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The Department of Mysteries, by definition, is full of mystery. Even the most well-known items in it, such as Time-Turners, aren’t truly understood.
So when Sirius comes back in dog form, unable to change back, it’s less surprising than puzzling. Sure, yes, come back to life mysteriously from behind a curtain at the Department as a dog, why not? But the fact that he can’t change back — while clearly possessing his human mind — is, well, puzzling.
There’s much joy at first of course, then an almost academic interest in solving this seemingly impossible magical puzzle.
The issue comes when they realise that it’s not “seemingly” but rather a genuinely impossible problem. Harry’s the last to accept the conclusion, whether due to his unwavering belief in McGonagall and Hermione, or the stubbornness he’s inherited from his father.
When he does finally get there, Harry demands to bring him as a Familiar to school, which doesn’t offend Sirius at all. In fact, he barks very happily and wags his tail. Dumbledore deems it too dangerous. Eventually, they go back to their lives, and Sirius and Remus move back to the Lupin cottage. They’re farther from the HQ, but this way Sirius can run and play outside rather than be stuck in a depressing house.
Dumbledore can communicate with him, but not any better than Remus can, really. Dumbledore calls it “curious.” He can read Sirius’ mind, but apparently the thoughts are “fleeting”. Difficult to hold on to. Remus can gather about as much as Dumbledore can based just on how well he knows his friend.
Besides, it would be unfathomable to keep a Legilimens around as a full-time translator for one man, even if he hadn’t been an escaped convict.
Sirius, against all odds, is calmer than Remus about it. He’d found it difficult to let Harry go back to Hogwarts, but he doesn’t show any genuine frustration at being stuck in his form. Maybe it’s all those years in Azkaban that made him so used to it.
Remus is… "distraught" is too strong a word, but he’s something close to it. It’s like the opposite of having a ghost of your loved one; corporeal, but you can’t talk to them.
They’re lying on the bench they’ve transfigured into a couch on the porch, enjoying the crisp March air. The weather's just barely showing signs of spring. Padfoot’s head is resting on Remus’ chest as the rest of his upper body drapes over his body. They’d always enjoyed this, Remus petting him in dog form while having a cup of tea, or something. Of course Sirius could turn back then, it was a choice, but it’s still quite nice, like this.
“When Prongs joked about you staying as Padfoot permanently, reckon he put some sort of curse on you?”
Padfoot huffs a couple of times, a noise Remus has come to interpret as a chuckle. They don’t make any other sound for almost an hour.
They’ve been living like this for weeks now, in the calm Welsh countryside, mostly in quiet. It’s a full moon tonight, though, so Remus is already gearing up to handle Sirius’ inevitable guilt at not being able to help the morning after.
Something entirely different than what he’d been fearing happens. Something much more mortifying.
Having an Animagus friend with him isn’t like Wolfsbane, he doesn’t entirely keep his human mind. It’s more like having a hazy human awareness, while still having the same werewolf instincts, than actually thinking like a human. He still wants to kill that little furry animal, but his friends can steer him to a hare instead of someone’s cat prowling the woods.
All that is to say, shortly after they transform on the full moon, all Remus — Moony — wants to do, is lick Padfoot. Face licking is familiar territory, as is nudging him with his snout. That’s all friendly, that’s all appropriate. But then, for the first time ever, he wants to sniff his back. Even his muddled mind knows it’s not on, but he can’t help himself. Padfoot, for his part, allows some sniffing but no mounting, which Remus is tremendously glad for as he comes to the next morning.
Bollocks, he thinks as he stirs awake and remembers the night’s events.
His head hurts something fierce. It seems unfair that the ache of his bones and muscles aren’t enough, he also gets these terrible headaches that can last hours. He’s not looking forward to opening his eyes.
Except, nothing happens. They go about their day, spend a lot of time resting and cuddling until Remus feels better, and that's that. Something has shifted in Sirius' mind, but Remus won't find that out until later, and realise only in retrospect.
