Chapter Text
Remus had certainly been wrong about the kissing.
He thought the ‘no kisses’ rule was stupid because kissing Sirius couldn’t possibly make a difference when things were already so confusing and tangled up. But he’d certainly been wrong about the kissing, because kissing Sirius was a bad idea. Kissing Sirius and making love to him like that – because fuck, he has no other word to describe what happened the night before – was the worst possible decision he could have made if he had any hope of untangling this mess.
Because how can he possibly walk away from it now?
How can he face the reality that in just twenty-four hours, he’ll be on a plane back to London, leaving Sirius behind for the foreseeable future?
He’s hacking his brain for a solution, a plan – any kind of a plan that could work –, but he’s still coming up empty.
“What are you thinking about, sitting here by yourself?” Sirius asks, sauntering into the living area from the bedroom. He’s wearing the black silk robe again, tied loosely around his waist, revealing a glimpse of his tattooed chest.
It’s late, almost noon. They slept in this morning, tired from the trip and the late-night activities.
Remus’ eyes rise up from the newspaper he’s pretending to read. “Just contemplating the fact that this is our last night together. You’ll finally be rid of me.”
Sirius lets out a chuckle as he flops down at the breakfast table. “Well, you have been pretty tough to take,” he teases.
“Looks like the Weasley deal is off for this week. So, I’m back to London tomorrow as planned, but,” he pauses, locking eyes with Sirius, “there’s a chance I might be back in a few weeks if the negotiations pick up again...”
A flicker of curiosity crosses Sirius’ face. “Really?” he asks, hanging on Remus’ next words.
What the hell, Remus thinks. We’ve already come this far, haven’t we?
“I’d very much like to see you again, Sirius.”
Sirius grins. “You would?”
“Of course,” Remus says, trying to sound like he has everything under control, when, really, he has no idea where this is going. “In the meantime, I’d like to arrange for you to have a flat, a credit card…” as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them immediately. Sirius is deflating right before his eyes, his grin melting into a frown.
“And what else?” he asks, filled with bitterness. “A wad of cash by the bedside every time you grace Manchester with your presence?”
Fuck. Monumental blunder. But what other option is there?
“Sirius, believe me, it wouldn’t be like that at all…” he pleads.
“How would it be?” Sirius challenges, sharp.
“I just want to keep you safe,” Remus says, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within. “Get you out of the streets, Sirius.”
Sirius scoffs. “Mere geography, that’s all.”
The grating screech of his chair scraping the floor pierces the tense silence as he stands abruptly. The silk robe billows momentarily before Sirius pivots towards the balcony, his frustration evident.
Remus draws in a fortifying breath and follows Sirius, stopping just outside the balcony door, his back propped against the frame. “Sirius, a fight is the last thing I want.” He forces sincerity into his voice, battling his default of cool detachment during conflict. He can’t let that happen. He’d promised himself, promised Sirius, he’d never hurt the boy again. “Just tell me what it is that you want. What do you see happening between us?”
Sirius remains turned away, hands gripping the balcony railing as his gaze sweeps across the cityscape. When he finally turns around to face Remus, he looks sad.
“I don’t know,” he admits, sounding confused. “I just– I want to see you again too, Remus. But this, this can’t be sustainable, can it?” His eyes plead for an answer Remus desperately wishes he could give.
Remus meets his gaze, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe.
Just as he’s figuring out what to answer, the phone rings.
Remus takes two steps back into the apartment, his gaze lingering on Sirius’ upset form. As he reaches for the receiver, Sirius buries his face in his hands.
“Yes?” Remus answers, his voice strained.
“Remus, I’m afraid this couldn’t wait,” Peter’s voice crackles through the line. “Just talked with Arthur Weasley. Apparently, he wants to see you today.”
“What about?”
“He wouldn’t say, but I get the feeling we’ve got him.”
“Fine. Have him meet me at the office at one.”
Remus slams the receiver down, then bridges the short distance between them, finding Sirius with his face still obscured by his hands. With a gentle touch, Remus pries Sirius’ arms away. Sirius looks up at him and Remus cups his face between both his hands.
“Listen to me,” he says, as softly and earnestly as he can. “I understand. I’m going to find a way to make this work.”
Sirius nods mutely, his throat working as he swallows, but he doesn’t at all look like he believes it’s possible.
✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦
It’s Saturday afternoon and none of the suits in the meeting look like they really want to be there. Well, except for maybe Peter, of course. It’s a nice sunny day, at least for an autumn day, and Remus looks out of the window of the office, towering over the city, and thinks that he’d much rather be back in the penthouse, with Sirius. Or in Paris, with Sirius. Figuring this shit out, with Sirius.
Peter fidgets in his seat. “Mr. Weasley,” he pipes up, clearing his throat. Remus forces his attention back to the table. “You requested a meeting with Mr. Lupin. He’s all ears.”
No one wants to be at the office, at a business meeting, on a Saturday afternoon. But it’s what you got to do, for…
For what, really?
Mr. Weasley looks uncomfortable. Unsure. He fiddles with his tie. “I’ve reconsidered my position on your acquisition offer,” he begins. Remus hasn’t contacted the bank, so Weasley’s sudden change of heart leaves him bewildered. Was it Peter’s influence? Or a stroke of luck that the loan fell through? A flicker of sympathy sparks within Remus – he’d genuinely hoped the man could find a way out. “But there’s one condition,” Weasley continues. “It’s not about me, per se. I need to know the people my company employs will be alright.”
Why is he here, on a Saturday afternoon, Remus thinks, if he’s not building anything? If all of this holds absolutely no meaning for him. If it’s all just a bunch of random smudges of colour in a Monet painting.
Peter smiles. Remus squints, almost imagining a trickle of venom dripping from the corner of his mouth. “No problem, Mr. Weasley. We have a clause in the contract ensuring their well-being. Gentlemen, if you’d please turn to page thirty-four of the contracts...”
Remus takes a few steps back – metaphorically speaking.
“Hold on, Peter,” he interrupts, firm. Peter jerks his head up, a frown creasing his brow. “Gentlemen, if you’d indulge me for a moment. Mr. Weasley and I would like a private word.”
Peter sputters, a retort forming on his lips. But before he can unleash it, the air escapes him in a frustrated huff. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and regains his composure. “Very well, gentlemen,” he announces to the room. “As you heard, Mr. Lupin requires a moment alone with Mr. Weasley. Please wait outside for a brief discussion.”
The executives begin to file out, a mix of Remus’ staff and Weasley’s – including the young Bill Weasley.
“You too, Peter,” Remus adds coolly, his gaze lingering on his lawyer.
“What do you mean?” Peter asks, offended, widening his eyes.
“My words were clear, Peter. I require a private conversation with Mr. Weasley,” Remus reiterates, maintaining his composure.
“Remus, I can’t believe you’re–” Peter starts, but Remus cuts him off.
“I think I’ve told you to be careful. Didn’t I, Peter?”
The pointed reminder hangs in the air. The lawyer meets his gaze for a tense beat, then concedes with a defeated sigh. He rises and exits the room.
“Care for some tea, Mr. Weasley? Perhaps coffee?” Remus offers, rising from his seat and heading towards the coffee station tucked away in the corner of the room.
Mr. Weasley’s brow remains furrowed in confusion, but he doesn’t question the request. “Tea, thank you,” he replies.
Remus sets about preparing two cups, the hiss of the kettle and the clink of teaspoons the only sounds breaking the silence. “Mr. Weasley,” he begins, his voice competing with the gentle gurgling of the water, “I think you’d be pleased to learn that my interests in your company have changed. Sugar?”
“Two, please,” Mr. Weasley murmurs, his bewilderment only deepening. “What exactly do you mean, Mr. Lupin?”
Remus returns with the steaming teacups, studying Mr. Weasley’s perplexed expression. “I no longer have an interest in dismantling your company. But I won’t stand by and see someone else do it either. My offer remains.” he announces, taking a seat and sipping his tea. “I think I want to help you, Mr. Weasley. I want to help you save your company.”
Mr. Weasley looks surprised. “Why?”
When he thinks about how to answer this question, what Remus sees is the first brick being placed on the first line of bricks of a wall. What he sees is himself, in a white room, staring at the Monet strokes that are just a finger away from his nose. And then he sees himself taking a step back.
He sees a lopsided grin and grey eyes, and he hears Sirius’ voice. “No wonder why you came looking for me.”
“I think I’m done with tearing things down,” Remus says to Mr. Weasley. “Perhaps it’s time I tried building something.”
And it’s funny, really. Because he’s sitting here at a business meeting, alone with this man, yet his anxieties are absent. No clammy palms, no suffocating constriction. He’s present, anchored in the moment. And it’s a welcome change.
It just feels right.
