DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these HP characters or settings. Nor do I own the song referenced in the notes.
A/N: This story was initially posted as two separate-but-related fics – Those Three Words (rated M; the prequel) and I'll Prove It (rated T; the main story) – but has now been updated and set into two chapters and Those Three Words has been deleted.
Sirius Black was a very tactile person.
Deprived of love as a child, he made up for it later in life: in his teenage years and adulthood. He was very affectionate with friends and lovers alike, but he always treated them differently.
With friends, he hugged and kissed and generally invaded personal space. You could not see him with his friends without seeing him touching at least one of them: a hand on their leg; a shoulder against their shoulder; fingers running over their arm or hand. His friends understood and never complained about his lack of boundaries. They accepted him and his constant touches and his need to be touched in return. With friends, he accepted what they could give.
With lovers, he was still affectionate. He still kissed and hugged and invaded personal space, but where it was platonic and comforting with friends, it was measured and necessary with lovers. He kissed with everything he had and he relished the feeling of someone else's hands on his body. He worshipped those he was with and he made sure to remember every detail. With lovers, he demanded more.
With friends, touching was second nature: absent and accidental.
With lovers, touching was calculated: conscious and purposeful.
Remus Lupin was both a friend and a lover which meant that touching him was a delightful mixture of familiar and essential. And being touched by Remus... well, that was something else altogether. Remus was always careful, always controlled, always so sure of himself, and he always held Sirius with awareness, like he knew what Sirius demanded and how to give it to him.
They had barely made it through the front door before Sirius was pushing his best friend up against the wall and snogging him thoroughly, hands and lips moving with intent, desperate to show how much he wanted – needed – the other man.
Remus responded immediately, one hand shoved into Sirius's hair, the other fumbling to remove their coats. Sirius moved his mouth and quickly began his assault on the other man's neck, sucking and biting and feeling the werewolf's erratic pulse jump beneath his lips. Remus's reaction was instantaneous: his head fell back, hitting the wall with a soft thud, exposing more of his throat and granting better access to the demanding lips there.
"Fucker," he growled; a low, feral sound that went straight to Sirius's groin.
Sirius resisted a grin and attacked the other man's pulse with a renewed fervor. Remus's hand, having successfully removed their coats, moved up to cup Sirius's jaw, encouraging the assault on his neck. Sirius was encouraged, to say the least, and his teeth grazed over the soft skin lightly before he bit down harshly.
"Fuck," Remus grunted, strong fingers tightening in Sirius's hair slightly.
Sirius laughed, proud of his ability to turn his stoic friend into a series of swearwords and growls. He flicked his tongue over the mark in apology and began pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses to the skin again. The fingers in his hair persuaded him to pull back and he opened his eyes to find Remus staring at him. They watched each other for a moment, shaded grey on darkened hazel, before Remus leaned in and placed an almost chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, his mission-grown stubble scratching Sirius's lips in the most delightful way. Sirius barely had a chance to respond before the werewolf suggested:
"Bedroom?"
The word was spoken softly against his lips but it managed to send a jolt of electricity through him – whether it was the word itself or the meaning behind it, he didn't know.
"That seems a bit far away," he muttered. "Why not just shag here?"
Remus grinned and replied, "We could, but I think your knees would hurt. Hardwood flooring and all."
"My knees?" Sirius laughed. "I'm not the one whose joints crack whenever he stands up from the sofa."
"Fair point," Remus conceded. "Then let's head to the bedroom for my benefit, yeah?"
Sirius sighed dramatically but the look in his friend's eyes (a combination of undeniable want, definite interest, overwhelming fondness, and something else) made him feel a little weak at the knees and he yielded, his hands gripping the lapels of Remus's suit tightly.
"Fine," he replied. "But only because I feel sorry for you and your old bones."
Remus snorted and mumbled, "Sure."
