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Sirius is screaming at the top of his lungs, singing along with Hozier’s significantly more mellow tone. It’s bad enough his little brother stole his best friend from him with his twinky wiles, but now he has to spend two Sundays a month driving down to bloody Oxford just to see them. And sure, it’s great that Regulus got accepted into his dream DPhil program there at only 26 years old. Sirius can both be proud of him and pissed he has to drive nearly two hours to hang out with him and James at the same time. 

He’s gotten a bit more used to it, after almost a year and a half in this predicament. But still. Sirius will be petty if he wants to, and boy does he want to be.

He parks his Range Rover, his most recent birthday present from Regulus, outside the pub they agreed to meet at for lunch. Maliciously joyful, Sirius thanks the universe for ridding the Earth of his dear ol’ mother before she found out Regulus was a queer, too. His brother had asked him numerous times if he wanted part of the inheritance, but Sirius just scoffs at him each time and refuses. 

“You and Alph spoil me enough as it is,” he always replies. 

Really, though, he’s doing quite well for himself without his family’s blood money. He’s a fairly sought after tattoo artist with his own posh studio in London. He wants for nothing, except maybe for his little brother and his best friend to live a bit closer. 

James sees him as soon as he steps into the pub, pushing his sunglasses up into his long hair, and waves him over to the small booth he and Regulus occupy. Another man stands next to them, chatting animatedly with his brother. Which would’ve been fine, except he’s blocking the other bench of the booth, where Sirius is supposed to sit. 

“Excuse me, mate,” he stops behind the man, clearing his throat awkwardly when no change occurs. “Do you mind?”

The man whips around, then, slamming his hip into the table as he stumbles backwards. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he sounds frazzled, face burning with his display of clumsiness. 

Now that he has a full view of the man, he sees he’s actually very attractive. The man is tall and lanky, the contours of his body hidden underneath an oversized woollen pullover. Light brown curls, greying at the temples, lead down to a freckled face with wide amber eyes and an adorably bent nose. A few pale scars cross over his features, one of which stops just above his full, slightly chapped lips. Sirius wants to taste it.

“It’s alright,” Sirius drawls, very obviously checking the man out. “Sirius Black,” he extends his hand, “Reggie’s brother.”

Regulus groans from his seat, eyes promising terrible things to Sirius as soon as the man will be out of earshot. 

“I’m sorry about my idiot brother, Professor,” the title is said towards Sirius pointedly, “Sirius, this is Professor Lupin.”

Professor Lupin, who seems much too young to be a professor in the first place, sends Sirius a crooked grin, sharp canines flashing in the dim light of the pub. 

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Black,” he tells Regulus, before grasping Sirius’s still extended hand. His palm is big and callous, and Sirius can’t help the playful smirk on his lips. “Nice to meet you, Sirius. Enjoy your lunch.”

And with that, he’s gone. Sirius follows him with his eyes as he exits the pub, his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth. 

“Absolutely not,” Regulus says as soon as he finally sits down, James snickering into his beer beside him. 

“What?” He asks innocently. “I didn’t do anything!”

“I swear to every deity ever, Sirius,” his brother’s eyes darken in a way not unlike their mother’s, though leagues kinder, “if you even think about shagging my Professor…”

“C’mon Reg,” he groans, rolling his eyes, “you’re no fun.”

“Hello to you, too, by the way,” James squints at him, “my oldest and dearest and bestest friend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius waves at him dismissively, “now back to your sexy Professor, Reg-”

James, maturely, sticks his tongue out at him. 

“He’s married, you slag,” Regulus cuts him off, “with a kid.”

Sirius pouts, but let’s the conversation move on from Professor Lupin. He hadn’t noticed a ring on him, but their interaction was quite brief. When he returns home the next morning, however, he’s still thinking about big hands and crinkled amber eyes. 

***

The next time he sees Professor Lupin, it’s on a Saturday night a couple of months later, and he’s smoking outside the same pub. James and Regulus are already waiting for him inside, but Sirius will be damned if he misses an opportunity to flirt with a hot DILF. 

What can he say, he definitely has a type, and the men he’d taken home in the past two months especially are evidence Lupin fits it to a tee. 

“Professor,” he greets him, giving his best smile - not overtly flirtatious, but not far from it, “mind if I bum one off of you?”

“Mr. Black,” smoke curls around his words, and he holds out his metal case of cigarettes. 

Sirius pumps his fist internally at his instant recognition. 

“Ta,” he places the filter between his lips, making a show of searching his pockets for a lighter. 

