Mangetout
"Remus didn’t often want it like this, fast and a little rough, but Sirius always seemed to know when he did."
--Vaincre, Chapter 8, "January"
Not quite 12 days of nutmas, but some smutty Sunday goodness all the same. Kudos to @lumosinlove for Coops and that very juicy line that's been rattling in my brain for four years!
TW for smut
It began, as many things do, with Remus Lupin’s shoulders.
Four o’clock in the afternoon, and Sirius found himself biting his lip at the flex of a stretch. Golden arms reached for the ceiling; golden hands wove together, a net of familiar fingers that bowed to ward off any creaks. The kitchen light spilled down his bare, sweaty back and the channel of his spine where muscle cut the line of Remus’ waist against the wall ahead. His skates were tied at the laces and slung over one shoulder—that one, that shoulder, though it still took Sirius a moment’s glance to remember which deserved a little extra love.
The scar was invisible behind a half-stitched Bauer and old padding. He would have added a new pair to Remus’ Christmas list, if Remus wasn’t two seconds from writing the busted-up old skates into his will.
“I’m gonna shower.”
When Sirius didn’t answer, Remus turned, as if he had run off somewhere since the basement door opened. Sirius arched a brow.
The look that flitted over his face was deliciously confused, delightfully intrigued. “Hi.”
Sirius fit the cap of his pen between his teeth and bit down. Remus’ abs flexed on a breath. His shoulders shifted as he slipped a hand into the pocket of his shorts and closed the other around his dangling skate laces. Sirius loved those tiny fucking shorts, even if Remus had thrown a pair of leggings under them to skate.
“Okay,” Remus laughed. “Alright, I got it.”
If he didn’t, Sirius would be worried about the state of his fuck me eyes. They certainly hadn’t failed him in those early, risky days.
“Can I—” Remus gestured at the stairs, half-laughing, never quite breaking eye contact. Smoldering amber, like a low fire in the summer, like the hot drag of sap. “Am I allowed to shower?”
Sirius nodded slowly.
“You sure?”
He tipped his chin toward the stairs. “Allez.”
He waited until Remus had started up the stairs, stopped, and started up again to add, “fucking hot.”
“You’re insane!” came the shouted response from just out of view. “Hockey freak!”
Sirius grinned around the end of his pen.
And while it started as a sudden marrow-deep craving to be folded like the lawn chairs at their wedding and railed beyond power of speech, Sirius couldn’t quite stop himself when, fifteen minutes later, he had Remus flat to the shower tiles with teeth in his neck and a groan in his throat. Remus shuddered against him, pulling his hands down Sirius’ back and arms in hungry drags. He was shower-warm against Sirius’ cool skin. Turned-on and sharp. They hadn’t said a word in the minute since Sirius had joined him, but he knew that edge to Remus’ panting. He knew the taste of it and the quickness of Remus’ breaths, the yearning press of his body. His busy brain after a practice without drills to calm him, or a cooldown he couldn’t complete before they had to leave. A good game. A bad game. A taxing day. A solo basement skate.
“I know,” he murmured into Remus’ mouth through pouring water and a messy kiss. “I know, loup.”
Please. The shape of it found his lips and he padded the back of Remus’ head with his palm when it fell back. He bit another hard mark into Remus’ collarbone and felt him throb against his thigh.
It wasn’t often that he needed this, but god was it good. Sirius shoved their pillows to the side as he backed Remus to the edge of the bed and laid him down across the sheets, laughing and flushed. Powerful thighs curved tight around his waist, tight enough to leave red marks if he really got Remus good on his back like this. He wasn’t sure Remus realized how strong he had become, sometimes. Sirius could show him. The fingertip bruises on the backs of his shoulders. The push of a heel into his hip.
Remus threw his head back into the bare sheets at the gentle prod of his fingertips and Sirius dedicated a good ten-count to mauling the fresh expanse of his neck, where sweat had given way to soap and was just now returning to an appropriate level of salty goodness. His thighs trembled with the first slick finger. “Yes,” he hissed close to Sirius’ ear, free hand twisting at his nape in a sparking, thrilling pleasure-pain. “Yes, baby, yes.”