Mr. Weasley offers a hesitant smile, his blue eyes welling up. “I don’t mean to sound patronising, Mr. Lupin, but I’m positively impressed.” He reaches out and places a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
Remus returns the smile, a genuine one this time. “Let me be clear, Mr. Weasley, this is uncharted territory for me. I’ll need your guidance.”
“Of course,” Mr. Weasley replies, extending his hand. “To a new beginning, then.”
A laugh escapes Remus’ lips as he shakes Mr. Weasley’s hand. “To a new beginning.”
After that, Remus leaves. Peter and the others can deal with the contract signing. He has more pressing matters to attend to. Stepping out of the building, he finds Marvin waiting with the limo as usual. But this time, Remus pauses just before reaching the car.
“Change of plans, Marvin,” he announces. “Beautiful day for a walk. I’ll head back on foot, thank you.”
It’s a trek, but the sun is warm on his face, the breeze invigorating. Maybe he’ll stop by that bakery and pick up some croissants for Sirius. He does seem to love croissants.
It’ll all work out, somehow. He’s sure of it.
✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦
After Remus leaves, Sirius sits on the edge of the bed for fifteen minutes, staring at the wall.
When the phone’s trill pierces the tense silence hanging heavy in the air, Sirius practically throws himself at it, snatching the receiver before it can ring a second time. A desperate hope flares – maybe it’s Remus, who has perhaps by a miracle figured out a way to make this work.
It’s not Remus, it’s Mr. Crouch, from the hotel reception.
“Hello, Mr. Lupin,” he says. “Could you come down to the front desk, please? There’s someone here who wants to speak to you. He says his name is Mr. Potter.”
Relief washes over Sirius. Talking to James might be even better.
✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦
“I’ve been calling you for two days and you never pick up or return my messages!” he complains as they head towards the pool, seeking refuge in the hotel yard. “Where the devil have you been?”
James laughs. “Right, well, remember that girl I mentioned? The redhead from the house I helped move?” Sirius makes an agreeing sound. “Her folks and sister are already in London, but she had to stay behind a week to finish some volunteer work she was doing over the summer or something. So, she’s been at their empty house and, uh, let’s just say it’s been me, her, a spare mattress and a ridiculous amount of pot,” he admits shamelessly. “Fucking heaven, mate.”
Sirius scoffs playfully. “Should’ve known you were shagging someone…”
“Well, you know me,” James says grinning.
They settle under a poolside umbrella. It’s early autumn, so the once-bustling pool area is deserted.
James gives Sirius a thorough head-to-toe scan. “Looking sharp,” he remarks.
Sirius glances down at himself – Levi’s, Doc Martens, and a fresh The Smiths tee. Not posh, but undeniably new and crisp, a stark contrast to his usual beaten up clothes. “I know, right?” he says, playfully.
James leans forward, his gaze meeting Sirius’ across the metal table. Sunlight dances on the pool’s surface, casting flickering patterns across James’ cheek and reflecting in his round glasses. “So… when does he leave?” He inquires casually.
Sirius takes a deep breath, the weight of the answer settling on him. “Tomorrow.”
“Surely you get to keep the clothes, at least?”
Sirius lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Remus, he– he said he’d like to see me again. But I think– I think definitely no. I mean, it’s probably for the best, right?”
James straightens in his chair, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Definitely no?” he repeats, leaning forward and squinting at Sirius as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
Sirius nods curtly, jaw clenched tight.
“What the fuck happened these past four days?” James explodes, his eyes wide with disbelief. “On Tuesday, you said you had feelings for him, and now you’re waving goodbye to even the possibility of seeing him again?”
Sirius swallows. “I think I love him.”
James, who was utterly bewildered by everything Sirius said up until this point, seems perfectly unfazed by this statement.
“So, you kissed him? On the mouth?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“How was it?” He asks like this is a conversation about someone Sirius snogged under the bleachers at their school, not a kiss shared with a grown adult man Sirius was hired to accompany.
“It was perfect.” Sirius says, because it was, and he couldn’t lie to James even if he wanted to. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before, James. And I’m so scared.”
A loud screech pierces the air as James yanks his chair closer, reaching for Sirius’ hand. His grip is tight, his expression concerned. “Sirius, mate. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
A whirlwind of thoughts churns in Sirius’ mind. Where to even begin? Finally, a single sentence tumbles out, encapsulating the chaos within.
“I want to go back to London, James.”
James absorbs the statement, his voice cautious in his reply. “Okay… Actually, I’ve been mulling over that too. But I mean– What does that have to do with– this?”
Sirius’ head snaps up. “You’ve been thinking about London?”
“Well, yeah,” James admits, momentarily forgetting his own line of questioning. “I was planning to bring it up after you returned. I remembered you mentioning using the money to get back to school, and, uh, I think I’ve had enough of Manchester. A change of scenery wouldn’t hurt us, and well... She’s going to London. Lily, the girl I was with.” He studies Sirius for a moment before adding, “But I figured you were always wary of London, what with your folks and all, so...”
“Right,” Sirius says, nodding eagerly. “I was, but this week, something just clicked. Made me realise a bunch of stuff, I guess.” He throws James a sheepish grin. “Besides, I’ll be twenty next month, practically an adult, right? Don’t have to be afraid of them anymore, do I?”
“Sirius,” James says, squeezing his hand. “You know you never had to be scared of them. You’re miles stronger, miles better than that lot.”
Sirius takes a deep breath. “Remus took me to a Polo match, and Reggie kept popping into my head. He, uh, used to play Polo when we were little. Don’t think I ever mentioned that did I?”
“Course you did,” James replies, rolling his eyes with a playful scoff. “Fancy horsey footie, you posh sods.”
Sirius laughs. “Anyway. Reggie’s all grown up now, off to uni probably. And hey, I want to be part of that picture, you know? My family was terrible, alright, but there were good ones– a cousin I liked, an uncle... I just, well, I’m done with all this, you get me? This whole, er, sex-for-hire business. Done.”
James’ brow furrows. “Don’t get me wrong, mate, I’m right behind you, but– what was so traumatising about this bloke that got you legging it like a scared rabbit?” He lets out a hollow laugh.
“No, that’s the thing! It was perfect and made me realise that I–” He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Fuck me, even saying it sounds daft. But it made me think, maybe I deserve better, yeah?”
“Course you deserve better, Sirius,” James says like he’s stating the obvious. “I could’ve told you that last week.”
“You probably did say it,” Sirius admits. “But I wasn’t listening. We both deserve more than this, James. All this money we chuck at pints and powders, it’s daft. We need a plan, yeah? We can scarper to London, crash on someone’s sofa for a bit. You must know loads of people there, right?”
“Right,” James nods eagerly.
“Find a cheap flat, like this one. Get our GCSEs, proper jobs, the lot…” James is practically beaming. Sirius trails off, confused. “What are you grinning at?”
“Yes,” James says, nodding vehemently. “Yes, let’s fucking do this. Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, James explodes into a full-on body hug, pulling Sirius out of his seat.
“Fuck, I love you. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you,” Sirius mumbles against his neck and James squeezes him tighter, Sirius can barely breathe.
“Wait, wait–” James pulls back, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’m still not sure I follow. If we’re going to London and Remus lives in London, then why are you so sure you’re not going to see him again?”
Sirius squirms in his seat, scratching self-consciously at his neck. “Well, he, uh, offered. Said he wanted to sort me out with a flat, keep me off the streets. But that’s just… sounds like a glorified escort, that’s not what I want.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I want– Fuck, it sounds ridiculous to even say it,” Sirius groans, burying his face in his hands “I wanted this to be proper. Like a real relationship, you know?” He peeks out from between his fingers. “But that’s never on the cards, is it?”
“Why not?” James raises an eyebrow, clearly holding back a laugh and Sirius wants to punch him. “Maybe you could get a house together. You know, buy– buy a bloody horse. Diamonds, the whole shebang. It could work, it happens…”
Sirius laughs, tilting his head. “When? When does it happen, James?” He says, leaning forward on the table. “Who does it really work out for? Show me one person in our shoes who got a happy ending like that, just one example.”
James leans back, the challenge hanging in the air. “Name someone?” he repeats, playful. “You need me to name someone?”
Sirius presses on, a hint of seriousness peeking through the banter. “Yeah, I’d like a name. Just one.”
“Fuck– a name. The pressure of a name,” James furrows his brow in mock concentration, then his face breaks into a wide grin, like a bulb has just appeared on top of his head. “Cinde-fucking-rella.”
Sirius bursts out laughing, and James joins in, throwing his head back and gripping the armrests. “Alright, alright, just messing,” James says between guffaws. “Seriously though, what’s he actually said? Do you reckon he fancies you too?”
Sirius winces, mulling it over. “Well, if he doesn’t, then he’s an arsehole for leading me on, because, well…” He trails off, letting out a chuckle. “You’re going to love this one. He flew me to Paris, actually. Just got back last night.”
