Chapter Text
The next morning Sirius is awoken by a sharp cramp pinching his stomach. He grimaces before he’s even opened his eyes, and uncurls under the blanket, trying to burrow into a bed only to find hard earth beneath him. There’s a pang in his chest - for the first time he misses home, and the awful realisation awakes him fully with a start.
The craving for privacy and comfort is unsettling, he usually only yearns for his bed when he- when he…
He blinks in the dull sunlight, and even though the sky is blanketed in clouds, he can tell the sun is already hanging above the trees. It’s late. He’s overslept far past the dawn, unlike the past week where Remus woke him with a gentle shake and exasperated complaints.
He drags himself up into a sitting position, despite his desperation to burrow into the blanket and shuck off his clothes. The familiarity brings a heavy crushing feeling - dread, he recognises dully - to his stomach. He’s noticed it the last few days - the irritability, the sullen, moody feeling that settles over him in waves, the alternating flushes of heat and chills, the sudden craving to claw his way tooth and nail to the source of that rich, woody smell that follows Remus wherever he goes and clings to the bedroll beneath him.
He grits his teeth, irritability bubbling in his blood.
A heat is the last thing he fucking needs. They need to reach Versailles and proper shelter within the next few days or he's going to be advertising fucking mating season with a scent that can travel on a strong wind for miles, beckoning every alpha in the area.
Panic starts to set in and he crawls out of the shelter, heart hammering.
Remus sits with a fire crackling happily by his feet not far away, focused wholly on the fire, frowning as he carefully places a pot amongst the flames, balancing it with precise movements. He smiles as he looks up and sees Sirius. Smoke from the fire dances between them and it's a heaven-sent miracle that Remus cannot smell him right now. It hasn't reached its peak as his heat hasn't started yet, but Sirius knows his scent will be sending a clear signal.
He mumbles a good morning and gets a bright greeting back.
“Good sleep?”
Sirius shrugs looking around at the clearing. The day is heavily overcast and rain drops still cling to the leaves above, dripping sporadically in a gentle patter on the ground.
“It’s late”, he points out bluntly. He waves a hand at the sun's high place in the sky. Remus nods in understanding.
“The rain. It will rain more. We will look for er… shelter. Good shelter.”
“Shelter?” Sirius’ chest tightens, “But we are to reach Versailles in a few days. We cannot delay.”
“We must”, Remus replies mildly and matter of factly, as if there is no argument.
“It is just rain”, Sirius argues, fighting to keep his tone calm.
“We will get sick-”
“Do not tell me you do not travel when it rains”, Sirius accuses hotly, his temper flaring, “If you are delaying for my sake-”
“It is safer-”
“Safer!” Sirius snaps, “But if you travelled alone you would not hesitate. I know that much at least. Do not treat me like I am a frail thing that you must manage -”
A look passes over Remus’ face, surprise followed by a heated expression Sirius has never seen him wear before. It makes his heart kick. He stares, frozen as Remus quickly gets to his feet, bristling in a tightly controlled manner, his hands twitching at his sides, “I want to help you. All that I do is to help you. But you must be so- so-”
“So what ?” Sirius demands, mouth dry, knowing full well what but unable to stop.
Remus breathes deeply as if trying to calm himself, but after only a few moments bursts out in clear frustration, his first language rattling out of him like marbles, and although Sirius cannot understand it, he does know swearing when he hears it. He cocks his head in disbelief as he catches a few words that sound familiar, such as “irritante”, and “temperament de mule”, which he can easily infer the meaning of.
He laughs coldly, unable to help himself from sneering back, “Pardon me, am I not the docile, submissive omega you would-”
Remus laughs sharply, all incredulous disbelief and no humour, “Docile? Docile? A wild horse is more docile, you are just-” He huffs and breaks off into his language again, jaw tight and face hard. If Sirius wasn't so irritated he would stop to admire the colour in Remus’ face, how the intense emotions have brought him to life. His eyes flash a striking amber colour within the shades of brown as if he has caught fire within, and his voice is sharp and cutting, the threat of a booming cadence rumbling where there is usually gentle, mild melody. He’s rolling thunder and lightning where once was shy mist and half-hearted rain. He looks as frustrated and irritable as Sirius feels, and Sirius’ face heats more, a fire simmering in his blood that feels a little different to the anger he felt a moment ago.
The alpha trails off in what sounds like a brilliantly colourful complaint in his language that Sirius distantly wishes he could understand because it sounds scathing , and he has always appreciated a sharp wit, but then silence settles and they both stand stiffly, glaring at each other.
Remus opens his mouth and Sirius prepares himself for the dismissal, for Remus to tell him he can go his own way, that he doesn't care anymore. He steels himself for it, almost welcomes it because that at least is familiar and easy to understand. But instead what he gets is-
“Very well. We will go.”
Sirius blinks. Remus’ tone is tight and clipped, still clearly frustrated. But he inclines his head slightly in a mockery of politeness, then waves an impatient hand at the fire.
“For your tea”, he says tightly, “You should take more. Your scent is… strong”, and then turns on his heel, marching off into the forest.
Sirius stares after him, frozen to the spot. There's a terrible gnawing pit in his stomach that he doesn't think bitter tea will fix.
******
They march on in cold silence. Storm clouds gather above them and Sirius eyes them warily, although he's careful not to let Remus catch him at it.
Not that Remus is looking at him much anyway. He didn't realise how often Remus’ gaze falls on him, but now he feels its absence, the way Remus keeps his eyes trained firmly ahead at the path, jaw tight and unmoving.
Odd to miss someone who is right beside you. Even more odd to miss someone you didn't know a week ago.
As midday falls, they take a break and Sirius settles on a petrified log, gloomy and darker than the storm clouds above them. He isn't expecting to turn and find food laid out beside him in offering. He watches in stunned, frozen silence as Remus arranges bread, cheese and berries on a cloth next to him, nodding his head in offering and then stonily facing ahead, delaying his meal in favour of Sirius having his as usual, as if their argument is no matter.
