Chapter Text
Sirius led them deep into the forest. Further, and further, and still further. Remus could almost think this was the furthest he’d ever gone, man and wolf combined, but, more than once he’d woken on the cliffs above the shore, felt the high early morning winds whipping at his fresh wounds, and had to make the long trek back to his quarters some two hours away, led only by his lingering sense of smell.
Remus’s vision was swimming, and Sirius kept glancing back to shoot him these devastatingly sharp, striking grins so that he too was losing his footing, bumbling into tree trunks and over thickly gnarled exposed roots. It was a wonder that they both managed to stay upright through the whole ordeal.
“Sirius,” Remus slurred when his tongue was not so heavy and numb in his mouth, “what’re we doing?”
Sirius turned to face him, Remus barrelling straight into his chest with the abrupt stop, nearly knocking them to the ground.
“Gods,” Remus gasped. “Forgive me.” And then, rethinking the apology, he said: “Have you brought us here to kill m—oh!”
Sirius had pushed Remus back into a tree, and he’d placed a hand on the crown of his head, and he was stepping on Remus’s toes, and he was… kissing him. In broad… moonlight, Sirius was kissing him.
“Oh,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around Sirius’s waist. I have slipped into a dream. I am dreaming. Hello again, I have missed you, my dream.
Remus had never touched a star—indeed, had never touched even the smallest of flames—though he imagined a star couldn’t be so warm as to match the heat of Sirius’s lips. Surely, the sun itself would fail to burn him if he survived this.
When Sirius pulled away, tense and still at Remus’s inability to do much more than hold him, Remus felt a complete loss. He blinked down at the boy and knew, decorum be damned, that he could not be parted from him again. There was no time before, and no time after—there was simply time, and they were together now. Only now.
Remus flicked his gaze down to Sirius’s lips and, upon hearing his breath hitch, slowly, ever so slowly, leaned down to kiss him once more. And Remus hadn’t known much of gentleness in his life but, he supposed, in just this one kiss, he’d gotten his fill for eternity.
“Gods, I am an animal with you,” Sirius mumbled into his mouth as Remus began shifting back just enough to see his face and admire everything that was perfect about it, which was everything. He held him tighter at the waist, pulling him close enough to feel that, quick enough, their bodies had become ready and wanting. All at once, the world came into focus.
Sirius, son of Orion, son of Arcturus; demigod and honoured oracle; a half-blood here on earth cursed to bear the sacred blood of a most beautiful, most cruel nymph. This Sirius was staring at Remus, a ring of silver caught on a burning ring of gold. Remus, son of no man; wine-bearing servant and glorified prostitute.
“Your mother will see,” Remus said, swallowing down his sudden shame.
Sirius grinned, the snag of his teeth bordered on menacing. “My mother flees. She abhors the stink of wine.” Then, his expression softening, he said: “There is glory in your eyes. I wish you could see”—a soft kiss—“just how golden”—and another, in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, that soft spot that ached for the warmth of another’s tongue; that burned beneath Sirius’s now, begging the boy to bite down—and he did. So faintly, so imperceptibly, yet the drag of teeth was there, gentle as it was, and that was the glorious thing.
Remus rested his head back against the trunk and looked up at the moon, glowing almost yellowish through the thick foliage. The bark was cool against his sleeveless shoulder, but the air hung warm at this time of year regardless. Or perhaps it was simply Remus and the never-ending heat coursing through him. There was an owl, up above, that on any other night he would’ve neither seen nor sensed; but it was there, with its wide, all-knowing gaze, and they blinked at one another with the shared perception that something fundamental, something earth-bindingly sacred, was happening here.
Remus felt entirely too much, and not enough.
Sirius mouthed at his exposed collarbone, tugging against the material of Remus’s chiton on the other side with sluggish movement, almost as if he were sedating himself in dragging his tongue across bare skin. He whined when Remus pushed the hood of his toga away from his neck, the heavy garment continuing to fall and lose its shape as he grabbed Sirius by the hair—that tumbling crown of black. Remus held it loosely, merely to keep Sirius there so that he could watch him; to see the flush of his cheeks and the sweat gathered at his temples. To see his pupils blown wide, and to smell the wine on his breath. Perhaps it was blood. Remus didn’t care.