“Here,” Lupin says with an amused smile, crow’s feet crinkling handsomely. He flicks open his Zippo, waiting until Sirius leans in to light his smoke.

Sirius takes a long drag, half sitting on a metal post across from where Lupin is leaning on the wall. 

“Exciting weekend plans, Professor?” He asks conversationally. 

Lupin looks him over, taking in Sirius’s bell-bottom jeans and cropped Smashing Pumpkins tee under a leather jacket. He’ll be thirty this year, but that doesn’t mean he needs to start dressing appropriately, as Regulus often likes to mention just to piss him off.

“Had a day with my kid,” he smiles fondly, “now I’m here with a few friends for a birthday celebration. Tomorrow I’ll probably be hungover in bed.”

Ah. Seems Reg was right about the wife and kid. Pity. 

“Who’s birthday?” He takes another drag, trying not to let his disappointment show. While he might not get anything further from the man, the sound of his voice is so pleasant to Sirius’s ears that he just wants to keep him talking, and it really doesn’t matter what about. 

“Mine, actually,” Lupin huffs in amusement, and Sirius feels his eyes widen. 

“No kidding!” He grins. “Happy birthday, then. Twenty two?” He guesses teasingly. 

“Forty three, actually,” Lupin snorts and shakes his head. 

“Now you’re actually fucking with me,” Sirius replies, looking over him once again. He’s dressed similarly to last time, smart trousers and a knit jumper with elbow patches. Very Professor-core.

“Afraid not,” he sighs, long-suffering, and tosses his cigarette stub into the ashtray beside the entrance. “I should get back to my friends. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Black.”

“Please,” Sirius raises his chin in mock-haughtiness, “Mr. Black is my baby brother. Call me Sirius.”

Lupin chuckles, laugh lines creasing around his faint scars. “Sirius,” he tries out his name like he’s tasting a delicacy, and Sirius feels a flame of desire curl in his gut. “Call me Remus, then.”

“Alright,” he grins cheekily, “happy birthday, Remus.”

***

Sirius glances at him, every now and then. He tries to be discreet, but he apparently wasn’t very successful. Or maybe James just knows him too well. 

“Didn’t Reg say he has a wife and a kid?” James asks after Regulus excuses himself to the loo. 

“Mmm?” It takes Sirius a moment to tear his gaze away from Remus, who’s laughing at something one of his friends said with his head thrown back. “Oh, er, he did, but he’s celebrating his birthday tonight and I don’t see a wife around.”

“Maybe she’s ill?” James muses, before freezing. “Wait, how do you even know it’s his birthday, you creep?”

“Christ, Jamie,” he glares at him for a moment, before he’s pulled back to the way Remus pushes his curls out of his eyes. “I saw him outside earlier, he told me.”

“Oh,” James, at least, has the decency to look chastised. “What about pink hair over there,” he nods at the woman sitting next to Remus, “maybe she’s the wife?”

“No way,” Sirius snorts, “saw her snogging the blonde at the bar earlier.” He motions to the woman sitting on her other side, who at that moment leans over to whisper in Pink Hair’s ear. He looks at the group for another moment, making eye contact with a red headed man who immediately beams at him. 

“Oi, Sirius!” He waves him over, and Sirius feels his mouth stretch into a matching grin. 

“Is that…?” James squints at the man. 

“Bill!” They meet halfway between their tables, embracing tightly. 

“Oh, hey Bill,” Regulus, who has just returned carrying two fresh pints and a glass of Coke, says to him, giving a small smile when Bill greets him in return. Sirius plucks one of the pints from his hands, ignoring his brother’s eye roll, and lets Bill lead him back to his table. 

“Haven’t seen you in ages, babe,” he smiles warmly as he pulls Sirius into his lap, earning amused chuckles from a few of his friends. Remus doesn’t laugh along with them, but Bill seems oblivious to it. “This is Sirius, everyone,” he introduces him. 

“The hot tattoo artist?” The blonde asks with a heavy French accent. 

“That’s me,” he winks at her and takes a swig of his beer, “I gave Bill this gorgeous piece ages ago.” He caresses the tattoo on his exposed bicep lightly, raising goosebumps on his freckled skin.

“And it’s still my favourite,” Bill adds, twirling a lock of Sirius’s hair around his finger before both of his arms fall to his waist.

Sirius smiles coyly and settles more comfortably on Bill’s lap, feeling a hand grip hip tightly. 

“I’m Fleur,” the blonde introduces herself, “these are Marlene and Dorcas,” she gestures to the two women sitting between Bill and Remus, “my girlfriend Tonks, and her ex-husband Remus.”

