Chapter 9 wasn't always going to be chapter 9, it was actually supposed to be very different but Darcy and I rearranged a lot and settled on this happening BEFORE a major plot point. This scene was also supposed to be very different in tone, I ended up going back and softening it, rewriting the entire date scene, making the apartment section so much sweeter.
So below this is the "original" fully unedited version of the apartment section of Sirius and Remus's first "date". I always think it's really fun when artists show their progress work (I love it when Darcy sends me sketches and ideas of what she's working on before it's polished) and it's really fun and interesting to see how things morph and change and how one single scene can change the tone of an entire story.
ANYWAYS all that to say is this is a smutty little scene I totally reworked from what was published HERE.
Remus’s hands are resting on Sirius’s hips, thumbs slipping under Sirius’s shirt, rubbing circles against his skin. It causes him to shiver. The little bit of contact, skin on skin, ignites something deep in him.
Twist in his gut, a shot of excitement right up his spine. Sirius wonders if Remus only does scenes at home, likes control over everything, even the space. He wonders if this will be a hookup, something quick, not as involved as before.
He’s searching Remus’s eyes, trying to piece together what this is, what they’re going to do. His hands move to Remus’s shoulders, thumbs resting on his neck and Sirius can feel the hammering of his pulse.
Will they even make it to the bar? Does Remus even want to go to the bar? Is he going to stay? If he does—
His lips are hovering and it’s a rare moment of Sirius getting to look down at him, Remus gazing up. Their eyes are locked, expression calm, hands poised, waiting for Sirius to make the first move.
Sirius is sitting on the edge, anticipation threatening to bubble over the surface as he leans in, mouth against Remus’s ear. He nibbles at the lobe, pressing a kiss to the soft spot just behind, burying his nose there.
Deep breath, they’re so close their chests touch and he smells like lavender. The same as the fresh sheets Remus put on his bed. Little hint of cigarettes and the wine they’re both drinking.
“Say red if you want me to stop.” he whispers, grinding down. Remus sucks in a breath, right through his teeth but he doesn’t speak. Instead, his hands find their way under Sirius’s shirt, around the small of his back and he rocks Sirius’s hips forward. There’s a collective breath shared between them, reminiscent of a sigh.
Another kiss, sloppier than the ones before, to the side of his neck. Remus’s heart is pounding just beneath the skin, against Sirius’s lips as he moves. It’s fluttering, hammering away below the surface and he tilts his head, bearing his neck to give Sirius better access.
Remus lets out a noise, swallows it so Sirius can’t hear as he brings his hand up to tangle into Remus’s hair. Soft between his fingers, the tackiness of hairspray mingled throughout, he wants to get Remus to make the noise again. To force it out of him so he won’t hold back.
Tight grip in his hair, right at the root, Sirius’s other hand bracing on the back of the couch and Remus keeps rocking. He’s adding pressure pulling Sirius in as he arches against Remus’s touch, chasing the feeling.
Forward and back, forward and back, slow motions and he’s straining against his jeans. Already feeling the build, the simple motion, the friction and he can feel it against his growing erection.
segue (this is a literal note to myself to add in a segue between the above and below paragraph and because this is unedited, you also get the little note lol)
Remus’s pants are patched, repair on repair, sewn all over so it’s visible. Little scars on the fabric, little scars everywhere. Sirius can feel them under his lips as he kisses up Remus’s neck. Raised, they feel different than the unmarked parts, softer than the rest. He darts out his tongue, tasting, feeling, marking. Adding a part of himself to the little map of scars.
Sirius tugs, pulling Remus’s head back, biting the junction of his shoulder, not enough pressure to bruise but Remus groans anyways. Guttural, right from the back of his throat. The sound of it making Sirius twitch in his pants, their rocking starting to feel even sweeter.
It makes him wonder if this will be it. If this will be the tipping point. The time that Remus will let Sirius touch him, let him take a bit of control. Let Sirius show his feelings, make Remus feel what he feels in a way they both understand.