“Gods, you look—Sirius,” he breathed.
The boy, who was all but resting his entire weight against Remus and losing himself further to the night by the second, smiled up at him in that coy, impish way of his even as he was completely flustered. Remus tugged on his hair and Sirius’s expression crumbled, his beauty multiplying the more dishevelled he became.
“Tell me,” Remus began, “what is it that I will give you tonight? What is it that you want me to—that I could even give you, that you do not already have?”
Sirius had his mouth open, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he looked up at the sky, the moon reflected in the glaze of his eyes, and Remus thought that was close enough. Still, he tugged on his hair again and said: “Tell me.”
In response, Sirius brough a hand up to Remus’s neck, his thumb rested on his pulse and pressing down just so. “You,” he said with a hoarse voice, returning Remus’s stare. “I want…”
Sirius’s breath caught and a short, surprised cry that had no natural cause to be so arousing to Remus’s taste, left him when Remus let go of his hair to lift him up by the hips. Sirius, now completely pliant in his arms, wrapped his legs around Remus’s waist and Remus turned them around so that Sirius had the trunk to steady himself. He moaned into the air between them as Remus pressed his hips into his own.
My dear, Remus thought. My sweetheart, you have me already. You’ve had me for the longest time. You’ve had me for longer than I’ve had myself.
He rocked himself against Sirius, both still fully clothed and leaking into their garments—Sirius’s far too fine to survive a night of this treatment. Remus began to push the toga’s fastenings from Sirius’s shoulders, resting his lips on the boy’s forehead while he continued to rock and, by some divine strength, hold himself back from being lost to the sensation. Something so simple, so juvenile, almost, as rocking against a man in his clothes, was more pleasure to Remus than he’d ever had working any long hour within the stuffy confines of a brothel house.
“Sirius,” he said, “look at me.” And Sirius did, blinking up and panting, wrecked already. His breathing was sharp and laboured, and there were tears in his eyes. Remus couldn’t have imagined a human being of finer beauty.
Still rolling his hips, he held Sirius gently by the chin, leaned down, and kissed him. Remus felt the softness of the boy’s lips, tasted the bitterness of the spit gathered at the corners, and somewhere in the back of his head there resounded the clack of teeth as Sirius, messily and eagerly, pressed in close. Sirius cried out into his mouth, muffled around Remus’s tongue, and Remus knew he’d reached Elysium.
Or perhaps, this was closer to Asphodel, for surely his soul was lost for eternity.
Sirius had his arms wound at Remus’s shoulders, bunching the fabric of his chiton into his hands so that the fabric’s harsh threads stuck to the sweat on Remus’s back, bothering him enough to ground him; enough to make him pull back altogether when Sirius—either purposefully or unwittingly, it didn’t matter to Remus—bit his lip and caused him to taste blood.
He groaned and let Sirius’s legs fall from his waist, but as soon as Sirius had landed, the boy merely pulled him in for another kiss, licking over the split in his lip and sucking, neither rushed nor feverish. Remus felt himself bleed and wanted it to last until he was pale and shivering. The night was quiet save for their ragged breaths.
Remus undid the cinch at the front of Sirius’s dress, shifting the material from his person until it pooled at their feet and Sirius shivered in his hold, moaning low into his mouth as Remus caressed the bare skin of his back.
They’d touched one another so, years before, in clandestine rooms on silent, youthful escapes, but it hadn't felt complete. Remus would always pull away, some call to virtue making him hesitant at the prospect of having, but Sirius never held it against him. He understood the class that stood between them, and Remus had explained that he couldn’t have Sirius in the way they each wanted. Not in so many words, but Sirius understood. There was little Sirius didn’t understand about Remus.
Tonight, however, there was no such inhibition in Remus’s mind. Sirius was here, between his arms, smelling so sweet and divine that Remus would take whatever Sirius was offering and gladly give himself up in exchange, because there really was no part of him which didn’t already belong to this boy.
Remus’s hands were heavy and his vision was swirling, but through it all, he kept focus of the face before him and the body hanging off his arms, slick with sweat and near-limp with some unseeable ecstasy.