~
Remus, despite his friends' jokes when they were teenagers, does not get hornier around the full moon. He feels antsy and like he wants to crawl out of his skin. He's had a few interesting sexual encounters around that time, but sex just isn't in the forefront of his mind. Feeling the wolf's approach has nothing to do with mating. It's more about the transformation, the anticipation of running around, the hunting, the wolf feeling freed from its human prison.
He does, instead, feel horny in the days around the new moon. It's not that he ever forgets that he's a werewolf, but if he had to pinpoint a time of the month where he feels its effects the least, it's the new moon. His bones are no longer aching from the transformation, and he isn't counting down days to the next one. It's a week or so of relative normalcy. And with it, comes enjoying his body a bit more.
So when cuddling with Padfoot feels a bit too nice on a new moon, he doesn't draw any untoward conclusions, and takes care of it the way one might of a teenage morning wood; go have a shower wank, then come back to real life.
Except, it keeps happening. Padfoot rests his head on his lap as he's having dinner, already done with his. Remus is acutely aware of the closeness to his crotch in a way he wasn't, before. He tries to focus on dinner, but it's a bit difficult. Then, later, they're back on the porch. Padfoot is lying down a bit higher this time, and he licks his neck affectionately and Remus has an entirely inappropriate response, again. This time there's no hiding it, Padfoot can obviously feel it.
He's expecting Padfoot to either get up or laugh at him or both, but his friend seems undeterred by Remus' soft whine, and keeps licking. Remus wonders if staying as a dog is like staying in wolf form, getting pulled by animal instinct more and more. That's what this is about, probably, Sirius showing affection the way a dog would, licking its master.
Not that Remus is his master.
Cock. It's getting worse, it feels like any fleeting thought he has about Sirius is turning into something it shouldn't.
It takes a couple more days of sad sneaky wanks before Remus even notices that Sirius is, well, encouraging it. He's hard again, but it's morning and he could brush it off as morning wood. Except Padfoot isn't on his side of the bed, or by the foot of it. He has his head against Remus' side, and one of his paws is on his stomach, the other on his leg. When Remus makes a move to get up, he lets out a little growl, and moves himself further onto Remus, his head right on his crotch.
Remus gasps. Fuck, the heat feels good, but what's really making his heart race is the realisation dawning on him. Padfoot — Sirius — not only knows the effect he has on Remus, he seems to want it.
Sure enough, Padfoot starts rubbing his head against Remus' loose boxers, nuzzling against it. Remus can almost see a human Sirius doing the same, lips parted just a bit, the boxer's light fabric catching on his teeth. Padfoot has his mouth closed, but the moves are very similar, actually, just pressed up against Remus and moving and—
Fuckfuckfuck.
This is bad, this is really bad.
'Is it?' he hears in Sirius' voice in his head, as the man in question moves between Remus' legs in his Animagus form.
Remus gets up on his elbows, and watches in awe as Padfoot starts to sniff and nuzzle with more force now, pushing Remus' balls up and getting him so hard it hurts. Remus should get up, should just have a cold shower, but…
Sirius moves his nose under Remus' boxers from the right leg, as if he's trying to crawl inside it, and whines.
This is mad, Remus thinks, frozen to the spot. Surely they can't…
The awful thing is, he's thinking of the practical aspects of it; the dog teeth, the slobber, the angles, the sheath,… He should be way more concerned about what it says about him that he's even considering doing anything remotely sexual with a dog. He's heard the stories, of course. Even James, not a particularly sexually deviant man, had. He'd joked to Sirius about if he uses peanut butter when he goes down on his girlfriends.
But to actually consider it for himself… It should seem scary and awful and just unnatural in every way.
Padfoot licks as far up as he can reach inside Remus' boxers, almost reaching his cock.
Remus tries to keep his head straight. It is Sirius in the end, isn't it? It's not like he's going to pet shelters looking for his next hook-up. He's never ever considered animals before, not even in jest, not even when Sirius himself was in dog form moments after they'd kissed, or something.
"Sirius," he says quietly, as if to prove it to himself, still staring at Padfoot doing his best to reach Remus' cock.
Padfoot pauses, and looks up. Yes, those are Sirius' beautiful grey eyes, his ever-intelligent gaze looking at Remus, waiting for him to say out loud what's been happening.
