Of The
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Remus/Sirius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
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1,574
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Remus/Sirius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,574
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Of The, 9/31
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe are property of JKR, Scholastic & other assorted publishers, and the WB.
xviii.
"Get out." His voice is low and brittlesharp, skin burning crackling practically peeling from the blood boiling below it. "Now."
"You're being positively incorrigible, Sirius," Remus says in that calm 'let us all be rational' voice that really fucking hacks Sirius off.
Like now.
"Oh ho, isn't THAT rich? Pot calling the kettle Black, eh?" He is pacing now, hands at his side, the wand hand absolutely itching to pull out the wand and hex something. Maybe everything.
"If you would only calm down, I can explain--"
"Explain?" Sirius explodes, every last bit of him stretched to the limit, stretched so far that he comes apart and out and lost. "There isn't anything TO explain! Fuck, Remus, quitcher yammering. I'm not fucking DAFT, all right? It's just like before, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I goddamned saw you. I. Saw. You." He points to the door, his finger hand arm trembling with rage - rage peppered with disappointment and melancholy and the hollowness of betrayal.
"You don't know what it was you saw, Sirius," Remus says slowly, ducking his chin slightly. Fuck, but Sirius hates it when he does that. Remus looks all thoughtful and conflicted and careful when he does that, and Sirius can't ever resist that look, resist wanting to go to Remus, to hold him, to make sure everything's all right.
He can't ever resist it, so he doesn't even try.
"Christ, Moony," he says, standing in front of Remus, staring down at him. He blinks, Remus lifts his gaze to meet his own, and Sirius feels so damned weak, like he's drowning and there isn't anything to hold onto, to help him.
"Narcissa wasn't..." Remus frowns, his voice trailing off. "You believed me before, didn't you?"
Sirius nods. He did. He'd believed Remus the last time, though part of him always wondered what if - 'What ifs' could drive a good man bad, couldn't they? - what if it'd been true all along? What if--
"You believed me then," says Remus quietly, fingers curling round one of Sirius's wrists, bringing it to press against his cock. "Believe me now."
He's hard under Sirius's hand and Sirius jerks away. He hadn't wanted that, hadn't needed it because he'd been so caught up in her and Remus and what he'd seen, but touching him is like fire and ice all at once and it wakes Sirius up inside.
Grunting and damn near overwhelmed with this lust need take that's sprung up out of nowhere, Sirius undoes the button and zip of his fly, shoves his trousers and pants down, and hauls Remus down to the floor with him. "Believe," he gasps, yanking Remus's bottoms down before rolling him over on all fours. There's an ugly thud thud thudthud as Remus's knees and palms hit the boards but Sirius doesn't care. He needs. Placing an arm round Remus' middle, Sirius pulls him up onto his fours, then he's spitting slicking readying his palms and fingers and it's all so damned rough.
It's rough - fingers in just enough to stretch and scrape along the membrane before they're removed and Sirius is entering him, hard and fast and deep - and quick and silent. No sounds save for skin slapping against skin, a few sharp intakes of breath, and then someone's choking, groaning as they rut rut fuck. Sirius is so spent from the row, from trying to believe, from thoughts feeling shagging that he comes and collapses on top of Remus.
He isn't sure what time it is when he wakes, but it's all right. Time means nothing when Remus is there and he is beneath him, their bodies still joined as though they were meant to be that way always.
Maybe they are.
In this room, in this flat, it's just the two of them living, struggling, and letting things be.
He's never been much of a believer in anything, but Sirius has always believed in Remus.
Maybe it's time he starts believing in them as well.
xviii.
"Get out." His voice is low and brittlesharp, skin burning crackling practically peeling from the blood boiling below it. "Now."
"You're being positively incorrigible, Sirius," Remus says in that calm 'let us all be rational' voice that really fucking hacks Sirius off.
Like now.
"Oh ho, isn't THAT rich? Pot calling the kettle Black, eh?" He is pacing now, hands at his side, the wand hand absolutely itching to pull out the wand and hex something. Maybe everything.
"If you would only calm down, I can explain--"
"Explain?" Sirius explodes, every last bit of him stretched to the limit, stretched so far that he comes apart and out and lost. "There isn't anything TO explain! Fuck, Remus, quitcher yammering. I'm not fucking DAFT, all right? It's just like before, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I goddamned saw you. I. Saw. You." He points to the door, his finger hand arm trembling with rage - rage peppered with disappointment and melancholy and the hollowness of betrayal.
"You don't know what it was you saw, Sirius," Remus says slowly, ducking his chin slightly. Fuck, but Sirius hates it when he does that. Remus looks all thoughtful and conflicted and careful when he does that, and Sirius can't ever resist that look, resist wanting to go to Remus, to hold him, to make sure everything's all right.
He can't ever resist it, so he doesn't even try.
"Christ, Moony," he says, standing in front of Remus, staring down at him. He blinks, Remus lifts his gaze to meet his own, and Sirius feels so damned weak, like he's drowning and there isn't anything to hold onto, to help him.
"Narcissa wasn't..." Remus frowns, his voice trailing off. "You believed me before, didn't you?"
Sirius nods. He did. He'd believed Remus the last time, though part of him always wondered what if - 'What ifs' could drive a good man bad, couldn't they? - what if it'd been true all along? What if--
"You believed me then," says Remus quietly, fingers curling round one of Sirius's wrists, bringing it to press against his cock. "Believe me now."
He's hard under Sirius's hand and Sirius jerks away. He hadn't wanted that, hadn't needed it because he'd been so caught up in her and Remus and what he'd seen, but touching him is like fire and ice all at once and it wakes Sirius up inside.
Grunting and damn near overwhelmed with this lust need take that's sprung up out of nowhere, Sirius undoes the button and zip of his fly, shoves his trousers and pants down, and hauls Remus down to the floor with him. "Believe," he gasps, yanking Remus's bottoms down before rolling him over on all fours. There's an ugly thud thud thudthud as Remus's knees and palms hit the boards but Sirius doesn't care. He needs. Placing an arm round Remus' middle, Sirius pulls him up onto his fours, then he's spitting slicking readying his palms and fingers and it's all so damned rough.
It's rough - fingers in just enough to stretch and scrape along the membrane before they're removed and Sirius is entering him, hard and fast and deep - and quick and silent. No sounds save for skin slapping against skin, a few sharp intakes of breath, and then someone's choking, groaning as they rut rut fuck. Sirius is so spent from the row, from trying to believe, from thoughts feeling shagging that he comes and collapses on top of Remus.
He isn't sure what time it is when he wakes, but it's all right. Time means nothing when Remus is there and he is beneath him, their bodies still joined as though they were meant to be that way always.
Maybe they are.
In this room, in this flat, it's just the two of them living, struggling, and letting things be.
He's never been much of a believer in anything, but Sirius has always believed in Remus.
Maybe it's time he starts believing in them as well.