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Remus sat at the breakfast table with the newspaper spread out in front of him and a steaming mug of tea—milky, sweet, smooth—in hand. The seat across from his was empty, as it usually was for breakfast, but another mug of tea—black, bitter, boring—waited for its drinker beside a plump, buttery croissant. He flipped through the pages, skimming headlines and humming along to the faint music drifting from the speaker in the shower. Quieter than the music, so low you could almost miss it—Remus never did—Sirius sang along.
Don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree…
A smile tugged at his lips and he pulled his cosiest cardigan tighter around himself as his skin started to warm.
When the shower turned off, Remus looked up from the paper, waiting for the door to open. Soon, Sirius stepped into the hallway wearing only a towel, hanging low around his hips. Beads of water lay scattered across his shoulders and chest and dripped from the ends of his hair.
Remus tried not to stare. Every morning he tried not to stare, and he always failed in the end.
“A croissant? Moony, you spoil me!” Sirius shouted, dramatically pressing his hand to his heart. He ate half of the croissant in one bite, moaning as he chewed.
The look on his face—eyes closed, head tilted back—as he bit into the croissant was worth the ten minute walk to Sirius’s favourite corner bakery. The tips of Remus’s fingers were still cold from the frigid wind and his toes still tingled from the piles of fresh snow on the ground, but he’d do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and any day after that.
“It’s nothing,” Remus said, waving his nearly frostbitten hand in front of him as he drank the last bit of his tea.
After Sirius finished his croissant and grabbed his tea, Remus watched him shuffle down the hallway, the towel shifting and sliding further down his hips. It was agony, really, to be so close and not touch. To watch his hair fall in front of his eyes and not push it behind his ear. To watch the water roll in lines down his skin and not trace them with his tongue.
The urges were easier to manage when they lived with James and Peter. There was a playful quality in the air. It wasn’t tense or electric. It didn’t burn and crackle with something unsaid. But when it was just the two of them on the sofa, covered by the same blanket, reaching for the popcorn at the same time, brushing fingers and shoulders and thighs, it felt explosive. It also felt warm and soft and fragile. So fragile.
The painful awareness of exactly where Sirius’s hand was and how far it was from his own had a tangible presence that pulsed between them. He wondered what it would feel like to lace their fingers together, to feel Sirius’s fingers in the empty spaces between his own, to trace patterns across skin with his thumb. How would Sirius react if he tilted his head just a little to the left, past their unspoken barrier, and rested it on his shoulder? If he curled his legs between them and tucked his cold feet under Sirius’s warm thigh? And when the screen faded to black and they stood up to go to bed, what would Sirius do if Remus pulled him back by the wrist and kissed him goodnight?
Sometimes he wished he were a stronger man. A man who would give in to the pressure that steadily built inside his ribcage, letting it finally burst and take everything it wanted. Or a man who would move on, accept that if Sirius wanted him, it would have already happened. Instead, he lived in the in between, and it was quickly becoming an unsustainable place to be.
“Bus in five!” Remus shouted down the hall as he tidied up the kitchen, folding the newspaper for Sirius to read later, and loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. He leaned back against the counter and tried to shift his thoughts from Sirius to the day ahead of him. Then Sirius’s door creaked open and Remus allowed himself to steal one indulgent glance, noting the way his black jeans hugged his muscular thighs, the way his grey jumper clung to his chest and biceps.
They both walked to the coat rack and crowded together in front of it, wrapping themselves in coats and hats. Remus handed Sirius his gloves as Sirius said, “You trudged through the snow all the way to La Fournette? I owe you.” Then Sirius reached out and patted him once on the shoulder like he was nothing more than a mate.
“Not a problem. Woke up craving croissants, that’s all,” he said, trying to act casually, like jam on toast wasn’t his favourite breakfast, like he’d ever truly craved anything fancy and French from an overpriced bakery, which was slightly too far to ever be convenient, like his bones weren’t singing a chorus of ‘I’d do anything for you’.
Remus bent down to tie his boots, and as he stood up, Sirius hooked a scarf around his neck and held onto the fringed ends, tugging Remus forwards just an inch. His heart pounded and heat crawled up his cheeks. Pressure built in the air, ready to combust. So close, too close.
Their hot breaths mingled between them and Sirius said quietly, while looking into his eyes, “Really, thank you.” And just like that, Sirius flung one end of the scarf over Remus’s shoulder and dropped the other. The electricity in the air fizzled until it died and Remus took a half step back. “Ready?” Sirius asked as he twisted the door handle.
Hours later, after a busy morning, Remus was finally able to duck into the back room for a break. He had planned to pop over to his favourite café, Bad Owl, for a warm bowl of soup, but he didn’t think he’d have time, so he rummaged through the cupboards for something quick. Just as he pulled down a loaf of bread, the bells above the front door chimed. Praying for patience, he sighed and closed his eyes before stepping back into the shop.
Standing in the doorway with snowflakes clinging to his hair and dusted across his shoulders, Sirius held in his gloved hands a bag of what appeared to be two large soup containers. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as Sirius grinned at him. A different kind of hunger than before rushed through his body, of running his fingers through Sirius’s hair to brush away the snow, of cupping his hands around Sirius’s cold cheeks to warm them.
“Soup?” Sirius passed Remus the bag as he stomped his boots, leaving a dusting of snow on the rug.
“Only if it’s lentil.” Remus tried to bury his desire, and he guided Sirius to the break room.
“Of course,” Sirius said and smiled wide. “What else?”
After they finished their lunch, Sirius hung around the shop for a while, browsing for books Remus knew he would never read. Their eyes met across the stacks a few times and Remus always looked away first, feeling like he’d been caught out. But Sirius was looking at him too. Right?