"I don't…" Remus starts, then stops. What should he say? Padfoot, even though he has Sirius' mind, can't talk. Remus is about to put words into his mouth, lead this, at least in verbal form. Can he even consider what's happening consensual if Sirius can't speak? Fuck.
"Let's, er. Let's take a moment," he says, in the end. But his voice is breathless, and it's painfully obvious that his cock would rather not 'take a moment'.
Padfoot growls, presumably to voice the same concern.
"Look, we have to think this through," Remus says, reluctantly pulling away and sitting up. Padfoot lets him, but doesn't look pleased about it. Remus resolutely does not look down at himself. His boxers are sticking to his leg, wet. He can imagine what he looks like to Sirius, too. Dishevelled Remus wasn't exactly Sirius' least favourite thing, back when they could have morning romps.
Padfoot sits too, and lets his mouth hang open a little, though Remus is not thinking about his tongue.
"You've been sneaky, haven't you?" He sighs, as Padfoot grins in response.
"I'm not sure what the right thing to do is, here," he tells him. Padfoot tilts his head, and his eyes don't look different than before, but Remus gets the distinct impression that if he'd been in human form, Sirius would've rolled them at him.
"I don't mean to be a wet blanket," Remus says with a frown. He's not turning down a teenage prank or a Grimmauld breakout for Merlin's sake. "This is just… new." It feels a bit mortifying to ask this, but he needs to. "How will I know if you really want something?"
Padfoot growls, and gets up. He walks the few steps it takes to get on top of Remus, pushing him back down onto the bed in the process. He lets out a displeased huff, and leans down to lick Remus' jaw and neck. All Remus can think about is that he's missed Sirius' lips, and he barely stops himself from saying so.
"It's— I mean during— I—" he says between pants as Padfoot works his neck and then chest and– oh, that's the brush of teeth against his nipple, fuck. There's no stopping the moan that makes Padfoot pause.
Padfoot looks up, tongue lolling, mouth open in a wide grin. He pointedly does not move, just stares Remus down. Yeah, there's no mistaking the message here. Padfoot is in full control.
Despite what the thought of being his 'master' had done to him earlier, Remus loves that thought. They've always enjoyed wrestling a bit in bed, playing around with dominance, but this is such an off-kilter version of it. Remus moans again, softer this time, at the thought.
"Yeah, all right," he says, and tilts his head up a bit to get closer to Padfoot's face. "This is going to feel bloody weird, but—" Before he can finish his sentence, Padfoot his licking his lips. No, his mouth. Oh, this does feel weird. It doesn't feel like kissing, it feels like being devoured. He makes embarrassing noises as Padfoot keeps switching between his mouth and rest of his upper body, hands roaming over Padfoot. Weird, but somehow so fucking hot. Merlin and Circe, is he about to cum from making out with a dog? He would've thought he'd at least need to get—
He turns his head sideways, and lifts his lower body up. Padfoot catches the signal immediately, and lets his body drop on top of Remus'. Fuck but does his weight feel good on Remus. Before now, his Animagus friend's size had only ever been relevant when talking about handling Moony, or looking like the Grim. Now, now it's delicious pressure against almost all of Remus' body, pushing his cock down onto himself, making more and more precum leak out of it.
The fantasies going through Remus' mind would make anyone blush, and unsurprisingly he's flushed all over. He can feel it all the way up to his hairline, down to his knees. He groans, Padfoot whines, it's a flurry of his hands grasping at fur and Padfoot's tongue licking everywhere he can reach. Remus feels something wet, hot, and not covered in fur come between them, and makes an undignified noise. Not that there's anything dignified about any of this, nor like it's possible for him to be any more embarrassed than he already is.
Eventually, Padfoot starts humping into him as much as he can in this position, and Remus is gone in less than a minute, coming in his pants. Padfoot just keeps whining and moving until Remus feels more wetness against his stomach.
They spend the next few minutes just breathing heavily, enjoying the closeness in their post-orgasmic bliss, before reality comes back and they need to shower.