Sirius pretended that his friend's roguish smile was not the cause of the pixies going wild in his chest and allowed himself to be guided toward his bedroom. He leaned forward and dragged the werewolf into another bruising kiss. Remus responded eagerly and their lip-lock grew heavy as they made their way down the hallway, suit jackets being pushed off hastily and smart shoes being kicked away carelessly along the way.
They quickly made it to the bedroom, but Sirius paused at the door, taking the opportunity to run his hands over and reacquaint himself with the other man's body. It had been three, nearly four weeks, since they had spent the night together and he had missed it. But he was taking a moment to appreciate the other man, not because he had missed him, but because the events of the past twelve hours had gotten him thinking.
He and Remus had attended a funeral earlier that day: Diana Rosenfield, an Order member who had been killed in battle no more than a fortnight ago. He hadn't known her very well, but he knew that she was a strong fighter and knowing that the so-called 'Death Eaters' had gotten her despite that had shaken him.
It was sitting in The Hippogriff's Neck, surrounded by mourning Order members and friends, that had made the fallen heir realise just how much the War was taking from them. He had suddenly realised the depth of their fight and he knew that no one was safe. That epiphany was enough to send him stumbling out of the pub and into a cold alleyway nearby, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing erratic, and his palms sweating profusely. He had managed to mostly pull himself together by the time Remus appeared a few minutes later:
"Padfoot?"
"I'm fine, Moony," he had assured, leaning against the dirty bricks, trying to control his breathing.
"You sure?" Remus had asked, coming closer and wrapping his coat around Sirius's shoulders.
"Yes, I'm okay," Sirius had replied and looked up at his friend. The crushing anxiety he had felt only minutes ago eased a little with the sight and scent of Remus surrounding him, and he had to ask, "Fancy coming back to mine tonight?"
Remus had nodded and that was that. They had stood out in the cold for a few minutes longer before they went back inside.
Sirius had wanted to feel needed; to feel something other than the overwhelming anxiety that any of them could be next; to know that he was not alone. There was only four people in the entire universe who could make him feel like that and only one of those people could give him what he needed in the way he needed it, so when the wake had finished, he had dragged Remus back to his.
Honestly, he probably hadn't needed to ask Remus back to his because the other man was likely going to end up there anyway. The werewolf spent most of his free evenings (and some days) there, after all. In fact, he spent so much time at the flat that Sirius was often surprised when he returned home and found his friend was not there to greet him.
The flat was cold and empty when Remus was on Order missions or at his own residence. Sirius didn't like it and he had thought about asking his friend to move in with him, but he hadn't. And he hadn't for a couple of reasons:
The first reason was that he and Remus were not official. They were not boyfriends or anything like that. In fact, to the outside world, they were just friends. But they weren't just friends, not with the things they had done for and with each other. (And with what he felt whenever he was with the other man, he knew they could never be just friends again.)
The second reason was that Remus was incredibly stubborn and hated anything perceived as charity – and him offering his spare room would most likely be seen as that. He understood why Remus declined their help: he wanted to prove that werewolves could manage without aid; that he could be independent and self-sustaining; that he could survive on his own, if he needed to. Remus hated relying on other people and Sirius was not sure how his friend would take his request for a flat mate, so he hadn't gotten around to asking.
"Padfoot?"
Sirius jolted back to reality and realised that he must have been staring because Remus looked like he had earlier in the alleyway: concerned.
"You okay?"
"Yes," Sirius replied. "I'm fine. Sorry. Long day."
"We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to," Remus replied, pulling away slightly. "I can just sleep on the couch or something."
"No, I want to," Sirius assured before he planted his lips on Remus's again and focused on the Now.
Remus kissed back, but he was clearly holding back. Sirius ignored the hesitancy, guessing that he would just have to show his friend how much he wanted to carry on, and opened the bedroom door. He then dragged the werewolf into the room and closed the door behind them.
"Just," Remus pulled away again, "Are you sure?"
Sirius huffed, finding Remus's need to make sure he was okay in equal parts endearing and frustrating. "Yes, Remus," he replied, grabbing the black tie and pulling the other man against him again. He then grabbed Remus's hand and placed it over his half-hard cock. "I'm sure."