Sirius closes his eyes, deep breath in, thoughts already racing with all of the things he wants to do, but only if Remus will let him. He’s trying to focus on what he’s being allowed, to savour the little bits that Remus has given him.
There’s pressure building as Remus rocks his hips forward again, knuckles stinging as he tugs at Remus’s hair.
“Harder.” Remus pants on an exhale and it takes Sirius a split second to register what he means. He fists Remus’s hair, tugging roughly before letting go.
His eyes roll back, hands on Sirius’s hips clenching, nails biting. Remus’s brows furrow, little smirk on his lips and Sirius does it again, Relishing in the expression.
His lips part, tongue darting out to wet them quickly and Sirius takes this as his chance.
He leans in, kissing Remus and Sirius’s fingers are still knotted in his hair, pulling his head in. It’s fevered, frantic, almost devouring and he can’t help it.
Sirius wants this, wants all of Remus and the possibility of them leaving for the bar anytime soon is diminishing with each rock of their hips. Getting smaller with each kiss, and each moan passed between them.
Remus moves first, tongue licking along Sirius’s bottom lip and he can barely get his mouth open before he’s pressing in. His hands are moving under Sirius’s shirt, thumbs grazing his nipples, fingers digging into his ribs and Sirius arches into it. More pressure, more contact, more.
Pulling his mouth away, Sirius lets out a soft moan, his cock pressing, straining against the zipper. It’s almost painful, he doesn’t want to wait any longer, worried Remus is going to break the moment.
Between sloppy kisses, Sirius trails his hands down Remus’s front, letting them rest on his belt. His heart is pounding, blood rushing. Remus stiffens when he starts to work on the buckle, quick jolt like he was shocked.
Sirius pulls back, glancing from his hands to Remus’s face and back again, a silent question.
Remus’s chest is heaving, rising and falling quickly. His eyes, usually so wolfish, are wide, pupils dilated, the black swallowing up all the hazel and he looks like a deer trapped. Mouth parted as if to speak. He licks his lips, the motion of it drawing Sirius’s gaze down.
“We don’t—” he starts, pulling his hand back, but Remus grabs Sirius’s wrist firmly. He won’t let Sirius pull away, his hand hovering, suspended, not quite touching him but close.
Sirius is expecting Remus to flip him, to stay in control and shut him down just like he did during their first night together—and a little part of Sirius wants that.
He wants Remus to grab him, to throw him over his shoulder and carry him to the bedroom. He wants Remus to press his face into the mattress, work him until he’s writhing. He wants Remus to make him beg, make him grovel.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, they sit there, Remus’s eyes finding their way back to Sirius’s and they almost look scared. Wide and open like he’s looking for something, feeling it out. His chest is still heaving, rising and falling and it’s like they're stuck. Frozen for a moment in time.
Sirius is still straddling him, knees on either side and something in Remus’s expression compels him to reach out one more time. He takes his other hand, cupping Remus’s face, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. Sirius wants a chance to satiate the growing urge to touch Remus, to taste him, to make him feel good.
“Tell me if you want me to stop, Remus.” he whispers, eyes locked, unmoving. Poised and waiting, just like Remus would do for him. Let him adjust and decide where he wants to go next, which limits he wants to push.
Remus’s grip tightens on Sirius’s wrist, there’s no doubt he can feel Sirius’s pulse quicken. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip before nodding faintly. Remus places his hand over Sirius’s and presses down.
His chest caves, breath hitching and Sirius takes over, cupping him, watching as Remus’s eyes flutter open before rolling back. He bites his lip again, hard between his teeth as his brows knit together and Sirius wonders just how long it’s been since he’s allowed anyone else to touch him.
“Keep going.” He breathes quietly, jaw unclenching, shoulders slumping, eyes fixated on Sirius’s hand. Rubbing along the outline of Remus’s cock, Sirius reins in his shock. Schools his expression because he can’t believe this is actually happening, that Remus is letting him continue.