This isn't good at all, Remus thinks, but doesn't believe himself a bit. Not only was it physically good, he also doesn't feel nearly guilty enough to not have a repeat. Clearly, whatever his dubious morals are, he thinks this is acceptable.
Next time isn't a repeat though, not exactly. For all his subtle moves in the past few weeks, now that he's got Remus, Sirius doesn't hesitate to get aggressive. That same day, before they've even had lunch, Padfoot starts sniffing at Remus again.
It's easy to brush the leg licks off as playfulness while Remus drains the pasta with a spell. He just ignores them, chuckles a bit. But as soon as the food is ready, Padfoot bites Remus' trousers, and starts pulling him away from the stove.
"What—?"
Remus first thinks he's being hauled somewhere, but Padfoot pulls him down onto the ground.
"Oi!" he exclaims in surprise and pain as his arse hits the tiled floor. He doesn't have much time to worry about that, though, because Padfoot is pulling at his shirt now, making him turn. Is he meant to be looking at something?
No, he realises as he finally just gives in and follows Padfoot's directions instead of being dragged this way and that. He's lying flat against his stomach when Padfoot gets his head underneath his stomach, nudging him upward. Yeah, he definitely gets where this is going. He gets up on all fours, and Padfoot's behind him before he even gets there. Padfoot lets out a happy yap and Remus has only a moment to think about the irony — aptness — at this position's naming before he's mounted.
He's still clothed, so he has his wand, but he's not even sure what spells he'd need to cast. He tries to think as Padfoot licks at his ear and nape, humping him through his clothes. Padfoot's large enough that even on his hands instead of elbows, Remus' back doesn't touch all of his body. He can't actually feel much of the humping beyond Padfoot's chest and sometimes his hind paws catching on Remus' trousers.
Padfoot starts pulling at Remus' shirt with his teeth. "All right, all right," he says quietly, then takes his wand out. His clothes are done, and he's rewarded with another happy bark and more rigorous licking — all the way up and down his shoulder blades.
Truth remains, though, even though he clearly wants this (though he would've preferred a bed, his poor knees), he genuinely doesn't know how. He glances down, and sees Padfoot's erect cock for the first time, out of its sheath. Red, and much bigger than he would've assumed, it still barely comes into contact with Remus. It does feel amazing when it does slap against his inner thigh or own cock, but for all the energetic thrusting, Padfoot isn't really getting anywhere near the mark. A thought occurs to him all of a sudden, sobering him up.
Maybe that's all Padfoot — Sirius — wants.
"Pads," he says, hoping he sounds less lustful than he feels. "Do you— What do you want?" Padfoot just thrusts faster, and Remus realises the silliness of the question posed at a man who can't speak. It's not his fault his brain's half-dead from horniness, is it? "I mean, do you—" Another moan, and a happy bark from Padfoot. "Just this?" Padfoot licks the back of his neck. "Or do you want to— Should I—" Padfoot actually stops. Remus takes this as a positive sign. Last time Padfoot stopped to listen, they'd communicated rather well. "I could prepare myself," he says quietly. He doesn't know what he's shy about at this point, but he feels it. "Unless you want to just do this," he adds, hurriedly.
Padfoot barks happily, and gets off of him. He nudges and licks until Remus is turned around.
"Not here," Remus laughs, getting up.
Padfoot whines.
"It hurts, you bloody inconsiderate dog," Remus says, eyebrows raised. There's no chiding in his tone though, only playfulness. "Let's go to bed." He still can't believe what he's allowing to happen — no, participating in.
He takes his time getting everything ready; props himself on pillows, sits back, and spells lube onto his right hand before putting his wand away. As he spreads his legs, he tries to will his cock to calm down a little, but it's just happily leaking cum all over his stomach. He thought the breather would calm him down, would make sure he wouldn't have an orgasm before they even get to the main event, but he's not so sure now.
Padfoot's sat at the foot of the bed, close enough due to his size that his paws are by Remus' bent legs. He's looking at Remus' crotch as if it's the best thing in the world. Sirius had always been enthusiastic about Remus' body, and now it's no different, despite the age and the obviously odd circumstances.