Sirius studies his profile in wonder.
Once again this man surprises him. Sirius is used to arguments ending in grudges and snide remarks years down the line, harsh words hissed and cleaving relationships in two. Remus does not seem so easily chased away.
Remus glances over when Sirius remains frozen, and raises an eyebrow.
“Eat”, he says dryly, “Or I should not tell you? You will catch fire again?”
The snipe surprises a burst of laughter out of Sirius and he feels himself grinning despite the undercurrent of irritation flowing between them. Both of Remus’ eyebrows raise at that but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes, the frustration melting into exasperation.
Sirius takes the proverbial olive branch, reaching over and popping some of the berries into his mouth. He nods in offering, holding his hand out for Remus to eat too.
Remus silently takes a piece of bread, but there's a slight curve to his lips that hints at a smile, and Sirius is startled to find himself awash in relief.
“Did you call me a mule before?” He prods lightly, a teasing tone replacing the shards of ice.
Remus snorts, then adopts a blank, innocent expression. “Sorry, I don't speak this language.”
Sirius barks a laugh, loud, brash, and open. Remus’ shoulders untense and he smirks.
“You must teach me some of your language”, Sirius chortles, “I should like to understand when you're insulting me.”
Remus frowns down at his hands, an odd look passing over his face.
He shakes his head. “You are not… people do not- talking as I do, people, your people do not-”
“Treat you well?” Sirius finishes for him, anger creeping into his voice on Remus’ behalf.
Remus nods, shrugging as if it means nothing, although Sirius remembers how his jaw had tightened when he was dismissed by the merchant, and thinks that perhaps even if they spoke the same language Remus wouldn’t say how he really feels about the matter.
“Teach me”, he insists.
Remus pauses, his expression shifting, warming.
“Va te faire foutre”, he says smiling, “It is something you would greet people with.”
Sirius tries, fumbles, tries again.
“Again”, he laughs, shoving Remus’ arm as he smiles indulgently at Sirius’ attempts..
“Va te faire foutre”, he repeats pleasantly.
“Va te faire foutre”, Sirius says slowly, grinning brightly as Remus nods.
“See, I’m a star pupil. We’ll be discussing politics in no time”, Sirius boasts, “So that’s hello ?”
“Ah”, Remus nods seriously, “I think it’s how you say ‘fuck off’”.
Sirius laughs, light and loose and happy . “Va te faire foutre”, he repeats with more weight and teeth and Remus smiles.
“Yes, I think that is what you wanted to say when we met.”
“Well, yes”, Sirius chortles, “I can’t believe you came after me after that. I was so angry , ready to do whatever I had to, and you still came to help. You’re mad, you know?”
“ Maniaque ”, Remus agrees, “You did not want my help and I could not stop. I do not know why. You looked scared, I think. Scared and alone, but your teeth were out - a barres - you were fighting, you were the fiercest thing I have ever seen. I-”
He stops abruptly and looks away, embarrassment crawling over his face.
“ Maniaque ”, Sirius chuckles softly, looking down at his hands, “That you looked at me and saw anything other than trouble.”
“Ah”, Remus shrugs with a helpless smile, “ Ces yeux de merlin frit. I had no choice.”
“Ces yek- wait”, Sirius huffs impatiently and reaches over, cups Remus’ cheek, thumb nudging his lower lip, “Again. Slowly.”
Remus blinks, mouth parting in surprise. His mouth fumbles around the words as Sirius closely watches his lips move, “Yeux de merlin frit.”
Sirius tries again and again until he can wrap his tongue around the words. Remus’ lip is soft next to rough stubble, and Sirius resists the urge to run his thumb across the silken skin.
“Yeux de merlin frit”, Sirius says triumphantly, then grins, “And that means? Does it mean annoying little shit or something?”
“Ah, the words are not the same for you - ah - fish eyes.”
“ Fish eyes?”
“No- big, big eyes, your eyes they are-” Remus shakes his head, laughing at himself, “I cannot explain - eyes wide like the moon - er-”
“Oh… oh”, Sirius can’t help grinning, and bites his lip, “Couldn’t resist my big eyes, that it?”
Remus looks down at his hands, an odd expression flitting over his face.
“We should go”, he says carefully, leaning away from Sirius’ touch as he starts gathering the cloth and the remainder of their food, “Or we can camp if you like?”
“Oh, well”, Sirius feels his heart sink in disappointment, “I swear to you I’m not too frail for the rain. You don’t have to worry about me, you know.”
“I do not think you are frail”, Remus says, sounding almost pained. It's not what Sirius is expecting and he stares. Remus continues, eyes darting away and looking like he very much wishes he was not saying anything at all, “It is not you that… I was sick when I was a child. Many times. My parents were afraid that I will die because I was weak… I am not… a strong alpha”, for the first time bitterness colours his words, his mouth twisting as if the taste of the insecurity is foul, “Other alphas, they can… they are strong. I am not good to protect-”
Realisation dawns and Sirius suddenly understands that Remus’ determination to seek shelter from the elements didn't have anything to do with his status as an omega or an overbearing alpha need to coddle him. He instantly feels like a proper ass and hastens to mend what his harsh words have cracked, “You are strong. In many ways, I have seen it. I did not mean to make you feel- I just snap sometimes. It was not fair of me.” He suddenly has the urge to sink into the dirt and stay there. Gods, he fucking hates the raw vulnerability of his pre-heat. He feels like an exposed nerve, unprotected in the cold, and when he doesn’t have the option to curl up in bed his only other option is to lash out with stinging barbs and teeth bared. But taking it out on Remus makes him feel worse. He huffs, saying with as much determination as he can muster, “You’re strong in the ways I care about, alright? In the ways that matter. The strongest alpha I’ve met.”
Remus blinks. And then he does something breathtaking. He blushes .
A blotchy red flush crawls up his neck, across his cheeks, and threatens to envelop the tips of his ears. Sirius can’t help but stare, his heart kicking.
Remus turns abruptly, fumbling for the water skin. He gulps messily and spills it down his front, coughing. Sirius wants to sink his teeth into that soft blush and his breath hitches at the urge.
