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Entry tags:
three ficlets
HP; Remus/Sirius
185 words; PG
Prompt: Day 10, here.
"I want to give you the moon," Sirius says dreamily against his shoulder.
Remus looks down at their tangled limbs, all grey-silver in the moonlight. It's two days past the full, and Remus is still weary, and aching, and scarred.
"Why?"
Sirius traces a hand along Remus's body, pausing to caress each bandage. "I hate it when you're hurt."
"I hurt less, now." It's not strictly true, but his changes are easier these days, the wolf more stable now that he has comrades.
"You should have everything." Sirius is more impassioned, suddenly, loud in the silent room. "I want to give you everything that you can't have."
"Shhh," Remus murmurs, but it's just reflex. Peter is a heavy sleeper, and James is with Lily.
"The moon belongs to you," Sirius says, but he's quieter now, sitting up to look at Remus, his naked skin silvered through the half-open curtains.
Remus gazes back. "You belong to me."
In the moonlight, Sirius's eyes are eclipsed and dark. He is bottomless, and Remus is lost. "That's what I mean," he says, and leans down to kiss Remus goodnight.
-----
HP; Marauders, vaguely Remus/Sirius
244 words; PG
Prompt: Day 5, here.
"Have you seen my shirt?" James calls from the bathroom.
Remus leans over the edge of his bed to gaze under James's. "It's not under your bed, if that's what you mean."
"Which shirt?" Peter yells back.
James, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet, stalks back into the room. "My good shirt. The one without the stains on the collar or the holes in the cuffs or the ink on the elbow."
"Oh, you mean my shirt." Sirius emerges from his bed curtains, fully dressed, James's shirt snug on his broader shoulders.
"Sirius!" James shouts, and tackles him, towel slipping and water droplets flying.
Peter rolls his eyes. "James, you're getting your shirt wet." James grunts, pinning Sirius to the floor.
"By no means stop the show on my account," Remus remarks, "but you might want to fix that towel before someone gets the wrong impression."
Sirius and James stare at each other, and then James rolls off him, pulling the towel tight around his waist. "Sorry, mate."
James shirt is damp and too-small, buttons open at Sirius's his throat. He stretches, revealing a line of stomach, and Remus swallows hard. "It's perfectly alright," Sirius drawls, "but I'm keeping your shirt. It deserves better than Evans."
James is about to roll over and punch him again, but Remus clears his throat. "Is it really impossible for all of us to get dressed in the morning without incident?"
"Yes." Sirius says, and sits up.
-----
HP; Remus/Sirius, Autumn 1981
545 words; Adult
Prompt: Day 4 (but not really), here. I take full responsibility for mopeyness and improbable sexual positions. In hindsight, I can sort of see why I didn't post this one, despite the good bits.
Remus is in Melbourne when the leaves begin to change. He knows, even with the flowers blooming around him, because Sirius breaks all the rules to send him an owl. All the note says is "come home," but in the space around the crisp black letters Remus can feel the wind rising, cold and sharp and apple-scented against his skin.
-----
Sirius greets him at the door. "I've missed you, Moony."
Remus is exhausted. He has been on the road for months, seeking out werewolves and vampires, demons and night-creatures in the back alleys of Bucharest and Prague and Cape Town and Tokyo. He has nothing to show for his part in this war, except for the secrets he can't tell his friends.
"I've missed you, too," he says, and lets Sirius pull him inside.
-----
They fuck without speaking, quiet even in the empty flat. Words are too dangerous, too likely to be lies. Instead of speaking, they touch.
Remus works his mouth along Sirius's spine, licking circles against each vertebra, nibbling on his shoulder blades. Sirius is too thin, glorious skin tight against his bones. There's a new scar along his left side; Remus traces it with his tongue and Sirius shivers, bends, rolls until Remus is beneath him.
His hands land on Sirius's hips and hold, but Sirius slips out of his grasp, leans down to flutter his lips across Remus's stomach. Remus gasps, breathless, and then Sirius's mouth is on his cock and he can't breathe at all.
"Wait - " But Sirius doesn't, so Remus twists until he can steady himself on Sirius's shoulder and wrap his fingers around Sirius's cock.
Sirius cries out, muffled against skin, and then they’re moving, half rhythm and half desperation. Remus’s fingers dance, and stroke, and squeeze as Sirius’s mouth slides down Remus’s cock to suck him in.
The angle is awful, pretzel-twisted, but they know this. They know each other's bodies like they know that the leaves change in September, like they know that the nights get longer, and the wind gets colder, and they need more blankets on the bed.
"Sirius - " Remus moans, hungry and honest, and then he is coming down Sirius's throat, and Sirius is coming in his hand, and they are sobbing, arching, twirling, falling.
-----
Much later, they lie tangled together on the bed, grey and shadowed in the early-morning light. Remus's long-neglected sheets smell of dust and leaves.
"How did you know I was coming home?" Remus asks.
Sirius shrugs, languid against the dark sheets. "I didn't. I hoped."
They don't ask many questions, because they can't give many answers. Everything they say is questionable, but sometimes everything they don’t say is worse.
"I couldn't miss autumn," he murmurs against Sirius's mouth, and that much is true. Autumn is their time, nostalgia-tinged with love and memories.
"Cider," Sirius says absently.
"What?"
"There's cider in the kitchen, and apples, and cheese." Sirius drops a kiss on Remus's chin, and sits up. "You didn't think I'd forget?"
Remus's weariness is slipping away, red-feathered in the cold. "I love you," he says, and Sirius smiles.
It isn’t enough, but for the moment, with the leaves golden against the window and a fire in the hearth, they can pretend.
