A/N: Written in honour of the wonderful English weather we're having. The rating reflects the fact that, although this is only quite a mild M, I have it on good authority that it pushes the T barrier a little too far. Opinions on this would be most welcome :)
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of the marvellous J. K. Rowling.
(Twelve Years of) Abstinence Make the Heart Grow Fonder
It was July and the sky above London was the flat, mid-blue of an English summer. For the first time in months, the clouds had melted away and a light breeze swayed shadows on the wooden floor of Grimmauld Place's ostentatious sitting room. Remus, stretched lazily out on a grand sofa put down his book, the pages flapping as the wind skim read chapters. Arthur's proudly mown lawn was dappled in shadows, a patchwork of pools of light.
Padfoot's collar jingled as he trotted through the garden, his fur glistening and stopped to whine at the children over the high wall, who were giggling, lost to skipping games.
"Lucy and Jamie sittin' in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage…"
"Then comes a baby in a baby's carriage," Remus murmured to himself, as the girls started to laugh. Caught somewhere in the eaves of the high ceiling, a fly droned.
There was a swish and the double bump of a car flying down the road and slowing for a sleeping policeman.
He let his hand drop over the edge of the sofa, fingers brushing the floor. Down the street, a car alarm was blaring insistently, interrupting the birds twittering in the trees above the garden.
One of them began to trill, and Remus watched Padfoot pant over to investigate, his jaw hanging open, white canines proudly displayed. The French windows were open, and Remus sighed as the breeze washed over him. It was comfortably hot, warm enough for ice cream and sitting on the patio, cool enough that his cardigan didn't feel tiresome.
Abruptly, the blaring alarm stopped and was replaced by the subsonic purr of an aeroplane, high in the empty sky over the estate.
Padfoot sneezed at it, his tail curling high over his back, fur glowing in the sunshine. He trotted contentedly around for a while before pouncing on something in the grass, the old tennis ball Fred and George had been gleefully teasing him with that morning, and padded purposefully down the garden with it before stopping to make his mark on the bench. Remus' lined eyes followed him absently as he wondered aimlessly across the lawn until he chanced upon a large stick, and the crunch of splintering wood between strong jaws punctuated the gentle calm of the garden.
Remus smiled, and thanked Merlin for McGonagall and her inspirational leap from table to floor, from cat to woman, in their first year that had sent James and Sirius spiralling into a world of possibility, waxing lyrical about the prospect of themselves, the all conquering Marauders achieving such a state, about the pranks that could be played, and then later, the reality of their animal forms. Sirius might lament his inability to pop down the shops to swipe a bottle of milk when they were out, but at least the park would always be a welcome escape, a boundless expanse to be explored, sniffed at, and claimed as his own.
"Earth to Moons. Houston, we have serious communications problem up here," Sirius chuckled, and Remus started, and then stretched the full length of the sofa like a cat in the sun.
"Hello," he murmured sleepily. His breath felt comfortably heavy as it swished through his slightly parted lips. Sirius smiled at him, and then nudged his knee against Remus' legs.
"Budge up, Rem."
Remus growled softly at being forced to relinquish the rather grand sofa he had formally held full ownership of. Sirius grinned, and dropped himself down against the familiar angles of Remus' body, his thigh fitting neatly between Remus' legs.
"You shouldn't transform like that," Remus said quietly, reaching up to trace the curve of Sirius' cheek with his comfortably numb fingers. "Anyone could be watching."
"On a day like today?" Sirius kissed him softly. He tasted of grass and mouldering twigs and the old green nylon of the tennis ball. Of Padfoot. "Don't be saft. Everyone'll be away in cloud cuckoo land like you. What were you dreaming about, Moons?"
"You," Remus murmured, moaning faintly as Sirius tongue parted his lips. "What else?"
Sirius chuckled quietly. "I don't know. You could have been fantasising about Shacklebolt."
They snorted simultaneously and a grin spread slowly across Remus' worn face and lit up his eyes, erasing crow's feet and scars as it travelled.
"Gods, I'd forgotten how beautiful you are," Sirius smiled, brushing a hand through Remus' thinning hair. "What's that daft Muggle saying you keep repeating?"