“We should go”, Remus says quickly, wiping his chin and looking anywhere but Sirius.
“Yeah”, Sirius agrees, swallowing.
“I er - you should have more tea tonight”, Remus says quietly, looking at his feet as he swings the pack over his shoulder, “Your scent is strong still.”
**********
Determined to show that he can be a team player, Sirius makes a point to find decent shelter for the night. Every few miles he scales a tree to look out over the land for a good outcrop in the rocky walls of the mountains or a large enough tree to shelter under. If Remus catches onto what he's doing, he doesn't say, he just watches with a bemused expression and slowly walks on while Sirius eagerly clambers up the branches to sit amongst the canopy.
Sirius tastes the freedom in the icy, fresh wind, can feel it in the scrapes and bruises he gains from the roughness of the bark, and the smell of wood and dirt that clings to his clothes. With each failed expedition into the lofty heights he grows more determined and thrilled and elated to be doing something so forbidden for omegas.
And finally it pays off.
“There!” He calls excitedly, pointing at the cliff face only a few hundred metres away. There's a dark space beneath an overhang that can only be seen from this height, sheltered by trees and bushes surrounding it.
Remus glances up inquisitively, a tiny ant at the foot of the tree.
“Shelter for the night!” Sirius shouts down with a wide grin, clambering down the trunk.
He hangs by a branch and drops the last few feet, landing in a crouch. Remus watches with a fond smile, stepping closer but making no move to catch him.
“Shelter?”
“Yeah, come on”, Sirius says dismissively, eager to avoid revisiting the conversation about shelter, “Could use a dry night. There's a cave over there.”
It's risky to delay with his heat on its way. He's been chewing the leaves morning and night but he can feel his heat slowly wrapping its tendrils around his body, the sweating, the flush, the terrible warmth that comes in waves. He's been spreading some of the sharp scented salve that Remus gave him for sunburn on his neck to try and mask the pheromones pouring from his scent glands, but even so he's seen Remus casting him wary looks. He doesn't know how long he's got but he hopes it's enough time to reach Versailles. The alternative… well, the alternative is going into heat with an unmated alpha around.
He ponders it as they walk to the shelter.
It's not the first time he's thought about it, what might happen if he goes into heat with Remus close by. In his weaker moments he's allowed himself to imagine it - feeling that desperation and insatiable hunger take hold, enveloping him completely, and Remus, would he be unable to help himself? Would he be overcome by instinct and lust? Or would he retreat to a safe distance and leave him to his own devices? He's always been told that alphas are slaves to their biology, that claiming omegas in heat is irresistible, that they cannot be blamed for what they do when under the influence of an omegas heat, nor should they be - they're only doing what's natural, what is their right. But Remus has proven every one of these assumptions wrong.
Perhaps. Perhaps…
He's jerked out of his musings by a cold, fat droplet hitting his forehead. He looks up at the darkening clouds above and that's all the time it takes for the skies to open.
A week's worth of rainfall drenches them at once, cold and plastering their hair and clothes to skin, and it's somehow both an awful and delightful shock.
Sirius lets out an involuntary shriek of laughter and Remus curses under his breath, and then they're off running through the trees towards the shelter.
It's much further away than it had seemed from the lofty treetop, and they're well and truly soaked to the bone by the time they crash through the bushes crowded along the cliff face, and stumble into the dark, yawning mouth of the cave. Sirius pauses at the entrance, shivering and panting as he tries to peer through the darkness that the feeble light outside doesn't penetrate at all. Remus doesn't hesitate, he drops to his knees, gathering twigs and debris from the floor and hunches over to light a fire.
Sirius watches, distracted for a minute by the thin, dripping tunic clinging to every curve of the alpha's muscle, every dip and slope in Remus’ back and arms as he works.
“We should make sure we're not the only ones-” Sirius starts and then breaks off as Remus stands with a flaming torch in his hand and nudges him to one side. He strides carefully into the heart of the cave but finds the end quickly. It’s only a few metres deep and less wide. Sirius shivers at the entrance with his clothes clinging to his skin and steam rising from the ends of his trousers where he stands next to the fire. He fights to keep his balance, feeling too warm and a little sick. Perhaps it is fever rather than heat-
“Are you alright?” Remus asks softly, his face suddenly swimming into focus just inches in front of him, concern deep in the crease of his brow. Water drips off strands of his brown hair and his eyes are the warmest shade of brown Sirius has ever seen. His lips quiver, slightly blue and his face pale. Sirius gets the shattering urge to sit him by the fire and take his face in his hands, press it to his chest and wrap his arms around him so that he’ll never be cold again. Something stirs within him, a dormant animal stretching itself awake, unsheathing its claws, and he feels a tickle on the back of his thigh.
Oh. Oh.
It’s not a fever.
The salve on his scent glands must have washed away with the rain because Remus’ eyes widen as his nostrils flare. He stumbles back. Sirius watches his jaw clench and the feeling behind his ribs tears through his chest with the ferocity of a hurricane. His knees shake.
“Remus-”
“No, I must- Sirius, you said you take the tea-”
“I did- I have”, Sirius protests, “Well, I ate the leaves, I hate the tea. Obviously it doesn’t work for every heat. Bu-”
“Eat?! You do not eat -” Remus whispers, face growing paler, “It must be tea. Sirius-”
“Alright”, Sirius snaps, brushing his mistake away with an airy hand. It's not like he could have known. Gods, he forgot how fucking hot it gets when he’s going into heat, like it’s not in the name. He tears his tunic over his head, loathing the dampness of the fabric stuck to his chest. The feeling of being an exposed nerve intensifies. “Alright, well… I don’t suppose I could take it now-”
“There is no help now”, Remus murmurs stiffly, looking anywhere but him, fists clenched at his sides, “I must go. I will bring food and keep others away. Traps-”
“Wait”, falls out of Sirius’ mouth, “... Wait. Stay.”