Sirius was breathing too hard to kiss him right when he fit a second finger alongside the first, but he pushed their foreheads together harder and took each of Remus’ heaving breaths in his open mouth. Electrical storm, his heart on fire. Maybe Remus was the one that needed sense knocked back into his fast-twitch body sometimes, but Sirius had been waiting all day. All week. All…however long it had been since they fell all over each other in bed, so hard and so well Sirius was sure there would be evidence when he finally made it back to his feet. Last time—
Last time, it had been him.
It took up every thought as he kissed a hard, sloppy path down Remus’ arm and chest and stomach, working him open while he went. On his knees, Remus and his sweet nothings placed over his rawest places. Remus and his thighs bracing Sirius’ apart, Remus and his healer-hands keeping Sirius’ flat to the mattress. His own whine at the sight of freckled forearms beside his own. Getting his mouth all over him, wherever he could reach, and the half-coherent mumble of you’re so fucking big, now, hold me, hold me. Remus plastered to his back, and Sirius’ chin fitting into the bent crook of his elbow. A flex. Pressure on his face from both sides. Coming so hard the world went dark and silent, and waking up flat to the sheets for the first time all night.
”Jesus Christ.”
“Oh, sorry.” Sirius slipped his fingers free and set a buckshot-scatter of kisses over Remus’ burning face. From the writhe of his hips and the groan that followed, that may not have been much of a protest at all. “Sorry, Re.”
Remus just laughed at him even more, shivers and all. “Don’t—nuh-uh, don’t be sorry, what?”
Sirius kissed his nose. As a treat. Lapin. “Got distracted.”
“By?”
Remus yelped at the answer, given via a simple, sharp bite of his bicep. “So strong,” Sirius sighed, stretching himself back up to lay flat down the length of Remus’ body. “Mon loup, mon voeu.”
“You’re all over me today,” Remus teased.
He met Sirius’ kiss with a deep inhale and little else. Sirius had guessed right, then; he answered the roll of Remus’ body under him with unmoving pressure and felt his hip go slick with a bead of precome. He was a wreck for this boy. A mess. Remus hummed low and deep at a suck to his lower lip that left it red. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Remus answered, soft.
“My winger.”
“Any day.”
Sirius bit him again. On the jaw, this time. As a fucking treat. “I love when you skate.”
“Even when I—ah-hah—go without you?”
“As long as I get to see you shirtless after…” Sirius paused to work a thoughtful mark into the sensitive space below Remus’ ear and watched his fist twist up the sheets. “I don’t care where I am. Turn over?”
Remus frowned gently at him.
“I was thinking about Ottawa,” Sirius said. He found the faint outline of his canine tooth on Remus’ arm, and kissed it. “The hotel.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s so good like that, Re.” He ran his hands down Remus’ sides from ribs to flank, but gave him space, burying his face in the mattress beside him. His shoulder radiated warmth on Sirius’ chin, and he kissed that, too. He’d kiss every inch of him, given half a chance. “I know you like to look, but…can I? Can I give that to you?”
Remus’ fingertips stroked through the back of his hair, drying fast with the heat of them. Sirius propped himself on his elbows for a better look.
“We don’t have to, the whole time,” he promised. “We don’t have to at all. But just to try?”
The skeptical rise of Remus’ brow was purely playful. “It’s that good? Better than looking at you?”
“It’s so good,” Sirius groaned, even as he fought a blush. “You make it so fucking good, makes me feel like I’m all yours.”
Yours. The key of all this, the thing that lit Remus up until he was going to pieces in Sirius’ hands. These heady, head-spinning days that needed to end with damp cheeks and half an hour of catching their breath in the aftermath.
“It’s me,” he said, brushing his nose against the tip of Remus’. The closeness made them both cross-eyed, and he swept his thumb over Remus’ mouth to free his bitten-back smile. “I can try?”
“Ouais.” Remus touched the corner of his grin with a gentle push. “Don’t hold my neck. And don’t smush me like Ottawa.”
Because he was good and smart and so hard it was killing him a little, Sirius took Remus’ index finger into his mouth down to the knuckle before letting it slip free with an obscene pop. Only then did he smack Remus’ hip like a racehorse. “Up, loup, show me what you’ve got.”
Sirius’ view was once again filled with Remus Lupin’s shoulders. The world righted itself.