This seemed to put Remus at ease as he nodded and said, "Okay."
Sirius grinned and kissed Remus again, this time receiving a better response. With lips occupied, he allowed his hands to wander and his fingers focused on the tie around Remus's neck. Ever since that morning, since he had walked into the Church and seen Remus looking dapper in his smart suit with his hair somewhat styled, he had wanted to ravage him.
And now he could.
Sirius tried to remove the tie but struggled and after a long moment of fumbling, he pulled back and frowned at the article of clothing. "Stupid bloody tie," he muttered as he tugged at it again.
Remus just laughed and said, "Need some help?"
Sirius loosened the tie enough to yank it over the other man's head and grinned, "Nope, I've got it, thanks."
Remus chuckled again and Sirius threw the tie to the floor before he turned his attention to the white dress shirt (which then also decided not to co-operate with his clumsy fingers). Remus took the opportunity to remove his tie and managed with more grace. Sirius wasn't really paying much attention, though, too busy clawing at the other man's shirt. When he finally reached his prize, he slowed down.
Under his touch, Sirius could feel the steady rise and fall of the other man's chest. It was immensely comforting and his hands moved of their own volition, roaming over the toned and slightly marred torso at an almost leisurely pace. He knew that Remus liked his hands, so he allowed himself to trace over the scarred skin carefully.
He knew every inch of the werewolf; where he liked to be touched, where was ticklish, where caused discomfort. His fingertips traced over one of the more sensitive scars, running from Remus's left shoulder to his right nipple, and Remus's breath hitched. Sirius grinned, relishing in the fact that only he could make the other man react in such a way, before he ducked down and kissed the rough scar over Remus's heart, conveying a silent message of trust that he hoped his friend would pick up on.
"Sirius..."
Remus pushed his hands into Sirius's hair again and pulled him into a sweet kiss, which he returned as gently as he could, his long fingers (piano fingers, Remus called them) still trailing over the firm chest and back. The kiss reminded him of those exchanged after sex or Order missions: it made him feel safe, knowing that he and Remus were still alive and well.
His was the type of kiss used as a substitute for the words he would not allow himself to say. He didn't know what Remus meant by it, but he sometimes allowed himself to believe that Remus felt the same.
Remus removed Sirius's shirt and his hands moved over his body with purpose, searching almost, gentle and unhurried, before they came to rest on his back, pulling him closer. Their chests pressed together and Sirius, desperate for more, tore mercilessly at Remus's belt. After a few seconds of fumbling with the clasp, he groaned and realised that he needed to see what he was doing if he wanted to get into the other man's trousers, so he broke the kiss and turned his attention to the leather.
Remus pressed his lips to Sirius's temple and chuckled.
"What?" he muttered absently, focused on his task.
"Nothing," Remus replied, a smile in his voice. "It's nothing."
Sirius hummed doubtfully and focused on the stubborn belt.
Remus chuckled again when Sirius yanked without success.
"What?" he bit as he looked up at the other man, a little impatient because it seemed like all of Remus's clothes were conspiring against him: first the tie, then the shirt, now the belt...
"Bit eager, aren't we?" Remus teased, an infuriating smirk on his ruggedly handsome face.
"Shut up," Sirius ordered before he turned back. Seconds later, he successfully managed to pull the belt through the loops and tore it away with a flourish, grinning smugly.
"Well done," Remus mocked.
Sirius huffed and dropped the belt carelessly before he pushed Remus away roughly, watching as the other man stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed. Sirius moved forward and swiftly unbuttoned Remus's trousers. He then tugged them off without any issues and threw them away blindly. He started working on his own trousers, his hands shaking with adrenaline, but he stopped when a pair of strong hands wrapped around his and moved them aside.
"Here, let me," Remus mumbled, his eyes and hands focused on removing Sirius's clothing.