“Stay? I cannot, Sirius. I cannot go with no breathing - every time I breathe, I- your scent, the way you-” He takes another step back, swallowing. He edges around Sirius as if to make a bid for escape, as if Sirius is a wild animal that has cornered him. Inexplicably, that feeling roars in Sirius’ chest, burning through his bones and warming to his fingertips.
“Wait-” he reaches out and tugs Remus’ sleeve, pulling him closer, “Wait. What if I- what if we- Remus, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I er- I do not-”
“You do” Sirius insists meaningfully, tightening his grip on Remus’ tunic..
“You trust me”, Remus pleads, “I am not one of them, I would never force-”
“You’re not”, Sirius breathes, feeling the truth of the words light on his tongue, “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want this because I trust you.”
“Sirius-”
“I want this. Tell me you do not. Tell me you haven’t thought about it, wondered…” He steps closer, breathing in Remus’ scent, the woody, smokey smell that lingers in the bedroll and clung to the cloak he wore back at the inn. It’s heady and makes his pulse race, and he wants to breathe it, drink it, drown in it. He murmurs breathlessly, “Tell me you have not thought of me like this - asking, wanting, offering. Tell me truthfully and I will leave you be.”
“I will not be able to control- you do not understand-” Remus implores, voice breaking. He smells like desperation tied up in knots. Sirius wants to sink his teeth into something.
“Tell me”, he prompts with a calmness he doesn't feel.
“Yes, I want to. Gods, I want-” Remus admits bitterly.
“You can have it”, Sirius steps closer, backing him up against the rock wall, “Kiss me.”
“I-”
“Kiss me”, Sirius repeats impatiently. He places hands on Remus’ broad shoulders and crowds him back against the wall. Remus’ eyes are wide and terrified, darting between Sirius’ eyes and lips. His lashes flutter, his breath shakes. He makes the slightest nod, gaze fixed on Sirius’ lips. Sirius doesn’t move, afraid he imagined it. Remus nods again, more vigorously and his expression shifts. A hand cups the back of Sirius’ head and draws him in.
As soon as their lips touch, it’s like another sense unfurls inside Sirius. Like being able to touch and feel and taste aren't enough, he becomes impossibly aware of how soft Remus’ lips are against his, how the light touch sends warmth through his face and his fingertips and right to the roots of his hair, leaving a tingling in its wake, another sense awoken and attuned only to Remus’ touch and breath and taste. What starts off as hesitant quickly becomes frantic, hungry. He presses closer eagerly, chasing the feeling of lightning crawling up his spine. He copies Remus when he parts his lips and then everything intensifies as Remus’ tongue touches his, dipping past his lips. A large, warm hand presses to his back, and Sirius melts like frost in a ray of sunlight, falling into the warm body with something like relief. They press against the wall and Remus goes willingly when Sirius presses on his shoulders, urging him to the ground. They drop, parting for mere seconds, and then Sirius crawls over him, reluctant to part for a single moment and straddles Remus’ hips, gasping when a hand cups his face, warm and gentle - a caress. He’s always wondered what that feels like.
And then Remus pushes him back.
A noise of protest escapes Sirius’ throat. He clutches Remus’ tunic and tries to pull him closer.
“Sirius”, Remus implores, voice shaking.
“Again”, Sirius urges, shuffling closer. Remus’ hands shoot down to his hips, gripping tight and holding him still.
“Don’t-” he swallows and Sirius notices the flush creeping up his neck again, “I am trying to be slow… Sirius. Please, I am trying .”
There’s an edge of desperation in his voice, a roughness that’s less aggression and more white-knuckled restraint. Something flutters in Sirius’ stomach. A warmth spreading through his abdomen. It’s familiar but for the first time he doesn’t resent it, doesn’t dread what comes next. He’s… curious.
Remus’ nostrils flare and he swallows, jaw clenching. That white-knuckled grip slips another inch. “I am trying to be- safe. Safe for you. I do not want to give you what you do not want-”
“But I do,” Sirius says quickly, impatient. He grinds his hips down with shaking breaths, syrup replacing the blood in his veins as he finds a shred of relief.
Remus’ jaw drops. “Err… you-”
“Want. Yes”, Sirius presses closer, the hands on his hips allowing the movement, limp as if Remus’ attention is elsewhere. “I want to kiss you, I want more than that. Remus, I want-” he sinks further into Remus’ lap, his breath catching as he feels the undeniable hardness pressing up against his backside. His voice shakes as he insists, “I want it to be you. I want you to take me, show me how it should be. Have me with or without care for gentleness, I want you as you are, whatever you’re willing to give. I want, I want, I want -” he takes Remus’ hand and presses it to his leg, guiding it up his thigh. Remus’ palm is hot and sweaty, and Sirius is taken aback by how affected he is by it, how the flood of slick leaves him in a rush. Remus’ nostrils flare. Sirius unashamedly reaches back and guides Remus’ other hand lower, over the swell of his arse.
That’s when the look in Remus’ eye changes from trepidation to desperation, hunger. His hands no longer need Sirius’ guidance, they stroke over Sirius’ skin reverently, one slipping under his tunic and up his stomach, his chest, exploring with wonder in the touch, like he can’t quite believe this is real, and the other dips inside his pants and between his cheeks. Sirius drops his forehead against Remus’, gasping at the surge of lust that hits him like a bolt of lightning. Remus makes a low, broken sound, fingers searching and gliding easily through the slick.
Sirius has never been touched like this before. Not even close. It’s nothing like the rough, careless treatment he expected all his life. It’s reverent and tender and desperate for every piece of him - not to use him but to give . Remus offers, he doesn’t take.
“In”, Sirius demands breathlessly as fingers slip into the cleft of his arse, “In.”
Remus lets out a thin noise and kisses him fiercely, all demanding tongue and breathless, soft noises. His hands shift, urging Sirius back, manhandling him back towards the fire.
“ In ”, Sirius demands urgently, growling when Remus pulls away. Remus sets up the bedroll by the fire and urges him back onto it.