The group shares another laugh at his surprised expression.

“Ex-wife and mother of his child, please,” Tonks corrects and scrunches her nose fondly at Remus, who finally cracks a smile as well. 

“We’ve met, actually,” Sirius muses, taking a sip and licking his lips, noting the way Remus’s eyes follow his tongue. “Professor Lupin here teaches my little brother.”

“Oh!” Bill exclaims, pulling Sirius’s attention back to him. It’s been a few years since they’d last seen each other, but he’s still as hot as Sirius remembers, buff and strong, with a permanent grin etched on his handsome features. “Reg finished his Master’s, then?”

“Sure did,” he confirms proudly, absently playing with the copper strands at his nape. Bill gulps, pulling him closer. “Do you live ‘round here now?”

Even through his casual tone, Bill clearly understands what he’s hinting at. Remus being off the menu doesn’t mean Sirius can’t still get laid tonight, especially with the next option being a man who had proved himself plenty of times as very capable of shagging him stupid.

“Yeah,” Bill licks his lips, glancing down at Sirius’s, “but I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” He smiles regretfully. 

Sirius pouts, forgetting about their audience for a moment as he twists in his lap to wrap both arms around his neck. 

“Very responsible of you,” he whispers against his jaw, feeling Bill’s palms squeeze his arse. 

“Mmhm,” Bill hums in confirmation, “I’m a responsible adult now, unfortunately.”

His hand still tangles in Sirius’s hair, though, and when their lips meet Sirius is smirking against his mouth.

Wolf whistles immediately erupt around the table, pulling them from their little bubble. Sirius hears a “get it, Bill!” in a distinct French accent. They chuckle as they pull apart, Bill’s face nearly as red as his hair. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead onto Sirius’s shoulder for a moment, “you bloody incubus, you…”

Sirius winks at him before hopping off his lap. “Have a fun, responsible adult night, everyone,” he raises an eyebrow at a still flustered Bill and grabs his nearly untouched drink from the table. “And happy birthday, Professor…” He purrs around the title, saluting the rest of the table and striding back confidently to where James and Regulus waited for him. 

“Ex-wife!” He grins triumphantly. 

“Menace,” James shakes his head fondly, while Regulus just narrows his eyes at him. 

“You’ll get premature wrinkles, baby brother,” Sirius smiles at him sunnily. 

He tries to focus on them for the rest of the night. He listens to his best friend talk about the startup he’s currently working at, and lets his brother ramble about his studies. Whenever Regulus mentions his courses, though, all Sirius can do is imagine Remus leaning against a desk while he lectures an auditorium full of entranced students with that hypnotic voice of his. 

A hand appears on his shoulder, pulling him from one of those daydreams that have his jeans tightening uncomfortably. He looks up, expecting to find that Bill has changed his mind. 

“Fancy a smoke?” Remus smiles at him from above, catching him off guard. 

“Er, yeah, ‘course,” he replies breathily. 

James and Regulus smile politely at Remus when he nods at them, but their expressions soon morph into shock once he looks away. Sirius tilts his head with a self-satisfied smirk.

“See?” He hopes his look conveys. “I’ll get Professor Hotstuff to fuck me, o ye of little faith.”

Once outside, Remus lights a cigarette, taking a quick puff to ensure it catches and handing it over to Sirius. Only then does he light one up for himself. 

“What a gentleman,” Sirius says, making sure their fingers brush as he takes the proffered cigarette. A shiver runs through his body, the cold March air seeping under his leather jacket and cropped shirt and into his bones. 

They’re standing very close together, close enough that Sirius can smell Remus’s cologne and the alcohol on his breath when he speaks. 

“C’mere, you’re freezing,” he places a tentative around on Sirius’s waist, over his jacket. When he doesn’t protest, Remus pulls him tightly against his body, tucking him under his arm. 

“Thanks, Professor,” he whispers, blowing smoke between their faces. They’re so close, Sirius can see his eyes darkening even with the faint lighting outside the pub. 

“I think Bill was right,” his voice is gravelly, nearly unrecognisable, “you actually might be an incubus.”

Sirius only smirks and continues smoking, resting his head against Remus’s collarbone. He’s a bit tipsy, having downed three drinks already before he and Bill noticed each other, but he’s definitely still aware enough to know this might be wrong. Remus’s hand has slipped under his jacket, the backs of his curled fingers stroking up his exposed spine.

“Remus?” He asks quietly, disturbing the comfortable silence around them. Remus lifts his head from the wall and looks at him questioningly. “Are you single?”

“Yeah,” his thick eyebrows furrow, “this isn’t really how a taken man would act, don’t you think?”