Sirius breathed a sigh of relief when his cock was finally released from its confines. He stepped out of his tight suit trousers and kicked them away before he pushed Remus back and climbed on top, straddling the other man. Remus chuckled again but Sirius didn't bother asking why this time. Instead, he ground their boxer-clad erections together, creating a delicious friction that made the werewolf throw his head back and produce a low guttural moan that shot straight through to his very core and increased his arousal tenfold.
"Shite," he gasped under his breath.
Remus grunted in agreement and Sirius moved again, delighting in the low sounds he was collecting from the man beneath him. He crashed his lips into Remus's again, clumsy and messy and utterly brilliant, and rocked his hips, laughing when he gained another strangled moan from the other man.
They worked together, snogging messily and grinding their hips together in a familiar (effortless) pattern, and their clothed cocks grew harder as their activities grew hotter and heavier.
Before he knew it, Sirius found himself on his back with Remus settled between his legs. Their lips tore apart in the changeover, but he didn't want to waste any more time. He wanted to taste Remus and never stop, so he reclaimed his friend's mouth and stuck his tongue in without resistance, relishing in the enthusiastic response and the scrub of Remus's beard against his clean-shaven mouth.
He shifted and spread his legs just a little bit wider, managing to both make himself more comfortable and bring their pelvises closer together. Remus growled and rutted against him harder, his strong hands gripping his hips tightly. Sirius soon found himself wanting more, so he slipped his hands down to clutch at Remus's arse and he arched up, trying to get closer and create more of that divine friction.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Remus cursed, burying his face in the crook of Sirius's neck and pulling his hips away as his hands stilled their movements.
Sirius grinned, proud and a little shocked because he knew what had just happened: he had almost made Remus come just from rutting – which was an achievement in itself because Remus was usually very controlled and prided himself on his stamina.
Sirius pressed his lips against Remus's temple and whispered, "Need a second there, Re?"
"Fuck off," Remus mumbled into his neck before he pulled back to stare down at the fallen heir.
Sirius's grin only grew wider when he saw Remus's flushed face and dark eyes. He absently ran one of his hands over Remus's back whilst the other moved to run through Remus's choppy hair, creating a messy just-shagged look that he loved on the werewolf.
"You're a prick," Remus muttered.
"I barely did anything," he retorted.
Remus scoffed but wisely did not reply. Instead, he stared down at Sirius, his eyes analytic and intense, and after a second, he sat back and nodded up, silently suggesting that Sirius move. Sirius listened and shuffled up the bed so that he could lean back against the pillows. Remus followed but did not resume their previous position and instead sat between Sirius's legs, watching him a strange look in his hazel eyes, one that he only ever wore around Sirius. (Not that he had any clue what it meant.)
"What?" he asked, unsure whether he should feel self-conscious or not under the intense look.
Remus opened his mouth to reply but after a second of hesitation, he just shook his head and said, "Nothing."
Sirius debated the merits of pursuing the subject further. On the one hand, he might find out what that look meant (and if it meant what he wanted it to mean). On the other hand, it would put a pause on the fantastic sex they were due to have.
In the end, he decided not to ask, surmising that Remus would have told him it if was important, and grinned, "You calmed down enough now?"
Remus offered a glare but hooked his fingers into Sirius's boxer shorts, dragging them down and chucking them onto the floor. Sirius's prick jutted out proudly, flushed pink and standing to attention in a nest of dark curls, and he watched as Remus's eyes grew darker. After a second, Remus tore his eyes away from Sirius's cock and fixed them on the man himself, dark hazel on stormy grey as he climbed up the bed to hover over Sirius. They stared at each other for a couple of breathless, time-suspended seconds before Remus leaned down and kissed him, his beard tickling Sirius's lips again (not that he minded).
Sirius inwardly thanked all of the Gods above that Remus had kissed him when he did because he could feel the words bubbling up and threatening to spill out of his mouth, which was something he really did not want to happen. He had felt the truth, desperate to be spoken, to be heard, but Remus had kissed him, and he hadn't let his mouth run away.