He finally gets the belt buckle undone, working the button, unzipping his fly and Sirius doesn’t take any time, doesn’t hesitate. Sliding down, his knees hit the floor, hands on Remus’s thighs his fingers slip into the waistband. Sirius tugs at Remus’s pants, urging him to lift his hips and he shimmies, helping Sirius pull them down.
He’s light headed, heart pounding—a steady thrum in his ears. Dizzy with want and Sirius can feel it welling up inside of him, pooling in his groin as his cock throbs. This is the first time he’s seen this much of Remus. Being this close to finding out what he feels like, what he tastes like.
It’s all happening so fast now that Sirius is moving with his instincts.
Everything is quiet, just the sound of his own shallow breathing and Remus has gone still again. He’s holding his breath, the dim lights casting them both in a warm yellow tinted glow. Sirius rests his hands on Remus’s thighs, the scars under the tips of his fingers smooth between the fine leg hair.
Sirius looks up at him, nothing but a quick glimpse through his lashes, checking in, watching Remus’s face closely as he takes his cock in hand. Any previous apprehension is washed away when Remus sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his brows relaxing. Little wrinkle that always seems to live there disappears and Sirius is enthralled.
Remus’s cock is warm in his hand, heavy as Sirius strokes, watching his expression change. His lips part, head tilting back slowly until it hits the couch cushion. Shoulders slumping and he’s giving in, relaxing and enjoying and Sirius is giddy over it.
Leaning forward, Sirius sticks out his tongue, taking a moment to swirl it around the head of Remus’s cock. Salty, he licks off the precum that’s beaded at the tip and Remus’s hips buck at the contact. He sucks in a breath, right through his teeth and it turns into a moan. Sirius is hurdled back to Remus’s bedroom, his lips against Sirius’s ear, shoving his fingers into Sirius’s mouth that first night.
I bet you’d take my cock just as nicely…and Sirius wants to show him just how nicely he can take it.
Sirius’s eyes are trained on the sharp angle of Remus’s throat as he swallows Adam's apple bobbing. HATE ME in thin letters tattooed right across his neck and it feels like a warning. Like something you’d see on the outside of a caustic substance.
It feels wrong. A lie. A front. Remus has given Sirius no reasons to hate him.
He does it again, slowing the motion of his tongue, taking his time. Sirius squeezes the base, thick in his hand and Remus’s fingers twitch at his sides. They clench and release, sitting awkwardly near his hips.
Sirius’s tongue swirls again before he takes the rest of Remus’s cock into his mouth, sliding down his throat with little resistance.
“Fuck.” Remus whispers, hard consonants, hands now fists and his breathing is shallow. It hitches, muscles in his stomach tight, as Sirius drags his cock along the soft part of his cheek.
“You’re so fucking,” Remus grunts, rolling his hips into Sirius’s mouth gently, the motion stuttering. “Bloody hell this feels…” He lets his voice trail, teeth clenching.
Sirius takes Remus’s hands, knotting them into his hair and Remus drags his nails along Sirius’s scalp. He leans into the touch, a prickling feeling running down his spine, settling in his groin and Sirius shifts at the mounting pressure in his cock.
He pulls off, settling his gaze on Remus again, “Tell me how I make you feel.” Sirius says quickly, hands still on top of Remus’s, encouraging him to press down, to take control. To show Sirius what he needs.
Letting go of Remus’s hands, Sirius maintains eye contact, looking up through his lashes and Remus is no longer looking at the ceiling. His eyes are trained on Sirius, fingers knotting into his hair. Sirius takes his cock back into his mouth, bobbing once before stilling, crossing his wrists behind his back, willingly giving control back to Remus.
Sirius lets out a whine as Remus presses down, controlling how deep Sirius takes him. Gentle pressure on the back of his head, Sirius breathes through his nose, relaxing.
“Fuck,”—Remus grits out—“I forgot how good this feels—put your hand on my thigh,” He’s panting, “Squeeze if you need me to stop.” Remus rolls his hips again, pushing down to meet his slow thrusts. Sirius hums in acknowledgement, knowing Remus can feel the vibrations of it.