“Alright, Moony, I’ve got a client in twenty. See you at home.” Sirius pulled on his gloves and waved as he reached for the door handle. A short pause, a blink-and-you-miss-it hesitation, like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. He turned the handle and disappeared into a flurry of snow.
“See you…” Remus muttered to himself, too late.
Normally he felt so in control of his feelings, buried them just deep enough that he was capable of platonic friendship and nothing more. It had taken years to find a steady rhythm bailing water from his sinking boat, but this morning he’d let the water level rise, enjoying the pleasant way Sirius could wash over him, revelling in small moments that meant nothing to Sirius but everything to him.
It was a scarf hooked around his neck, dragging him closer. The way Sirius’s breath ghosted across his face as he said ‘thank you’ and smiled.
It was lentil soup, delivered at just the right time. The way they had been in sync since they were teenagers.
It was stolen glances from across the room. Eyes that said ‘I like simply existing near you’.
Remus let himself wonder again if they could be something more. If he could stop bailing water from the boat. Let it sink. If he could be a strong enough man to take what he wanted.
James:
📣 PARTY PEOPLE! 📣
TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT!
THE LIONS DEN 9PM
💃🍾🎉🎄🎤🎶
DO NOT BE LATE!!!!!! 🚫😡🫵
Sirius:
fucking hell
why are you shouting?
and what are you on about?
James:
TONIGHT! THE LIONS DEN!
Sirius:
moony??
do you know what he’s talking about?
Remus:
No idea.
James:
THE 👏 LIONS 👏 DEN 👏
Remus:
James please. Stop with the caps. You’re giving me a headache.
Sirius:
what if we’re busy?
James:
fine
i know ur not busy sirius
what are ur plans???
sit around
watch a film
pop some popcorn
wank each other off 🍆💦
Sirius:
christ james
James:
instead of all that
LIONS DEN
karaoke night 🎤🎤🎤
everyone’s coming
well
i havent told everyone yet
but they will be there
Remus:
If we say yes will you stop talking?
James:
🤐
Remus:
OK then we’ll be there
Sirius:
don’t i get a say?
James:
no 🤣
Remus:
No
Despite his best efforts at arriving on time, Remus was thwarted every step of the way. First it was Sirius’s hair, then his outfit, then his eyeliner. When he asked if his rings looked cohesive, Remus was done.
“Sirius, we’re late,” he said through gritted teeth. He was ready to go. His hair flopped across his forehead as it always did, he wore the same clothes he had worn all day, and he stood by the door, already in his winter gear.
“Something’s not working. Maybe it’s the shirt,” Sirius whined as he pulled his plain black t-shirt up and over his head.
“That shirt was fine. Your hair looks perfect. And don’t even think about changing your fucking jeans again!”
“Aw, Moony,” Sirius purred, poking his head out of his bedroom. “I knew you liked my arse in these jeans.”
“That is not what I said,” he said too quickly. But it is the truth, he thought.
Sirius walked out wearing the first outfit he tried on nearly an hour ago—a plain white t-shirt, ripped black jeans, and his vintage leather jacket.
“Oh, brilliant, a bold new look,” Remus deadpanned. He looked at the clock. 21:18.
The walk to The Lion’s Den took just under fifteen minutes, and the anxiety coiling in Remus’s stomach tightened and tightened along the way. The first major stressor was, in fact, the way Sirius’s arse looked in those jeans. The second was that James always expected full karaoke participation and Remus just wasn’t the get-on-stage-and-perform type. And the obvious third was Remus’s very not-casual aversion to tardiness and the fact that they were—he checked his watch no less than ten times along the way—more than half an hour late.
Sirius held the door open as Remus entered the pub among a cloud of swirling snowflakes. They were immediately assaulted by a proper tragic butchering of Last Christmas and blinded by a dizzying whirlwind of festive decor. Wall-to-wall twinkling fairy lights and a lattice of red and green ropes of garland stretched between the beams on the ceiling. Large, glittering snowflakes and hundreds of ornaments of all sizes hung haphazardly among the other decorations.
Remus felt two hands against his shoulders, pressing him forwards from where he had stopped walking, stunned and gaping at the explosion of Christmas surrounding them.
“Is that a train set?” Sirius asked, gasping and pointing at a track that ran around the perimeter of the room.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here around Christmas until now. This is really… a lot,” Remus said as his eyes wandered, taking it all in, almost forgetting to be irritated with Sirius for making them late.
In the largest corner booth, he spotted many familiar faces and even more empty or nearly empty pint glasses on the table in front of them. “We should buy a round,” Remus suggested. “For being so late. Do you think Pete already sang? You know I love it when Pete—”
Sirius pressed a gloved finger against Remus’s mouth. “Shh… You go sit down. I’ll buy. Send Jamie up to help with the pints?”
“I’ll help,” Remus said, pushing Sirius’s hand away.
“No, no, go and say hi to everyone. You can even blame me for being late.”
“You are to blame.”
Sirius waved a hand in his face. “Go.”
“Can you get me—”
“Whatever stout they have on draught, I know.”
Remus turned and smiled to himself as he headed to the crowded booth. He wouldn’t unpack it and truly identify it all until much later, but a warm rush spread through him at the feeling of being known. Sure, it was just a few basic preferences—lentil soup from Bad Owl, stout instead of ale—but it felt warm and safe all the same.
Remus waved with both hands at the table full of friendly faces as he approached. “Hey, everyone! Sorry we’re late…”
Instead of a proper greeting, Remus was met with raucous laughter, which he briefly, inexplicably thought was directed at him, until Pete pointed at the stage. At the same time, Remus realised James was not sitting in the booth, and he followed Pete’s gesture to the stage where James was flailing and, somehow—impressively—missing every note he attempted to sing.