James explodes upright in his seat. “Paris? He flew you to bloody Paris? How didn’t you lead with that, mate?”
Sirius throws back another chuckle. “Honestly, I dunno. It wasn’t even the fancy trip, it was just– thoughtful, you know?” He pauses, smiling wistfully. “I mentioned my favourite museum was in Paris, hadn’t been to one since I bolted, and next thing I know, we’re there. Like that.”
James whistles, a low, impressed sound. “Men, having money must be so nice…”
“Who does that, eh? No one goes to that much trouble unless they fancy you a bit. And the way he kissed me, James, I swear…” He trails off, shaking his head with a sigh. “But it’s a non-starter, this. We both know it. Best to forget the whole thing, yeah?”
“I’m not sure I agree, Sirius,” James leans forward, a serious look replacing his grin. “You say you love him, he obviously at least likes you back… what exactly are you afraid of?”
Sirius lets out a frustrated huff. “Loads of reasons, alright? Like, what if I take him up on this, and it all boils down to just money? Like, he gets bored or starts resenting me for being a gold-digger, and then boom, it’s over. Back to square one. And besides, I had money before, from my family, you know? But it came with a right load of baggage attached. So yeah, that scares me too…”
James raises an eyebrow. “You ever actually tell him any of this?”
“No,” Sirius says defensively.
James lets out a long sigh, like someone explaining something obvious. “Well then…”
“Bugger all of this!” Sirius explodes, raking his hands through his hair one more time. “This is a mess, I can’t see straight, James, I– Think I might just scarper back home today. I can’t handle another night of this, it’s too much to think about.”
James sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, mate. Not my place to tell you what to do, you know that. But just... have a think, yeah? Don’t be daft and let pride cloud your judgement. We all need a helping hand sometimes. Look at me, I took you in, didn’t I? You accepted my help and here we are. And you know I’d take you out of this life in a heartbeat if I could.”
“I know, James…” Sirius interrupts softly.
“Exactly. And Remus can. So... I dunno, there’s no shame in taking some help, but it’s your call, alright? Limits and all that. Do what you think is best.” James falls silent for a moment, watching Sirius intently. “You’re really going to head home today?”
“I dunno, maybe. Feels like the easier option right now…” Sirius groans, frustrated.
“Hey, look,” James places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Today, tomorrow, whenever you decide, I’ll be there. And we’ll crack on with this London escape plan, alright? Don’t you fret, Pads. It’ll all sort itself out in the end.”
They chat for a while longer, Sirius regaling him with tales of Paris and James filling him in on his latest shenanigans with Lily. Finally, James announces he has to dash off to meet Mary. With a quick goodbye, he leaves.
Sliding back into the penthouse, Sirius makes a decision. Sticking around for another night with Remus would only tangle things further. Clearly, kissing was a line they shouldn’t have crossed. It had ripped away any semblance of casual fling, a business arrangement, and replaced it with something real, raw, and terrifying.
Remus’ promise echoes: I understand. I’m going to find a way to make this work. But how could he? This situation was a recipe for disaster – money is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode between them. The only solution, as brutal as it seems, is to rip the bandage clean, one swift motion, and walk away.
Move on.
He has packed almost all his things when the doorbell rings.
Sirius scowls, flinging the clothes back onto the bed. With a sigh, he pads towards the door, expecting a hotel staffer or maybe Remus, absentmindedly having forgotten his keycard or something like that.
Instead, he finds himself face-to-face with the short, water-eyed man from the Polo match – Peter Pettigrew, Remus’ lawyer.
Surprise flickers across Pettigrew’s face. “Oh,” he mumbles, voice tight. “Hello again. I, uh, I’m looking for Remus?” The man’s attempt at politeness is strained, his frame trembling slightly. Something is clearly wrong.
Sirius remains guarded, the lawyer’s past actions still fresh in his mind. “Remus isn’t here. I thought he might be with you.”
“Oh no! Remus is definitely not with me!” He exclaims. Sirius’ stomach lurches. Pettigrew barges past him, practically shoving his way into the penthouse. The lawyer’s forced politeness curdles into rage. “No, if Remus was with me– When, actually,” he storms towards the bar, practically snarling. “When Remus was with me, he didn’t blow off million-pound deals.” He slams a whiskey bottle on the counter, splashing amber liquid. “I think that Remus is with you, that’s what I think. Do you want one?”
Sirius remains rooted by the door, feeling uneasy. “No, thanks,” he mutters as Pettigrew pours himself a stiff drink, then grimaces at the first sip.
“Suit yourself,” Pettigrew mumbles, sinking onto a barstool. “Just going to wait, then.”
The tension hangs thick in the air. Sirius wrestles with his discomfort. Leaving Pettigrew alone here wouldn’t be right, but sharing the space feels dangerous. With a resigned sigh, he pulls up a chair at the dining table. “I reckon Remus will be back soon. He’ll be home any minute,” he offers, strained.
“You know,” Peter throws back from the bar, his scowl deepening. “This is not home. This is a hotel room. You’re not his wife,” his voice drips with disdain. ‘You’re just a cheap–”
Before he can finish his sentence – not that Sirius doesn’t know where it’s going – the penthouse door clicks open.
“Sirius, are you home?” Remus calls out, entering with a brown paper bag in hand. “I’ve brought you some croiss–” His voice trails off as his gaze lands on Peter. “Peter? What are you doing here?”
“The real question is, what are you doing, Remus?” Peter retorts, slamming his glass down on the counter and rising to his feet. “Throwing good money away with this Weasley rescue mission? That company’s a sinking ship, Lupin! Selling it is the only sensible option.”
“That decision is final, Peter,” Remus replies, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hand as he sets down the bag. His eyes flicker apologetically towards Sirius, then back to the fuming lawyer.
“Millions down the drain, then? What’s gotten into you this week, Lupin?” Peter explodes. Sirius shrinks back in his chair, desperately wishing the man would vanish. The conversation, while undoubtedly tense, feels deeply personal – a front-row seat to something Sirius shouldn’t be witnessing. He remains glued to his spot, a silent observer to the storm.
“I’ve had a change of perspective,” Remus says, his calmness a stark contrast to Peter’s escalating anger. The memory of their conversation the previous day, where Remus confided in him about a ‘midlife crisis’, clicks into place for Sirius.
“A change of perspective, you say?” Peter parrots, incredulous. His gaze darts from Remus to Sirius, and comprehension softens his features for a fleeting moment. “So, it was him, then. All because of him.”
Sirius bristles, ready to defend himself. He had nothing to do with Remus’ business decision, but Remus cuts him off before he can speak.
“That’s entirely irrelevant, Peter.”
Peter ignores him, his steps purposeful as he marches towards Sirius. Venom drips from his voice. “Oh, you must be a really good shag, aren’t you? Maybe if I shagged you, then I wouldn’t care about losing millions of pounds. Because I’ll be honest with you two,” he adds, eyes flickering between Remus and Sirius in a crazy manner, “right now, I really do care. I’m really fucking angry. So maybe if I shagged you,” he raises a pointed finger at Sirius, getting closer to him. “If I took you to Paris and called you baby boy, then I could–”
Sirius blushes hearing the endearment on someone else’s lips, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Before Pettigrew can ever finish his sentence, Remus’ fist has found his nose. There’s a loud sharp crack and then the short man is lying on the ground, hands grasping at his face, dripping in blood.
“Enough!” Remus roars, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “I fucking warned you, Peter. I told you to be careful, didn’t I?”
“You broke my nose!” Peter exclaims, staring at Remus in shock.
The scene escalated so quickly, a blur of shouts and accusations. In the heat of the moment, Sirius finds himself at Remus’ side, a hand instinctively gripping his arm to hold him back. Remus, chest heaving, draws in deep breaths, visibly trying to control his anger.
“Get out, Peter,” he says after a tense pause, his voice regaining a semblance of control. “Leave now, or I’ll call hotel security.”
Peter, clutching his throbbing nose, staggers to his feet. Blood trickles down his chin, staining his shirt. “What’s gotten into you, Lupin? Ten years of loyalty, my entire career dedicated to you, and this is how you repay me?”
Remus scoffs. “Don’t give me that, Peter! That’s rubbish!” He throws his hands up in frustration. Marching towards the door, he flings it open. “You live for the thrill of the chase, not for me. I made you a bloody fortune doing what you love. Now get out. And stay out.”
Peter hesitates, mouth working as if to form a retort.
“Get out!” Remus roars, his voice echoing in the tense silence. He gestures towards the door with a rigid arm.
Peter lingers, a wounded look flashing across his face, before shuffling out. Remus slams the door shut with a finality that shakes the walls. He spins on his heel and strides towards Sirius, who remains rooted in the centre of the room.