“That’s it, pretty boy,” he growls and there’s a hint of desperation in his words, “I knew you’d take my cock well.” He pushes down, harder this time and Sirius gags, his eyes watering.
The stretch and glide as Sirius’s nose nestles into Remus’s pubic bone. Holding him there for a second, Remus’s grip eases. Sirius catches his breath, eyes clearing and he can just make out another tattoo. Faded, the ink falling out it’s hiding just below a thin strip of hair—uck it—the first letter hard to decipher. Either an F or an S and Sirius finds his face heating.
“You like this, don’t you?” There’s spit collecting on Sirius’s chin, gathering around the base of Remus’s cock as he continues to speak, and continues to push down. “Love how I tell you what to do. Love how I fuck your mouth.” He’s brushing the hair out of Sirius’s face with his free hand, moving it off his neck.
Sirius shifts, hand flexing on Remus’s thigh, his own cock painfully hard and he’s chasing friction. Moving under his grasp, Sirius whines again as Remus hits the back of his throat, eyes rolling.
“Touch yourself.” A command on the end of a shuddering breath. Sirius brings one of his hands down quickly, struggling to get his jeans open. When his cock is finally free, he strokes slowly, worried he’s going to come too quickly. He works himself, falling in time with Remus’s own thrusts as he pushes into Sirius’s mouth.
“Just like that pretty boy,” Sirius twists his wrist, swiping his thumb over the tip. Remus’s hand slows, holding him in place as his hips continue to roll. “Squeeze if this is okay.” Sirius keens, clenching Remus’s thigh quickly, not wanting him to stop.
“Always so greedy.” Sirius picks up the pace of his own strokes, stomach muscles starting to twitch. “That’s it baby.” Remus grunts, panting, thigh quivering under Sirius’s finger tips.
The pressure is mounting, string pulled tight behind his naval and Sirius closes his eyes. He squeezes the base of his cock, holding himself off as Remus’s thrusts quicken.
“Do you ever feel good—” The edges of Remus’s voice are starting to break, “F-fuck, baby I’m…” His words trail, fingers clenching tight and his hips stutter. “...Sirius—fuck.”
Sirius picks up again, his own strokes becoming frantic, knees aching from kneeling. His scalp stings, pleasure in the pain, as Remus tugs. He holds Sirius by the hair, hand knotted at the nape of his neck, keeping him steady.
“Eyes on me—” He obeys without a second thought, gaze flicking up. Remus moves the hair away from his face again, tucking it behind his ear, thumb sweeping over his cheek. Sweet, a simple gesture that makes Sirius’s hand stumble as he twists.
Remus’s lips are parted, hazel eyes yellow in the light of the apartment. Gentle glow from the lamp hitting them and their gazes are locked. Sirius hums again and Remus is shaking, muscles in his stomach clenching as he buries Sirius’s nose into the hair at the base of his shaft. Breaking eye contact, Remus’s eyes roll back chest heaving.
“Fuck, I’m so close Sirius,” The words stumble out in a rush, hand still cupping Sirius’s cheek. “Squeeze if I can come in your mouth.” Sirius grips his thigh, subtle nod of his head as he closes his eyes.
Screwing them shut tight, the noise gathering at the base of his skull, his own thighs shaking, cock twitching and he’s chasing. Remus continues to hold him still, breath heaving, hips faltering as Sirius sucks, hollowing out his cheeks.
Remus lets out a groan, moaning something at the end of it and Sirius doesn’t quite catch it. Nothing but a hiss as Remus comes mid thrust and Sirius is still chasing, still stroking as Remus pulls him off by his hair.
He’s leaning forward and down, hand joining over top of Sirius’s stroking vigorously. He’s gripping the back of Sirius’s neck, fingers entwined in his hair, yanking him closer.
