Sunday Morning
Remus lies in bed, midway between wakefulness and sleep. The soft feel of the white cotton against his skin is cool and enjoyable in the warmth of the summer sun. The sheets cover his head and his eyes are closed, but the bright rays of dawn still bathe his face and body and he sees the glowing redness of his eyelids. Somewhere, a window is open and he feels the slightest trace of a breeze, refreshing and gently tickling the soles of his feet, which are slightly uncovered.
As he lies on his back, enjoying the numerous sensations caressing his body, he feels something new, a smooth, gentle touch of skin against skin, and he knows he's not alone under the bed covers. Soft, delicate lips brush against his chest and he sighs contentedly, his chest rising and falling very slightly, causing the sheet to stroke his skin.
Fingertips ghost across his cheek and the lips on his chest graze his nipple and he feels hot breath from a warm mouth. There is movement - the gentle friction of skin against skin - and the lips meet his own supple, open lips in a tender kiss. The merest flicker of a hot, wet tongue and the lips are gone.
Remus is fully awake now and the illusion has vanished, logical thought cruelly banishing his fantasies from his mind. Sirius is dead and he is alone.
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This started as my attempt to write something sweet and happy and came from me imagining the nicest way to be woken up, but I guess I'm too much of a realist because I decided it was too perfect and had to twist it to be sad.
Reviews always welcome. Flames keep my feet toasty warm, so feel free.