The first is high up in the Astronomy Tower, a fumbling, hopeful connection of lips together – the kind of kiss that takes them both by surprise.
“Can I?” Remus licks his lips, his tongue flicking over his lips which are damp and plump. “Can I just…?”
“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He means fuck yes. He means please. He means if you don’t kiss me again I’m not sure I’ll know how not to kiss you anymore. Then Remus presses close and their lips meet again. Not a surprise this time, but no less unexpected. The tickle of light stubble against Sirius’ chin, the way Remus opens his mouth to Sirius. Remus is so pliant when Sirius slides his tongue inside his mouth, their gasps of breath meeting in the middle of the darkened space while the world moves a hundred feet beneath them and the trees of the Forbidden Forest shiver and twist in the distance.
There’s too much between them. Too many shadows and too many unspoken words and the kiss feels too big for them both. It’s all Sirius can do to keep himself tethered by twisting his hand in Remus’ hair and drawing him closer so there’s no space between them anymore.
“Moony…fuck.”
“I know.” Remus does know. Sirius can feel it in the smile that curves against his lips. He can hear it in the breathless note when Remus speaks. He can feel it in the flush of Remus’ cheeks as he brushes his thumb over his cheek, the skin hot beneath the pad of his thumb.
They collide together again, in the half-light of the moon. The midnight encases them as their lips move together with unhurried want. They have all the time in the world. The night is theirs and even when his backside hurts from sitting too long on the cold floor, Sirius doesn’t plan to break the kiss any time soon. Remus pushes Sirius back and oh it’s a whole new kind of kiss. It’s a kiss with the full length of their bodies pressed together. When Remus breathes out Sirius’ name it sounds incredible. He noses along Sirius’ neck, breathing in the scent of him and letting out a jagged exhale against the sensitive skin on Sirius’ neck. It’s almost wanton, the sound that leaves Sirius. He tips his head back and holds Remus there; hand fisted in sandy hair and murmurs of gods, yes falling from his parted lips.
Remus pushes against him, firm bodied and sinewy hipped. His cock is hard against Sirius’ thigh and he’s seeking friction as he kisses Sirius again – open-mouthed and eager. They roll on the dusty floor and Sirius doesn’t give a fuck about the cold, hard ground anymore. He just wants to be kissing Remus, holding his chin steady and guiding him closer into another needy snog.
It’s just a kiss, but for Sirius it’s everything.
They kiss a lot after that. They kiss against walls, pushing against one another and groaning into one another’s mouths. When Remus speaks, Sirius can’t stop tracing every twitch and curve of his lips with his gaze. They kiss through a scorching summer and another rain-damp autumn. They get grass stains on their robes as they move together on ice-cool grass – their shirts damp from the dew of the early morning. They kiss away the cold and they perspire under the warm remnants of summer’s setting sun.
Sometimes, Sirius stumbles over the words he wants to say to Remus. He learns how to speak with a hundred different kisses and the stroke of his fingers over warm flesh. He says all the things he thinks he’ll have years to articulate with firm fingers on Remus’ jaw and lazy moments in the shadows of Hogwarts.
It’s enough, Sirius tells himself. Besides, he has years to find a way to say the words.
Sirius calls them the boys who kiss and it becomes their private joke. It’s not enough to capture what the kisses really mean but in other ways, it’s everything they’ve become.
“Can I?” Remus licks his lips, his tongue flicking over his lips which are damp and plump. “Can I just…?”
“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He means fuck yes. He means please. He means if you don’t kiss me again I’m not sure I’ll know how not to kiss you anymore. Then Remus presses close and their lips meet again. Not a surprise this time, but no less unexpected. The tickle of light stubble against Sirius’ chin, the way Remus opens his mouth to Sirius. Remus is so pliant when Sirius slides his tongue inside his mouth, their gasps of breath meeting in the middle of the darkened space while the world moves a hundred feet beneath them and the trees of the Forbidden Forest shiver and twist in the distance.
There’s too much between them. Too many shadows and too many unspoken words and the kiss feels too big for them both. It’s all Sirius can do to keep himself tethered by twisting his hand in Remus’ hair and drawing him closer so there’s no space between them anymore.
“Moony…fuck.”
“I know.” Remus does know. Sirius can feel it in the smile that curves against his lips. He can hear it in the breathless note when Remus speaks. He can feel it in the flush of Remus’ cheeks as he brushes his thumb over his cheek, the skin hot beneath the pad of his thumb.
They collide together again, in the half-light of the moon. The
midnight encases them as their lips move together with unhurried want. They have all the time in the world. The night is theirs and even when his backside hurts from sitting too long on the cold floor, Sirius doesn’t plan to break the kiss any time soon. Remus pushes Sirius back and oh it’s a whole new kind of kiss. It’s a kiss with the full length of their bodies pressed together. When Remus breathes out Sirius’ name it sounds incredible. He noses along Sirius’ neck, breathing in the scent of him and letting out a jagged exhale against the sensitive skin on Sirius’ neck. It’s almost wanton, the sound that leaves Sirius. He tips his head back and holds Remus there; hand fisted in sandy hair and murmurs of gods, yes falling from his parted lips.
Remus pushes against him, firm bodied and sinewy hipped. His cock is hard against Sirius’ thigh and he’s seeking friction as he kisses Sirius again – open-mouthed and eager. They roll on the dusty floor and Sirius doesn’t give a fuck about the cold, hard ground anymore. He just wants to be kissing Remus, holding his chin steady and guiding him closer into another needy snog.
It’s just a kiss, but for Sirius it’s everything.
They kiss a lot after that. They kiss against walls, pushing against one another and groaning into one another’s mouths. When Remus speaks, Sirius can’t stop tracing every twitch and curve of his lips with his gaze. They kiss through a scorching summer and another rain-damp autumn. They get grass stains on their robes as they move together on ice-cool grass – their shirts damp from the dew of the early morning. They kiss away the cold and they perspire under the warm remnants of summer’s setting sun.
Sometimes, Sirius stumbles over the words he wants to say to Remus. He learns how to speak with a hundred different kisses and the stroke of his fingers over warm flesh. He says all the things he thinks he’ll have years to articulate with firm fingers on Remus’ jaw and lazy moments in the shadows of Hogwarts.
It’s enough, Sirius tells himself. Besides, he has years to find a way to say the words.
Sirius calls them the boys who kiss and it becomes their private joke. It’s not enough to capture what the kisses really mean but in other ways, it’s everything they’ve become.