“Sirius!” Remus exclaims, panicked as he rushes towards him. His hands clamp down on Sirius’ shoulders. “God, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I never imagined he’d show up here. I should’ve gotten rid of him after the Polo match.”
In hindsight, Remus probably has a point. Sirius can’t deny a jolt of fear that ripped through him during the scene. He shakes his head, turning away from Remus and moving towards the couch. “Nah, I told you not to,” he mutters, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Damn it, Sirius” –Remus collapses onto the couch beside him. His concern is palpable. “What did that git say? Did he try to… did he touch you?”
A humourless chuckle escapes Sirius’ lips as he attempts to lighten the mood. “Nah, it’s fine, he just yelled. What was he so riled up about, though? The Weasley deal – something went wrong?”
Relief washes over Remus’ face as he offers a tired smile. “Actually, I decided against selling Weasley’s company. Instead, we’re going to try and rebuild it together. We closed the deal this morning.”
Sirius perks up. “Is this because of... what I said? About you not building anything?”
Remus contemplates for a moment. “Part of it, yeah. Honestly, this whole week with you just forced me to confront a lot of things I’d been sweeping under the rug.”
How symmetric, Sirius thinks.
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Sirius replies, his voice softer. He reaches out and takes Remus’ hand, their fingers intertwining. “This week with you also forced me to confront a lot of things I’d been sweeping under the rug.” Remus squeezes his hand but remains silent. Sirius continues, “Mr. Weasley must be over the moon about the new deal, though.”
“Well,” Remus muses, “yes, of course, it makes good business sense.”
Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Peter didn’t seem to think so.”
“What does Peter even know?”
Sirius lets out a soft laugh. “I think it’s good. Are you happy about the new deal?”
Remus stares at their intertwined hands for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, a genuine smile spreads across his lips. “Yeah,” he admits. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Well, then I definitely think it’s good,” Sirius says, squeezing Remus’ hand gently.
Remus’ smile falters, and his gaze darts around the room. It lands on the half-packed suitcases by the door. “Why are you...” His voice trails off as his eyes return to Sirius. “Sirius, what’s going on? Why are you all packed?”
Dread clenches Sirius’ stomach. Here it comes. “Look, Remus, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. He can’t face the disappointment he expects to see in Remus’ eyes. “I think it’s best if I just... head out today.”
“Why?” The word hangs heavy in the air as Remus pulls his hand away. “We still got until tomorrow.”
Frustration and a touch of desperation colour Sirius’ voice. “I know, Remus, I know! But this whole thing, it’s just too much. I can’t…” He trails off, searching for the right words. “Honestly, I want to be here, with you. But if this… if this ends after tomorrow, then leaving now seems kinder than dragging it out.”
Remus cuts him off again, his voice firm. “I said I was going to figure this out.”
Sirius gathers his courage, meeting Remus’ gaze directly. His brown eyes plead with him. “Listen, that offer you made, it was amazing. And if this was a week ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But this whole week… It’s changed me, Remus. You’ve changed me. And I can’t just change it back.”
“So what?” Remus frowns. “I mean, you changed me too, and…”
“It’ll just hurt too much, don’t you think?” he says, trying to sound as earnest and vulnerable as possible. “Because I know it’s only been a week but I– I can’t help that I really care for you and it’s, uh– it’s too hard. I don’t want to get hurt here.”
Remus stares at him intensely. A long silence stretches between them, broken only by the shallow rasp of their breaths. Finally, with a defeated sigh, Remus nods slowly. He reaches into his inner blazer pocket and pulls out his wallet. He extracts a wad of cash, counts it and then holds it out to Sirius.
It feels weird, like this somehow makes their connection meaningless. But it was what was agreed on, and Sirius really needs his money, if he’s going to turn his life around. He takes the cash – when he imagined it, the four thousand made up a big wad of cash, but in reality, it isn’t a hefty stack by any means. It fits easily in his pocket.
Remus reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out a white business card. “Here. This has my contact information. If you need anything at all, call. Sally will connect you with me, no matter where I am. I’ll likely be in Manchester more often now that I’m working with Weasley...”
Sirius takes the card and smiles as he examines it. “Actually, uh–,” he raises his eyes to meet Remus’, “I’m heading back to London. I think it’s time.”
There’s an uneasy feeling in the air. This whole exchange is a bit awkward, like they’re not fitting together anymore. Twenty-four hours ago, they were basking in Parisian bliss, lost in laughter and physical intimacy. Now, an invisible barrier separates them, all these pleasantries and talk of a future without each other.
Remus nods slowly. “London, then. To see Regulus?”
Sirius offers a strained smile. “Yeah, and get back to school. Find a decent job. I’m not–” He pauses, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. “I never want to do this for money again. If we’d met under different circumstances, maybe...” The sentence hangs unfinished.
Remus looks away, his jaw clenched tight. “Yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head in a gesture that could mean anything from agreement to defeat. “Yeah, well. I wish you the best, Sirius. You truly deserve a better life.”
Sirius hesitates a beat before speaking. “I need to say this, Remus. I had a truly incredible time. Thank you. For everything. The clothes, the food, Paris...” He trails off for a moment, then leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And the amazing sex, of course.”
A genuine laugh escapes Remus’ lips, the first one since Peter’s outburst. Leaning back on the couch, he throws his head back and lets out a hearty chuckle. “Me too, Sirius,” he admits, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “Me too.”
The whole saying goodbye thing is getting too hard, so Sirius decides he better cut it short. Squeezing Remus’ hand one last time, he stands abruptly and starts gathering his things again. Remus remains on the couch, a statue of unspoken emotions, until Sirius reappears with a suitcase.
“Let me help you with that,” he offers, strained.
They reach the door in a tense silence. Remus holds it open, their eyes meeting in a moment of raw vulnerability. Sirius’ breath catches. This is it, the goodbye he dreaded, the bubble finally bursting, isn’t it? He never knew it would hurt this much. The pain is a physical weight pressing down on him, every instinct screaming for him not to leave.
Remus seems to be wrestling with the same feelings. Before Sirius can process it, the door clicks shut in front of him. With a deep breath, Remus speaks.
“Stay,” he pleads, eyes squeezed shut as if willing himself not to witness the rejection. “Stay this last night. Not because I’m paying you, but because you want to.”
Sirius stands there, the door closed in front of him, staring at Remus’ tightly shut eyes. The weight of the suitcase suddenly feels absurd in his hand.
What the hell is he doing? Why is he walking away?
“Okay,” the word escapes his lips in a surprised whisper before he can stop it.
Remus’ eyes fly open. “Okay?” he echoes.
“Yeah,” Sirius says, suddenly certain. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
A relieved smile spreads across Remus’ face. He lets go of the door latch and steps towards Sirius, his hand reaching out. His thumb gently caresses Sirius’ cheek, like he’s done so many times this week. His gaze dips to Sirius’ mouth, a question lingering in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you again?” he murmurs.
That is objectively a bad idea. It definitely won’t make anything easier and he’s sure he’s going to regret it tomorrow. But– fuck it.
Logic surrenders to raw emotion. The suitcase clatters to the floor as Sirius closes the distance between them. Instead of answering Remus’ question, he finds himself pressing his lips against Remus’.
Gone is the calm exploration of the previous night. This kiss is desperate, a frantic plea against the looming goodbye. Sirius digs his hands into Remus’ hair, anchoring him, pulling him closer. Remus responds in kind, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ waist and returning the fervent pressure. They turn, a tangle of limbs, finding themselves pressed against the cool surface of the door. Breathless gasps escape them, searching air without breaking the kiss.
One of Remus’ legs finds its way in between Sirius’, his thigh pressing against the boy’s crotch, and Sirius feels himself start to get hard already. Remus’ kisses travel down a heated path, leaving a trail of fire from Sirius’ mouth to his jaw. He nips playfully at Sirius’ earlobe before trailing kisses down his neck. Reaching the juncture of neck and shoulder, Remus surprises him with a not-so-gentle bite, followed by a firm suck on the sensitive skin. A low groan escapes Sirius’ lips. That one is going to leave a mark, for sure.
“Fuck, Sirius,” the man groans against the bruised skin, low and husky. “I want to fucking ruin you.”
Sirius shudders, his head falling back against the door. He leans into the sensation, relishing the heat of Remus’ breath as it dances across his neck, the pressure of Remus’ leg against his cock.
“Please,” he hears himself whine.
Remus’ hand skims down his torso, pausing possessively at his hips. He lifts his head from the crook of Sirius’ neck, his other hand reaching up to cup Sirius’ chin. A dark hunger burns in the man’s eyes, that one look that always makes Sirius explode in goosebumps. His entire body feels like melted wax under Remus’ gaze, his cock already twitching inside his pants.
“Please what?” Remus says in a firm tone, gaze flickering between Sirius’ eyes and mouth. “What do you call me, Sirius?”
