It might have been a very, very good thing that Remus couldn't hear any of Dora's internal monologue. He'd probably have questioned her sanity. But then again, who was he to complain that she loved him for all his faults: that he still liked men, that he was a werewolf... that he occasionally (or more than occasionally) kept secrets.
He was a lucky, lucky man.
A hand on her hip guided their movements, faster and faster while he thrust upwards. His hand rested on her mound, thumb flicking across her clit while he fucked her. One, two... threeeee... Remus tossed back his head and moaned, spilling himself inside her. The hand kept working over her clit, trying to bring her off the edge with himself.