“Don’t swallow yet—” Remus’s lips are on his before he can answer, tongue in his mouth as Sirius rocks into their conjoined hands. He’s moaning into Remus’s mouth, pleading quietly against his lips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Quick succession and his shoulders cave, face in Remus’s neck and he smells like lavender and cigarettes.
“Come on,” Remus’s mouth is against his ear, breath hot and Sirius is panting. High pitched noise, far away and his teeth sink into Remus’s shoulder. “That’s it Sirius, you’re such a good boy.”
Sirius comes, moaning into Remus’s skin, curling in. Dead weight against his shoulder he slumps forward, trying to catch his breath. Remus still has his hand around Sirius’s cock, the sensation of it making him shudder and twitch as he unburies his face with a gasp.
Remus keeps him close, hauling Sirius up and onto the couch almost like he did the first time. Gathering him up, he holds Sirius still. Hands on the small of his back, pressing them together.
Sirius has his hand on Remus’s chest, palm flat and he can feel Remus’s heart pounding. Thrumming just under his ribs and he’s coming down slowly, thoughts returning as he straddles Remus. He’s sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin and Sirius can still taste Remus on his tongue.
Hands steady, Remus is rubbing circles, slow and controlled, along Sirius’s back and his skin prickles. He lets out a breath, Sirius’s still sensitive cock rubbing against Remus as he shifts. Keeping Sirius still, Remus holds him there for a few more moments, letting them catch their breath.
“This is…” Remus starts, voice rumbling through his chest and he buries his face in Sirius’s neck. “...it’s been—” He stops and Sirius waits for him to continue.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Sirius says after a while, trying to pull away to meet his eyes, but Remus’s grip tightens.
“It’s been a very long time since anyone’s,” He’s fisting the back of Sirius’s shirt, shifting around. “since I’ve let anyone…do that.” And the weight of his words wash over Sirius. The tide coming in over night and he realises how much of a big deal this is, how much this probably means.
Sirius Black had always been good at following a plan.
Not his own, of course. His parents’ plan. The one they had set out for him before he was old enough to realize he had a choice.
He was supposed to be polished, well-spoken, and composed. A law student with an impeccable record, prestigious internships, and a carefully curated social circle. Every decision, every move, every friendship—calculated. Controlled.
And yet, here he was, sitting on the hood of an old, beat-up car that smelled like cigarette smoke, watching Remus Lupin flick open a lighter with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before.
Sirius exhaled slowly, trying not to let his nerves show as he studied Remus out of the corner of his eye.
Everything about him was the opposite of what Sirius had been taught to admire. Remus didn’t wear designer suits or expensive watches—he wore thrift store sweaters stretched out at the elbows, rings on his fingers that clinked when he tapped them against his lighter, and combat boots that had seen better days. His jeans were ripped—not in a fashionable way, but in a I’ve-had-these-for-years-and-don’t-give-a-shit kind of way.
And Sirius was absolutely, hopelessly fascinated.
It had started as an accident.
A series of moments that shouldn’t have led anywhere but somehow did.
James had been the one to introduce them. Of course, he had. James had a habit of collecting people, forming friendships where others wouldn’t bother, and Remus was one of those people. A punk with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. The first time Sirius saw him, he was arguing with a professor about a grading system that favored wealthy students, his voice steady despite the thinly veiled threat of detention.
Sirius had never seen anyone stand their ground like that before. He had been raised to obey, to accept the system because that’s just the way things are. But Remus didn’t accept anything. He challenged, questioned, pushed back.
And Sirius?
Sirius wanted to know what it felt like to be that fearless.
Which was probably how he had ended up here, sitting in an abandoned parking lot at one in the morning, listening to a mixtape Remus had made with songs Sirius’ family would probably call absolute garbage.
“You’re quiet,” Remus said suddenly, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the night air. “Thinking too hard again?”
Sirius blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “What, am I not allowed to think?”
Remus turned his head slightly, studying him. The glow of the streetlamp made his cheekbones look sharper, his eyes gold instead of brown.