Remus puts a finger in quickly, moving it and praying he doesn't come too soon. He has one hand spreading his arse-cheek and the other with a finger in him, not touching his cock at all, but he might just have his first solo prostate orgasm if it keeps going like this.
But he's not alone, as Padfoot reminds him just as the second finger goes in. Padfoot dives in, and starts licking Remus' hand, balls, rim, wherever he can reach around Remus' arms and hands. There's no hope for him, he's well beyond the point of no return. He tries to speed up his fingers to at least make it a strong one.
"Oh, fuck, Pads, aah—"
He spasms, his whole lower body twitching upwards, but Padfoot isn't deterred, just keeps licking Remus's cock through it and – fuck, fuck – it's unbelievable. Padfoot doesn't even stop when Remus is lying down, chest heaving from his laboured breathing, hand slung across his face, trying to calm down. He doesn't stop lapping at Remus even when Remus starts squirming uncomfortably. Finally, much too sensitive, Remus puts a hand on his head. "Thank you."
Padfoot huffs, which Remus isn't sure how to interpret, then licks Remus' stomach, as if he's left a single drop of cum there. Remus shivers. Then, he moves to Remus' thigh, and finally back onto his cock.
"Aah!" Remus lets out, and this time it's not a sound of pleasure. "Too sensitive." Padfoot whines, but stops licking. He doesn't move away, though. He nudges right underneath it with his wet nose, similar motion to how he'd made Remus turn around by nudging his stomach in the kitchen. Remus can't tell what he wants now, though. Pull his legs up, maybe? But why—
Oh. Oh.
Remus does lift himself up a little bit on a small pillow underneath him, and pull his knees up. He should be humiliated, and he is, a little bit, but fuck. When Padfoot starts lapping at his balls and hole he just can't do anything but moan. Padfoot pauses to growl a little, pushing one of Remus' legs, making him lift it up fully, making his pucker easier for Padfoot to reach. He's already come, and obviously Padfoot's thin long tongue can't rim him, so this is going nowhere, but it still feels amazing.
He's wrong once again, apparently, because Remus feels his cock fill as Padfoot relentlessly licks and paws at him. "Padfoot," he cries out and starts grinding up against him, trying to nudge him upwards maybe, he doesn't know, he doesn't know anything other than the fact that needs to come again, as soon as possible. Padfoot barks happily, but just goes back to licking his arsehole, not giving his cock much attention. So Remus balances himself on one elbow, and starts wanking with his right hand.
At that, Padfoot does stop. He growls dangerously, then barks until Remus looks him in the eye. Then, he growls again, pointedly, and gives him a bit of a snarl.
"Message received," he breathes out, and moves his hand to the side. Sirius isn't wrong, really. He really should get at least one orgasm before Remus has another.
Instead of going back to driving Remus crazy with his tongue, Padfoot moves around Remus, encouraging him to turn again. Remus still doesn't think it'll anatomically work — the angle and the rather worrisome size of Padfoot's cock wouldn't allow it, he doesn't think — but he gets on all fours.
Before mounting him, Padfoot nudges his right hand with his nose. After the third time he does it, Remus finally looks at his face and asks "What?" Padfoot moves almost as if he's going to pee on Remus, but the proximity of his dangling cock to Remus' hand helps Remus understand his meaning.
"I'll see if I can guide you with my hand," Remus says, doubtful. "I don't know that it'll work." Padfoot growls. "I said I'll try, you mutt." He tries to laugh, but he's so fucking worked up. Padfoot doesn't growl or whine, just walks back around him, and gets on top of Remus.
His cock ends on top of Remus at first, instead of by his legs like in the kitchen, and Remus gasps. It's so long, there's no way — no way — they're doing anything other than frottage, this is insane.
Padfoot must sense his panic, because he moves back, and then mounts Remus again. He lets his enormous cock press against Remus' arse instead of his back, and licks at his neck. It reminds Remus of Sirius' gentle kisses during one of their slower, gentler shags, though this is anything but.
Slowly, his breathing calms down, and he feels like maybe he can try. Padfoot could get just the tip in, couldn't he? He doesn't know how dogs have sex, but for men that feels good enough, and Remus doesn't need his prostate touched to come, he can just use his hand to get off while Padfoot fucks him.