“How do you—” Remus broke for a moment into laughter, tinged with a moan when Sirius left kisses like sprinkling rain across his back. “My hands? My elbows?”
“Whatever you want.” The curve of his back. The slight dip of his waist when Sirius’ hands fit just right. The square of his hips, all the places Sirius knew from being ridden until he thought he’d die from bliss. He rarely saw it from this angle. He never, never wanted to forget.
Remus pushed himself up onto his hands and he helped him get his knees set, a shoulder-width apart with his thighs and calves at a perfect ninety degrees. Sirius kissed the middle of his back.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“Non,” Sirius said through a smile. “Your posture is so perfect.”
“You’re evil.”
“Always,” he agreed, kissing the small of his back next. Remus’ elbows wavered. A good place, then. A place for his thumbs to find purchase when he put his hands around that waist. The slight arch of his back was going to feature prominently in his dreams, he decided. It also deserved a kiss or two.
Oh, he loved this man bad.
The arch deepened in a twitch of surprise when he pressed his fingers to Remus’ hole. He ran one in a careful circle around his rim as he pumped a bit more lube into his hand (not that he needed it, not like this, not with that visual ahead) and slicked himself with a few strokes. He had wanted Remus since he woke up, in any way he could have him.
Remus gasped again when he lined himself up and leaned in like he did when they were on their sides: hips to hips, his chest fitting just right where heat poured off Remus and his pulse pounded. He laid his mouth at the apex of Remus’ spine. Nuzzled at the flip of a curl gone winglike and wild above his ear.
When he pressed inside, he kept one forearm braced under Remus’ hips for the inevitable dip—and there it was. A moan, a falter, the buckling of his elbows. “Bon?” he checked when they were flush together.
Remus took an unsteady breath. And another one. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Deep, huh?”
His laugh was light as air. “Deep.”
It wasn’t long before he got loud, reaching back to hold Sirius’ hip as he set their pace quick. His chin lolled down, then up again in a swift correction that Sirius rewarded with a firm squeeze of his waist. He had been right. The pressure of his thumbs made Remus buck into it. “You feel so good,” he murmured into the side of Remus’ neck. “Can you feel it? All mine. Just like this.”
The answering keen wavered on every thrust; Sirius pressed a palm over the coarse hair of his lower belly and Remus dropped to his elbows in a rush, going tight from head to toe. Sirius cursed under his breath and braced his spare hand against the headboard for leverage. Anything he wanted. Anything he needed. The thought of it was enough to get him there, sometimes, the mere memory of how Remus looked when the overwhelm pulled him under.
“Fuck,” Sirius muttered, bracing his knee against Remus’ trembling inner thigh to knock it a half-inch outward. It jolted a raw noise from him. The arch deepened for a hard split-second, throwing shadows in the light of their bedroom. How often had Sirius seen his back in the last week? A dozen times, easily. How precious it was to get to see it like this, not just bare all the way down but with shadows drawing charcoal along every edge of muscle. He fucked into Remus slower, harder, in the kind of pace-change that made Remus’ hands flex on the mattress.
“Oh god,” came the thick, mumbled response. “Oh—”
“Fucking beautiful.” Sirius found a smooth shadow-curve and fit his teeth to it. “Fucking perfect. Tell me.”
“More, more, more,” Remus chanted. “It’s right—it’s—ohmygod what is that.”
The collapse caught them both by surprise. Remus’ arms gave. His shoulders crumpled. A rough moan buried itself in the sheets as he pressed his whole chest to the bed with a punched-out groan. At his fingertips, Remus’ abs lurched in jagged tremors. Sirius grabbed for his hips and yanked them backward to meet half a dozen thrusts, the sound of skin on skin drowned out by a series of increasingly-desperate yeses.
Sirius leaned forward half an inch. Remus shouted.
“I know.” Sweat made him glow. Half his face was plastered flat to the bed, and Sirius watched his mouth fall open. “Come on,” he urged. “I told you it was good, didn’t I?”
Remus mumbled something incoherent.