“Like this”, he murmurs gently. He crawls over Sirius, looking nervous and hesitant, and worshipful , like a man kneeling before his gods, “If I could give you more, more than this… you should have a house on a hill, a fire that never dies, everything you want”, he drops lower to kiss Sirius softly, first on the lips and then his cheek, his jaw, tingles racing in his wake, chasing the warm puffs of breath as Remus continues, “I will give you what I have, everything I have, if you want it.”
The rest of Sirius’ sodden clothes are pulled off, and with each new stretch of skin revealed, Remus’ expression tightens, his touch adoring as his cold hands stroke over Sirius’ overheated skin. Sirius expects to be flipped over, to be manoeuvred to present himself, but then Remus dips his head down to kiss and lick at his collarbone, making his way down his chest, and Sirius has stumbled off the edge of the map, in foreign lands and has no idea where his next step will land.
Remus’ lips wrap around his nipple, soft and wet, and Sirius arches into it with a surprised noise.
“Yes?” Remus checks breathlessly.
Sirius nods, hands gripping Remus’ wet hair tightly, urging his head down. “More.” He doesn’t know exactly what more is but he knows he wants to find out.
Remus sucks the pebbled skin into his mouth and Sirius arches his back. It’s exquisite. He’s never paid any mind to his chest but his nipples are suddenly terrifically sensitive. Remus laves with his tongue and the combination of wet and soft wrenches a muffled mewl from his throat. He wants it all over his body, every inch, he wants to be consumed .
“More”, he demands, a flicker of desperation in his voice.
“You will have everything you ask”, Remus agrees.
When Remus’ mouth reaches Sirius’ hip he squirms, unused to being touched bare in such a place. When Remus urges his legs open, he does so willingly, eagerly, desperate to know everything that Remus can show him. When Remus lowers his head between his legs, breathing ragged and eyes dark, Sirius’ desire gathers into a superheated ball in the centre of his chest, pulsing behind his ribs, scalding from the inside out. Slick leaves him in a flood and he murmurs wordlessly in alarm, trying to push Remus’ head away, certain that Remus does not want to see such a thing, a necessity of the matter but something he’s been taught is dirty and unbecoming. Remus gently pushes his hands away and then his face is there , drawing Sirius’ cock into his mouth, engulfing him in that glorious wet heat. Sirius curses at the ceiling of the cave, taken aback by such an act, which is unheard of to be performed on omegas. He’s never felt such a thing, and it’s so much better than his own hand that he could cry. He looks down at Remus in disbelief only to find his eyes burning in his face, gaze fixed on Sirius’ face like he cannot tear himself away for a single moment.
“Remus”, he pants, imploring but for what he’s not sure. He’s drenching the bedroll beneath him, that much he knows, and he twists and turns, his instincts screaming for him to roll onto his stomach and lift his hips, ready himself to be taken. Remus’ mouth pulls away and he thinks ‘this is it’ with a flash of relief. But Remus lowers his head again and his breath is hot on Sirius’ drenched cheeks, and his lips follow the wet trails like veins of gold.
“Remus, that’s-” Sirius balks, reaching to push his head away but instead finding his fingers curling into the hair, holding tightly. “Isn’t that- do you really-?”
“Want? Yes I want”, Remus breathes, “I want to taste. Sirius, you do not know what your scent - how you float on the air. How I have lived in pain to scent and not… I have to taste-”
He dives in with vigour, licking a strip up Sirius’ inner thigh, dipping between his cheeks. Sirius chokes on a groan, and finds his legs spreading themselves, his body responding, opening for Remus to take what he wishes.
He feels Remus holding him open, indecently exposed to the cool air, and then an entirely foreign sensation. He gasps - the flat of Remus’ tongue drags against his entrance and he’s forgotten how to breathe, how to think. It feels strange but it takes him only a few seconds to decide that it’s strange in a good way. An entirely selfish, egotistical part of him preens at being worshipped so, revered and pleasured and laid out like a feast. Remus presses closer, the prickly scruff of his five o’clock shadow tickling and stinging at the same time, but it’s worth it because his tongue is blessedly talented, lapping and squirming against Sirius’ opening. Remus groans, the sound muffled and vibrating through Sirius’ bones. Sirius laughs breathlessly in disbelief - unsure how he’s found himself so lucky to have an alpha on his knees, face pressed between his legs and groaning desperately for more. And gods, that tongue is clever. It laves, flat and constant, wet pressure, and then works itself into a point, gently easing him open. He tightens his grip on Remus’ hair, pulling too hard. He belatedly realises he’s rolling his hips down, grinding against Remus’ face, and lets go of his hair, startled and apologising breathlessly.
Remus emerges, gasping for air, face red and shiny with slick. Sirius’ apology dies on his tongue because Remus’ eyes burn in his face, amber and honey, dark with desire, and gone is the tentativeness, the hesitance. In it's place is hunger - Remus looks like a starved man before a banquet laid out solely for him. He licks his lips, wiping Sirius’ slick off his chin with the back of his hand and the ball of fire in Sirius’ chest becomes molten, dripping down his spine and stomach, snaking through his veins. The burn of lust almost hurts . He shakes as another flood of slick soaks the bedroll. Remus’ brow furrows in a pained expression.
Sirius doesn’t even realise he’s moving. He blinks and then he’s staring at the woven bedroll, nose pressed into the fibres, with his chest and shoulders dropped to the ground and his hips raised high in the air. Presenting , his brain supplies distantly, his body mindlessly following thousands of years of instinct. Remus sounds just as surprised as Sirius feels, breathing in sharply before letting out a deep, rumbling groan.
As if in answer, Sirius arches his back to lift his hips higher.
“I’ve never- never felt like this”, Sirius confesses breathlessly, a flare of embarrassment breaking through the haze of lust. He finds himself babbling mindlessly, “I’m empty, so empty it aches. Remus- alpha , I need to be filled, made whole, I’m so empty -”
Cool hands stroke over his arse cheeks and thighs and he almost sobs in relief. Thumbs pull his cheeks apart, baring his opening to Remus’ gaze, and remarkably the embarrassment is gone, replaced by a wave of lust that draws his chest lower to the ground like the pull of a stone falling to the earth.