When he feels confident enough, he puts one hand back to spread his cheek open, allow Padfoot a chance to line up. He tries, and they fumble for a little bit to make it work, but Padfoot can only get the side of his hot wet cock touching Remus, no way can he get in like this. Remus is wondering what else to do when Padfoot suddenly gets on his hind legs, then pushes Remus down.
"Oof!" His already little breath gets knocked out of him, and Remus repositions his arms to get a bit more comfortable. Now that his upper body's on the bed, he sees why Padfoot has done this. "Could've been gentler," he mumbles into the sheets, turning his head to the side. Padfoot barks, and doesn't sound particularly concerned about Remus' sensibilities. Then again, he's been hard for half an hour now, who can blame him?
Remus shifts a little, spreading his legs. This position feels even more wanton. "Guess doggy style doesn't work," he tries to joke away his embarrassment. He puts one hand on his arse, putting his hole in even more clear view, then reaches out with the other backwards, as if trying to catch something behind him. Padfoot doesn't disappoint, of course, and aligns himself quickly.
It feels more, well, odd than sexy at first, touching Padfoot's cock. Remus gets that it's Sirius', that he's actually having sex with a man he's slept with hundreds of times before, but what he touches doesn't really feel like a cock. He tilts his head a bit, but there's no way he can see anything that's happening back there. He lets his hand move on the cock, trying not to think about how thick it is. The tip feels the strangest, and he's never wondered about the shapes of penises and how they enter orifices until right now. It's wet and has a lot of give, and obviously dogs have sex, so surely this will work?
Finally, they manage to line up the head of Padfoot's cock against Remus' rim. Padfoot whines and thrust, and Remus loses his grip.
"Patience," Remus says, and Padfoot whines again. He does wait more next time, though. He only tries to move forward (not thrust) when Remus tells him to. It takes some work with Remus' fingers and slow pushing from Padfoot, but eventually the head is in.
"Wow," Remus breathes out, and lets his right hand drop. This is mad, he thinks again, and wonders if Padfoot will simply slip out if he tries to thrust, since so little of him is inside Remus right now. He should ask Padfoot to move forward again, get further in, but there is an interesting sort of pleasure in this too, and—
"Fuck, Padfoot!" he yells, when Padfoot almost imperceptibly pulls back then pushes back in hard. Remus chokes back another yell of pain as his body tries to adjust to the intrusion. Padfoot whines in a questioning tone, which Remus guesses might be an apology. "Caught me by surprise," Remus says, trying to not make Sirius feel bad. They're in this together.
Padfoot barks happily, and starts licking Remus' neck and jaw, whatever he can reach. His body's still other than that, and Remus allows himself the time to relax and get ready for the actual fucking to begin.
"All right," he says in the end. "I think— I think I'm ready now, you can start thrusting."
Padfoot doesn't, though. He just whines, a bit. Remus opens his eyes and looks backwards. "What?"
Padfoot whines again, questioning like before.
"What?" Remus repeats, then twists around as much as he can to see. "Oh, fuck."
Padfoot's cock is barely halfway in, from the looks of it. But that can't be right. Padfoot might be a large dog, but he's not a centaur, for Merlin's sake. Remus feels like Padfoot's cock is already deeper than he's ever felt, there's no way there's more, no way.
Padfoot keeps licking at Remus, his ear now that it's closer, his mouth, his shoulder. He keeps whining, like a dog that's asking for a treat. Surely he's not suggesting they try putting it all in?
"Pads," Remus breathes out. "Maybe you can try thrusting like this?" They've had some teasing sessions before with half of Sirius' cock out, but there's never been any length to actually worry about, before. This time, if Padfoot does thrust, he'll either hurt himself, or accidentally slip out.
Padfoot, obviously reaching the same conclusion, whines some more, licking and nipping at Remus. Pleading.
"Can talk me into anything even when you can't talk, can't you?" Remus says, then buries his face back into the sheets. "If I need to go to St. Mungo's after this, I'm turning you in."