Sirius helped him out of his own dress—a much simpler tunic, beige in colour and held together with a tattered, heirloom red sash. And how bare Remus felt before him. Naked as equals, Remus was inadequate in the face of Sirius’s beauty all the same. Ivory skin glistening and uncannily pure, his beauty felt dangerous. Remus’s own body was scarred and marred beyond belief—the mark of the animal that followed him. He paraded around in human clothing and yet this was who he was. A creature of pain, and ugliness, and—
“You need more wine, Remus, if you should look so worried still. Breathe, sweetheart,” Sirius said, linking his arms at the small of Remus’s back.
“I cannot, when you look so—oh,” and Remus really couldn’t breathe then, suddenly shot back to reality when his bare cock made the briefest touch with Sirius’s. He’d been holding the gasp in for an eternity.
“Oh,” he said as Sirius pressed closer to him, and “oh,” he repeated when Sirius took the both of them in one hand and began pumping to and fro. Remus squeezed Sirius’s shoulder like his life depended on it, placing his other hand over Sirius’s while the other man worked up a rhythm. His hand was much larger than Sirius’s, as was his own cock, and the sight made him dizzy.
They each rutted into the warmth they had created, the heads of their cocks catching on one another making them hiss in turn, and Remus needed Sirius closer. Moving the hand on Sirius’s shoulder to his hair once more, he tugged the boy’s head back, which made Sirius release a sharp, stuttering cry and let his mouth hang open around a strained laugh. He’d never looked so debauched. So ready and insane with want. Remus squeezed his hand tighter around their cocks, leaning down to kiss Sirius again while still keeping the rhythm he’d set, but Sirius had stopped bucking and was now merely standing and allowing Remus to have his way.
Sirius giggled into his mouth and Remus nipped his lip.
“What?” he said, pulling back.
Sirius whined when Remus took his hand off their cocks. “Come back.”
“Why do you laugh?”
Sirius took him in by the neck to press their bodies flush together, and Remus, who got the distinct impression that he was trying to climb him, began laughing despite himself too. But Sirius had trapped their cocks, and with one leg wrapped around Remus’s knee, making Remus lean on the trunk behind them for balance, was bucking restlessly again.
“Gods,” Remus pleased. “You’re going to be insatiable.”
“I laugh,” came Sirius’s voice, with its usual silkiness slightly choked around a moan, “because it pleases me to see you freed like this. Take what I have given you, Remus. And please,” he went on, pausing the movement of his hips to tug on Remus’s own matted hair and hold his gaze, “just this once, stay out of your head.”
Sirius gave him such an impish look that, for a moment, Remus forgot where he was, until the former was shoving him against the tree, each jut in the bark sharp and wholly delicious as it dug into the ruined flesh of his back, and had sunk to his knees before him. Remus had scarce time to recognise what was about to happen before Sirius had taken him into his hands and Remus was letting out a loud groan into the night, an essence set aflame in the pit of his abdomen.
He cursed the gods, thumping his head back once, but he couldn’t keep away from the sight beneath him for long. Sirius was looking up at him so reverently that Remus might’ve been able to look past what was actually happening. The fact that Sirius was about to stuff his mouth whilst knelt on fallen leaves and broken twigs and damp earth.
Sirius licked a wide stripe up his shaft and tongued at the slit, which had been leaking steadily by then. The head of his cock had purpled with the sheer extent of his want, and as Sirius kissed it, Remus’s hips bucked of their own accord.
Sirius let Remus slip between his lips, gagging, and Remus drew back to still himself.
“Forgive me,” he gasped.
In response, Sirius opened his mouth, and, grasping Remus by the hips, took him in as far as he could. Remus groaned something embarrassing at the total warmth encasing him, and when he went to meet Sirius’s eyes, Sirius nodded around his cock, bobbing his head once, twice, three times, before tugging Remus’s hips away from the tree so that he could sit more comfortably on his heels. Then, Sirius swallowed around him, relaxing his throat and stabilising his breathing.
When Remus gave an experimental push forward, the boy nodded again, his eyes conveying something of a plead; some emotion that Remus couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it was only a tearful wetness. Entranced, Remus held his gaze as he pushed in until he felt that cushiony spot at the back of his mouth, and when Sirius moaned around his cock, Remus’s vision blanked. Something about it, the depravity of the scene and the pure feeling, made it so that every wisp of control he had left… snapped.
In the light of the full moon, on this stellar night, he’d lost himself once more.
