When Remus pulled back, a soft noise of protest both rose and died in Sirius' throat because as soon as his shirt was removed Sirius was once again distracted. His hands stretched out to smooth over his pale, scarred chest, fingers tracing over the intricate patterns born of his transformations. While it was true that Sirius hated the pain and limitations Remus' condition brought him, he loved the patchwork of scars that littered Remus' chest. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was solely because it was Remus that he found himself thrilled to be tracing over the markings. And when he felt the press of his bare legs as well, Sirius let out a sharp gasp, looking wildly up at Remus.
He was confused and turned on and scared all at once. The feel of so much of Remus' skin had him scrabbling to hold on to him, to pull him closer. "Remus" his name was a question that he didn't allow him to answer, instead he leaned up to drag him down once more. One hand remained on the task of mapping out the scars on Remus' back whilst the other tangled in his hair to keep him close. His enjoyment of their activities making itself known as his leg tugged Remus closer and his erection pressed into the others stomach which had Sirius making another little noise and trying to all but climb into Remus' mouth.