Current mood:	calm
Current music:	'Got Sweets' - The Libertines
Entry tags:	fandom: harry potter, pairing: remus/sirius, rating: nc-17

Copper: Remus/Sirius; NC-17
Title: Copper
Author: arcadian_dream
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: explicit sex, language, frottage, come
Disclaimer: JKR's, I'm just playing
Summary: Non-magic AU; Sirius meets Remus outside a club.
Author's Notes: written for littlemissgg as a part of her, and brighty18's F-List Fic Fest.
Words: 1370

Sirius sighed, and then shivered, as the bitter cold of the late night air rushed against his face. Beads of sweat cooled on his warm skin, leaving imperceptible trails over his neck and chin.

Standing in the doorway of the club, he stood to one side to allow a small group entry. Turning his back to the darkened streetscape, he lifted a cigarette to his lips. Sirius riffled through his pockets for a lighter.

"Ah," he grunted as his fingers curled around a plastic surface. The flame flickered momentarily and then disappeared.

"Fuck," Sirius said. He tried again, cupping his hand around the cigarette as he raised the lighter to meet it.

The end of his cigarette glowed brightly in the dark, and he inhaled.

Leaning against the coarse grain of the brick wall, Sirius exhaled. Tendrils of grey smoke curled in the air.

Sirius looked about him. He was, for the most part, alone. There was the occasional patron leaving the club, the intermittent appearance of rowdy groups of drunken friends. The sound of a bottle crashing to the asphalt in a street nearby.

And, Sirius saw as he inhaled once more, a slender young man looking repeatedly at his wristwatch.

"Hey," Sirius said, nodding in the man's direction.

He turned; surprised to hear he was being addressed.

"Hey," he replied with a small smile. The glow of the streetlights cast shadows across his face: silver-rimmed glasses perched on a somewhat long, pointed nose, and pale skin: a golden flicker of copper-toned hair.

"You want one?" Sirius asked, gesturing to the cigarette dangling from between his fingers.

"Ah…" the man said, uncertainly, as though wrestling with the decision: "No, I won't, thanks."

Sirius shrugged, and smiled. He heaved himself from his partially recumbent position against the wall and approached the man.

"Fucking cold out tonight," he said, taking another drag on the cigarette, "Why don't you go in?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

"Ah. Girlfriend?"

The man smiled, white teeth lighting up the dark.

"No," he said, as though the idea were a little silly, "No, just a friend. She wanted to see the band, but I don't think she's going to turn up." He looked at his watch again, before plunging his hands into his pockets. His arms stood, rigid, at his sides.

"Ah well, you're not missing much," Sirius said, with a sharp jerk of his head toward the club.

"No?"

"Nah. Rubbish, really."

The man nodded. Sighing, he opened his mouth to speak – but Sirius interjected before the words, whatever it was they might have been, could form on his lips.

"Sirius," he said, flicking the end of his cigarette to the ground, and extending his hand by way of introduction.

"Remus," the man replied, accepting Sirius' hand with his own.

"Fancy a pint?" Sirius asked, more certainly than he felt. He poked at a shard of broken glass with the toe of his boot as he awaited a reply.

"Actually, I was thinking I might get going. Home. Not really up for it tonight."

"Ah."

"You could come. If you like."

Sirius looked at the club.

And at the cold, empty street.

And at Remus.

"Yeah," he said finally: "why not?"

***

Sirius and Remus stumbled, groping, up the stairs, to the front door of Remus' flat. Sirius ran his hands up under Remus' shirt, his cold fingertips grazing the soft, warm skin of Remus' belly as he pushed Remus, hard, up against the door.

"Fuck," Remus gasped, as the back of his head thudded heavily against the timber.

"Sorry," Sirius said, his hands wrestling with Remus' shirt in an effort to get it up over his head.

"Just," Remus began as he attempted to extricate himself from Sirius' grasp, "just hang on a minute."

Rummaging in his pockets for his keys, Remus turned away from Sirius. His fingers finding the jagged metal edge, Remus fumbled with the key as he jammed it hastily into the lock.