He glanced over to the bar where Sirius was amassing a large collection of pints and Sirius was already looking back at him. Remus pointed at the stage enthusiastically and saw the recognition on his face the moment he realised what he was witnessing.
As Remus sank into the booth, Sirius brought over two pints and said, “Pete, help with the rest?”
“Cheers, Sirius!” Lily shouted, grabbing a pint from the middle of the table.
“What did we miss?” Remus asked, stress and anxiety finally beginning to dissipate with the first sip of the dark stout. “Besides whatever… this is.”
Marlene laughed and shook her head. “He’s bloody awful! I’d like to apologise on behalf of James for ruining your favourite Christmas song, Rem.”
Lily’s eyes didn’t leave the stage and the smile on her face was soft and dreamy as James, wearing a ridiculous Santa hat, continued to wail into the microphone, jabbing a finger in her direction as he sang, “I’ll give it to someone special”.
“D’you think he even knows the meaning of Last Christmas? I wouldn’t sing it to a boyfriend…” Remus grumbled.
“It’s sweet, isn’t it?” Lily said airily, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.
There had been many more poor karaoke renditions of Last Christmas than great ones, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. It was that if he was going to be forcibly dragged on stage, this was the song he’d choose to sing. Because he knew all the lyrics by heart. Because he could shout it rather than sing it and still sound better than James.
As the rest of the pints were set onto the table, four hands reached out to grab them. Sirius didn’t waste any time squishing himself into the tight booth beside Remus, pressing against him from shoulder to hip to knee.
“He’s ruining your favourite song, Moons!” Sirius shouted over the off-key crooning with a laugh. Remus sipped from his stout as heat crept up his cheeks.
Finally—but not nearly soon enough—the song ended and James strutted back to the table, glasses fogged and sweat shining on his forehead. “Moony! Padfoot! You made it! We were starting to worry!” he yelled, too loudly, before squeezing in next to Peter on the opposite side of the booth.
A name was called and a familiar melody started playing. Sirius hummed the opening notes under his breath next to Remus, too quietly for the rest of the table to hear, as Dorcas rolled her eyes. “So fucking cliché, innit? The most overrated, commercial—” she started to rant, but was cut off by Sirius.
“Oi! It’s a modern classic!” he retorted, glaring at her across the table and playfully tossing a balled-up napkin in her face.
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
“I quite like it,” Remus said, humming along. “And the woman on stage can actually sing. A nice change from the last one.” He glanced quickly at James, who was smiling at Lily and didn’t seem to be the least bit fazed by his own abysmal performance or the thinly veiled jab.
Remus leaned in and spoke quietly in Sirius’s ear, before he had the chance to think twice. “But you sing it better.” Sirius looked at him, but Remus stared down at his own hands encircling his pint glass.
“I think I’m next,” Pete chirped, pushing his way out of the booth. He stretched each arm in front of his chest then reached down to touch his toes.
“You’re not stretching… for karaoke?” Marlene asked through a laugh.
“What song, Pete? Your usual?” Lily asked.
“Please tell me it’s—” Remus started, a smile spreading wide across his face.
“Top secret, I’m afraid!” Pete shouted, as he continued to twist and stretch, before downing the second half of his pint. Maybe they hadn’t missed what was sure to be the best part of the night after all.
The last bars of All I Want For Christmas rang out and the band faded to nothing. The PA crackled to life and “Peter P!” boomed across the room. Cheers erupted from their table as Pete jogged to the stage, beaming. A few soft piano bars played and Remus immediately knew what it was, exactly the song he expected, one that Pete regularly chose.
It was Christmas Eve, babe
In the drunk tank
Remus was already laughing, anticipatory tears starting to gather in the crinkled corners of his eyes, and it had only just started. Everyone at their table—and most of the other tables—sang along as Pete gave it his all on stage. And honestly? He actually sounded decent, but it really didn’t matter when you sang Fairytale of New York.
Then the tempo sped up and Pete adjusted his pitch for the other side of the duet.
They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
“This is proper fucking gold!” Dorcas yelled across the table, clutching her stomach, then joining back in for “you promised me Broadway was waiting for me!”
“Her first Christmas karaoke,” Marlene cooed, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.
Sirius stood from the booth and reached a hand out to both Remus and James, pulling them to their feet, and jerking his head towards the stage. “Let’s goooo!”
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing ‘Galway Bay’
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day
The whole group made it to the stage just in time for the chorus. They shouted at the tops of their lungs, arms draped around each other and swaying back and forth slightly off beat. Pete smiled, having caught sight of them in front of the stage.
With the music vibrating through his body, surrounded by his best friends, the last of Remus’s anxiety left him. He forgot about the tension of the day, about their late arrival, and about the looming inevitability of James making him sing.
Eventually, the song ended and the group cheered and clapped Pete on the back as he jumped off the stage. As they began to make their way back to their booth, the PA crackled again and Remus held his breath. “Up next is… Padfoot,” the voice said. Remus exhaled.
Just as Sirius moved to approach the stage, James thrust a shot glass full of dark liquor in front of him. He held another shot glass in his other hand, which was surely intended for himself, but Sirius grabbed both and downed them one after the other. James scoffed and made his way back towards the bar, but not before shoving his Santa hat onto Remus’s head.
The band was looping over the first few bars of a tune Remus immediately recognised. Knowing now that James signed Sirius up to sing Santa Baby, Remus was afraid to know which song was written next to his name on the sign-up sheet. He glanced around the stage for it, hoping to prepare himself at least or cross his name off at best, but he couldn’t find it.