“Hey.” His curls were dark with sweat like some sinful postgame interview, silken in Sirius’ fingers. He pulled to tension, and not a fraction more. Remus’ ribs flexed under him on a gasp. “All mine, right? Just like I told you?”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh—”
Thick eyelashes fluttered, mink-soft when Sirius passed his thumb over the fan of them. Remus chased his hand with his mouth, but only got far enough to brush his lips over the inside of his wrist. The contact electrified Sirius all over again. Brought his own pleasure, nearly forgotten, roaring to the forefront of his mind.
Warm, and hot, and soft. Sirius pressed hard to the broad plains of Remus’ back. He needed more. Needed closer. The new angle forced his pace to slow, but let him drop most of his body weight into every push. It wrenched the kind of noises out of Remus that told him they were finally getting somewhere. He nosed into the hinge of his jaw where Remus smelled most like himself and breathed. Every thrust pushed him up or down the bed an inch. His hair would be a wreck when they were done. Fabric creases on his cheek, if Sirius was lucky.
“Je t’aime.” He pressed it to the underside of Remus’ open mouth.
“I—” Remus’ next breath came in a stop-start. “I can’t, oh god, oh fuck, please.”
The next drop of Sirius’ hips audibly stole the air from him.
He slapped at Sirius’ arm where it boxed him in. “There.”
“Here?”
Remus nodded hard. His back bowed; his bottom lip shuddered.
A few sloppy kisses got the salt off his shoulder and neck. Sirius nipped his earlobe and felt him jerk. I can’t, he had babbled. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a whole lot Remus could do.
“Sirius.”
His name had never sounded sweeter through clenched teeth. “Quoi?” Sirius asked, just to fuck with him a little. Remus cried out again when he circled his hips. “What was that?”
“Yes, yes, pull my—yes, baby, yes.”
Sirius bit the back of his neck and felt the pressure of what should have been a kick at his thigh. Instead, the mattress muffled a weak flail of Remus’ ankle. He held firm. Under him, Remus writhed, smacking a flat palm to the bed. He gathered a fistful of the bedspread as the roll of his body gave him nowhere to go but up.
Thank god for months of practice. Thank god for an entire day of being so horny he felt stupid. He would work as hard as Remus wanted. Needed. The thought, once again, sent pleasure flaring sharp from his hips to his chest. Sirius closed his eyes and doubled down.
Soon, the only sounds were his heaving breaths, the protests of the bedframe, and any noise Remus could manage around his struggling inhales. Sirius would have licked them out of his mouth if he could, but he had more pressing issues to attend to, namely prying Remus’ fingers off the sheets and lacing them with his own instead. He answered every half-formed word and stumbling phrase as best he could. In return, enough foul language to make a hockey player blush worked its way into the freckled skin beside that old, wretched scar.
“I’m close,” he warned, wedging Remus’ left thigh up higher than the right. It deepened the angle of his knee, and gave Sirius the kind of depth he knew from experience would be blindingly good. Really, that Ottawa hotel room would never be the same.
Remus didn’t show any sign of hearing him. His lips were parted and slick. His hooded eyes, hazy.
“Loup, I’m close,” Sirius repeated. He wouldn’t come first. Not if he could help it. “Want to be on your back?”
A moment’s consciousness found Remus. “No.”
“Good.”
“Put me through the bed.” It came out in a tumble of words, so fast and cluttered Sirius nearly missed it. “Put me—” He smacked the sheets again, rocking back the little he could to meet Sirius’ hips. “Take me, please, please, yes.”
Use me. It sprung to Sirius’ memory. Pawing at him in the frantic way Remus got on days like this if Sirius didn’t pick up on it quick enough. He grabbed one side of Remus’ ass and squeezed, pulling him slightly open, and got a low whine for it.
“Should have torn those fucking shorts off you,” he panted, releasing Remus’ hair to catch his other hand. Not pinned—not allowed—but anchoring them both. “Leggings, too. Right there in the hall.”
“On the—floor,” Remus managed. “Fuck me on the floor?”
“Crisse,” Sirius laughed, breathless. “Name your time.”
“This—good.” Remus seized up around him again and he ground his teeth. The tendons of Remus’ wrists stood out. “There, there, oh my god. Right here. Not floor.”