"Fuck," he said, frustrated, as he jiggled the key in the lock. Sirius stood close; his cock pressed, hard, against the denim of his jeans: against Remus.

"Finally!" Remus said as the door opened.

He turned back to face Sirius. Remus clamped a hand to the back of Sirius' neck and, pulling him close, they kissed: Remus' tongue entwining with Sirius'; two thick, pulsating muscles slick and wet. Panting, Sirius made to break the kiss. His lips slackened, and as they did, Remus clung tenaciously to Sirius' tongue, sucking fiercely before releasing the muscle from his grip.

Sirius gasped. Shuffling, he forced Remus backwards into the centre of the room. With a searching backwards lunge of one leg, Sirius kicked the door closed with the sole of his boot. In the process, the pair, arms and hands still roving over one another's bodies, lost their balance entirely and landed, with an awkward crash, on the coarse, prickly carpeting of Remus' flat.

"Shit!" Sirius said, his knees connecting heavily with the floor.

"Don't worry about it," Remus said from his now prostrate position on the floor: "Come here." His fingers scrambled for a handful of Sirius' dishevelled, black hair. The strands curled around Remus' fist, ebony lines criss-crossing his palm and knuckles as he tugged Sirius' face to meet his once more.

Remus ran his tongue along Sirius' jaw line, lapping at the invisible trails of sweat dried on olive skin. Sirius responded with a gurgling sigh, and a sudden thrust against Remus.

Positioned over Remus, Sirius buried his face in the crook of his neck. He sucked a mouthful of the other boy's flesh into his mouth, his tongue undulating over the skin while his hands worked hurriedly to remove Remus' shirt.

Between moans, Remus busied himself with Sirius' belt. His sweaty fingertips struggled with the metal clasp, slipping over the surface, before he was able to remove it from Sirius' waist. Remus flung the worn leather strap to one side, where it joined his shirt in a crumpled heap. He loosened Sirius' jeans, dragging them down over his slender waist to his thighs, and exposing the tented fabric of his underpants.

Involuntarily, Sirius began to thrust once more against Remus. Panting, he steadied himself. Remus set to work unbuttoning his own trousers. Sirius yanked them down, allowing them to bunch at Remus' knees, just as his own clung to his lower thighs.

Gazing at the young man below him, Sirius was suddenly consumed by an unspeakable need. He grasped desperately, the palms of his hands pressed against the sides of Remus' face, as he kissed him. He needed to feel the heat of the boy, to smell him, to be engulfed by the moment.

As his tongue lolled against Remus', he felt Remus' fingers stroking his cock. He turned his face upward as he ground his erection against Remus' hand. Thrusting somewhat sporadically, he managed to settle himself in the hollow of Remus' inner thigh. He bucked fiercely against the crevice of flesh and fabric; his muscles tensed and his entire being was rigid, taut as tripwire, against the warm fluidity of Remus.

Remus.

The boy with silver-rimmed glasses and coppery hair.

With a final thrust, Sirius came. A long, shuddering moan escaped his lips, its guttural tone hanging tremulously in the air before disappearing in the darkness of the flat, and of the night, as he collapsed against Remus.

Silently, Remus took Sirius' hand in his own. He slipped it between them, and beneath the waistband of Sirius' underpants. Remus guided Sirius' limp fingers: removing them from the cotton cocoon of his pants, he lifted Sirius' fingers – now sticky with the remnants of his orgasm – to eager lips.

Remus wrapped his mouth around Sirius' fingers, savouring the taste of him, and licking them clean. His hand still on Sirius' wrist, he extricated the fingers slowly from his mouth. He pressed his tongue flat against the base of Sirius' palm and, with a slow, deliberate movement, licked the length of Sirius' palm, before reaching the tip of his middle finger.

Spent, Sirius could only quietly moan: "Remus".

And, as his eyelids flickered and his vision faded, all he could remember was the auburn glow of Remus' copper-toned hair.