The question sends a jolt through Sirius, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, blood pulsing hot in his ears.
“Please, Daddy,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s the first time he’s used it since last night, and the simple act of saying it ignites a spark of surrender, spreading warmth through his limbs.
Remus is still looking at him, and as the words leave Sirius’ mouth, he smiles slyly.
“Good little boy,” he whispers and ducks his head again, biting on the place on Sirius’ neck he just marked up. “Can Daddy leave some more marks on you tonight?”
Sirius thinks about the mark on his hip bone that Remus has left a few nights ago, how he liked to look at it in the mirror, to press on it and feel the soreness of the bruised skin. Just the mere thought of having more of those marks on his body, of feeling Remus’ claim over him even when they are apart–
Maybe it’ll be sad, but right now, it just seems like it’ll be really hot.
“Fuck–” he breaths out. “Yes, Daddy, please–,” he feels Remus biting down and sucking hard at his neck again, and his hips buck up, thrusting against the man’s thigh, moaning at the friction on his dick.
He hears Remus chuckle and his hand sliding between their bodies, tracing a path down Sirius’ belly until it finds his bulge. “Oh, baby boy, you’re so hard already,” Remus whispers, palming the boy’s cock and making his breath hitch. “You like Daddy marking you up?”
Sirius bites his own lips hard to stop a moan. “Yes,” he manages to say. “I want to remember you.”
Remus raises his head again and stares at Sirius for a beat, mouth agape, chest heaving. His other hand finds its way to Sirius’ crotch, fiddling with the boy’s belt buckle and the zipper of his pants until his cock is free. Remus’ hands wrap around his shaft, thumb grazing the head to spread the pre-come. Sirius shudders.
“I’ll make sure you remember me, baby boy,” he says as his hand works on Sirius’ cock. “I’ll make sure to ruin you to whoever touches you from now on, because you’ll never forget how much better it feels when it’s Daddy touching you.”
“It feels so good, Daddy,” Sirius moans, feeling his toes curling inside of his shoes, his face contorting as the pleasure builds up with each stroke of Remus’ hands.
Remus breaks the intense eye contact and buries his face on Sirius’ neck again, this time on the opposite side, and starts sucking a new mark near his clavicle. The man’s hand picks up speed now and Sirius feels the moans leaving his mouth faster than he can strive to contain them.
“If I could, I’d mark you forever, Sirius,” Remus groans, his hot breath tickling Sirius’ sensitive neck. “I’d mark you forever, so you’d always remember me and everyone who saw it would know that you’re mine.”
The sound of ‘you’re mine’ being whispered against his neck might just do it. Sirius bucks his hips against Remus’ hand. “Yes, Daddy, all yours– Ah, fuck– I’m not going to last much–” he whines.
“You’re going to come already, little boy?” Remus asks, raising up to look at Sirius’ eyes again, still stroking his cock relentlessly. “You’re going to come from how much you like the idea of Daddy marking you, of everyone seeing how much of a slut you are for your Daddy?”
“Yes,” he manages between breathless moans, “yes– Oh, fuck–”
“Come for me, Sirius,” Remus commands and Sirius does, with a strangled moan, thrusting into Remus’ hand erratically until the man’s grip suddenly becomes slick and warm, still working over Sirius’ cock until the boy is trembling and gasping for air.
Remus lets go of his cock and Sirius feels himself falling forward into his arms. Remus grabs at his waist, holding him up, and whispers “Good boy, good little boy.”
As he’s trying to catch his breath, he feels Remus’ hands travelling down his body, getting rid of his pants and his shoes. Then, the man scoops Sirius off his feet, carrying him with ease. Even with his eyes closed, Sirius can guess where they’re headed – the bedroom. But instead, a soft whoosh fills the air as a sliding door glides open. The cool night breeze washes over them, and Remus puts him down, his bare feet touching the cold ground. He cracks open his eyes to find himself standing on the balcony, by the parapet.
Remus stands before him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Hands linger possessively on Sirius’ hips for a moment before he leans down. Their lips meet in a kiss, a tangle of emotions – urgency, possessiveness, desperation – swirling beneath the surface. When Remus finally pulls back, he whispers, just inches away from Sirius’ face.
“Since you wanted everyone to see.”
The icy breeze nips at Sirius’ bare legs and arse as he scans the cityscape. High above the surrounding buildings, bathed in the cool moonlight, the balcony offers a dizzying panorama. It’s very unlikely that anyone can see them, but just the idea of it–
“Fuck–” he whispers, his eyes meeting Remus’ again. “Are you going to fuck me out here, Daddy?”
“Would you let me?”
Sirius scoffs, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Let you?” His hand finds the back of Remus’ neck, urging him closer for another heated kiss. “I’ll beg you to, if you want.”
Remus chuckles back, a husky sound against Sirius’ lips. “No need to, baby,” he murmurs, his touch lingering on Sirius’ jawline. His hands skim down to the hem of Sirius’ shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it on the floor. Remus gestures towards the balcony railing. “Go stand by the parapet,” he instructs.
Sirius complies, making his way to the waist-high brick wall. His hands instinctively find the cool surface, gripping it for a moment as he gazes out at the dazzling cityscape. The night air brings a welcome chill, goosebumps erupting across his exposed skin. Despite the breathtaking view, a prickle of unease crawls up his spine. Standing so openly, naked, feels incredibly vulnerable.
A flicker of movement catches his eye. In his peripheral vision, he sees Remus disappear inside, only to return moments later. And then, to his surprise, he drops to his knees directly behind Sirius. His hands grasp at Sirius’ arse cheeks, pulling them apart, and then there’s only the wet warm feel of Remus’ tongue against his entrance.
He doesn’t think he could ever get used to this.
“Fuck,” Sirius breathes out, a wave of heat washing over him as his knees buckle slightly. That night, at the piano, having this done to him for the first time resembled a revelation. He had never considered how good it could feel to have a tongue in his arse, but oh God, does it feel good. He hears himself moaning, hunching forward and tightening his grip on the cool brick of the parapet. He rests his forehead against the rough surface, trying to steady himself while his whole body shudders with the sensation.
The movement only forces his rear closer into Remus’ face and the man groans, holding Sirius’ hips, peaking the tip of his tongue inside his hole. And Jesus Christ, why does that feel so good?
The urge to see compels Sirius to lift his head from the cool surface of the parapet. His gaze sweeps across the cityscape, taking in the windows of nearby buildings, the miniature cars crawling along the streets, and the distant figures of people milling about below. The thought that any of them could glance upwards and be completely oblivious to the scene unfolding behind this very wall, to the fact that he’s standing there, getting his arse eaten–
But then an even more subversive thought flickers across his mind. What if they could actually see him? Not just a silhouette against the city lights, but his face, etched with vulnerability, his white-knuckled grip on the edge, a silent testament to what’s transpiring there. What if they watched him? What if they liked watching him?
Remus flicks his tongue over his entrance and Sirius whines. “Daddy,” he cries out and then thinks about those people hearing him, witnessing how depraved he sounds, how much he likes to beg his Daddy– Oh fuck, his cock was getting hard again.
He feels Remus pulling away and then a forceful bite on his right cheek. He gasps and squirms, but Remus holds him in place, sucking a new mark on his arse. “Are you enjoying this, baby?” The man says hoarsely as he clicks open the bottle of lube. “Tell Daddy what you’re thinking about.”
Sirius feels heat creeping up his neck, his cheeks likely turning red. “I’m thinking that–,” he stops for a second, gasping at the feeling of the cold lube against his hole. He’s never done this, the whole exhibitionist kink. It feels a little embarrassing to admit how much it’s affecting him. “I’m thinking that they’re looking at me,” he manages to finish the sentence.
It’s a good thing his face is not within Remus’ field of vision, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to say those words with the man looking at him.
Remus, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have any problems with admitting his enjoyment of semi-public sex. “Oh, of course they are, baby boy, who wouldn’t look at you when you look like that,” he whispers, his index and middle finger probing at Sirius’ entrance, lightly massaging the rim. Sirius moans and closes his eyes. “All worked up because Daddy is eating you out and fingering you.”
Images of people actually watching him flash under his closed eyelids. He feels his cock twitching and bites back a moan, gripping tightly at the brick parapet. “I want them to see how good Daddy fucks me,” he manages between gasps as Remus’ index finger makes its way inside of him, slowly.
Remus groans and draws out the finger inside of Sirius, pushing it back inside in one motion. “Soon, baby, we’re getting there.” He flickers the finger inside of Sirius, searching for that spot. “God, look at you, taking all of Daddy’s finger like such a good boy…”
Sirius lets his head fall back down on the parapet, forehead resting against the cool surface as he gets lost on the sensation. Remus’ other hand caresses his leg and soon there’s not only one finger, but two. Remus starts to really fuck him with his fingers, picking up a rhythm. He moves the fingers inside in a scissoring motion, really opening Sirius’ up and the boy feels himself shaking with it, the anticipation of what’s to come building up inside of him. Despite the cold night breeze, he feels droplets of sweat dripping down his body, and he pants, grasping at the edge of the parapet.
