Perseverance and Good Fortune Author: mindabblesCharacters/Pairings:
Sorry, none. Word Count:
2,900Summary/Description: "The tattoo first," Remus adds, dropping an open-mouthed kiss over Sirius' nipple and making Sirius gasp. "Relax. I'm rather good at this."Author's Notes:
This is an old-fashioned Lie-Low-At-Lupin's fic. Well, as old fashioned as porn can be. It's been a while, so I thought I'd visit my original OTP here in this little window of time they had. Thanks to elizassecret
for the beta and for posting this for me!
Sirius watches Remus. He sits in front of the fire. It's August and the dog days of summer should be heavy on him, warming his bones, but the evening is chilly and damp. Remus is leaning in to the warmth of the hearth, his forearms resting on his long thighs. Sirius can see the light from the flames dancing around Remus, backlighting wisps of his hair and highlighting his profile. His shoulders are hunched and his muscles tense, as if he is putting great effort into being still.
Sirius' bones ache for the time he would have crossed the room in two steps and folded his body around Remus'. That time was a lifetime, several lifetimes, ago.
Sirius turns and walks gingerly down the corridor to Remus' study, where he is sleeping since following Dumbledore's instructions to come here. His feet make barely a sound as he leaves the sitting room, but still there is some noise, some disturbance in the air that Remus must feel. Once, Remus would never have been able to pretend he didn't know precisely where Sirius was in a room. ~*~
The narrow cot is more comfortable than his sleeping mat in Azkaban, if not by much. Sirius resists the urge to transform and sleep under it as a dog. He wants to be here and it has been so long since he wanted to be anywhere.
Remus' study, although that is a generous word for the little room that is smaller than the pantry at Grimmauld Place, has been changed into a guest room. A camp bed is pushed in front of the desk and shabby but clean towels are draped over the back of the chair. A reading lamp that Sirius recognizes from Remus' boyhood room is on a crate next to the camp bed.
This is the third night he has slept in Remus' home. ~*~
Sirius feels Remus hovering in the doorway, observing for a moment before he enters the room. He does this now, in this incarnation of their time together; he prepares
to be next to Sirius. Sirius has not said anything that would make him stop.
"You all right?" Remus asks. His voice is tentative. "You look a bit tired."
"Not much sleep." Sirius looks up and squints against the morning light that filters through the plain white curtains in the kitchen window. Remus reaches for a tea cup. The cup has hairline cracks that mar the smooth surface, illuminated by the sun.
"I'm sorry," Remus says. His brows crinkle with concern.
"I was dreaming. Vivid dreams that kept waking me through the night."
"Oh, Sirius," Remus says.
The way Remus says his name says he knows
the dreams that keep Sirius awake are of Dementors and betrayal and loss, of desperate and somewhat impotent worry for Harry. Those are the thoughts that fill his days. As he did a lifetime ago, it's Remus who fills his nights.
"Do you know what I was dreaming about?" Sirius asks.
"You can tell me if you want." Remus sits down next to Sirius for the first time in four days. Sirius can feel the restraint it takes for Remus not to reach out and touch his hand.
"Us?" Remus' posture softens and a shadow of hope crosses his face.
"Together. Like we used to be," Sirius says, nearly certain now that his desires won't be met with awkward apologies, or worse, pity.
"Oh," Remus says. "Padfoot." ~*~
Remus' lips are on his. Remus' hands roam his back. Sirius steps back and Remus' finger tips drag around his arms, clutching almost imperceptibly as Sirius slips from his grasp. It's too much, too much light on Sirius' gaunt body, too cold and bright and spare on the tile floor.
Sirius winces at the disappointment in Remus' eyes and tries to think how to tell him that this, his own hesitation, isn't what he remembers. He can't think how to change that standing in the middle of the kitchen. He remembers tumbling into bed, or the sofa or kitchen table, with Remus, both of them laughing or swearing. Quick and dirty, or languid and tender, this part of their being together was always easy.
"Not here," he says, and thankfully, as he always does, Remus seems to understand. ~*~
Sirius moves from the light of the hallway to the soft darkness of Remus' bedroom. Remus' kiss still tingles on his lips.
"I'm sorry, I—" Sirius says, and Remus' look cuts him off. There is no need for apologies.
Remus takes his hand. His thumb caresses the pulse in his wrist, rubbing over the small tattoo, a Celtic knot of protection Remus drew for him when James and Lily asked him to be Harry's godfather. Remus looks down, smiles fondly, and Sirius' heart aches. "If I'd known inviting you into my bedroom was all that was needed, I'd have done it days ago."
Remus is not so different from who he was the last time they shared a bed and a life. Sirius catches a glimpse of the kind, wicked, brilliant boy who stole his heart. Sirius is the one who's changed, and somehow it seems less obvious in the quiet intimacy of the bedroom.
Sirius sheds his robes and lies on the bed, his thin form stretched out. He is tense and taut, forcing himself not to cover the body that he is sure Remus cannot want.