“Don’t know what he was bloody thinking,” Sirius grumbled under his breath, but the microphone picked it up and a few people in the audience laughed awkwardly as the intro bars looped again.
The man at the piano began scatting, “Ba boom, ba boom,” and cleared his throat, cuing Sirius to sing.
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me
Been an awful good boy
Remus pushed the fluffy white end of the hat out of his face as Sirius pointed into the audience—no, at him—and winked dramatically on “good boy”. Remus tried to shuffle off to the side, to hide behind Lily or Marlene or anyone else. He tried to tear his eyes away from Sirius, who looked unfairly gorgeous with colourful stage lights painting his skin.
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, a ‘54 convertible too, light blue
I’ll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Standing at the front of the stage now, Sirius was doing his best to edge the performance towards comedy. His movements were exaggerated, swaying his hips with every step, pointing wildly, winking, and blowing kisses. Dorcas wolf-whistled when a wink was directed at her, and Remus’s cheeks tingled with warmth when a kiss was blown vaguely in his direction.
Think of all the fun that I’ve missed
Then Sirius’s smile melted into something more earnest as he sang unmistakably to Remus, locking eyes with him. A knot twisted deep inside his stomach as he held Sirius’s gaze, as Sirius reached his hand out and grabbed his wrist, as he pulled him up the one step onto the stage…
Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed
…and Remus’s heart fell through his stomach and his skin crackled with electricity where Sirius was gripping him. The Santa hat on his head suddenly weighed a tonne. Then Sirius was standing in front of him and they were both facing the audience, Sirius’s back was pressed flush against his chest, and he was pulling Remus’s arm around his waist, clutching his sweaty hand. Chills crawled up Remus’s spine as Sirius squeezed his fingers, as his arse grazed against the front of his jeans, as…
Next year I could be just as good
…as Remus lost himself in the way Sirius’s fingers felt against his own, in the flat stretch of Sirius’s stomach under his hand, in the hot friction building below his belt. His breaths were coming heavier and quicker now and he leaned his head forwards the slightest bit, closing a gap that felt like an impossibly endless chasm.
If you’ll check off my Christmas list
He inhaled an uneven breath and closed his eyes, letting salty heat and the scent of musky vanilla press against his skin. He moved his other hand up, fingers gently, barely dragging along the length of Sirius’s thigh, so featherlight he was sure Sirius wouldn’t feel it. But Sirius’s voice cracked on “off” and Remus pulled back, heat flooding his cheeks. He had to gain control of himself before his carefully maintained boat sank.
Santa baby, I want a yacht
And really that’s not a lot
Sirius spun around in front of him and guided him backwards, to a chair Remus hadn’t noticed before. The backs of his knees buckled against the seat and he fell indelicately into it. There was a brief reprieve when Sirius sauntered back to the centre of the stage, serenading the audience instead of him. He wiped his cold and clammy palms down his thighs as his hands gently shook. He adjusted the hat on his head and considered tearing it off instead.
Sirius swayed at the edge of the stage, wearing those perfect jeans that made his arse look so…
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
An unwelcome, surprising twitch behind his zipper caused his chest to jerk forwards and his heart to race again. No. No!
Santa honey, one little thing I really need
Sirius pointed and marched slowly towards him, rocking his hips to emphasise each beat. Remus shifted in his seat as his cock pulsed slowly. Fucking hell. He gripped his thighs with his hands, knuckles turning white, fighting as the water rose around him, as Sirius came closer, closer, closer…
The deed, to a platinum mine
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
He felt a heavy boot kick his feet apart and then Sirius had his back to him, one hand on Remus’s knee as an anchor, and he shimmied into a low squat, timed perfectly with “down the chimney”. He straightened his legs and lifted his arse into the air slowly, so fucking slowly…
Santa cutie
…before wiggling it on “cu-tie”. An unknowable force tugged at him, working to draw his hands to Sirius’s hips, to pull Sirius into his lap, to take everything he was being offered. Instead, he leaned back as far as he could, still squeezing his own thighs, because to touch him now would be to drown.
Fill my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your X on the line
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
It was a Christmas miracle when Sirius peeled himself away. But then his fingers crawled along the length of Remus’s arm from wrist to elbow to shoulder as he walked around to the back of the chair, leaving a trail of tingling skin everywhere he had touched. A puff of warm breath against the shell of Remus’s ear made him gasp, and Sirius answered it with an airy laugh.
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany
After making a long, torturous circle around him, Sirius stopped just to the left of him and slowly sank sideways into his lap and slung his arm around Remus’s neck. Remus squirmed in the chair, pushing his hips back and hoping Sirius would stay safely far, far away from the problem that was growing steadily in his trousers.
I really do believe in you
Let’s see if you believe in me
Because Sirius was apparently possessed by the devil, without warning he leaned his shoulders far back and kicked a leg straight into the air. Remus reflexively caught him between the shoulder blades, balancing him, feeling his pulse hammer through his skin. When Sirius brought his leg down, he crossed it over the other with a flourish, but Remus wasn’t watching his legs. He was watching the shape of Sirius’s mouth as he sang, and the cheers from the audience fizzled into white noise, the lights melted away, and all that was left were the two of them.
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing
His voice was quieter now, not much more than a whisper. With the arm hooked around Remus’s neck, he pulled himself in closer. So close that their heavy breaths mingled together in the tight space, so close that—oh. Remus’s back arched in response to the weight suddenly pressing on his aching cock and his hips threatened to buck. He wondered if there was any possibility that Sirius couldn’t feel it, hot and straining through stiff fabric against his arse.