He doesn’t realise it right away, but he’s rocking back against Remus’ hand, fucking himself on the two fingers. “You really love getting fucked, don’t you, little boy?” Remus whispers hoarsely against his arse cheeks.
“Only by Daddy–” he says between gasps. If that’s the theme they’re going for on this goodbye fuck, then he’s going to fully lean into that. It’s not like it’s a lie anyway. “Only by you, Daddy.”
That earns a deep groan from Remus and another forceful bite on his arse cheek. It stings, but it feels so good, and he’s realising he loves to feed Remus’ irrational possessiveness. The thought of being owned, claimed, of everyone knowing – it all starts to materialise in his head as this deranged fantasy that makes his mind go dizzy. He raises his head and opens his eyes again, gaze flickering between the sea of windows on the buildings below.
“Are you ready for another one?” He hears Remus’ voice ask just as his fingers brush over Sirius’ prostate. He trembles, knees shaking, and he feels a drop of pre-come leaking from his neglected cock.
His eyes land on a lit-up window on the building just across the street. He can see the silhouette of a person, they appear to be smoking. If Sirius can see them, surely, they can see Sirius, right?
“No, Daddy, give me your cock,” Sirius pleads, eyes focused on the tiny hint of a person down below. “I’m ready, please, fuck me.”
Remus removes his fingers and stands up, embracing Sirius’ body and planting a kiss on the back of the boy’s neck. The warmth of his body feels welcome in contrast with the cold air on the open balcony. Sirius notes the man is still fully dressed. That’s becoming a standard for them.
“Are you sure?” Remus’ voice is low, right beside his ears. There’s a touch of concern in his tone, but also, raw desire. “I’ll probably hurt you, baby…”
Sirius strains his neck to look at Remus. Their eyes meet and the man’s gaze is one of pure hunger. Sirius lets the corners of his mouth quirk up on a suggestive smile. “I want to feel you stretching me, Daddy,” he insists. “I want to remember you.”
“Jesus Christ, baby,” Remus breathes out, his hungry gaze dropping to Sirius’ mouth for a moment before he closes the distance between them in an urgent, pleading kiss. He licks the inside of Sirius’ mouth, bites forcefully at Sirius’ bottom lip and one of his hands makes way to Sirius’ hair, keeping his head in place.
He pulls away from the kiss, and two fingers from his other hand find their way to the boy’s face. Remus looks at him with those hungry eyes and caresses his cheek, then sticks the two fingers into the corner of his mouth, forcing him to keep it open.
And then he does something Sirius never expected anyone to do to him.
He opens his own mouth and lets a thick drop of spit fall from his lips into Sirius’ open mouth. It descends slowly and when the wetness lands on Sirius’ tongue, it tastes so good and the warmth of surrender spreads all the way through Sirius’ body, from head to toe. If Remus wasn’t holding him up by his hair, he’s sure he would’ve fallen onto his knees right there.
All he can think is oh my God, please, do that again.
Remus removes the two fingers from his mouth, still looking at him like a predator, and Sirius feels the drool dripping on the corner of his lips. “Daddy,” he whispers, mushy-mouthed, and he knows he looks weak, glaze eyed, completely given over to Remus to do whatever he wants with him.
The man smiles smugly, the hand that was on Sirius’ mouth lingering over the boy’s throat. “You’re so beautiful, Sirius,” he whispers and thrusts against Sirius’ body.
The boy feels Remus’ cloth covered erection brushing against his hip. He swallows all the spit in his mouth – Remus’ spit - and whines. “Fuck me, Daddy, please.”
Remus lingers for a bit and then releases his hold. Sirius stumbles, thrown off balance. He has to brace himself against the cold stone of the parapet just to keep himself standing, heart hammering against his ribs.
There’s the usual fumble with the bottle of lube and the condom wrapper, but soon enough, Remus is lining himself up and Sirius feels the head of his cock brushing over his entrance.
With one hand holding firmly at Sirius’ hip, he thrusts forward, breeching in and yeah – Sirius does feel it.
He really, really feels it.
It burns, like it’s splitting him open. His legs begin to lose feeling, a chilling numbness creeping upwards. Bare toes clench instinctively against the cold stone of the balcony floor. Jaw clenched tight, he forces it slack with a hiss of expelled breath just as Remus’ hips finally touch his arse.
“Oh, God, baby boy– so tight–” Remus rasps between gasps, his other hand trailing up Sirius’ back to clutch at his shoulder. He doesn’t start moving yet.
Straining upwards, Sirius throws an arm across the parapet for balance. With his other hand, he blindly searches behind his head, desperate to reconnect with Remus. The movement makes Remus’ cock inside of him shift and he winces. His fingers snag in Remus’ hair. “You feel so big, Daddy,” Sirius pants, his gaze flitting across the cityscape, a million twinkling windows blurring before his eyes.
“What are you looking at?” Remus murmurs against his neck. “Are you looking at the windows?”
Sirius nods, shivering as Remus’ lips brush his skin. “I’m pretending they can see me,” he says wickedly. “They can see how pretty I look when my Daddy’s all inside of me.”
“Fuck, Sirius–” Remus curses and starts rolling his hips slowly. It burns and it feels so good at the same time. Sirius moans. “I bet they can,” Remus continues, whispering close to his ear, “I bet they’re all watching you now.”
“Then fuck me, Daddy–” he whines. In response, Remus’ grip tightens on Sirius’ hips, a possessive press on each side, and he pulls out, slamming back in again the next second.
The sudden movement throws Sirius off balance, sending him swaying precariously towards the parapet. A hand shoots up from Remus, landing firmly against Sirius’ chest, anchoring him back before he can fully lean over. Remus begins to fuck on a rhythm now. Slow, but hard, and Sirius can feel him all the way inside. The man bites at the back of Sirius’ neck, sucking on a new bruise.
“You like being watched while you’re being fucked, little boy?” Remus murmurs, his breath hot against the recently bruised skin on Sirius’ neck and the boy feels his cock leaking again.
“By Daddy,” he corrects between moans. “I like it– when it’s my Daddy.”
Remus plants a soft kiss on his back and continues. “I bet they like watching you too,” he whispers roughly. “I bet they’re touching themselves watching you getting fucked.”
Sirius squeezes his eyes shut, stars fireworks exploding behind his lids. Holy fuck, why are all these mental images turning him on like that? Why is he getting off on this so much? Usually, the thought of semi-public sex only makes him a nervous wreck, but this, with Daddy, it’s a whole new edge to the thrill.
Remus pounds into him, he pushes back to meet his thrusts and moans, throwing his head back. Remus chuckles smugly against his neck.
“They want– my Daddy,” Sirius says, reaching out to touch the man’s hair again. “But he’s just mine.”
“That’s right, baby boy,” Remus leans into his touch. “Daddy’s all yours,” his hand travels down from Sirius’ chest to his neglected cock, brushing lightly against the shaft. His thumb twists over the head to spread the pre-come, and he gives it one trying pump.
“Daddy,” Sirius whines, bucking towards Remus’ hand and then backwards against his cock. The release he’s had back inside of the apartment feels like it was hours before and he starts to feel the desperate edge of orgasm creeping up on him again.
“There’s no one else Daddy would rather be fucking now, Sirius,” Remus says, hand speeding up on his cock as the pace of his hips also pick up. “Only you, my perfect, slutty little boy.”
The city lights below shimmer and blur, a dizzying kaleidoscope against the tightening grip of pleasure washing over him. Sirius feels himself teetering on the edge, his body a live wire humming with the anticipation of his impending orgasm. “Daddy,” he hears himself whine again. “You feel so good, Daddy, Daddy, please–”
“You want to remember Daddy, is that what you said, little boy?” Remus groans against his ear.
“Yes,” Sirius attempts, and it’s more a whine than a word.
“Well, I’m going to make sure of that,” he says, pounding into Sirius so hard now that the boy has to hold onto the parapet with both hands to not lose balance. “You won’t be able to move without thinking of me, baby boy,” he punctuates every word with a thrust of his hips and a flick of his wrist on Sirius’ cock. “For days,” he adds.
Sirius knows it’s true, because there are bruises all over his skin, grip marks on his hips and the burning sensation on his hole and it all feels so good right now. All he can do is hope. Hope that the marks will last, that he’ll be able to keep those little souvenirs of the most magic days and nights of his life–
The angle of Remus’ thrusts shifts slightly and every time he slams in, he brushes over Sirius’ prostate. The hand on Sirius’ cock is still moving, faster now, and it’s rapidly becoming too much.