He hadn't said the words out loud yet – not to himself and certainly not to Remus. He had come to terms with it, with the feelings he had for his friend-turned-lover. He had accepted, a while ago, that he was in love with Remus Lupin. But just because he had accepted it, that didn't mean it was easy to say. He didn't know what would happen if he spoke the truth. He didn't know how Remus would react, or if he even felt the same way. Sometimes it felt like it, when Remus looked at him and went out of his way to do things for him, but then he saw the werewolf flirt with the pretty barmaid or the handsome shopkeeper, and he decided that Remus did not feel the same.
Sirius ignored his feelings, shoved them in the Too Hard To Deal With Right Now box in his brain, and kissed Remus with everything had, the other man still hovering over him so that the only part of them that was touching was their lips. Hands began to roam and he followed the roads on Remus's torso, each one with their own story of bravery and endurance. After a few sweet seconds, he rested back against the pillows and studied the other man: the lust-blown pupils, the pink cheeks, the mussed-up hair – he was truly beautiful and Sirius realised then that he never stood a chance; he was always going to fall for Remus.
"Get your boxers off then," he ordered, a fond grin on his lips.
Remus smiled wickedly and obliged, quickly ridding himself of his confines. Before they had even hit the floor, he was leaning over Sirius again. Sirius linked his arms around Remus's neck and pulled the other wizard down to rest on top of him, their lips crashing together once again as their hips met. Sirius could feel the other man's erection against his stomach, hot and hard, and he rolled his hips teasingly, grinning when he was granted with a tortured grunt from Remus.
"Stop it," Remus growled.
"Or what?" he challenged.
"Or I'll grab those ties and make you."
The thought of being tied up unleashed something feral and desperate in him, and he debated whether or not to roll his hips again, just to see if Remus would follow through on his threat, but he decided not to (but only because he was already desperate to fuck and he didn't really want to delay any longer).
He grinned and they stared at each other for a second before Remus pulled back and grabbed the tangled bedsheets at the bottom of the bed, flinging them over their lower halves. Sirius laughed at the display of modesty but did not argue. The werewolf then leaned over him again and stared down at him.
After another second, Sirius rolled his eyes and sighed, "Why are you stalling?"
"I'm not stalling," Remus replied immediately.
"Well, then. Get on with it and fuck me, yeah?"
Remus's eyes became almost entirely black and he muttered something under his breath. Sirius felt a familiar oily sensation down south. It was odd, he surmised, how different it was being lubed up by magic compared to it being done the Muggle way. The magical way always felt more urgent. And he felt it was appropriate, since that was what he was feeling: urgency, like he needed Remus now or he would cease to exist. And apparently the other man needed him just as bad.
Remus grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Sirius's hips, "This way okay?"
"Yes, this is fine," he nodded and planted his feet on either side of Remus's body so that the other man could settle between his legs comfortably.
"Ready?" Remus asked, leaning over him and watching him closely.
Sirius grinned and, although he found Remus incredibly endearing, he replied, "Get on with it, you prick tease."
Remus chuckled and carefully pushed his index finger into Sirius, past the tight ring of muscles, sliding in until he reached the top knuckle. Sirius let out a breath and adjusted to the digit quickly. (This was not his first rodeo, after all.) He nodded to Remus who took the hint and added a second finger.
It had been a few weeks since they had done it like this, since they had both been on a fair few missions recently and didn't have time for anything more than a good old fashioned blowjob, so the second finger burned a little, but he persevered and kept his breathing steady. He wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked slowly, his eyes focused on his friend who was concentrated on his task, stretching him with careful fingers.
The way Remus looked at him, with care, like he was worthy, made something warm and comfortable settle in his stomach and Sirius found himself in desperate need of a distraction, so he threaded his fingers through the other man's hair and pulled him into a kiss. Remus paused for a second, seemingly distracted by the soft kiss, but quickly regained his wits and focused on multitasking: peppering Sirius with kisses but preparing him as well.
