrayed my blood long ago. I wish I've known you earlier. I wish I could build a life and family with you.

Remus, I wish I could grow old with you.

end