Without Your Whispers And Moans.
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,162
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,162
Reviews:
4
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.
Without Your Whispers And Moans.
The bed would creak as Remus shifted, as he would rouse from sleep. He would wake on his left side, like he always did. Then he would slowly roll over on to his back, like he always did. Once on his back, he would move his arms out from under the covers, stretching them up with a stiff groan, flexing his feet at the same time, like he always did. Then he would yawn, loud and wide, like he always did.
Waking up was a ritual for Remus. Everything was a ritual. It helped him to feel like he had some control over his life when he lived by routine. After all, he had very little control over it, otherwise.
Remus, like he always did, would then roll over on to his right and watch Sirius sleep. The animagus was always a sound sleeper. Remus would look at how the man’s dark tresses licked his forehead and splayed about on the pillow. He loved to watch him sleep. This, too, was a routine, a ritual, for Remus. Each morning when he would wake, seeing Sirius by his side was comfort. Reassurance.
Black had always slept on his back with his arms over the duvet. His chest would heave slightly with each inhale and exhale, and the sound of his breathing, the rhythm, would soothe Remus. He’d lick his lips and then pull them up into a slight smile as Sirius twitched or made a noise in his sleep. Remus loved studying Sirius’ visage. How peaceful it would look, how calm and tranquil; it was as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Remus would then slowly shift over to the other, reaching his right hand out to touch Black’s face. His skin was always rather rough, even though it looked smooth. Just like Black himself, nothing was what it seemed. He was mysterious; what he showed was the opposite to what he felt. Always. And, sometimes, Remus would lie there as he looked at Sirius and wonder what exactly roamed free through his mind.
Sirius always stirred at Remus’ touch, though often times not enough to wake. He would usually mumble in his sleep, or heave a large sigh, and loll his head towards Remus. Other times, he would slowly open his eyes and peer at the other beside him, and Remus could never do anything more than smile.
The times when Sirius remained asleep, Lupin would simply examine every crevice of his face. He would study the lines, the way his cheeks contoured, the shape of his closed eyes, the way the bridge of his nose rose slightly. It was in these moments of private, silent adoration that Remus would caress Sirius. He would spread his fingers and lightly splay them through the curly, floppy locks. Or he would softly run his fingertips across the other’s skin, from his temple down to his lips, so softly, like a feather.
The times when Sirius would rouse, Remus always blushed and felt coy. It would then be Sirius who explored, who would run his fingers through Lupins’ hair and tenderly stroke his cheek. Being bolder than Remus, Sirius would lean in and kiss him softly, which would thrill Remus; his heart would quicken and his breath would increase a little. Some mornings, their kisses would lead further, and Sirius would mount the other and they would make love. Other times, they would simply lie in each other’s arms. Sometimes, they would talk. Other times, there would be utter quietude, save for their breaths and the soft chirping of birds outside as the morning broke.
No matter what happened, it was their own secluded universe; not a soul to intrude, not a thing to come between them. At times, the silence that surrounded them spoke more words that what they said to each other. Remus, in these moments, would listen to each movement that Sirius made, each breath that he took, each time that he swallowed, each ruffle of the sheets as he shifted about. And he knew that Sirius was doing the same.
~~
The bed creaked as Remus shifted, as he roused from sleep. He, as always, awoke on his left side. He slowly rolled over on to his back; once on his back, he moved his arms out from under the covers, stretching them up with a stiff groan, flexing his feet at the same time. Then he yawned, loud and wide.
Remus then rolled over on to his right to watch Sirius sleep. But there was no one there. It was empty. It suddenly flooded back to Remus: Sirius was no longer here. All’s Remus could do was reach over and touch the spot where he would watch Sirius sleep. “I woke up alone,” he whispered to himself. “Again.”
Waking up was a ritual for Remus. Everything was a ritual. It helped him to feel like he had some control over his life when he lived by routine. After all, he had very little control over it, otherwise.
Remus, like he always did, would then roll over on to his right and watch Sirius sleep. The animagus was always a sound sleeper. Remus would look at how the man’s dark tresses licked his forehead and splayed about on the pillow. He loved to watch him sleep. This, too, was a routine, a ritual, for Remus. Each morning when he would wake, seeing Sirius by his side was comfort. Reassurance.
Black had always slept on his back with his arms over the duvet. His chest would heave slightly with each inhale and exhale, and the sound of his breathing, the rhythm, would soothe Remus. He’d lick his lips and then pull them up into a slight smile as Sirius twitched or made a noise in his sleep. Remus loved studying Sirius’ visage. How peaceful it would look, how calm and tranquil; it was as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Remus would then slowly shift over to the other, reaching his right hand out to touch Black’s face. His skin was always rather rough, even though it looked smooth. Just like Black himself, nothing was what it seemed. He was mysterious; what he showed was the opposite to what he felt. Always. And, sometimes, Remus would lie there as he looked at Sirius and wonder what exactly roamed free through his mind.
Sirius always stirred at Remus’ touch, though often times not enough to wake. He would usually mumble in his sleep, or heave a large sigh, and loll his head towards Remus. Other times, he would slowly open his eyes and peer at the other beside him, and Remus could never do anything more than smile.
The times when Sirius remained asleep, Lupin would simply examine every crevice of his face. He would study the lines, the way his cheeks contoured, the shape of his closed eyes, the way the bridge of his nose rose slightly. It was in these moments of private, silent adoration that Remus would caress Sirius. He would spread his fingers and lightly splay them through the curly, floppy locks. Or he would softly run his fingertips across the other’s skin, from his temple down to his lips, so softly, like a feather.
The times when Sirius would rouse, Remus always blushed and felt coy. It would then be Sirius who explored, who would run his fingers through Lupins’ hair and tenderly stroke his cheek. Being bolder than Remus, Sirius would lean in and kiss him softly, which would thrill Remus; his heart would quicken and his breath would increase a little. Some mornings, their kisses would lead further, and Sirius would mount the other and they would make love. Other times, they would simply lie in each other’s arms. Sometimes, they would talk. Other times, there would be utter quietude, save for their breaths and the soft chirping of birds outside as the morning broke.
No matter what happened, it was their own secluded universe; not a soul to intrude, not a thing to come between them. At times, the silence that surrounded them spoke more words that what they said to each other. Remus, in these moments, would listen to each movement that Sirius made, each breath that he took, each time that he swallowed, each ruffle of the sheets as he shifted about. And he knew that Sirius was doing the same.
~~
The bed creaked as Remus shifted, as he roused from sleep. He, as always, awoke on his left side. He slowly rolled over on to his back; once on his back, he moved his arms out from under the covers, stretching them up with a stiff groan, flexing his feet at the same time. Then he yawned, loud and wide.
Remus then rolled over on to his right to watch Sirius sleep. But there was no one there. It was empty. It suddenly flooded back to Remus: Sirius was no longer here. All’s Remus could do was reach over and touch the spot where he would watch Sirius sleep. “I woke up alone,” he whispered to himself. “Again.”