The soft heat of Sirius’s mouth was so inviting that Remus lost all concept of good sense, pushing forward with an unrelenting pace. He looked down at Sirius and the universe was there, knelt at his feet, surrounding him in pure, heated bliss.
And Sirius, lovely god that he was, knew to take it well. He kept his eyes open and trained upwards, always glinting with something more; something that made Remus feel as though where he stood was fluid and all too collapsible; and he’d let it swallow him whole if it were only Sirius’s plan to keep him captive, entangled in the roots of the underworld by his side, forever.
But, no, Sirius wasn’t meant to be below ground. He was meant for right here, for the world under an open sky, yet for the fortunate eyes of so very few. Though when he hollowed his cheeks and welcomed Remus to the far back of his throat, Remus thought they might as well have been in infinite darkness: he was so surely brought to death.
Remus bucked his hips with desperation—and he would’ve been embarrassed, really, with the way he’d lost control, as if he were in his cot all alone, a teenager again making a mess of his sheets thinking of all the things he’d have Sirius do to him. And here he was now, facing the insignificance of time as a grown man, having not changed at all in the depravity of his yearning. He would’ve been embarrassed—except, Sirius did moan so sweetly around him, sucking, kneeling in place without so much as losing his balance, his fingernails pressed tight into the flesh at Remus’s hips. There was spit and drool and the beginnings of that white substance gathered at the corners of his lips, spilling out with the force of Remus’s movement, and tears dampened his cheeks, which glistened a silverish pink in the night. How wonderful, Remus thought, that you are here, with me. Gods, how I adore you.
Heat shot all the way through Remus’s core, blinding him with a pleasure that made his knees stutter, and his mind likewise, with some semblance of a realisation that he couldn’t yet afford to bring to words, and Remus felt his own tears then. He slowed himself, making Sirius whine at the change and draw his eyebrows in protest. Remus pulled out, panting for breath.
“If—” he gasped, attempting to muster a laugh and mask his emotion, though it came out choked. “If we don’t stop now, I’m about to be very useless to you in a minute.”
Sirius’s expression twisted into a wicked sort of grin, hazy and spent, his face streaked with all sorts… and he pushed at Remus, who slipped and fumbled to stay upright. Sirius only shuffled just slightly forward to meet him, and said: “You forget, this is not a normal night, Remus.”
Pinning him back, Sirius ducked forward and took him in his mouth again, all the way to the base with renewed fervour, forcing a shudder—of relief and of overuse—to ripple through Remus. Any remnant of consciousness he’d had left him as swiftly as a soul abandons the body at the hour of reckoning as he was edged along with the slick, depraved noise of Sirius taking him so fully, the boy groaning his own muffled responses to Remus’s defeated exhales.
With whatever strength he could muster, Remus began to match Sirius’s timing, though it was obvious to him now who’d been well in charge the entire time. More obvious yet, Remus knew he couldn’t bring himself to care about such things; not when he was looking up at the midnight sky, and Sirius was pressing a flat palm up against him between his thighs from beneath with a deft expertise. Remus let out a stuttering “Ah—ahhh” at a particularly swift flick of the tongue over his slit, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He spilled himself down Sirius’s throat, and Sirius kept bobbing his head, swallowing everything as Remus rid out the most blinding high he’d ever experienced. Soon, he was slumped against the tree with exhaustion and hissing from the continued stimulation. Still, Sirius did not stop.
“Please,” Remus gasped. “Oh. Ohhh.” He was crying, lost in an incoherent pain and an inconsolable bliss, and in a brief moment of clarity he noticed, with not little shock, that he hadn’t yet gone soft.
When Sirius finally pulled off, lifting a delicate thumb to wipe the fluids at the corners of his lips into his mouth and onto his tongue, he produced that wicked smile again.
“And you say I am the insatiable one.”
At this point, Remus couldn’t even begin to think. All he knew was that Sirius had pulled off of him, and so sensation was absent, and he absolutely needed to have him again at once.
Sirius held onto Remus’s hand as he stood to his full height. Long-dead leaves and mulchy earth stuck to his knees. He was a vision naked: an apparition made material only at the points where their bodies touched. Leaning in close to Remus, Sirius brushed the tips of two fingers up the length of his cock, and Remus lost his balance, still trembling from his previous bliss. Something of lightning had passed between them.