“I will give you all”, Remus murmurs behind him, voice sounding low and tight, “All you ask”, a breathless pause, “Say it again. My name.”
“Remus”, Sirius demands immediately, “Remus, Remus, I need-” he chokes mid-sentence as something cool presses against his entrance and slides in with a startling lack of resistance.
It’s bliss and torture to be given a teasing taste of what he craves. And that’s all it is, a delicious taste. Remus’ finger slides in and out easily, dragging against his rim, and Sirius tries not to think too much about how his body clings desperately to the intrusion, how he has no control over his muscles flexing - a body that is not entirely his at this moment.
Remus murmurs something soft behind him and his hand strokes Sirius’ back soothingly as he continues to thrust his finger in and out. It’s a tantalising preview of relief but it’s not enough and, impatient as ever, Sirius groans in frustration and throws his hips back. His body swallows the digit in one movement and Remus’ knuckles rest against his entrance. He grunts at the sudden stretch but almost immediately chases more, grinding his hips back.
Remus swears under his breath and then Sirius is horribly empty once again. He cries out in frustration, some garbled mix of Remus’ name and cursing that inspires a soft soothing murmur from Remus. And then Sirius freezes because that impossibly hot brand pressing against his thigh must be… He cranes his neck back to look, unashamedly curious.
Remus’ cock juts obscenely from his narrow hips, looking much the same as Sirius’ own but longer and thicker, attractively pink and flushed with a clear drop of fluid gathering at the tip. There’s no sign of any ‘knot’ and Sirius tilts his head, wondering where it might be hidden.
Remus pumps himself once, twice, and the sheen left behind tells Sirius that the alpha has used his slick, and he suppresses a groan as he feels another dribble of it run down his thigh. Remus chases the drip with the head of his cock, slotting it heavily between Sirius’ cheeks, eyes fixed on Sirius’ face.
“You trust me?” He says tightly.
“Yes”, Sirius breathes, pushing his hips back, “Like no one else.” It could only ever be you. His mouth is dry, the words tear themselves from his chest, deep within where he kept them firmly shackled and out of sight. “Alpha. Please. Give it to me. Knot me, tie us together-”
He might have cringed at such a thing mere hours ago, but now he only feels desperation and instinct driving his thighs to spread, his shoulders pressing lower to the ground. He feels Remus’ fingers dig into his hips with greater strength than he knew him capable of, and then the head of Remus’ cock presses insistently against his hole. For a moment it seems like there’ll be no give, that for all the lubrication and preparation the opening is simply too small. And then Sirius’ body surrenders with a suddenness that leaves him gasping, the tight ring of muscle swallowing the head of Remus’ cock. It’s not quite pain but it’s not comfortable either. And yet, Sirius’ body demands more and he finds himself pressing back, fighting through the discomfort to take more. Remus makes a soft, broken sound, fingers tightening, and he stops Sirius from moving further.
“Is it - is it good? Does not hurt?”
Sirius feels a distant flash of smugness at the wobble in Remus’ voice.
“More”, he demands, voice cracking, trying to shift his hips.
Remus’ grip is unrelenting, stopping him from pushing back. “Do you hurt ?” He demands, voice low and commanding in a way that is deliciously new.
Sirius shakes his head frantically. “No, no, it doesn't. I need more. Remus- ah !”
He cries out sharply as Remus sinks deeper. Remus pauses again, murmuring soothing nothings, stroking his back. Sirius’ breathing is ragged and his head swims as if in fever. The glow of the fire is too hot and he's awash in sweat, but even so, this is the closest he's ever felt to relief during a heat, and he struggles against Remus’ hold, trying to drive himself back onto the length spearing him open, eager to chase a satisfaction he's never known.
Remus doesn't allow him to sink back all the way, guiding his hips slowly, carefully, rocking back and forth as he pushes deeper. Sirius expected it would hurt, both from what he's been told - ‘the first time always hurts, it's just the way it is’ - and because it's only logical with how thick Remus’ length is, far bigger than Sirius’ fingers. But far from hurting, the stretch feels good . The way Remus eases into him, rocking his hips to give him time to adjust, turns pressure and discomfort into tingles of pleasure and all Sirius can think is more more more.
There's a low whining sound and he wonders what a strange noise to be heard from a storm, and then realises that it's coming from his own mouth. Remus curses softly behind him as he sinks in fully, hips resting against Sirius’ backside.
Sirius chokes on air, gasping, almost sobbing with a mix of relief and desperation. Finally he feels full. It's not quite satisfaction but it numbs the pressing need for a moment, a brief reprieve.
“Move, Remus, please for the love of the gods, move . I need-” he babbles desperately, frustration creeping into his voice.
Remus murmurs something under his breath, something rushed and stuttering in his language, and then he starts to pump his hips back and forth.
Sirius melts. Like iron heated in a forge, his straining muscles suddenly liquify and he falls against the floor in a useless puddle, only capable of keeping his hips raised to receive sweet relief. Remus’ gentle, steady pace quickly loses its carefulness, increasing in speed and force as Sirius’ encouraging moans echo off the stone.
Their shadows undulate and jump across the walls, flaring with the flickering fire, and Sirius has never felt more at peace with his body. He’s spent his whole life fighting it, defying everything he thinks his presentation to mean, but in this moment he doesn’t feel changed or not himself - he allows himself to have what he craves and accepts the pleasure to be had from being an omega. He does not feel forced into a mould, but free flowing and malleable in his own hands. And the pleasure is indeed exquisite .
Remus shifts behind him, changing his angle, and on his next thrust he touches something inside Sirius that makes him gasp.
“It’s… good?” Remus pants, voice strained.
Sirius takes a moment to respond, startled by the intensity of the sparks of pleasure. “...Yeah, yeah. It’s good. Again.”
“Again?”
“ More .”
“More”, Remus murmurs in confirmation.