“Are you going to let them watch you come, baby boy?” Remus asks, hot breath brushing against Sirius’ ear again, and that’s it. He comes, spilling hot against the wall in front of him, his whole body shuddering as Remus fucks him through his orgasm, whispering filth in his ear and biting down the nape of his neck.
He’s still gasping for air when Remus pulls out of him and turns him over to face him. “On your knees,” the man commands as he yanks down the used condom. Sirius is still feeling dizzy and lightheaded from his orgasm, but he complies. He sinks down in front of Remus, and the man’s hands find his hair, guiding him gently but firmly towards his cock.
Sirius opens his mouth, lips stretching to swallow down all of Remus’ cock at once. He fights against his gag reflex as Remus pulls on his hair to keep him in place and starts fucking his mouth with force.
As the cock slides in and out of his throat, Sirius thinks that now, besides the marks on his skin and the stretch on his hole, he’ll probably also have the burn and hoarseness of his throat to remember Daddy by.
It doesn’t take long until Remus shoots down Sirius’ throat, pulling his hair and cursing under his breath. As the wave of pleasure seems to recede, a breathless Remus slides down the cool stone of the balcony wall, landing with a sigh in front of Sirius. Shirt hanging loose, trousers pooled around his ankles, he’s a picture of rumpled satisfaction; dishevelled, but undeniably radiating post-coital bliss.
Kneeling in between Remus’ legs, Sirius blurts out the words, “I don’t want this to be the last time,” he pleads, earnestly, searching for Remus’ gaze.
Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, a flicker of hope dancing in his face despite the exhaustion etched on his features. A lazy hand reaches out to brush against Sirius’ cheek. “Then let me figure it out,” he murmurs, husky. “Please, Sirius?”
Sirius dips his head in agreement, a soft ‘alright’ escaping his lips. He scoots closer, seeking refuge, until he’s nestled between Remus’ legs, forehead resting against the man’s broad chest.
✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦
Remus’ plane to London takes off at eleven sharp, so by half eight they’re leaving the hotel in the limo. First stop, Sirius’ flat. Then Remus is off to catch his flight. It’s a chilly one today, colder than any day this week. Honestly, the weather feels about as gloomy as Sirius’ insides.
Here he is, with more money in his pocket than he’s ever seen – even back in the posh old days with his parents – and the chance to return to London in a few weeks and completely turn his life around. Yes, he’s excited about the future. But the whole situation with Remus is rubbish.
Because they haven’t figured out anything. Remus likes to plan for things, and he wanted to plan for this – get Sirius a flat, a credit card, all the things he offered the day before. But Sirius didn’t let him, so now the man seems to just have short circuited. He keeps saying he’s going to figure it out, whatever that means, but he doesn’t seem to be able to.
And honestly, Sirius doesn’t even think the whole thing is even figure-out-able. Maybe there’s just no way for them to make it work, full stop. No point in dwelling on what-ifs or maybes.
They had a nice last night together, though. After the sex, they soaked in a bath together, had a proper dinner, even managed some laughs and genuine conversation. It’s crystal clear to Sirius now: he’s head over heels for Remus. How it even happened, falling in love in a single week, is beyond him. But then again, this hasn’t exactly been a typical week, has it? So, he’s not about to overthink it.
It’s just a fact. He loves Remus.
And there’s a very real possibility he might never see him again.
The journey to Sirius’ flat is shrouded in a tense silence. He reaches for Remus’ hand, a silent plea of ‘I’m here, I haven’t vanished.’ But the looming goodbye has choked the words from his throat, and Remus seems equally speechless.
As the limo pulls up in front of the building, the stark contrast between the car’s luxury and the neighbourhood’s grime hits Sirius like a punch. It’s a metaphor staring him in the face, a visual representation of why their situation feels so impossible. Despite his internal turmoil, Remus insists on helping Sirius carry his things up.
A blush creeps up Sirius’ neck as Remus trails behind him into the dimly lit hallway. The encounter with their drugged-out neighbours on the staircase doesn’t exactly ease the tension. As Sirius fumbles with the perpetually sticky door, he can’t help but wonder what’s going through Remus’ mind. Before, Remus seemed desperate to keep Sirius safe, to get him off the streets. Seeing his actual living situation probably doesn’t inspire much confidence.
“Right, here we are,” Sirius announces wryly, ushering Remus into his flat. It’s a compact studio, dimly lit, with two single beds crammed in, a kitchenette shoehorned into a corner, and a chaotic mountain of clothes dominating every available surface.
Remus takes it all in, his expression unreadable. “Where would you like me to put this?” he asks, gesturing to the two suitcases he hauled up five flights of stairs.
“Um, anywhere, really,” Sirius shrugs. Nothing in their flat has a designated spot. Things just – are there.
Remus carefully deposits the suitcases in an empty corner by the tiny dining table. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, jaw clenched, and sways slightly on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “Alright, well, I’ve got your number. I’ll give you a call when I, uh, figure things out,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” Sirius replies, the single word dripping with awkwardness. It echoes the stilted conversation they had just outside the hotel after leaving the Lotus, when he’d been waiting with bated breath for Remus to invite him up. Now, he’s waiting with bated breath for Remus to say something, anything, other than goodbye.
Remus hesitates, then adds “And you, if you make it back to London, give me a call.”
“Definitely,” Sirius nods again.
Is that it? Will they kiss? If they do, will that make it any worse? Any better?
“Fuck,” Remus mutters, frustrated. He pulls a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair in a gesture that speaks volumes. The polite awkwardness seems to melt away, replaced by a vulnerability that softens his features. “Can I kiss you, Sirius?”
Sirius lets out a low chuckle. “Will you ever do it without asking first?”
A rueful smile graces Remus’ lips as he closes the distance between them. His hand reaches out to cup Sirius’ face. “Hey, the no-kissing rule was yours, remember? Just making sure–”
Sirius cuts him off, silencing any doubts with a kiss. Goodbyes are messy things, especially when the future remains a tangled knot. This kiss, however, transcends the uncertainty. It’s slow, deep and breathtaking, all at once.
Remus pulls away reluctantly. “I must go, wouldn’t want to miss my flight.”
It’s a good thing he does. Sirius doubts he could break free of the embrace if it lingered any longer. They exchange a few final words, playful jabs that mask the ache settling in Sirius’ gut. Then, with a final, lingering look, Remus turns and leaves. Sirius shuts the door behind him, the world seeming to tilt on its axis.
One moment he’s basking in the afterglow of their kiss, the next, the floor feels like it’s giving way beneath him. It’s surreal. Like he never left this cramped flat a week ago, like the whirlwind romance with Remus was a fantastical dream conjured by his lonely mind. The reality hits him hard – Remus is gone, the blissful bubble has burst, and the future stretches before him, an unnerving expanse of uncertainty. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to see Remus again, be touched by Remus again.
He takes out the four thousand quid from his pocket and tries to count it. It’s half an attempt to ground himself with a manual task and half an attempt to be reminded that it was real. It really happened. And something good came out of it, besides the heart wrenching pain he’s feeling right now.
Because oh fuck, does it hurt.
Sixteen and a broken heart over a bloke on the phone seems quaint now, a mere paper cut compared to this gaping wound. It feels like a giant chunk has been ripped out of him, leaving a hollow ache that throbs with the ghost of Remus. He never thought it possible.
Even the positive changes feel hollow now, the thought of living like this akin to walking around dismembered. A crucial part of himself is missing, perhaps forever lost. Like there’s a giant Remus shaped hole in his chest. Tears – a torrent of the past week’s emotions, both the crushing loss and the exhilarating discoveries, the lessons learned, the whirlwind of new feelings – it all comes flooding out. He doesn’t know how, but he finds himself curling up to his bed, pulling up a blanket over his body and head and sobbing quietly into his pillow. Time blurs, measured only by the erratic rise and fall of his chest.
That is, until a knock on the door pierces the haze.
A string of muttered curses erupts under his breath – those crackhead neighbours again, no doubt. Sirius scrambles out of bed, scrubbing tears from his face with the backs of his hands. He throws the chain on the door – better safe than sorry – before flinging it open. Instant regret floods his gut.
Standing there is Remus.
Sirius’s eyes widen. Remus fidgets, a nervous twitch playing at his fingers. He clutches something hidden behind his back, just out of sight.
“Hold on a sec,” Sirius mumbles, slamming the door shut to unhook the chain.
The door swings open again, and Remus practically collides with him, lips searching for Sirius’ in a frantic rush. The boy barely has time to inhale, his mind scrambling to catch up. Kiss back, he reminds himself, don’t just stand there like a blinking idiot.
So, he does. He parts his lips, and their tongues meet in a sweet, desperate kiss – a kiss that just five minutes ago felt like a distant dream.
Remus finally breaks away, leaving Sirius breathless. Before he can even sputter out a question, Remus holds something out. “You left this in the car,” he says.