A ring
I don’t mean on the phone
On “ring” his voice cracked. And then, to Remus’s horror and reluctant pleasure, Sirius pulled himself closer, shifting his own hips over Remus’s cock in such a tiny, minuscule movement that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe he had done it on purpose. A sharp intake of breath betrayed him, and similarly, Sirius’s smirk betrayed him. If Remus had allowed himself to believe in fantasies, he may have wondered then if Sirius had known exactly what he was doing.
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
As the song reached its closing lines, he wondered if this was a joke, if it was just a performance, or was it more? If he’d ever be this close to Sirius again, permitted—no, encouraged—to flirt and touch in the name of karaoke?
Hurry, tonight
Electricity surged through his veins and his cock fluttered. His time was quickly running out so he took what he wanted, dragging his hand slowly up Sirius’s spine and resting it at the nape of his neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Sirius’s temple, exhaling a long, shaky breath against his cheek. He felt Sirius’s breath hitch on “hurry” and he smiled believing it was because of him.
Just as he let himself consider the way Sirius’s skin might feel against his lips, the world snapped back into focus. The final bars faded out and the audience cheered and whistled. It felt like an intrusion, like the moment had corroded in an instant, and Remus needed to be anywhere but on the chair on that stage.
Sirius rose to his feet slowly and Remus slid out from under him. He darted from the stage directly to the toilets, where he locked himself in a cubicle. His back slid down the door until he was sitting on the filthy tiles, heart racing and hands shaking.
Only a few seconds passed before he heard commotion outside. “James, leave it alone!” Sirius’s voice hit him in the chest, then his heavy boots thudded across the tiles. The door jostled behind his back as he felt Sirius lean against it and slide down to the floor, his mirror image.
“Talk to me, Moons,” he pleaded, low and careful. The way ‘Moons’ fell from his lips was familiar and devastating.
Remus would have said something, had he known what to say.
Hey, mate, how’d my hard cock feel against your arse as you wiggled in my lap?
Was it all a joke at my expense? Did I do something wrong?
I want you so badly I can hardly sleep at night. Always have, really.
Sirius’s hand reached under the door and the rings on his fingers clinked against the floor. “Please,” Sirius whispered. Remus felt his pained voice radiate through his own bones, joining the hurt that was already there. Before he could convince himself not to, he reached back and clasped a hand around Sirius’s. “Moons, unlock the door. I know you’re spiralling in there and there’s so much I want to say… need to say.”
“Can’t you say it from there?” Remus’s throat protested and the words came out rough and pitiful. Don’t cry, don’t cry.
He felt Sirius’s head fall back against the door with a soft thud, and then a long, slow exhale.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Remus choked. “Why did you p—pull me up th—there? For a joke? A ch—cheap laugh?” Letting go of Sirius’s hand, he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. A barrier against the stark coldness of the room. A shield between himself and whatever Sirius would say next.
Sirius’s hand reached further through the gap under the door, reaching for a hand that wasn’t there, but finding a hip and then an ankle instead. “No! It was the furthest thing from a joke!” He hesitated, then gripped Remus’s ankle tighter. “I don’t want to talk about this through a door,” he added, releasing him.
“What was it then?” he asked, still wrapped safely in his cocoon. But he was met with a long stretch of excruciating silence, then the door jostled again and the same heavy boots echoed across the floor as Sirius stood.
He unwrapped his arms from his knees slowly, letting his legs fall straight in front of him before scrambling to stand. Wiping the wet streaks from his cheeks and telling himself that it would be great if he could stop crying now, he twisted the lock and let the door swing open.
Sirius stepped towards him quickly and pulled him into his arms, squeezing him around the shoulders and burying his face into the crook of his neck. Remus stood stupidly still, arms hanging limp at his sides, as heat swooped in his stomach at the touch. He hated that he didn’t understand what was happening or what Sirius was trying to say. He hated that Sirius was hugging him and he felt safe and warm, but tears still pooled in the corners of his eyes.
“I got… carried away...” Sirius winced as he pulled back. He held onto Remus’s arms, like he was afraid he’d run—which, to be fair, Remus had been considering. Then he loosened his grip and slid his hands down until he was holding both of Remus’s hands. It wasn’t clear to Remus whose hands were shaking or if it was both of them.
“Carried away how?” Remus asked, putting substantial effort into keeping his voice measured.
“I went too far… Your lap… the fucking burlesque… all of it. It wasn’t fair. The way that I did it… It wasn’t fair.” Sirius was far from composed, his eyes unfocused and settled somewhere over Remus’s shoulder, and one hand came up to rub the back of his neck. Then, as he dragged his eyes back to Remus, the most endearing, sheepish smile spread across his face, and Remus’s fear dissolved. It was earnest, it was apologetic, it was regretful.
“So… not a cruel joke?” Remus confirmed as fear flashed across Sirius’s face.
“Please, Moons, don’t ever think that! It’s not—I wasn’t—”
“Then what were you?” Remus asked impatiently.
Not being able to understand Sirius—to hear his words and instinctively know what he really meant—left him feeling unmoored. Then Sirius looked at him and his mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t make a sound. So Remus took a step towards the door. “I think I just want to go home.”
He reached for the handle, but before he could wrap his fingers around it, Sirius gripped his wrist and pulled him back. Then he was in front of Sirius again, nose to nose, and Sirius’s eyes flicked to his lips. Remus’s heartbeat sped up and his lips parted half in a gasp, half in a breath.
The quick reaction startled Remus but Sirius’s impulsivity should have been anything but a surprise. He acted before thinking, always, and Remus knew that so deeply, so intimately. Carried away, he understood, just as Sirius whispered, “I wanted to touch you, so I did. I’m only sorry I didn’t ask first.”
