The Man in the Moon
by Thamiris

Sirius loves Remus, loves him nightly with the curtains drawn against the moon.    Remus is afraid of the moon, the way it slips under his skin and turns him dangerous, although he won't admit this--but Remus' silences are telling if you know how to listen.   It's all in the slant of his mouth, the arch of his eyebrows, and when the moon comes Remus wears this little furrow, glances up at the sky even at midday, walks with his hands in his pockets even now, with Snape's potion to keep him from turning too dangerous.

There are oranges in the potion; Sirius can taste them on Remus' tongue, which reminds him of Christmas at Hogwarts, baskets of oranges on the tables that they'd throw like snowballs across the dining room.   He slept alone then, Remus in the bed beside him, and sometimes Sirius would pretend to be asleep, breathing with a careful exaggerated rhythm but watching through his lashes for the telltale fumbling under Remus' blanket, the quick furtive move of his hand, the muffled gasps.

Sirius always came quietly when Remus did, his own hand between his thighs, although once he slipped with a little moan, and Remus turned toward him, his eyes shining in the gloom.   That was the last time Sirius heard anything.   Only later, behind the bars of Azkaban, did he understand the fear.   You have to experience fear to recognize it, and he had years to learn it, years to learn Remus.

This is why, when Sirius loves Remus now, he insists on sound.   Remus is quiet when Sirius starts to touch him, stays quiet through the first kisses even when they turn desperate and wet, bites his bottom lip when Sirius eases him onto his back to lick down his body, the line of his neck, the hard circle of his nipples, the thin hips.

When Sirius takes Remus' cock in his mouth, begins to tease with his tongue, then to suck, Remus places his hand over his mouth--even a finger inside his body only makes him shudder and arch.   He'll come like this, his hand still over his mouth, his thighs shaking, so Sirius rarely lets it happen while Remus is in his mouth; after a month of nights since Azkaban, he knows what will make Remus break.   Or almost break.

It's hard not to rush, but the wait is worth it, even when Remus holds back the loudest cries, and the more Sirius sucks and licks, angling his finger, holding back until Remus forgets about the moon and the past, the better it will be.   The noisier.   His own words don't hurt, and he draws back every few minutes to whisper love and filth so that Remus will know that he isn't alone, that this is for both of them, that Sirius can barely breathe from wanting him.

Sirius keeps at it until he's nearly blind with sweat and need, until Remus can't spread his legs any wider, until everything beyond the bed, beyond them, is a dusty memory.   A few muttered spells, and it's time, Remus slick and open, his knees bent, his eyes wide.   His arms go around Sirius' neck, freeing his mouth, but Sirius doesn't kiss him, just stares down intently as he lowers himself into Remus' body.   He does it slowly, slowly as he can, although every time with Remus is both perfectly familiar and an amazing revelation, like re-reading a favorite book.

Without his protective hand Remus' mouth looks soft and skinned, red even in the dark from his teeth.  It's beautiful, and Sirius has to kiss him once even as his cock slides deeper.   He'd love to see Remus in the moonlight, but his hands, mouth and cock tell him most of what he needs to know.

Then it happens, the slow, spine-melting start.

"Oh," Remus sighs, and his arms tighten around Sirius' neck.   "Oh, Sirius."

His whole body tightens, and Sirius has to pause halfway there, gritting his teeth.   The room swims like they're underwater,  blue-black waves of near light, and he counts, a quick run to ten that gives him the strength to go on.

Another smooth thrust of his hips takes him home, buried impossibly far, and Remus sighs again, his hard cock trapped between them.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he tells Remus.   "It's been too long since last night."

Remus nods and pulls him closer.   His hair is wild against the pillow, the color of caramel under the sun, and even in the darkened room looks indecently lush, the only part of Remus that gives him away, so spare and reserved everywhere else.   Sirius runs his hand through it and thrusts at the same time, and Remus' mouth forms a perfect circle as Sirius sinks into another one.

"I used to listen to you," Sirius says suddenly.   "At Hogwarts.   It drove me mad, hearing the sounds you made."   Another thrust, a little rough now, and Remus moans.   "I wanted to climb in with you."

"Why...didn't you?   Did you think I'd...bite you?"

"I was scared you wouldn't."

This gets him a laugh, and he thrusts again, reaching between them for Remus' cock, which is impossibly hot and still wet from Sirius' mouth.   He hears a moan, but it's his this time, and he struggles to concentrate, to catch every sound Remus makes.

"Bastard," Remus says, and arcs up.   "It's so good..."   He's skipping every second breath now, while his skin feels slick and warm.

Against his will, Sirius speeds up his strokes, wondering if there's a spell that will give him patience.   Remus would probably undo it just by looking at him like this, intense and feverish, as he wraps his legs around Sirius'.

"How's this?"  And Sirius gives it to him harder, although sparks are kindling behind his eyes.

The sound from Remus isn't quite a howl, but it's close, high and mindless, and he locks Sirius to him, clutching with his arms and legs.   It's hard to move, but even harder not to when he has Remus this close.   "I love you," he says fiercely, without thinking.   Because, truth be told, thinking's for the day, for foreplay, for reliving this; he's not in Azkaban anymore, and this is incredible whether Remus is noisy or not.


Remus is doing it now, keening, the others in the house forgotten, writhing like Sirius is electric, a live wire inside him, and Sirius kisses him, feels the sounds on his tongue, feels them under his skin, in the deepest part of him, like he's on his back being fucked by Remus, fucked by sound.

The air's thick and sticky as summer, sticky as Remus, who might bring down the roof with his cries.   His cock is huge in Sirius' hand, and all it takes is another ragged stroke and--

Remus' eyes open wide as his mouth, and he looks at Sirius, dazed and almost shocked, then comes, hot splashes against Sirius' belly.   "I love you," he calls, louder than ever before.   "Love you, love you, love you."

Sirius fucks him to the refrain, then comes to it, his cries picking up where Remus' leave off.   Afterward, spent and sleepy, they lie together in the dark, speaking in half-words of the past, things they've never said before.

The next night before they go to bed, Remus walks to the window and opens the curtains.   For the first time Sirius loves Remus to the light of the moon.

The End

The Man in the Moon.  (c) Thamiris, December 2003

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