Easy
Theme: Taste
Summary: MWPP era, in which Sirius contemplates his actions, for hindsight isn't blind.
Warning: Slash (obviously) and implied (very implied) sex.
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Sirius lay in his bed in deep contemplation, unsure what to make of his current situation. There was no denying that he adored this delightfully peaceful contentment but at the same time he couldn't deny that he was feeling a strange turmoil of emotions whilst listening to the slow, regular sound of Remus' breathing. Sirius thanked the stars outside that Remus had fallen asleep so quickly, because he feared that when he awoke, Remus would want to talk about what happened. Sirius was not a talker, but Remus, ever the rationalist and logical one of their odd pair, always wanted to talk about feelings and such things that Sirius had no knowledge in.
But then again, they hadn't talked about anything before this happened, so maybe talking wasn't needed at all. Sirius prayed that was the case, because he wasn't sure if he could handle Remus taking Sirius' behavior as rejection. He just didn't like to talk about things like this. And that was that.
Sirius shifted further down in the bed, and turned onto his side as if that would make sleep come faster. Oh, how he wanted to sleep. He'd give anything to have some kind of sleeping spell on hand, but his brain was quite possibly exploded beyond repair. It'd mushroomed in a massive explosion before fizzling down to a warm goo. His body felt incredibly tired, but something in his mind—or what was left of it—kept on twirling around sleepily. It wasn't anything he'd really consider negative, but it was enough to keep him awake. And that aggravated him, because it was a crime against humanity when Sirius Black stayed up into the wee hours of the morning.
'This should be scaring me shitless,' he realized silently as he stared at the ceiling high above him. Remus sighed in his sleep and curled up a bit closer to Sirius. 'But I'm not afraid… at all.'
Such a thought was baffling to Sirius. He'd just had sex with Remus, and there was a complete and total lack of any kind of regret, or shame, or fear inside him. No, instead, he felt this incredibly light feeling and almost liked the way his heart fluttered with the mere thought of Remus. It didn't feel weird in any way for Remus to be slumbering delicately next to him. Actually, it felt like he was meant to be there in Sirius' arms. And that, Sirius decided, was what made this entire situation so dangerous. It wasn't supposed to be so easy. Was it?
Remus recalled the night before—which felt like centuries ago. It felt like a dream, and Sirius never wanted to wake up from it. But, they shouldn't have simply started kissing each other like they had last night. Nothing that should have happened actually happened. There hadn't been any deeply meaningful looks. There hadn't been any stuttering and hesitantly planned confessions to one another, dripping with fear over whether or not the other person recuperated that affection. There hadn't been any awkward discussions about how such a sexual preference had come about. There hadn't been any fears of the werewolf sleeping inside Remus. There'd been nothing like that.
All that had happened, as best as Sirius could remember, was that they had put their parchments and quills aside for the night, then glanced at one another in order to say goodnight. It'd been like a blur—and Sirius and Remus seemed to lean into one another at the same time, as if kissing one of your best mates was a regular occurance after studying History of Magic. Everything that followed such a bold move flowered like they'd done it thousands of times before.
The tender, sleepy, happy feeling deepened as Sirius lazily recalled the night's events. His heart fluttered to life in his chest and he felt as if he were flying. If not for Remus' weight on his chest, Sirius was fairly certain that he would be soaring with the owls outside. It all felt so familiar and wonderful that it was hard to remember specific details. At some point, their passionate kisses had turned into soft touches breezing over skin, and then he could hear Remus' gentle teasings and his own affectionately witty replies as they fumbled with getting their clothing out of the way. Then all conversant behavior seemed to fly out the window and their words melted away into tiny pleas and sighs. It'd just seemed the right and logical thing to do at the time. Sirius still felt it'd been the logical thing to do, really. But he was a teenaged boy ruled by his hormones.
Yet, things had gotten a bit awkward at that point, but that was only because of inexperience. Remus had been hesitant and unsure. Sirius had been self-conscious and complaisant. They'd learned together. They'd drifted together as if two puzzle pieces finally fitting perfectly. Once they figured out what felt right, their insecurities simply vanished into thin air.
Sirius felt a pang of regret. Despite it all, his first time with Remus should have been memorable, with every single brush of fingers against wanton skin, every shiver of passionate delight, and every moan and plea seared into his brain forever. But he feared that his brain had exploded after their first kiss and he was left a crumbling, hormonal sack of flesh. But Sirius wasn't the romantic type, and holding on to every single memory of the night before seemed so farfetched and implausible that he couldn't help but release the tiniest of throaty chuckles.
He arched his back again, stretching his arms out before wrapping one powerful arm protectively around Remus' frail, lanky frame. The said werewolf smiled in his sleep and drifted closer to Sirius.
'But romance is overrated,' Sirius decided and licked his lips. He could taste Moony in his mouth and on his lips. He could taste the boy on his teeth. On his tongue. Everything was of Remus and he delighted in such a feeling. It tasted so wonderful—so perfect. This was what he'd always wanted, and he silently kicked himself for never truly realizing it himself until now. 'I have Moony, and that's all that matters.'
He stared down at the slumbering werewolf and tightened his hold on the boy, running his fingertips up and down one of his scarred arms. His eyes softened and he smiled tenderly before pulling the covers up closer to the boy and touching his lips to Remus'.
He could taste Remus there and the smallest tang of himself. Oh yes, he had no regrets. He'd never have regrets.
And if and when Remus woke up, he'd be prepared to talk his heart out. He didn't care. As long as, at the end of the day, Remus was there tasting him and smiling at him, then everything was as it should be.
Perhaps, in the end, things really were that easy.