A/N: It feels as though i haven't written Sirius/Remus for ages, so here we are. I'm not sure where this came from. More to the point, i'm not entirely sure what's going on here. Well, talk about projection, eh? For a moment let us pretend that Frued doesn't know anything. Title and headings from Recoil.
Warnings: Slash and a sort of unhinged Sirius. And severe overuse of the colour red.
Because here, they are all canine, animal, and Sirius wants to taste his own kind.
To Write My Secret Across Your Sky
one.
i want to watch you lose control
(i want to watch you lose)
Your skin is fair. You look so bright and delicate, you look like Paradise; but I want to peel away the layers and find what you are hiding beneath your quiet eyes. I want to see you split open and devoured by raging devils, burning mouths of sharp teeth and forked tongues; yet the devils are here, they are dancing behind your blooded smile and twisting me about their thin fingers, snapping me like the burned sticks of matches. There you sit and you look so natural, you look so human, but I can see the scarlet blush in the corner of your eyes and your pupils are wide pits of black and I know there is an animal crawling beneath your skin. I want to see you fall, kneecaps cracking on the stone floor; I want to see you ruined from the inside out as you succumb to what you really are. I want you to lose control; I want you to destroy yourself. I want you to destroy me.
two.
i want to be there when your hot black rage rips wide open
(i want to taste my own kind)
Your eyes are pretending to be blank but I watch the silver sickle of the waxing moon, her pale crescent swelling like pregnancy, and at the full it is like the birth of Beelzebub as fire rages through your veins and now I can see the hellfire in your eyes, because it is here in my own chest and the curve of my cupped palms and it is in the streak of crimson filling my mouth with the hot wet taste of life. I want to see scarlet flash in your eyes and the copper burst of rubies spill from your pale lips; I want to see the wolf tear your body, the frail skeleton of mortal boy, and rip shining claws through the flesh of those holding their flimsy masks of human close, those pretending they are not the primal malevolence the gods made them. Because here, we are all canine, animal, we are all animals with the scent of blood on the stinging wind and the fire of destruction itching in our bellies and cramping our cold fingers.
three.
i want your touches to scar me
(so i'll know where you've been)
Your hands are white, like the webs of frost that are caught spanning over the inside windowpane on pallid mornings, and I yearn for your touches to burn, to scorch my skin red and blistering with the harsh press of sweat on skin and the crease of damp bed sheets, with you hissing and praying and begging rough against my ear. I want your teeth to press hard, too hard, and scratches to bloom over my skin with the pinprick beads of red slowly oozing. I want my body to be destroyed as yours is ripped apart by the animal, wild and fervent, you try to tame; I want our broken shells to lie together in angled limbs and closed eyes, as the stiff chill of the dying grass grows coarse and swallows our empty bones, lying beneath an ink stain sky that flares brief red with the drowning sun and holds that cold orb that destroys you and me both.
four.
i want to stop destroying you
(but i can't)
Your mouth is pale, ashen in your white face, and your eyes are dying, cold like the fading leaves falling over the icy water of the lake; the hunger of animals is faint in your body and instead creeps in a weariness and you seem so tired. You seem so broken yet there is still the thrum of yearning, of rage and lust and fear, scratching down my limbs and burning about my ribcage and I want to see you spread across my white sheets or framed by black sky with red blushed in your cheeks and lips looking painted and I want your eyes to burn the colour of sin as we yield to ravenous desperation. I want our demons to consume us and keep us trapped in their heavy webs of black lace and I want you to be mine, yours and mine and ours; I want to fall into the cool darkness of our hearts and lie down in a dreamless sleep. And I want and I want and I want-
And I will always be hungry.
Peractio