Padfoot barks happily, and before Remus can even count down or give some sort of signal to push in, he's being speared onto Padfoot's cock. Spearing is the exact right verb for it, too, because fuck he feels like Padfoot's cock is endless, like it's all the way up to Remus' lungs, like if Padfoot moved, Remus would just follow like some puppet on his cock.
He laughs, despite the pain, but it's a choked laugh. Padfoot doesn't thrust, just keeps licking and waiting. Once he can properly draw breath into his lungs again, Remus is actually grateful for the surprise attack. If he'd waited, if he'd had any idea, he would've probably stopped Padfoot, chickened out of it.
Now, now though, feeling Padfoot's cock in him, and his warm body all along his back, he can't think of a single thing wrong with this. It's intense, certainly, but nothing to be scared of. The things your body can do when it's horny, he thinks, and tries to gauge if he's ready to be actually fucked by this monster.
He laughs, an easier chuckle this time. Padfoot whines questioningly. "I was just thinking that you have a monster cock," Remus explains. "Odd turn-around, isn't it?" Indeed, Remus is meant to be the beast between the two of them, and in their human forms has the bigger cock.
Padfoot barks again, then pulls back just a little. "Yeah," Remus breathes out, suddenly knowing that he is ready. "Yeah, fuck me."
Padfoot doesn't need telling twice, and starts rutting into Remus. He doesn't bother with hard thrusts, opting for fast instead, but with his size and momentum, it doesn't matter. They're fucking so forcefully that Remus keeps shifting on the bed. He ends up with his hands pressed against the wall, trying to keep his head from hitting the wall. Padfoot doesn't let up, just keeps fucking and fucking him. There's no question of hitting Remus' prostate, Padfoot is everywhere. He didn't think a second orgasm of the day would ever be a prostate-only one, but he feels himself getting there. He's also never done anything so kinky before, so maybe that's why.
"I— I— Pads— I— Aah—" he tries to tell Padfoot, he wants him to come, there is no way Remus can let Padfoot keep fucking him after he's come, it already hurts like this, and it would turn from delicious pain to impossible very quick, he knows. He needs Padfoot to come, he waits and waits for Padfoot to spill in him, wondering idly where all that come would go, would it trickle down his legs, oh fuck he's going to—
What is that?
Padfoot is panting more urgently, nibbling at Remus' shoulder now and again, rutting hard and fast, and Remus would come except he's startled by feeling something against his rim.
"You have a— Oh Merlin—"
Of course, he's a dog, he's got more than a sheathed cock, he's got— "A knot. You're. Padfoot you need to pull out. You can't—" Padfoot pushes his neck down with a paw, stopping his words. He just keeps rutting. All Remus can do is to take it, and try not to come. As the knot swells and pushes against his rim, tears stream down his face, but all his cock does is leak harder.
"Padfoot… Padfoot…" He can't form a sentence. He takes a breath, tries again. "We'll get stuck," he says, not realising until he's said it that he's no longer worried about the knot itself, he's accepted that his arse is going to get spread more than it ever has before.
Padfoot just ruts harder, gives one more powerful push until Remus gasps, and the knot is in. Padfoot pauses, then gives an experimental thrust. He's stuck, but his cock moves within Remus, a bit. Remus likes to think he moans, but it's closer to a wanton whine. It doesn't feel as good as before, because it's not a full thrust, but—
Padfoot pulls back more, and his knot pushes against Remus' rim, making him gasp again. Then, he starts thrusting rhythmically. It's shallow, but between the pain of the knot against his rim and Padfoot's giant cock rubbing against his prostate with every stroke, Remus cries out and comes all over the sheets, shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.
Before he can worry about how to get Padfoot off, he feels warmth flood into him, Padfoot spilling inside. He lets out another sated moan. He needs to hold off until after that, next time. Fuck, it's hot. He wasn't wrong, either, he can feel the cum moving in him despite how well Padfoot's cock is already filling him. It trickles down all the way to his rim, but it doesn't go down his legs like he'd thought.