Remus' mouth twists in a sad smile. He pulls off his robes, tosses his shirt and trousers on the floor and looks down at himself and shrugs, palms open to Sirius. He's thinner, they both are, and certainly the worse for wear. Some of the tension leaves Sirius, and he lets his head fall back on the thin pillow that smells of Remus' hair.
Remus sits next to Sirius and trails his fingers up and down Sirius' arm, feeling the ropey muscles and coarse hair.
"Moony," Sirius begins, but Remus lifts his hand to his lips and kisses each of Sirius' knuckles. The unfamiliar feel of a loving touch steals his breath away.
"Hush," Remus says. "Just – just let me."
Remus stretches out beside Sirius. Sirius sighs at the intimate friction of bare skin against bare skin, bodies soon to be entwined. Remus slides his big toe along the arch of Sirius' foot and Sirius trembles.
"All right?" Remus wraps his hands around Sirius' arm and thigh, gently squeezing the shaking muscles.
"Yeah," Sirius sighs, and he cups Remus' cheek, pressing his palm to Remus' warm skin.
Remus touches Sirius' chest, nearly concave where it was curved with muscle the last time Remus' mouth pressed into it. He leans and kisses where his fingers have been, and Sirius sees that he's remembering.
Sirius traces over the tattoo on Remus' chest, ancient runic symbols for need
inked into his pale skin and arranged in an asymmetrical approximation of a star. The room seems to darken and Sirius is lost in the memory of promises they failed to keep.
Remus lifts his head and smiles, his eyes drowsy and dark in the dim room. His hair is longer and the grey suits him, softens the lines on his face. Sirius tangles his fingers in the soft tendrils that fall over Remus' cheeks.
"You never did have it done," Remus says. He splays his fingers on Sirius' chest, the heat of his hand penetrating to Sirius' heart. "Here, same as mine."
"Ran out of time." Sirius covers Remus' hand with his. He swallows a moment of panic. It is too easy to become lost in memories and regrets. That is not why he's here, in Remus' bed.
Remus shakes his head and Sirius is overcome with gratitude that he still knows, still sees what Sirius is saying even when he hasn't said a word.
"You were being an infant," Remus says, a hint of that wicked grin on his lips.
"I never was," says Sirius, voice full of indignation and heart lighter than it's been in years. "You
said you'd do it, but you always put me off. I think you were afraid you'd muck up my flawless beauty."
"You're barking." Remus reaches for his wand and leans to kiss the spot they had agreed upon so long ago. "I could do it, couldn't I? Now," he whispers and the breath in his words caresses Sirius' skin.
"Moony," Sirius says. The rest of his words catch in his throat and he just nods.
Remus kisses him. His mouth is soft and firm on Sirius', his hand drifts to Sirius' waist and desire stirs in Sirius' belly. Remus touches Sirius' lips with his tongue and Sirius opens to him – his mouth, his heart.
Remus pulls back enough to rub his nose on Sirius' and whisper into his mouth, "Not the same as before."
"Whatever you want," Sirius says, and the way Remus looks him over, Sirius almost expects to be pushed into the bed and ravished.
"The tattoo first," Remus adds, dropping an open-mouthed kiss over Sirius' nipple and making Sirius gasp. "Relax. I'm rather good at this."
He traces designs on Sirius' chest, the mirror image of Remus' tattoo. His face is set in concentration and he reaches for his wand.
The first touch of his wand to Sirius' tender skin is warm and sends a jolt of sensation through Sirius' body. Remus circles the area, preparing his canvas, murmuring incantations. His soft, low voice and the increasing heat make Sirius squirm.
"Feels good," Sirius breathes, and he reaches to cup his hardening cock.
"Hmm," Remus hums, eyes darting to Sirius' hand with a smug little smile.
He changes the incantation and Sirius feels a sting. Remus begins to draw, his wand tracing lines. Each touch of the wand tingles, just this side of painful. Sirius looks down and sees the black ink melding with his skin. Remus is marking him, and Sirius squeezes his cock and groans.
"What, oh m—oh." Sirius gasps as Remus' wand brushes his nipple. "Fuck, Moony. What is it?"
Remus smiles and ignores him, steady hand, steady breath. Sirius closes his eyes and the sensation intensifies. Adrenalin pumps through his veins as the sting becomes sharper and Remus' wand moves more quickly.
"Nearly," Remus murmurs. "Open your eyes, Padfoot."
Sirius gingerly lets go of his aching cock and props himself on his elbows. His skin is glowing red and burning. It's an intricate web of runes forming a continuous knot. It's too tender to touch, and without tracing the symbols, he's sure he's missing something, but he sees passion, perseverance, a journey of change, a meeting of love and good fortune.
"Perfect," he says, but there are no words for what Remus has given him.
"Not yet." Remus takes a moment to look at his work and redirects his wand at Sirius' chest. It's like cool water and the burn eases and the red fades leaving the stark black design on pale skin. "There. Now it's perfect."
"Not yet," Sirius says. He wraps his arm around Remus and pulls him into a kiss, and Remus presses his long body along Sirius'. He's as hard as stone and Sirius moans at the easy anticipation that suddenly seems so familiar.