He obliges, striking that spot again and again and again. Sirius’ breath and voice and life force is caught in his throat, and he’s not sure how long he can go without breathing but he doesn’t care, because there is something otherworldly just out of reach, almost visible when his eyes roll back as a glimpse of white light in the darkness. Is this the paradise that awaits after death? Has he dipped into the next world?
And then something creeps through the fog of ecstasy. A smell. It’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but it’s strong, overwhelming. Like oak sap and earth, something that clashes horribly with Remus’ smoke and woody smell.
Sirius blinks the haze out of his eyes and lifts his head.
A cry of shock rips from his throat - there’s a man standing in the opening of the cave. An alpha, his brain provides distantly. He’s tall and broad, and all that Sirius registers in the dim light is that he has dirty blonde hair tangled around his shoulders. He takes a careful step forward, dark eyes fixed hungrily on Sirius, towering and intimidating.
And then Remus, whose eyes must have been closed, suddenly tenses and lets loose a savage snarl. Sirius belatedly realises it’s actually words, something growled and furious in his language. He makes to scramble back from the intruding alpha but Remus is suddenly a solid wall covering him, an arm hooked underneath Sirius’ chest, holding him firmly in place while his other hand slams onto the ground in a threatening fist.
The other alpha’s nostrils flare and he finally looks away from Sirius, glancing over his head to Remus. His expression shifts from hungry to wary. He says something but words have barely left his mouth when Remus barks back something sharp and furious - murderous. His voice is nothing like Sirius has heard from him so far - gone is the softness and mildness, and instead it’s deep and commanding and full of wild rage. Sirius doesn’t need to know the language to know that it’s a threat of death. And yet he feels no fear. Not from Remus. Something instinctual within him understands it’s not meant for him, knows that Remus is protecting him, will protect him from this threat until his last breath.
Sirius lifts his head and bares his teeth at the other alpha, allowing his own rage to flow through at the interruption, the presumptuous fucking nerve . He barks sharply, “Get out ! Or I will tear your throat out.”
The alpha looks between them and defeat passes over his face. He seems to understand that trying to unseat Remus is far more trouble than it's worth, that they’re firmly intent on each other, and retreats with one last reluctant look over his shoulder.
Remus’ hold doesn’t loosen even when the scent of the other alpha starts to fade. After a few seconds of staring in furious disbelief at the cave entrance, Sirius realises his heart is thudding madly in his chest, adrenaline tingling in his fingertips. But his heat cares little for his shock. In fact… the confrontation seems to have intensified it.
The back of his thighs are soaked, dripping, and he realises with a vague note of surprise that his body has no objections to Remus’ alpha voice or displays of aggression.
Remus is panting behind him, not moving, still inside him. A wave of heat rolls over Sirius and he gasps in discomfort, hips pushing back of their own accord. Remus’ grip tightens and a low rumble vibrates through his chest.
“He’s gone”, Sirius mumbles, trying to push back again, entirely single minded in the throes of heat, “He’s gone, Remus. Move.”
Remus’ hand twitches. Sirius grumbles impatiently under his breath, aiming a sharp elbow at Remus’ side to snap him out of the protective alpha haze.
“I’m not done”, he says pointedly, bearing down around Remus’ cock.
It does the trick. Suddenly Sirius is flipped onto his back, staring up at the uneven ceiling of the cave and Remus’ face. He’s almost unrecognisable. Instead of softness and shyness, his face is ravenous, eyes dark and unflinchingly raking over every part of the omega beneath him.
“You are… he will not…” His voice is low and tight - he seems to be having trouble getting his words out. Sirius softens.
“I know”, he says. He raises his legs, wrapping them around Remus’ narrow waist. “I would never want him or anyone like him. It’s you, I choose you.”
Remus’ gaze never leaves his face. He blindly reaches between them and positions himself, pushing into Sirius with a confidence that’s new and surprisingly refreshing. Sirius exhales sharply as he adjusts but then his hips are gripped tightly, yanked up into position and Remus slams home.
There’s an urgency to it now. Like the other alpha’s interruption triggered a release of Remus’ control, snapped his restraint clean in two and now it lies shattered by the urge to make a claim before the chance is taken from them. Sirius scrabbles to hold onto the bedroll as his body is half-lifted off the ground and what may have been alarming before, now has Sirius gushing slick, moaning at the bundle of heat in the pit of his stomach that flares at the treatment. It feels right . This is the alpha he wants, this is who he wants, the only one. And it’s not just the heat talking. He suspected as much but he can be sure now - no other alpha compares. Even in the throes of heat he only wants Remus, will choose Remus with every inch of his body. So the sudden possessiveness isn’t alarming but coveted - his clawing, desperate desire is reflected in Remus’ harsh thrusts, how his hands grip so tightly they may bruise his pale skin.
Through the onslaught, something uneven catches Sirius’ attention. A stutter to Remus’ rhythm, something catching when he bottoms out. Sirius’ heart hammers in his chest and he raises himself on his elbows to look down between his legs curiously. And there it is - an alpha’s knot. It’s a thick bulge at the base of Remus’ cock, the skin stretched and dusky pink, looking painfully taut. He wouldn’t be able to wrap his fingers all the way around it. Sirius’ hole clenches reflexively.
“How does it fit?” he wonders aloud.
Remus slides back in with a grunt and there’s a brief resistance before Sirius’ body flexes and opens around the knot. He cries out in surprise, eyes flying open wide, staring up in disbelief at the alpha breathing heavily above him. Remus does it again, out and pushing back in forcefully. Far from pain, the stretch sends Sirius straight back to that murky space behind his eyelids where there are white flashes of light and spots of brilliant colour, a glimpse of paradise, a taste of forbidden euphoria. With each thrust, the resistance grows, stretching more and more, until Sirius is scrabbling at Remus’ shoulders, his voice breaking around pleas and demands and cries that reverberate around them, sounding like someone else completely, someone desperate and tortured and on the brink of ecstasy.