Because it's being stopped by Padfoot's knot. Remus shudders at the thought. The liquid moves just a little bit in the tiny space left between the knot and the rest of Padfoot's cock, and Remus bites the sheets to not make any more embarrassing noises. Padfoot licks at him though, the side of his face, until Remus' mouth is free again. He whines in question. The charitable explanation for it is that he's asking if Remus is hurt. The charitable explanation is almost never the truth, with Sirius.
"It was good, if that's what you're asking," Remus breathes out, eyes closed still.
Padfoot barks a few times, wagging his tail. Remus can tell because his hips move along with it, and it hurts. "Ow, Padfoot, don't—" Padfoot stops immediately, then lies down on top of Remus.
"You're heavy," Remus says, and Padfoot is. It's also going to hurt like hell once they separate. It's impossible to care right now, though, so Remus doesn't.
He lies there, enjoying Padfoot's weight on him, and smiles. They still can't talk, but this is another way to be intimate that they have now regained. In a fascinating new way, too. Who would've thought?
After a few minutes, though, it becomes a little bit more of an issue. "Er, Padfoot?" he says. "How long do you reckon..?" Padfoot doesn't make any sounds, and, well, of course he doesn't. How would he know? "Haven't fucked any dogs while in Azkaban, I take it?" he tries to joke and not panic. It really does feel sore. Padfoot huffs, not a full-on happy bark.
"I won't actually turn you in if I go to St. Mungo's," Remus says, opening his eyes and looking at the wall ahead, where their closet is, with Remus' worn clothes, and Sirius' much too new ones. He closes his eyes again.
Suddenly, the pain intensifies as Padfoot moves, then disappears. Remus is wondering if knots can be willed away when he notices that he hasn't felt Padfoot pull out at all, but his cock is just gone from within him. Before he can look back to see what's going on, he sees fur disappear from his view, and an arm show up in its stead.
"Padfoot?"
"Hullo, Moony."
Remus turns around, and suddenly he's kissing Sirius — Sirius! — and crying. His chest feels tight, this all feels just impossible, but he's here. He's here and he's not in dog form and—
"This hasn't been an elaborate way to get kinky, has it?" he asks, still crying, even though he knows it hasn't.
"I didn't want to hurt you," Sirius says roughly, his voice showing signs of lack of use. He's crying, too.
"You couldn't," Remus says gently, and brushes Sirius' hair back, drinking in the view. What a sight for sore eyes. "Harry'll be over the moon," he says, thinking of the one other person who might be as happy as Remus.
"Maybe let's tell him after we've cleaned up," Sirius says with a raised eyebrow.
Remus laughs, and Sirius joins him. They laugh until they feel better, then they laugh some more.
It turns out that Remus' poor arsehole is sore but fine, and they don't need any medical help, thank goodness. Once they look presentable again, they Floo Hogwarts, and talk to Harry, who makes plans to visit over the next school break.
By the time they're done talking with Harry, it's dark outside. "Well," Sirius says slowly, "Harry won't come until Easter."
"Yes?" Remus asks, wondering where this is going, since Sirius seems to be willing to look anywhere but at him. Does he want to live at Hogwarts as Padfoot?
"I reckon we have time to perfect that, make sure it doesn't hurt."
Remus gapes. "Sirius!" Forget the fact that they've had sex twice already, how and why is Sirius thinking about that when he can just fuck Remus as Sirius?
"Not now," Sirius says hurriedly, meeting Remus' eyes. "I just mean, when you feel up to it again."
"Padfoot," Remus sighs, and rolls his eyes. He doesn't think about the nickname until it's too late, and of course Sirius is grinning ear to ear.
"Precisely."
"You're making it difficult to believe it wasn't on purpose."
Sirius stops smiling. He pulls Remus close, and hugs him tight, as if he might disappear if he lets go. "I promise I wasn't. I wanted to talk to you every day, every hour."
"I know, Sirius," Remus says, smiling into Sirius' robes. He really does know. The mood's getting too sombre for his liking, though. "Anyone who knows you knows you wouldn't stay quiet willingly."
Sirius laughs, and Remus closes his eyes, enjoying the rumbling of his chest against Remus'. For the first time in a very long time, he feels truly happy.