Water sloshed unforgiving over the edges, pulling the boat down, down, down as it disappeared into the depths. Remus reached up to touch the side of Sirius’s neck, dragging his thumb across his cheek, to pull him forward, and to finally—finally—press their lips together. Slowly, hesitantly, as if saying, ‘please, tell me if this isn’t what you want, stop me, please, save me from drowning’.
But Sirius didn’t stop him. He pulled them under the current together, thrashing and fighting against the waves. And then they weren’t thrashing and fighting anymore. They were floating above the surface, as their lips slotted together so perfectly, as they panted around each other’s mouths, as their hands grasped at each other’s bodies, as their tongues slid together sweetly, tasting and wanting and savouring.
“Let me take you home now,” Sirius breathed into his mouth.
When Remus pulled back, Sirius chased his lips and pressed them together again, holding him in place with the fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Remus’s neck. Remus felt a smile spread across Sirius’s lips against his own and it was the loveliest thing he’d ever felt.
He let himself wonder for the first time if he could really have this. No more hypotheticals about whether he could be a strong enough man, because he was finally kissing Sirius Black, and there would be no way to undo what had been done.
He pulled back again, running his hands down Sirius’s sides, gripping his hips and pulling him flush against his body. Brushing his lips against the sensitive skin behind Sirius’s ear, he whispered, “Take me home.”
With their fingers laced together, Sirius pushed open the door and peeked down the hall. “Quick, follow me,” he whispered, tugging at his hand. Instead of turning back the way they came, he grabbed their coats from the rack and dragged Remus through a door at the side of the building. It slammed shut behind them and the music dropped to a muffled hum as they put on their coats.
Remus’s heart pounded as he looked to Sirius. His eyes were dark and hooded, lips pulled into a lopsided grin. Then Sirius’s warm lips pressed against his gently, and when they broke apart, Remus leaned his forehead against Sirius’s. “Let’s go.”
The walk home couldn’t have been more different than the walk there. They trudged across the snowy pavement as quickly as their legs would allow, stopping occasionally, unable to keep their hands off each other for too long. They kissed against buildings and lamp posts and at every red traffic light. Remus craved Sirius’s skin on his—he was ravenous for it—but too many layers separated them. Coats and scarves and gloves. All Remus could think was off, now.
When they finally arrived outside their flat, they fumbled with keys and doors, and tripped and stumbled up the stairs and into their entry. Time slowed as Remus looked at Sirius standing in front of their coat rack. He reached to help him peel off his layers, pushing his coat from his shoulders and pulling gloves from his hands, then Sirius did the same for him. Sirius turned around with his back to Remus and stepped into the hallway towards their bedrooms. Remus tugged him back by the hips until their bodies were flush together, then tilted Sirius’s head to the side, breathing him in, mouthing down the side of his neck and running his hands along the curves of his hips.
“I really do love your arse in these jeans,” Remus whispered into his neck.
“All for you,” Sirius breathed, and turned to face Remus, pulling him into another kiss, grinding his hips against him. Remus moaned at the friction, reaching for Sirius’s belt loops and pulling him harder against him. They stumbled, joined together, into the hallway.
As they stood halfway between their bedrooms, Remus wondered which door they’d walk through, whose bed they’d land on, whose sheets they’d wake up tangled in. Then the thought of waking up in the morning with Sirius next to him sent a pang through his chest. He had to ask, one last time.
“If this isn’t real for you, I need to know now,” he said, holding Sirius’s face in his hands, tracing his cheekbones with his thumbs. Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus pressed a finger against his lips and continued, determined to say what he needed to say. “I won’t be able to come back from this if you don’t really want it—me. Because—”
Then Sirius grabbed his wrist and took Remus’s finger into his mouth, sucking lightly before he pulled Remus’s wrist down. “This is real for me, Moons. I’ve never wanted anything more,” he said, looking intensely in his eyes. And Remus believed him.
Remus guided them into his room and gracelessly pushed Sirius onto the bed. When Sirius’s back hit the mattress, Remus knew he’d never forget the sight of Sirius’s inky black hair fanned across his pillows. “You’re so beautiful,” he said as he crawled on top of him, letting his weight fall against Sirius’s chest.
Sirius pushed his hips up and into Remus’s and they both let out a soft gasp around each other’s mouths. It took everything in Remus not to reel back, self-conscious that Sirius could feel his half-hard cock straining against his jeans. But Remus could feel Sirius’s too, as he rocked his hips underneath him, as they chased friction that sent waves of heat through their bodies.
Remus’s back arched when Sirius’s cold hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt and chills spread across his body. Sirius dragged the fabric up his back and tugged it over his head. When the Santa hat came off with it, Sirius pushed it back on his head and said, “Keep that on.”
“Why?” Remus asked, pushing the fluffy white ball out of his eyes.
“I want to ride Santa,” Sirius said simply, like he was explaining to Remus that two plus two equals four.
“Oh,” was all Remus could say before Sirius was flipping them over. He moaned another softer “oh” when his shoulders hit the bed. Strong, commanding arms moving his body effortlessly made his cock kick again, and thank God, Sirius’s fingers were already deftly pulling open his belt. Remus ran a finger across the button of Sirius’s jeans and before popping it open, he asked, “Is this okay?”
At that, Sirius barked out a too-loud laugh. “Yes,” he practically shouted, leaning down, leaving the belt and the zipper alone for now, pressing his mouth to Remus’s, reassuring him again. “I’ve wanted this for…”
“For how long?” Remus breathed, unsure what he wanted the answer to be.
“Years,” he said, his voice slightly wavering.