185 words; PG
Prompt: Day 10, here.
"I want to give you the moon," Sirius says dreamily against his shoulder.
Remus looks down at their tangled limbs, all grey-silver in the moonlight. It's two days past the full, and Remus is still weary, and aching, and scarred.
"Why?"
Sirius traces a hand along Remus's body, pausing to caress each bandage. "I hate it when you're hurt."
"I hurt less, now." It's not strictly true, but his changes are easier these days, the wolf more stable now that he has comrades.
"You should have everything." Sirius is more impassioned, suddenly, loud in the silent room. "I want to give you everything that you can't have."
"Shhh," Remus murmurs, but it's just reflex. Peter is a heavy sleeper, and James is with Lily.
"The moon belongs to you," Sirius says, but he's quieter now, sitting up to look at Remus, his naked skin silvered through the half-open curtains.
Remus gazes back. "You belong to me."
In the moonlight, Sirius's eyes are eclipsed and dark. He is bottomless, and Remus is lost. "That's what I mean," he says, and leans down to kiss Remus goodnight.
-----
HP; Marauders, vaguely Remus/Sirius
244 words; PG
Prompt: Day 5, here.
"Have you seen my shirt?" James calls from the bathroom.
Remus leans over the edge of his bed to gaze under James's. "It's not under your bed, if that's what you mean."
"Which shirt?" Peter yells back.
James, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet, stalks back into the room. "My good shirt. The one without the stains on the collar or the holes in the cuffs or the ink on the elbow."
"Oh, you mean my shirt." Sirius emerges from his bed curtains, fully dressed, James's shirt snug on his broader shoulders.
"Sirius!" James shouts, and tackles him, towel slipping and water droplets flying.
Peter rolls his eyes. "James, you're getting your shirt wet." James grunts, pinning Sirius to the floor.
"By no means stop the show on my account," Remus remarks, "but you might want to fix that towel before someone gets the wrong impression."
Sirius and James stare at each other, and then James rolls off him, pulling the towel tight around his waist. "Sorry, mate."
James shirt is damp and too-small, buttons open at Sirius's his throat. He stretches, revealing a line of stomach, and Remus swallows hard. "It's perfectly alright," Sirius drawls, "but I'm keeping your shirt. It deserves better than Evans."
James is about to roll over and punch him again, but Remus clears his throat. "Is it really impossible for all of us to get dressed in the morning without incident?"
"Yes." Sirius says, and sits up.
-----
HP; Remus/Sirius, Autumn 1981
545 words; Adult
Prompt: Day 4 (but not really), here. I take full responsibility for mopeyness and improbable sexual positions. In hindsight, I can sort of see why I didn't post this one, despite the good bits.
Remus is in Melbourne when the leaves begin to change. He knows, even with the flowers blooming around him, because Sirius breaks all the rules to send him an owl. All the note says is "come home," but in the space around the crisp black letters Remus can feel the wind rising, cold and sharp and apple-scented against his skin.
-----
Sirius greets him at the door. "I've missed you, Moony."
Remus is exhausted. He has been on the road for months, seeking out werewolves and vampires, demons and night-creatures in the back alleys of Bucharest and Prague and Cape Town and Tokyo. He has nothing to show for his part in this war, except for the secrets he can't tell his friends.
"I've missed you, too," he says, and lets Sirius pull him inside.
-----
They fuck without speaking, quiet even in the empty flat. Words are too dangerous, too likely to be lies. Instead of speaking, they touch.
Remus works his mouth along Sirius's spine, licking circles against each vertebra, nibbling on his shoulder blades. Sirius is too thin, glorious skin tight against his bones. There's a new scar along his left side; Remus traces it with his tongue and Sirius shivers, bends, rolls until Remus is beneath him.
His hands land on Sirius's hips and hold, but Sirius slips out of his grasp, leans down to flutter his lips across Remus's stomach. Remus gasps, breathless, and then Sirius's mouth is on his cock and he can't breathe at all.
"Wait - " But Sirius doesn't, so Remus twists until he can steady himself on Sirius's shoulder and wrap his fingers around Sirius's cock.
Sirius cries out, muffled against skin, and then they’re moving, half rhythm and half desperation. Remus’s fingers dance, and stroke, and squeeze as Sirius’s mouth slides down Remus’s cock to suck him in.
The angle is awful, pretzel-twisted, but they know this. They know each other's bodies like they know that the leaves change in September, like they know that the nights get longer, and the wind gets colder, and they need more blankets on the bed.
"Sirius - " Remus moans, hungry and honest, and then he is coming down Sirius's throat, and Sirius is coming in his hand, and they are sobbing, arching, twirling, falling.
-----
Much later, they lie tangled together on the bed, grey and shadowed in the early-morning light. Remus's long-neglected sheets smell of dust and leaves.
"How did you know I was coming home?" Remus asks.
Sirius shrugs, languid against the dark sheets. "I didn't. I hoped."
They don't ask many questions, because they can't give many answers. Everything they say is questionable, but sometimes everything they don’t say is worse.
"I couldn't miss autumn," he murmurs against Sirius's mouth, and that much is true. Autumn is their time, nostalgia-tinged with love and memories.
"Cider," Sirius says absently.
"What?"
"There's cider in the kitchen, and apples, and cheese." Sirius drops a kiss on Remus's chin, and sits up. "You didn't think I'd forget?"
Remus's weariness is slipping away, red-feathered in the cold. "I love you," he says, and Sirius smiles.
It isn’t enough, but for the moment, with the leaves golden against the window and a fire in the hearth, they can pretend.