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Yes, that." Sirius traced the pad of his thumb over Remus' lips. "They might be wrong about almost everything, Muggles, but they were bloody right about that."
He went to kiss him again, but Remus placed a finger over his lips, and smiled, taking a moment to drink in the love that radiated from the unfathomable depths of Sirius' Northumbrian sea grey eyes. His skin had regained a little of its youthful elasticity; gone was the mortuary slab, death mask pallor - "Not in fashion, anymore, Moony darling" – and the boy who had plummeted thirty foot off the end of a hormonal staircase during an energetic game of kiss chase (he had been pursued by Peter – everyone had agreed it had been an appropriate course of action) and had landed at the bottom without a scratch and laughing, was making a fighting comeback. Remus reached up, and twisted a hand into Sirius' shorn locks.
"You should gel it back," he murmured, absently tugging on the unfamiliar bristles at the nape of Sirius' neck. He looked better, with shorter hair, Remus mused, but it jarred with his rose tinted memories of the boy with the impenetrable, swept back mane.
"I used to. And then I stopped when you kept ruining it," Sirius growled. "I was bloody lucky if I got out the front door before you mussed it."
"I used to hate you for having hair like that."
"Bollocks," Sirius grinned and pushed Remus' battered cardigan from his shoulders as their lips traversed millimetres of breeze stirred open air. "How could you hate me," he continued, as he began unbuttoning Remus' shirt, winding kisses over every inch of exposed skin.
"When I'm aroused by you simply stepping into a room?" Remus, mindful of the open French windows, regretfully placed a hand on Sirius' forearm as he reached to relieve him of his shirt. "Gods knows." He kissed him again, their lips parting with a soft pop. "Then again, it can make Order meetings remarkably uncomfortable, and after what we did on the kitchen table, virtually impossible, especially when you," he pulled back and looked at Sirius who was panting slightly, his lips red and enticingly parted, the twin lights of lust and love seamlessly entwined in his eyes, "Look at me like that. Just like that."
"And all I want to do," Sirius murmured, warming to the thread.
"Is have you there and then," Remus heard Sirius' breath catch, "In front of them all, and in my head," his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "I do."
"Shit," Sirius groaned, as he pushed Remus' shirt from his shoulders, and pressed his fingers into deltoid muscles that taunted beneath Remus' scarred skin. "It was bloody hard enough to concentrate in Order meetings as it was without knowing that," he drank in Remus' moan as his free hand slipped below his waistband. "You're mind fucking me in front of Albus Dumbledore."
"Don't bloody look at me then," Remus mumbled, "Or sit next to Moody because you know he-" He gasped, burying his head into the curve of Sirius' shoulder and groaning against the soft skin of his neck. "You know he knows and that – that should be enough of a deterrent."
Remus bit down hard on Sirius' collarbone as his fingers bore down on his tip and Sirius swore, arching his head back. "Bloody hell," he groaned. "Don't tell me Moody plays some sick role in this fantasy of yours, Rem, because that," he winced as Remus' tongue probed at the mark he had made, "Is just a bit disturbing."
"If I were to assure you he did, would it help you concentrate on the Items for Discussion?"
Sirius paused, felt Remus' warm breath as the werewolf panted against his shoulder, considered the hard length of Remus' cock that his hand was currently wrapped around and laughed softly. "No," he smiled, as he lifted Remus' head from his shoulder and kissed him deeply. "No, I very much doubt it would."
"Gods," Remus groaned. "When did we fall this low?"
"Well," Sirius removed his hand from Remus' trousers, eliciting a whimper of protest, "I think you binding me to the bedposts with our ties in 6th year and sucking me off knowing full well James could wander in from his shower at any moment was a significant turning point."
"Fuck," Remus panted, "What are you – dammit Pads – would you just-"
Sirius silenced him with a kiss which only served to make Remus' ache more acute. "Remus John Lupin, where on earth is your sense of decorum? At the very least," he murmured, nuzzling Remus' jaw, "You should be reminding me close to the curtains. Anyone could be watching, and as I'm sure you're well aware, human transfiguration is nothing next to what I'm about to do to you."