Years? Years! Remus’s head swam and his ribcage felt too small for his lungs. He reached for Sirius, grabbing onto any bit of skin he could reach. “Years,” he repeated back quietly, barely even a whisper.
Mischief flashed across Sirius’s face as he crawled backwards down the bed. His tongue explored down Remus’s chest, slowing only to draw his pebbled nipple between his teeth, then down to his navel, burying his nose in the coarse trail of hair as he continued down.
Sirius curled his fingers around the waistband of Remus’s jeans and tugged them down. He looked up at Remus then, his face inches from his aching bulge, and smiled before pulling down his pants. Remus whimpered when his cock bobbed in the air, free at last. He kicked off his jeans and his pants, pushing them off the end of the bed, and reached for Sirius’s face.
It happened quickly from there: Sirius’s tongue was on him, tracing a strip from base to tip, teasing at the head, and wrapping his mouth around it, sucking and swirling, and taking him deeper, deeper, oh. When Sirius took his cock fully into his mouth, when it hit the back of his throat, Remus’s back arched and he gripped the back of Sirius’s head. He tried not to buck his hips, to draw it out a little bit longer, but he’d already been on edge for hours.
“Sirius, please! Don’t stop!” he yelled, clutching the duvet now instead of Sirius, controlling his breaths, feeling the wave start to roll through his body. His toes tingled and his stomach clenched as Sirius bobbed his head up and down, and when Sirius pulled his mouth almost all the way off of him, swirling his tongue around his leaking head, Remus guided Sirius back down.
Sirius gripped his hips and Remus couldn’t move. He wanted to warn him, but before he could find words, his cock jerked and he came with the wet heat of Sirius’s mouth around him and the strength of his arms holding him.
“Oh my God,” Remus panted. Sirius pulled off of him and licked his lips as he crawled back up Remus’s body. “I’m sorry, I—” Remus started to say, but Sirius quieted him with a crushing kiss. It was all swollen lips and lapping tongues and need and want and more, more, more.
“I loved it,” Sirius breathed into his mouth.
Remus lifted Sirius’s shirt over his head, then piece by piece undressed the rest of him until all that was left on either of them was Remus’s ridiculous Santa hat. Lying naked together for the first time, he allowed himself to look, really look, at the tattoos scattered across Sirius’s skin, at his scars from childhood, at the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. He explored it all with his eyes, his hands, and then his tongue, and oh, how much better it was than he had ever dreamt it could be.
Taking his time sucking a bruise onto Sirius’s collarbone, Remus basked in the sounds coming from Sirius as the gorgeous man on top of him mouthed frantically across his neck and jaw.
“Remus,” he moaned as he rolled his hips once, and their cocks bumped together, sending a hot pulse through Remus’s body. Sirius reached between them and he wrapped his hand around both of them, smearing his precome as he stroked. Heat rose in Remus’s cheeks as his hips bucked under Sirius, blood rushing to his cock embarrassingly quickly. “Already, Moons? Look what I do to you,” Sirius teased, continuing to stroke their cocks with one hand.
“You have no idea,” Remus whispered, mostly to himself. But Sirius smiled and wrapped both arms around his shoulders to pull him into a sloppy, frantic kiss. He dragged his nails down Remus’s back and rocked his hips slowly, moaning into his mouth every time their cocks bumped.
Gradually, Remus’s hands roamed from Sirius’s waist to his hips to his arse, where he hesitantly squeezed, still fighting back disbelief. Sirius’s back arched and Remus, encouraged by the display of approval, let his hand wander between his cheeks, fingering at his tight hole, rubbing gently across the puckered skin.
“Turn around,” he said, moving his hands to Sirius’s hips, helping him twist around until he was situated on his knees with his arse in the air. “God, Pads, look at you,” he marvelled, using his hands to spread his cheeks apart again. His cock twitched as he pictured himself breaching the pretty pink hole, stretching it until the skin was tight and smooth and rolling in and out with each stroke.
Sirius wiggled his arse in Remus’s face—only inches away now—the same way he had on stage. But this time Remus pulled him back and dragged the flat of his tongue across his hole, moaning into it, truly tasting him for the first time. He worked his tongue in circles around the tight muscle, gently pressing into it bit by bit. He pulled back to sneak another look and he was so pleased to see the rim clench at the loss of his tongue.
As quickly as he could manage, Remus sat back and rummaged for lube and condoms in his bedside table. Sirius groaned and squirmed, and he said, “Moons, come back.”
Remus laughed as he warmed a glob of the cold lube between his hands. He pressed a trail of kisses up his spine before pushing a slick finger against his hole. “I’m right here, baby,” he whispered, easing his first finger in. He worked the rim, stretching until he was able to slide in a second, then a third, crooking his fingers until he found the spot that made Sirius jolt. He hit the spot over and over until Sirius’s thighs quivered and he folded his body over Sirius’s and whispered in his ear, “Do you want to come like this?”
“Y—yes!” Sirius shouted, pressing his arse back into Remus, fucking himself on his fingers.
As soon as Remus’s other hand wrapped around Sirius’s cock, it kicked in his hand and spurted across the duvet. Remus drew the rest of his release out with firm strokes and Sirius collapsed. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, his face pressed into the bed.
Remus fell on top of him, running his hands up and down his sides as he kissed along his shoulders. His cock was pressed against Sirius’s arse, pulsing and aching. “Still want to ride Santa, baby?” Remus asked, lifting himself off of Sirius’s back and into a sitting position behind him.
“Yes, pl—please. Fuck me,” he said, half-panting, half-whimpering.
Sirius rolled over and crawled to him, bracketing his knees around Remus’s hips. Remus pulled him into another kiss and asked, “Have you been a good boy?” He felt Sirius’s cock twitch against his stomach in response and he returned the tease. “Already, baby?”