“You’re allowed,” Remus said. “You just tend to overthink things that don’t need overthinking.”
Sirius snorted. “And you’d know?”
Remus smirked, tapping his cigarette against the edge of the car. “I’ve been watching you do it for months.”
Sirius felt his face heat. He looked away, letting his gaze drift to the city skyline in the distance. The problem with Remus was that he noticed things. Sirius had spent years perfecting the art of being unreadable, of keeping his emotions locked away where no one could reach them.
But Remus saw right through him.
Sirius’ grip tightened on the edge of the car. “And what, exactly, do you think I’m overthinking right now?”
Remus let out a soft huff of laughter. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice teasing. “Maybe the fact that you snuck out of your fancy apartment in the middle of the night just to sit in a parking lot with me?”
Sirius stiffened.
Remus wasn’t wrong.
And that was the problem.
He had snuck out. He had lied to his family, said he was crashing at James’ place instead of admitting the truth.
Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t something he could explain to them. His parents had made their expectations clear, and a friendship with a weird punk who spent his weekends at underground concerts and graffiti-covered skate parks was not part of the plan.
A relationship?
Not even remotely in the plan.
And yet, Sirius was still here.
Remus was watching him now, his cigarette burning low between his fingers.
“You know,” Remus said, voice softer, “you don’t have to have everything figured out.”
Sirius swallowed hard. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“Is it?” Remus flicked his cigarette away, crossing his arms. “You think I know what I’m doing?”
Sirius hesitated. “You always seem like you do.”
Remus let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just good at pretending.”
That surprised Sirius.
Remus always seemed so sure of himself, so unapologetic. It had never occurred to Sirius that maybe—just maybe—Remus was just as lost as he was.
The thought made his chest ache.
“Maybe,” Sirius said slowly, “I want to stop pretending.”
Remus didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette, but he didn’t light it. Just rolled it between his fingers, thoughtful.
Then, without warning, he turned to Sirius and said, “Then do it.”
Sirius exhaled sharply. “It’s not that simple.”
Remus shrugged. “Maybe it is.”
Sirius let out a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand.”
Remus tilted his head. “So explain it to me.”
Sirius opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
Because how was he supposed to explain that everything in his life had been leading him in one direction, and this—this strange, intoxicating, terrifying thing—was pulling him in another?
How was he supposed to explain that every time Remus looked at him like this, he felt like he was standing at the edge of something he didn’t have the words for?
He didn’t realize he had moved until he was close enough to see the freckles on Remus’ nose. Close enough to count the rings on his fingers.
Close enough to do something really stupid.
“Tell me to stop,” Sirius said, voice barely above a whisper.
Remus’ eyes flickered to his lips. Then back up.
“I won’t.”
Sirius barely had time to breathe before Remus leaned in.
It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was steady, deliberate. Warm. Remus kissed him like he had been waiting for it, like it was inevitable. And maybe it was.
Sirius’ heart was pounding so hard he thought it might give him away, but when Remus pulled back, there was no teasing smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just a quiet understanding.
Sirius swallowed, his throat tight. “This isn’t in the plan.”
Remus smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear. “Then maybe it’s time to make a new one.”
And for the first time in his life, Sirius thought that maybe—just maybe—he wanted to.
I love this headcannon that after The Prank, Remus got so mad at Sirius that he didn't even look at him for a while, and during that time he started going out with Barty, but Barty belonged only to Evan, but even so he went out with Remus and listened every time Remus talked about Sirius and how he missed him even after everything.
We're pretty sure Barty was a punk, and I love the characterization of Remus as a punk.
After Sirius’s prank in their fifth year, Remus doesn’t so easily forgive the eldest Black brother and pulls away. In a bout of self destructiveness, he goes right to a younger Slytherin, finding an unlikely friendship along the way.
They say that in Slytherin House you’ll find your true friends, but a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor couldn’t hurt too, right?
—-
Or
How different could things have been had Remus gone to the younger Black brother and made him and others have a change of heart much sooner than before?