"Okay?" he checked.
Sirius let out a breath of laughter and said, "Yes, Moony, that's okay. Add another."
Remus nodded and pushed a third finger in. Sirius's breath hitched at the slight burn and Remus paused, giving him time to adjust. He ignored the pain and returned the previously sweet kiss, quickly turning it into a messy one full of need; one that would take his mind off of the current intrusion in his body.
Remus returned the kiss eagerly, his fingers spreading tentatively, moving with purpose, searching for the bundle of sensitive nerves that made Sirius see stars. He crooked his fingers and an abrupt jolt of electricity coursed through the fallen heir, his eyes snapping shut at the suddenness of it and his body arching up under the other man, alerting the werewolf that he had found his target.
"Oh, you fucking genius!" he gasped, unintentionally gripping Remus's hair tighter as the sparking sensations coursed through his body and increased his senses so that all he could hear and feel and smell was Remus.
He opened his eyes to find Remus grinning proudly as he brushed his fingers over Sirius's prostate again. Sirius's body was all tension and he babbled nonsense, one hand gripping his cock whilst the other held onto Remus's hair. Remus was relentless as he pushed his fingers in deeper and brushed over the spongy gland again and again. Sirius pulled the other man's face closer to himself and kissed him sloppily, moaning wantonly at every touch.
"Remus, you need to – Oh, fuck! – Moony, you have to – Oh, fucking shite! – Remus," Sirius caught the awe-stricken gaze of his bed-mate and breathed, "Fuck me. Now."
Remus wasted no time. He quickly removed his fingers and muttered the incantation to lube his own cock up. He then stroked his length a few times before he rubbed some lubricant onto Sirius's hard-on.
Sirius mourned the loss of Remus filling him, but it was soon forgotten when he felt the blunt head of Remus's prick nudging at his arse. He shifted on the pillow and jerked his hips a little, encouraging Remus to go ahead, not wanting to waste any more time and just wanting Remus in him as soon as possible. Remus took the hint and placed a hand by Sirius's head, his other hand guiding his cock to where it needed to go.
Laboured breathing and mumbled swearwords punctuated the air as Remus slid in. Sirius wrapped one of his legs around Remus's waist, urging him to go deeper, whilst the other stayed firmly on the mattress for leverage, but Remus took his time, slowly pushing forward until he was buried deep. Then he paused, buried completely, their hips flush against each other, waiting and allowing them both some time to catch their breaths.
They watched each other carefully, stormy grey on darkened hazel, their breathing syncing up as they become one entity. It was intimate in a way that it shouldn't be between fuck buddies but Sirius did not break eye contact and neither did Remus.
The low evening light made Remus look wild and beautiful in ways that could not be described, and Sirius felt his heart beat faster. He wondered if the other man could tell... He swallowed and shifted, one of his arms moving to wrap around the other man's neck and pull him closer whilst his other hand abandoned his cock in favour of latching onto Remus's bicep for control.
As much as he loved the feeling of Remus being in him, his scent surrounding him, the comfort and the general vibe, he needed more, so he used the leg around Remus's waist to urge him into action.
"Move," he ordered, and Remus complied, thrusting his hips in and out, confident and knowing, slowly at first but building up a steady rhythm soon enough.
The friction, the timing, the powerful hips meeting his own with every movement – the combination had Sirius panting and writhing helplessly but he wanted more, faster, harder, so he dug his fingers into the other man's arm and pushed back, not content to just lie there and take it. From there, they worked in tandem, anticipating the other's next move and meeting it with fervor.
"Good?" Remus grunted.
Sirius huffed a laugh because was it good? It was fucking fantastic! "Yes, it's – Oh, right there – Yeah, that's good," he mumbled under his breath. "A bit faster."