“I’ve been an awful good boy,” Sirius said while lifting his hips.
Remus rolled a condom onto his cock and lined it up as Sirius slowly sank down, and the only thing Remus regretted was that he wouldn’t see the way he stretched for him. Maybe next time, he thought.
As the tight heat of Sirius surrounded him, Remus tipped his head back and fought the urge to slam into him immediately. When Sirius was finally fully seated, he pressed his face into the crook of Remus’s neck, breathing heavy. “You feel so good, Moons,” he gasped.
“So fucking good,” Remus echoed, running his hands up and down Sirius’s back slowly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and Sirius crashed their lips together as he rolled his hips in small circles. Too perfect, he thought, hoping he’d be able to make this last.
The way Sirius’s tight walls fluttered around him, clenching and pulling him in, was bitter tea and buttery croissants in the morning. It was scarves and stouts and lentil soup. It was water dripping in lines down damp skin and towels slung too low around hips. It was tight black t-shirts and tighter black jeans, smudged eyeliner and hands covered in silver rings.
It was his now, to love and worship and claim.
As Sirius raised and lowered his hips slowly, Remus left purple bruises and wet trails behind as he tasted every inch of Sirius’s skin. It was all he could do to distract from the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of Sirius as he bounced on his lap, panting and moaning and making the most delicious sounds.
Sirius gripped Remus’s shoulders as he bounced with precision, searching for the right angle and shouting his name when he finally hit it. Tension coiled in Remus’s stomach when Sirius clenched around him as he dragged his body up and down, up and—Remus’s hips bucked, slamming into Sirius on the downstroke.
Crying out with shaking legs, Sirius collapsed against Remus’s chest. “I’ve got you, baby,” Remus said as he laid back, pulling Sirius flush on top of him. He held Sirius in place by his hips and planted his feet flat on the bed. With quick, hard thrusts he slammed into Sirius over and over. Pleasure rolled through his body, white sparking behind his eyelids.
“Don’t st—stop,” Sirius cried before biting down gently onto Remus’s shoulder.
Remus clumsily rolled them over and the Santa hat’s fluffy white ball fell in front of his eyes. Laughing, Sirius pulled the hat off of his head, finally.
With Sirius’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, Remus pulled almost all the way out and drove back in, punching the most heavenly sound from Sirius’s throat. So he did it again, and again, and Sirius went limp beneath him.
“I’m close,” Remus panted as sweat beaded on his forehead and his legs trembled. His stomach muscles clenched as he continued to thrust, sparks igniting across his skin.
Sirius reached up and splayed his hands across Remus’s cheeks and pulled him into a slow, breathy kiss. “Come for me,” he moaned against Remus’s lips.
Remus slowed into short, sharp thrusts, and his orgasm crashed through his body. He felt Sirius’s hand between them stroking his own cock, and it only took a couple more pumps before Sirius was screaming out and hot come coated their stomachs. They panted into each other’s mouths and their chests heaved in unison. Remus pushed Sirius’s hair off of his damp skin and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Beautiful,” he mouthed against his skin, barely even a whisper.
As Remus started to roll off of him, Sirius squeezed his legs tighter and said, “Hold me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Remus said, kissing him slowly.
Minutes or hours passed as they lay like that, sticky and sated, kissing languidly, until Remus slowly slipped out of him. Sirius whined in protest when Remus rolled off of him, but he got up anyway to throw the condom in the bin and get a cloth to clean them up. When he got back to the room with the warm, wet cloth, Sirius’s eyes were closed and he exhaled softly as Remus wiped down his stomach and between his thighs. Remus pushed down the bedding and Sirius squirmed underneath the sheets. Remus joined him, pulling their bodies tightly together.
Remus awoke to a bright strip of light across his face as the morning sun filtered through his curtains. It took him a second to take stock of Sirius’s limbs wrapped tightly around his body, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as the memories of last night flashed through his mind. He looked down at Sirius as he slept, his expression so soft and peaceful, and he closed his eyes and let sleep take him again.
The next time Remus woke up, it was to Sirius reaching across his body and smacking his hand against the bedside table as a phone buzzed repeatedly. Sirius found the buzzing phone and handed it to Remus. “S’yours,” he grumbled, his voice rough and thick.
Remus squinted at the bright screen and read the first few notifications. “Yeah, but he’s your problem,” he said, thrusting the phone in Sirius’s hands.
He had fourteen unread messages from James ranging from “did you leave?” to “are you safe?” to “be SAFE” with a wink emoji to a string of eggplant and high five emojis. But James could wait because all that mattered then was the weight of Sirius curled against his body, breathing softly against his neck.
“Happy Christmas, Pads,” Remus said, pushing his hair behind his ear.
“Happy Christmas, love,” Sirius whispered back.
Remus reached back to find the Santa hat on the floor behind him and tugged it onto Sirius’s head. Laughing, Sirius leapt onto Remus, pinning him down by his arms, and kissed wildly across his face and neck. Finally, Sirius settled onto his chest, laying his head on his shoulder. “I—” he started to say, so softly, and Remus’s heartbeat thrashed behind his ribcage.
Remus turned onto his side quickly so they were face to face, and he held Sirius’s cheeks in his hands. He hesitated and Sirius opened his mouth again to speak. Remus quieted him with a firm kiss, because he wanted to say the words. He pulled back and said, “I love you, Sirius.”
After a long, shaky exhale, Sirius whispered, “Thank God. I love you, too. So much.”
“For years,” Remus whispered back.
Sirius kissed him again, long and soft. “Lifetimes,” he breathed against his lips.