It’s the little sketchbook Remus bought him in Paris. Sirius had pulled it out of his suitcase last night to sketch, after Remus fell asleep, since sleep wouldn’t come for him. This morning it was abandoned on the couch. He’d absentmindedly carried it to the car, clearly forgetting about it altogether.
“Oh, right,” he mumbles, fumbling to take the sketchbook. “Thanks, but... you know, you didn’t have to come all the way back. You’ll be late for your flight.”
Remus cuts him off, sheepish. “Not just that, actually. I, uh... I had a peek inside.”
“Oh,” Sirius manages, because what else is there to say? If Remus peeked inside, then he knows. Knows that beyond a few doodles meant to loosen up his hand, every other page is filled with sketches of him. Remus’ eyes, his mouth, his hands. Not a vast collection, mind you, the notebook’s only been with him a few days. But still.
“You drew me,” Remus states the obvious, pressing on.
“Well, you were right there,” Sirius counters, trying to deflect the sudden wave of self-consciousness washing over him. “Besides, you’re practically begging to be drawn, aren’t you? All those rugged good looks and such...”
Remus lets out a chuckle, his gaze dropping to his shoes. “They’re really good, actually,” he shifts awkwardly on his feet.
“Think so?”
“Definitely,” Remus confirms, finally meeting Sirius’ eyes again. “And not just good in a technical sense, but...” He trails off, then leans in closer. “Because when I was looking at them, they did this thing that art can do sometimes, you know? When it shifts your perspective. And that’s when it hit me.” His eyes lock onto Sirius, “I figured it out.”
Sirius’ breath catches, his heart thumping on his chest. “You did?”
“Yes,” Remus reaches out to touch his cheek again, very lightly. “Been a bit of a fool, haven’t I? Turns out, it’s as simple as can be, really.” He smiles, and it’s infectious, the kind of grin reserved for moments of pure elation – like it’s his birthday or England’s just won the World Cup or something.
Sirius smiles too. “Is it?”
“Absolutely. After all, you’re off to London in a few weeks, and you mentioned finding a decent job there, right?” Sirius nods slowly. “So, I don’t have to take you out of the streets, you’re doing it yourself. You’ll be living with James, which means I can visit you and you can visit me. Of course, there are a few things to iron out first...” He trails off, taking a deep breath. “If things get financially tight in the future, tight enough that you have to consider… Well, then you’ll come to me, and we’ll figure it out together. But for now, you can let me treat you to dinners, taxi rides, maybe a gift or two, but no more than that, no more than what you’re comfortable with–”
Sirius can’t help but interrupt, a smile still lingering despite the furrow in his brow. “Hold up a sec,” he says. “Is this your roundabout way of asking if I want to... be your boyfriend?”
Remus blinks, seeming momentarily surprised by the question. Then, a confident smile spreads across his face. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”
Sirius feels his smile turning into a grin. “Alright then,” he murmurs, leaning in to whisper near Remus’ ear. “I’ll be your boyfriend,” a playful glint flickers in his eyes as he adds, “Daddy.”
Remus reaches for the back of Sirius’s neck, pulling him in for another unprompted kiss. God, Sirius loves that he does that without asking first. Like it’s normal, like it’s just something they do.
And well, now it can be.
As he pulls away, the words tumble out of Sirius before he can catch them. “I love you,” he whispers.
Remus, a tender smile gracing his lips, murmurs against Sirius’s mouth, “I love you too.”
Epilogue – Many months later
Sirius sprints towards the car, leather jacket clutched over his head like a flimsy umbrella against the typical relentless London drizzle. Levi’s clinging to his soaked frame, combat boots squelching, he’s his usual picture of effortless cool, even when soaked. As he reaches the sleek black Mercedes, Remus unlocks the door with a grin. No chauffeur today, just them. Automatic car, obviously.
Sirius practically dives into the car, desperate to escape the downpour. Once inside, he gives himself a vigorous head shake, sending a mini waterfall cascading across the plush interior.
“Watch it, there, love,” Remus teases, dodging the droplets with a chuckle.
“Sorry,” Sirius mumbles, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to Remus’ lips. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m alright. Have you gotten it?” Remus says, urgent. He casts a quick glance at Sirius’ hand, searching for the envelope, but it remains elusive.
“Got it,” Sirius replies, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “Tucked away safely.”
“And?” Remus prompts, his gaze flickering back to Sirius’ face.
Sirius shrugs, attempting a casual air that Remus sees right through. “I dunno, haven’t cracked it open yet.”
The boy’s voice betrays a tremor of nerves, his nonchalance a fragile mask for the storm brewing beneath the surface. Now, the white envelope rests firmly in his grasp, shaking along with his hand.
“What?” Remus furrows his brow. “Blimey, Sirius, I figured you ripped that open the second you reached your mailbox.”
Sirius offers a sheepish grin as he holds out the envelope. “Wanted to open it with you, that’s all.”
Remus takes the envelope, turning it over to examine the official stamp. “But what about James? You two have been nose-deep in textbooks for weeks, surely you’d like to open it together?”
“Exactly! I’ve done everything else with James, this I want to do with you,” Sirius replies, his fingers brushing against Remus’ hand. “Besides, James fancies opening his with Lily and Reg...”
Remus lets out a chuckle. “Alright, alright, have it your way.” He flips the envelope over, placing it back in Sirius’ lap. “Open it then.”
Sirius stares at the envelope, the stark white seeming to glow under the dim interior light. He chews on his bottom lip, a few stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. The only sound is the relentless drumming of rain on the car’s roof.
“I can’t,” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the downpour. With a nervous shove, he pushes the envelope back towards Remus. “You do it, please!”
Remus reaches across, his fingers brushing against Sirius’ before retrieving the envelope. He smiles gently. “Hey, you know it’ll be alright, yeah? No way you’re failing after all that studying.”
“Yeah, but–” Sirius stammers, his voice cracking slightly. “C’mon, please. Do it for me?” He throws Remus a pleading look, channelling his best ‘please, please, Daddy’ eyes. “My hands are shaking too much, I can’t even hold the damn thing steady.”
Remus can’t help but chuckle again. “Alright, alright, so dramatic…” He turns the envelope on his hands. “Just to be clear, what are we looking for here?”
The boy takes a deep breath. “An A in Art, that’s the big one. Then at least a B in English Lit and Art History,” he mumbles, avoiding Remus’ gaze as his fingers twist in his lap.
Remus nods, trying to smile reassuringly. “Right then, here goes.” With a single, swift motion, he tears open the envelope, the crisp paper fluttering in the small car space. His eyes scan the document, searching for the relevant lines. “An A, another A, and a B...” He trails off, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “You’re in, baby.”
“What? Really?” Sirius throws Remus a look of disbelief, the creases on his forehead deepening. He snatches the paper from Remus’ grasp, scanning the lines with frantic eyes. “Oh, bollocks! I actually did it! I got in!” He keeps staring at the letter, his jaw slack with surprise. It’s as if he half-expects the grades to change at any minute.
Remus chuckles softly. “See? Told you with all that studying, there was no way you wouldn’t get in.”
Sirius finally tears his gaze from the paper, eyes shimmering with a mix of relief and something more. “God, Remus. You...” He trails off, suddenly emotional. “I never could have pulled this off without you. Thank you.” The last word comes out in a choked whisper.
“Don’t be daft, love,” Remus says, reaching out to brush a stray hair off Sirius’ cheek. “You’re the one who slogged away at those books, you and James burning the midnight oil every night after work. Regulus is the one who tutored you. Alphard is the one sorting out the fees. Honestly, I was just your resident cheerleader.”
Sirius melts into Remus’ touch, a pout gracing his lips. “And that was everything, truly. Look, if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be stuck in Manchester. You were the one who shoved me in this direction, remember? There’d be no UAL next semester without you. So, thank you.”
“You deserve nothing less, Sirius,” Remus whispers, pulling Sirius close for a quick, searing kiss. When they break apart, his eyes shine with pride. “Congratulations. I’m so, so proud of you.”
Sirius beams back, a genuine warmth spreading across his face. “I’m proud of me too.”
Remus sits up straight on his seat. “Now, we’ve got to celebrate!”
Sirius practically vibrates with excitement. “Thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, are we?”
Remus leans back with a sly smile. “Doubtful. Because what I had in mind was, I’ve got to go to Manchester next week to meet up with Arthur, and since you’re officially a free man, I figured you might fancy joining me. Stay at that penthouse again, the two of us… so I don’t get lonely.”
Sirius’ smile widens into a grin. “Well, I was thinking dinner, but that sounds infinitely more appealing.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper near Remus’ ear. “Think you might order champagne and strawberries for me again, Daddy?”
Remus licks his lips before answering. “Anything you say, baby boy,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Anything at all.”