Remus obliged immediately, thrusting his hips faster, harder, pushing deeper and crashing into Sirius's own harshly. The sound of sweat-slicked skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin along with hissed profanity and quick pants filled the room; a familiar chorus of them. The new pace coupled with their noises made Sirius feel all sorts of wild and he kissed the other man roughly, though it was less of a kiss and more of a demand.
They quickly settled into a new steady pace, one that he knew well; one that was theirs and theirs alone. Sirius met every thrust with the same strength and force as Remus, but he needed more. Remus shifted then, pressing down harder and changing the angle of his cock, and Sirius got exactly what he wanted – what he demanded – and he lost his mind, white hot pleasure coursing through him as Remus hit his prostate.
"Fucking fuck!" he howled, his toes curling and his eyes snapping shut involuntarily as white light shot out behind his eyelids and his blood set afire.
"There?" Remus asked, like he didn't know he'd just found the spot that could make Sirius beg.
"Fuck," he growled, his fingers digging brutally into Remus's bicep. "Pleasepleaseplease, just fucking – Oh!"
Remus seemed to take this as the encouragement it was and he thrust his hips again, his movements calculated and hitting the right spot every time. He set a steady pace, brushing over Sirius's prostate again and again with every push. Sirius met every thrust, eager and desperate, and the pleasure hit him in waves, constant and relentless.
His cock was hard and leaking between them, and he could feel it, imminent and undeniable: he was going to come, maybe untouched if Remus kept up what he was doing.
"Moon – Oh, shite – Re, I'm... oh fucking fuck, I'm close," he warned.
Remus grunted in response and Sirius knew that was the closest he was going to get to a reply because sex always seemed to turn his friend from an eloquent speaker into an inarticulate mess.
Sirius knew the werewolf was close, not just from the grunt but also from the way his muscles tensed and his brow furrowed. He could feel it in the way Remus's thrusts became more urgent, more powerful, his primal instincts taking over to make sure pleasure was maximised.
With one last messy but brilliant kiss, Remus shifted and leaned on his elbow, his face buried in Sirius's neck, his chest brushing against Sirius's with every thrust, his hand taking hold of Sirius's neglected cock and stroking with care. The feeling of Remus's hand on him pushed him closer to the edge and his own hands moved to stroke through the werewolf's sweat-soaked hair and across his back.
Remus peppered kisses along Sirius's neck and jaw, and ran his thumb over the tip of Sirius's prick, spreading the pearly pre-come there. He stroked with confidence, like he knew what he was doing (because he did), his hips picking up speed, furiously matching the pace of his hand.
"Fuck, Remus..."
Sirius could feel it coming. He could feel the coil tightening in his abdomen, threatening to snap at any moment, the feeling building and building. He was going to come but he didn't want to without Remus. He had invited Remus back to his because he had wanted to feel like he was not alone, and he wanted Remus to come with him.
With that in mind, he met Remus thrust for thrust, his fingers pulling at Remus's hair, his other hand dancing up and down Remus's back, cataloguing scars and blemishes there. He was getting closer, so he went to his last resort: he clenched his arse around Remus's cock. It had the desired effect. Remus growled and gently bit into Sirius's shoulder, picking up his pace with both his hand and his cock.
Sirius wrapped both of his legs around Remus's waist, urging him on, pulling him deeper and managing to get Remus to hit the right spot over and over. He couldn't think coherently. With Remus buried balls deep in him and his prostate being abused near-constantly, all he could do was feel.
And he felt on cloud fucking nine.
Then Remus flicked his wrist and before Sirius knew what was happening, he was coming hard, feeling wild and uninhibited, spilling himself over Remus's hand and covering their stomachs.
"OhbuggeringfuckMoony!"
Remus followed closely behind, hips bruising and mouth clamped down on Sirius's shoulder to muffle his own moans of pleasure. After a couple more thrusts, Remus finished and collapsed on top of him, face still buried in his neck and stuttered breaths fanning over his sensitive skin.
Heavy breathing and city noise filled the air as they came down from their orgasms. Remus's beard scratched at his jaw and it tickled but he didn't move because, truth be told, he kind of liked it. His fingers moved over the werewolf's sweaty back idly, drawing nonsensical patterns across the exposed flesh.