In his ear, Sirius whispered: “We are not done until you have had me completely.”
Remus’s brain had endured a change; he had changed. As he looked at Sirius, those pale, grey eyes swallowed in darkness, there was a haze around his figure, like a haloed glow which made Remus feel as though he wasn’t perceiving things in real time. The one thing he understood was that he needed this being close to him, always.
Sirius took one of Remus’s hands in his, and Remus watched him fold his fingers down so that he could take the pointer and middle into his mouth, slicking them up and slipping his tongue between them while holding Remus’s gaze. Remus blinked at him, entranced. Then, Sirius pulled off with a pop and let a glob of spit fall onto Remus’s palm.
He pressed himself close to Remus, guiding his hand around his back, and through the fog clouding his mind, Remus saw what was being asked of him. Sirius mouthed at his neck, and Remus held him about the waist with one arm while the other hand pursued its task with a singular focus, slipping into the space that Remus had dreamt of so many times before.
When the first finger entered him, Sirius pressed his torso closer against Remus’s and bit down softly on his shoulder, letting out a faltering sigh that coloured into a groan near the end. The boy relaxed and settled his head there, his chin hooked in the curve of Remus’s neck where he inhaled deep, contented. Sirius himself smelled of hyacinth and sweat and something Remus recognised as his own.
Remus coaxed Sirius’s leg up by the knee, and as he slipped the second finger in, Sirius’s hips stuttered. The two of them moaned as they brushed against one another, and Remus, who'd been diligent in ignoring the firm pressure still built through to his tip, felt his cock give a particularly harsh twitch from where it was trapped between them.
By the time he’d worked his way up to the third, Sirius was trembling, a string of quiet, resigned mewls leaving his lips as he rolled his hips, a few spurts of precum mixing with the sweat at Remus’s navel. Remus worked his fingers in and out, the ring of muscle giving way entirely too easily to the intrusion, and he was lost in the warmth and in the anticipation of what their closeness promised. Sirius was just so… so good, laying there slumped against him. Remus found himself letting out a small huff of laughter at the involuntary little jerks Sirius’s body was giving, which made the boy whine.
“You’re alright, love.”
“Please,” Sirius said, quietly, into his neck.
Remus paused, removing his fingers from Sirius. Like the slight tilt of a planet, imperceptible with the naked eye and yet sure to be catastrophic for the trained astrologer’s auguries, clarity returned to Remus as Sirius held his gaze. He looked at the man before him, felt his closeness, felt him closer than he’d ever held him before…
“Come here,” Sirius said, pulling away, leading Remus by the hand down, down, until he was sat on the fabric that had been discarded at their feet, helping Remus kneel beside him. Sirius manoeuvred Remus so that he was lying down on the ruined white garment, leaves rustling beside his ears and his feet planted in cool earth.
Sirius fretted over him for a bit, making sure Remus was comfortable, stretching the fabric as far as he could around his frame. Remus found the sweetness of it all overwhelming, and when Sirius finally settled, sitting on Remus’s stomach but resting most of his weight on his own knees, Remus began to thumb circles into his hips in a quiet show of gratitude. He was sure his face betrayed how entirely smitten he was, but he pinched his lips to one side to keep from smiling too broad.
“What?” Sirius said. He was blushing. An adorable attempt at wariness.
“Nothing,” Remus replied. And then, thinking better of it, he amended: “I should like to kiss you.”
Sirius, the wonderful, nimble thing he was, leaned down, arching his back as he did as if prowling, and gave what was asked, kissing him slow and languid and so, so sweet, biting just slightly the moment he reached down between them to grab hold of Remus’s—at this point, mind-numbingly pained—cock and guide it where the both of them wanted it most.
When Remus finally felt the boy’s warmth consume him once more, he groaned into the mouth above him with everything he had, unable to hold himself back.
Sirius hissed as he sank down, slipping his tongue further into Remus’s mouth and halting himself where he sat to allow his body to accommodate the stretch. Remus didn’t mind, sure he’d faint if Sirius were to go any faster, even. Their simple kiss would’ve been enough to satisfy him for a lifetime and beyond; each time their lips met felt like a forever, ages upon ages colliding at once, in the finite space of their mouths. Sirius began grinding his own cock into Remus’s abdomen and letting out the prettiest whines around his tongue, mouth fuelling mouth with the heat of a thousand fires—burning stars and stars and stars.