There were no pillows to muffle Remus as he got close and loud with it, loud like they’d won a Cup, loud like Sirius had put a ring on his finger. He practically purred when Sirius switched his grip to hold both wrists in one hand, heartbeat pounding in his shaft when Sirius wrapped his fingers around him. He was plenty slick after everything, but Sirius earned himself a pretty, pleased sound when he let go to quickly spit into his palm.
He hitched Remus into a deeper angle at the waist and went for it like a breakaway, pushing for that goal with every slam forward. It put him right up in Remus’ space, cheeks pressed together, breathing the same air, hearing the same rattling gasps for control. Under his mouth, the sheets were damp. Fabric creases for sure. Sirius wanted to gnaw on him like a chew toy. “Come on, loup. Come for me. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you, I promise.”
A dry sob gusted over his jaw. “Please, please, yes.”
“Any time.” It was barely a kiss. More a press of open mouths. “Any—”
Sirius’ nose smarted with abrupt impact. Remus convulsed under him as his back arched with nowhere to go in the boundary of Sirius’ arms, hips, thighs, chest. His torso twisted in pure pleasure and wet heat splashed over Sirius’ hand. He followed fast, in a stuttering one-two-three that jammed them flush together everywhere they met.
Remus was making those needy sounds still, agitated and nonsensical until Sirius shushed him and kept up the quick, short strokes on his cock. He stayed buried deep while the second half coursed through him and a thready whine pitched, broke, and went quiet. From the weight and pressure on his thighs, he was the only thing keeping Remus from melting eight directions on the bed.
“Loup.”
A snuffle, soft and tired.
“Re.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the purpling mark under his ear. “Remus.”
“Mhm?”
“I’m going to let you down, d’accord?”
He could feel his own thighs shaking still. His heart pounded in his ears. This room would never be cold again. Remus was dead weight under him when he peeled them apart and eased him down. The loud protest when he slipped out quieted when he tucked a pillow under Remus’ head. Sirius settled next to him and brought him close, blinking around the fog in his head. He trailed his fingers over Remus’ back in thoughtless patterns; up, down, looping back around. Remus moved, as if to sling a leg over his hip, but gave up partway through and simply shuffled closer.
Sirius let out a long breath and laid his hand flat. He could feel Remus’ heartbeat calming. “Bon?”
“ ’S quiet.” A sigh gusted over his chest. Remus nuzzled up under his chin with a smile Sirius could feel in the curving arc of his body. “Wow.”
“I know, right?”
“No way I did that to you.” Knuckles ran down his chest and gave a weak push. “No way.”
Sirius frowned into the top of head in disbelief. “I passed out.”
“Well, sure, but…”
His laugh made Remus laugh, and he pushed his forehead into the warmth of Remus’ temple. “You crushed my face in your buff fucking arm, and I passed. Out.”
“Hmm.”
“Maybe next time, eh?” When Remus didn’t answer, he smiled to himself and nudged into the infinitely small space between them until he found Remus’ mouth for a slow kiss. It was messy with afterglow. Sweet as brown sugar. “What do you think?” he whispered into the roundness of Remus’ upper lip. “Next time you need it like that, I’ll find a way to knock you right out, huh?”
“That would be so scary coming from anyone else,” Remus muttered. His stubble scratched Sirius’ collarbone.
“Not from me, though. Just too sexy.”
“Right.”
“Exactement.”
“It’s why I keep you around.”
“And I didn’t even make you cry, this time.”
“You—” Remus shoved him in the stomach, gentle fists battering his chest as Sirius squeezed him tight through his snickering. Teeth flashed on his skin with a low growl. “Jackass.”
“Another day,” Sirius promised. The heaviness was setting in. Sweat cooled. He’d grab their blanket in a moment and wrestle them under the sheets to escape the world for a while longer. He felt Remus stifle a yawn in his bicep and fought the lead weight of his eyelids. The rush was turning to syrup in his veins. Satisfaction. Hard work. He shivered, but he wasn’t cold.
“I missed you.”
Sirius made a questioning sound.
“On the ice.” Remus’ eyes were closed when he glanced down. The redness of his cheeks was fading to pink. “Good drills, but I missed you.”
“Tomorrow morning.” Sirius tucked his nose above Remus’ ear. “Breakfast. Our spot. Then skating. I have a new play for you.”
“Hmm.” He could hear the approval. “Okay.”