This was his favourite part: the after.
Sex was always brilliant and he enjoyed it very much, but it was the after that he really loved. It was calm and comforting and they didn't have to think. He was allowed to touch, to kiss, to be affectionate, without feeling the urgency to come, without feeling desperate for release, without needing more. After, he could just be himself.
They stayed like that for a short moment, both men completely spent and perfectly sated, intertwined so thoroughly that it was hard to know where one started and the other ended.
Then Remus shifted and stared down at him. There was a look in his eyes that Sirius, no matter how hard he tried, could not understand. But he knew what it made him feel: important. He felt loved and cherished, and he wondered in those moments if he was right and Remus did return his affections. Remus leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before he pulled out and dropped down next to Sirius on the bed.
Sirius groaned at the loss, feeling empty and wide, and he clenched his arse a couple of times to try and regain normality. Then he turned onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head, and studied the other man. Remus turned his head on the mattress, his pillow still lodged firmly between Sirius's hips and the mattress, and stared at him with that look again, his mouth quirked up at the corners. Sirius grinned back and closed his eyes.
"Fuck, I love you," he muttered.
It was only when he felt Remus freeze that he realised what he had said.
'Bugger,' was the only coherent thought in this mind then and he kept his eyes shut, mortified that he had allowed himself to be so impulsive.
He hadn't meant to say it. What he had meant to say was: Fuck, we're good at that. But his brain, hopped up on endorphins and alcohol, had other plans apparently. He had felt the words, as he always did, running around in his mind, true and definite and undeniable, and his desire to be with Remus, to have life with him, a future where they were a They, had overwhelmed him, but he hadn't expected his mouth to betray him. And now he didn't know what to do.
Sirius opened his eyes in time to see his friend sit up, wondering what the werewolf was thinking and how badly he had fucked up. If there was one thing he had wanted to keep to himself, it was how he really felt about his best friend. (Or at the very least he had wanted to tell Remus at a better time, not blurting it out after a funeral and some quite fantastic sex.)
Remus grabbed his wand from his trousers on the floor and muttered some quiet cleaning spells, ridding himself and Sirius of the come and lube that remained on them. He then stood up and pulled his boxer shorts on before he sat down again and stared at the wall.
Sirius gnawed at his lip, wondering what to do.
Remus seemed troubled, back tense and shoulders hunched. He didn't like it. He had spent half of his life trying to make his friend feel at ease and now he was the cause of the other man's problems, but he didn't know how to fix it.
He couldn't pretend that he hadn't said it. Remus had obviously heard him, if his refusal to look at him said anything, and it was the truth. If there was one thing Sirius Black refused to do, it was lie to his friends. He omitted truths now and again, like when they became Animagi or planned surprise parties, but he never lied when asked a question. And he refused to say that he didn't mean it, because he absolutely did.
As far as he could see it, he had two options: apologise and agree to forget it, or admit the truth and deal with the consequences.
It didn't take long for him to reach his decision.
He did not want to apologise for having feelings – he had done enough of that in the House of Black – and he did not want to forget it. The truth was out there now and he was just going to have to deal with the aftermath. If Remus loved him back, then brilliant. They could define what they were to one another and what they wanted and they could be more than just fuck buddies. If Remus did not feel the same... well, then he would just have to deal with it.
With that in mind, Sirius removed the pillow from beneath his arse and threw it away carelessly before he pushed himself up and leaned against his headboard, pulling his bedsheets up to cover his flaccid penis. He then grabbed one of his Muggle cigarettes and lit it with a snap of his fingers, inhaling the smoke immediately and watching his friend carefully.
He didn't know what was going to happen or how their night was going to end or what the future held for them, but he was prepared to fight.
A/N: This was my first ever attempt at smut.
Inspired by Angela by The Lumineers
Written: November 2016
Rewritten: April 2020