Remus moves over him. He lowers his body slowly onto Sirius, chest on chest, his cock sliding in the crease of Sirius' thigh. Remus' hand slides between them to smooth over the new tattoo and the newly healed skin stings.
"Moony," Sirius gasps. He arches up, but the heavy comfort of Remus' weight pins him to the bed. He bends his knees, cradling Remus' body between them. Remus covers Sirius' mouth with his and Sirius presses up, working his tongue past Remus' teeth, fighting the complete submission that is slipping over him like a blanket.
Remus slides his hands up Sirius' sides, palms flat along his ribs and the underside of his arms. Sirius tilts his head back in surrender as Remus pushes his arms over his head and clenches his wrists in his strong hands.
"You...I never thought—" Remus speaks in a husky, near-growl, and Sirius wants him to stop. Stop talking. Don't say that they both knew for so long they'd never have each other again.
Sirius wraps his legs around Remus' waist and rocks up, pressing their cocks together. The friction is nearly too intense. "We're here," Sirius says. He rocks up again, digging his heels into Remus' arse. Remus' grip on his wrists tightens. "Aching for you."
Remus drops his head to the crook of Sirius' neck with a soft, choked sound. He kisses the tender places along Sirius' throat, sucking hard enough that Sirius knows he's marked again. His wrists are released and he digs his fingers into Remus' back as Remus' hands move over his back and hips and arse. They rock together and Remus' cock presses into his balls, and further back, until the soft head is sliding into his cleft.
Remus doesn't say a word, but his hand is suddenly slick. Cool fingers move over Sirius' arse. He lets his knees fall aside and cants his hips, a ragged, "please
" falling from his lips.
"Want you," Remus says. "Always want you," he adds as he pushes into Sirius with the tip of one finger.
"Moony," Sirius groans. He rocks down onto Remus' finger, the slick slide sending shock waves through his body. "God, it's been so long. Fuck me."
"Slow down, slow down," Remus mutters, and Sirius isn't sure if he's talking to himself. He slides another finger into Sirius' body, urging him open, and Sirius' throat goes dry. The next thing will be Remus' cock, the head pushing into him, stretching him with unbearably sweet friction.
"No, please," Sirius whimpers. He grabs the back of Remus' head and pulls him into a desperate kiss.
Remus moans into his mouth and pushes up until he is kneeling. He gently eases Sirius' legs higher until his knees are wedged against Remus shoulders. Remus' cock rubs along his cleft as Remus thrusts, biting his lip, a pained expression on his face. Sirius can't wait, can't watch Remus hold back. They've waited too long as it is.
"Fuck me, Moony," he commands and angles his hips so that the head of Remus' cock catches on his entrance.
And finally, finally
, Remus pushes in. Sirius closes his eyes to feel every sensation, every rush of pleasure as Remus' cock breaches him and then the head is through and Remus' length slides into him, silky and hot.
, oh my god, Sirius," Remus moans. He braces his hands against the bed, and all restraint, all protestations, are gone. He fucks Sirius with long, sure strokes.
"Yes," Sirius hisses. He wants to tell Remus that this is all he wants, all he ever wants. He wants Remus to know that he's utterly wrecked with the knowledge that Remus still wants him, but when he opens his eyes and Remus is watching him with that look, he sees that Remus already knows.
His cock pushes into Remus' belly with each thrust. A frenzied need to come builds as the head of his cock slips against Remus' skin and Remus' cock nudges his prostate. Remus fucks Sirius harder and faster, a flush creeping up his chest.
Sirius reaches over his head and grabs the narrow headboard. He pushes against Remus, meeting him with every thrust, urging him faster. He fixes his gaze on Remus, waiting for the moment that his mouth falls open and his eyes flutter shut. He wants so badly to see the muscles in Remus' chest and arms flex and hear his strangled moans.
Remus moves a hand from the bed to Sirius' chest, pressing into the sensitive new tattoo. Sirius can't wait. He just can't, and he releases the headboard to wrap his hand around his cock and stroke in time to the rhythm Remus sets. He tries to slow down, to breathe, to wait for Remus, but his hand twists over his cock and Remus is fucking him with abandon and he's coming so hard he can't breathe. He sees bursts of white before his closed eyes and every muscle in his body tightens.
Remus collapses on top of him, mouthing his name onto his skin. He continues to thrust gently with a softening cock, holding Sirius tenderly. He moves again and his cock slips from Sirius' arse.
"I missed it," Sirius says, before he can stop himself.
He opens his mouth to explain, but Remus rolls off him and traces the design of the tattoo. "I think there will be other opportunities, Padfoot. Perseverance and passion."
"Don't forget a meeting of love and good fortune." Sirius smiles and kisses Remus' shoulder.
"Where would we be?" Remus asks, his voice sleepy and soft.
In the dimness of Remus' spartan bedroom, Sirius can see the shadow of the tattoo on his chest. Remus' pale hand frames it unconsciously and he pulls Sirius close and drifts to sleep.