Then it locks. Remus’ hips can’t pull back; the knot catches, swelling too large to leave Sirius’ body. Remus’ jaw clenches and he lets out a shattered sound, half-sob and half-groan. Despite being trapped, he can’t seem to stop moving, his hips grinding in desperate little circles that press up relentlessly against that exquisite spot inside Sirius. And then it washes over him. A release unlike anything he’s felt before. It’s molten heat, white hot waves that wash over him in pulses. He distantly realises that his voice is bouncing around the cave as he shouts, and it might be wordless nonsense, or a plea, or simply a scream, or Remus’ name - he’ll never know.
His release spurts onto his stomach and he vaguely notes that it’s possible to come untouched. Then there’s a different kind of heat spreading inside him. He blinks his eyes open to find Remus’ head bowed, the alpha slumped over him, shoulders shaking to hold up his own weight. It’s his release, Sirius realises groggily - Remus’ release filling him with an oddly soothing heat that chases up his spine, through his veins, somehow cooling the burning need that consumes him.
He collapses in relief, panting heavily up at the ceiling and grinning in disbelief.
Remus’ arms shake either side of him and Sirius dopily reaches up to stroke his hair back from his forehead.
“Are you still living?” Sirius jokes weakly.
Remus lifts his head. A different kind of warmth floods Sirius’ veins. His face is soft and adorably worried. It looks like he wants nothing more than to pull away and retreat, avoiding looking Sirius in the eye shamefully.
Sirius tuts fondly. “You didn’t hurt me.”
Remus blinks, still not looking at him.
“I got everything I wanted”, Sirius insists, carding fingers through Remus’ hair soothingly, “That was better than… anything I ever could have imagined. I’m not hurt, I’m sated… content.”
Remus still doesn’t look convinced. His gaze skips over Sirius’ face as he looks up to the entrance of the cave.
“It was not safe, I should have made traps-”
“Threatening death works too”, Sirius muses with a grin, “I assume that’s what you said to that brainless bastard. Tch, coming to see if he can edge his way in when we’re already mid-mating. Idiot . He’s lucky you held me back, I would have killed him.”
A smile twitches at the corner of Remus’ mouth. He doesn’t confirm or deny, but Sirius uses the reluctant crack in Remus’ newly formed armour, raising himself up to kiss him. He pulls back quickly, smiling up at the alpha who is once again looking astounded at his fortune, a slight flush crawling over his cheeks. Sirius laughs in disbelief that a kiss is what makes the man blush, despite them still being tied together so intimately. He squirms to get comfortable and Remus’ breath catches.
Sirius eyes him curiously. “Does it hurt now? The knot?”
Remus shakes his head. “Not hurt… it’s… I do not know how to say.”
Sirius gently urges him down, allowing him to rest his weight on him. Thank the gods he’s a smaller alpha.
“I think I know what you mean”, he says thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around Remus’ shoulders, “Like it’s too much, too much good.”
“Yes.”
“How long does it stay? Can you make it shrink?”
“No, it must finish. Not long.”
“Hmm, good. I’m ravenous . Could eat a whole horse myself.”
“I must set traps-”
“Yes, an excellent idea. Although I don’t doubt he heard me discovering what a knot feels like and has figured out that I’m spoken for.” Sirius chuckles at the thought.
“Spoken for?”
Sirius pauses. It’s presumptuous. Or perhaps it isn’t, considering what has transpired between them. But what is a life-long bonding act in Sirius’ culture may be less permanent for Remus. He feels foolish for not asking.
He tries to approach it with care, “I thought we would be… one…. after that. Unless you did not intend - if you do not want-”
He trails off, his mouth going dry. Remus pauses, then says hesitantly, “Marriage… mates?”
Sirius’ heart swoops. “Well… something like that.”
“You do not have to, Sirius. I am not one of your kind, you should be with one like you. I would never force-”
Sirius barks a laugh that incites a look of shock on Remus’ face.
“My fate has never felt more mine”, he says decisively, “I do not want one of my kind. I want you.”
Remus stares, wide eyed and timid, like a rabbit frozen in the face of capture. Sirius inexplicably wants to take his face in his hands and rub his scent all over that ridiculous expression. He pushes it down so as not to startle Remus further and straightens himself so his voice comes out strong and even, completely sure of himself. “You are my choice. This is my choice. And I would make it again, exactly as it was. Well… perhaps I would have let you spring a trap or two beforehand.”
And blessedly, Remus laughs. The startled expression is gone and although there is some disbelief left behind, like he doesn’t know whether he is awake or dreaming, his eyes are once again warm and fond and have found their home staring into Sirius’ grey.
He quirks a brow and there’s a hint of the mischief Sirius fell in love with (and isn’t that odd, to belatedly realise that what you’ve stumbled into is love).
“I would have made you drink the tea until safe shelter. I cannot… you ate them?” He sounds pained, despaired.
“How was I supposed to know?” Sirius protests, “I was never allowed to use it. I was still consuming it, how was I to know that brewing was essential?”
Remus chuckles. “You will never want for Pennyroyal if you still want it. I can make for you any time you want. My village grows it. Our houses drown in Spring.”
Sirius blinks. “You grow Pennyroyal?”
He’s not sure why the revelation hits him like a solid rock wall. That even mated, Remus would never begrudge him his choice to experience heats however he wishes, to live any way he wants. The freedom he’s been chasing has been at the end of this path all along.
Remus cocks his head, examining Sirius’ expression curiously as if he can see a hint of his thoughts written on his face. “I did not lie. You deserve… everything. Anything you want. It will be yours if I am breathing. Until I breathe no more, I will try to deserve you.”
Sirius doesn’t say that he thinks he might already have it, that Remus already deserves the world. Instead he lies back and asks to hear more of the village. He doesn’t say that as Remus talks, he’s imagining himself there, in amongst the Pennyroyals, smiling and laughing with the vague images of James and Lily that Remus describes, meeting his parents, learning love in a new language and carving out a life with his own two hands that blister and freckle under the sun. He can see it so clearly in his mind’s eyes as Remus talks in his soft, soothing voice - building a future instead of running from it. Finding a family, making a home.