Disconnecting the kiss—though Remus would feel its ghost, still, as enduring as Agamemnon’s armies—Sirius leaned back against Remus’s knees propped up behind him, and Remus was sure he was seeing all the gods in one being. His boy, the one-god, moved slowly, dragging up and down, up and down, and Remus lay dying and dead and undying and undead, letting Sirius have complete control over his body and soul. Sirius could have everything he wanted, anything, if taking it felt like this.
Sirius’s hair, tangled and matted, framed his face in the wildest of haloes, and he was smiling oh so drunkenly at him that Remus couldn’t help but mirror the expression—a smile of sex and blood and everything in between—admiring the way Sirius had lost himself, losing that creature and/or personified being which had once been ‘Remus’ somewhere along the way, too. Head thrown back, throat on full, glorious display, his boy cried out sharp and high into the still night, speeding up his movements, the muscles of his thighs strained with the effort while his hands gripped Remus’s own much more atrophied flesh for balance.
Sirius clenched around him, Remus’s eyes rolling back so far he was certain he had seen the gods, and when his gaze drifted back, it caught there, on the moon full and immense in the sky behind Sirius. And it was so beautiful, but not quite so devastatingly sublime as the scene it illuminated before him: every single muscle, every single fibre of his boy’s body, taut and tensed, moving himself up and down, from the base of Remus’s cock until he caught on the bulb at the tip. There wasn’t much rhythm to his movement except for the consistent promise of a down, followed by an up, followed by a yet more frantic repeat.
“Remus,” Sirius gasped, pained, whining ah-ahs leaving his lips again and again as if he were soothing himself. The sound was certainly soothing to Remus. “I’m there,” he said. “I’m, oh, I’m—”
Tiring, Sirius began to slow, his cock strained erect and leaking a steady stream. Remus grabbed him by the hips—this beautiful boy, as lost to the world as he was to his own mind—and, taking over both of their weights, started meeting him as he clenched around him, barrelling up, bringing them closer, closer, closer with an energy he never thought himself capable of possessing. Sirius screamed, and it was an awe-inspiring noise, like whole earths shattering beyond hope of returned.
Sirius went to grab at his own cock, frenzied, still locked staring up unseeing at the deep dark, but Remus batted his hand away, replacing it with his. Sirius’s head fell forward, a string of drool falling from his lips, his lovely Venus lips, to Remus’s chest. And within three rapid tugs, matched in time with Remus’s thrusts, Sirius came, spilling everything he held between them, a low, abiding moan, defeated and resigned, spilling out, out, out.
Remus, buried deep inside, cursed himself the tighter Sirius clenched, immeasurable spurts of cum still making him shake in place, and Remus followed swiftly behind, murmuring “Sirius, Sirius, Sirius,” as if it were the only word that ever mattered, that his mind had ever housed, that he had ever comprehended. And Remus supposed, in some ways, it was.
***
Later, when time had returned, and the world was no longer so singularly fractured, they lay together on their ruined clothing not doing much more than holding one another close, sharing lazy kisses and soft brushes of the fingertips along the arms and thighs and face. Here in their quiet moments of reverence, Remus saw the world as it was and found that its centre had changed for him forever.
Sirius looked at him and held his gaze with purpose for a long while, before speaking those confounding words into being: “Love, Remus. That is what you have given me tonight.”
And Remus, unable to contain that something which tugged at his chest, shredding it from the inside out—the feeling that comes when a longing which has been so prolonged has now been sated, having only the loss of itself to mourn—looked away and towards the copious sky, blinking his tears down.
Unable to contain himself, and every colour of him that he’d ever feared to show because it was not-light, because it was somehow cruel and corrupted and immoral, Remus thus looked at the moon. For the very first time, he admired not only the way it shined so bright, but also the way the darkness surrounding it was all the more beautiful in its presence. What a vast expanse, dark and bold and sublime. And, Remus thought, as he pressed Sirius tighter to himself by the shoulders where he lay curled into him, how absurd it would be for the moon to scorn the very same bed that cradled it.