Sirius feels himself blush under his shrewd gaze. “No, ‘course,” he clears his throat, “Reg just mentioned a while back you had a, er, a wife and a kid.”

“I have an ex-wife, which you’ve just met, and a kid, which I’ve also mentioned, yeah.” He hesitates. “Is that a problem?”

Sirius shakes his head, still pressed against him. “Not at all,” he reassures. “For the record, I don’t have a wife or a kid.”

“Or a boyfriend?” Remus inquires. 

“This isn’t really how a taken man would act,” he repeats Remus’s earlier words with a smirk. 

“Good,” he says, the cigarette falls from his fingers, still burning on the ground.

Sirius drops his own smoke, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as Remus crowds him against the wall. 

“Good,” he barely breathes the word out before there’s a mouth against his own, pressing, biting, demanding. He opens up instinctively, moaning when Remus’s tongue slides against his own. He tastes like expensive whiskey and the hand rolled cigarettes he keeps in that little metal case. 

“Fuck,” Remus groans into his jaw, kissing and nipping his way down his neck and pulling his shirt out of the way. “I’ve been wanting to do this for two months, it’s been driving me crazy.”

Sirius winds his fingers into his short curls, whining and holding him there as he sucks a bruise into the divot above his collarbone.

“And then I saw you with Bill tonight…” The bite to his shoulder is punishing, almost too much, and he feels delirious with the pleasure-pain that surges through him. “Were you trying to make me jealous?” He all but growls, hands sliding from his waist to his arse and lifting him up against the wall as if his weight is inconsequential. 

“Bill is fun,” Sirius shrugs nonchalantly, although he’s panting, and wraps his legs around Remus’s waist. He feels the hard bricks dig into his back and something even harder dig into his arse. “You didn’t seem willing to fuck me, so I looked for someone who was.”

“And show me what I’ll be missing?” Remus asks with a pointed thrust. 

“That’s just a bonus,” he squirms in his grasp, desperate for more but with no leverage to get it. 

“Bloody minx,” he hoists him higher in his arms, fixing the angle so they can move together like a pair of horny teens, kissing messily under the flickering neon sign of the pub. 

“Take me home,” Sirius murmurs into his ear, nibbling at the lobe and pulling a low groan from him. 

“I- fuck-” he loses his train of thought as Sirius mouths over his jaw, nuzzling into his light scruff. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Sirius pulls back immediately. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowns. 

Remus can’t tear his eyes from Sirius’s lips, which he’s sure are slick and bitten and absolutely obscene, just like Remus’s own. 

“Teddy, my son,” he finally meets his eyes with a regretful smile. “He’s at my flat with the sitter.”

“Right,” Sirius replies slowly, tapping his shoulder until he’s lowered back to his feet. “Well, I sleep on Reg and Jamie’s pullout sofa when I’m here, so…”

“I’m really sorry, Sirius,” he apologises again, sheepishly adjusting himself. “I wasn’t thinking. Didn’t mean to lead you on like this.”

“Jesus, Professor,” the title is teasing now, “it’s alright, really.”

“Can I get your number, maybe?” Remus asks hopefully. “I could take you out properly next time you’re in town.”

“Oh, er,” he crosses his arms self-consciously, hoping he can play it off like the chill in the air is affecting him again. 

He doesn’t date, hasn’t for years. People always want him for a night or two, satisfied with getting their minds blown and then going about their lives looking for someone to settle down with. Sirius just isn’t that person, never has been, and he’s grown tired of hoping someone would be just right for him and not get overwhelmed when the depths of how fucked up he is are revealed. 

“Prolly not,” Sirius mumbles, wincing at Remus’s crestfallen expression and biting his tongue when the will to backtrack fills him. “I just don’t date, it’s really not personal.”

“Sure, yeah,” he looks like he doesn’t believe him. 

Shit. Why does he care if he believes him or not?

“I could suck you off in my car,” he offers, hoping to bring back the crooked smile that frequented his dreams since they’d first met, “a birthday blowie, if you will.”

Remus laughs, but the humour doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Thanks, but I’d better get back inside.” He shoves his fisted hands in the pockets of his trousers, teetering awkwardly on the pads of his feet. 

“Right, I probably should, too.”

They re-enter the pub, splitting up with tight smiles as they each return to his respective table. 

“Did you, Sirius Black, just strike out?” James asks in disbelief. 

“Don’t mock,” he grumbles, reaching for the glass he’d abandoned, which is nearly empty now. “Can’t believe you drank my beer,” he complains. 

“Sorry,” James doesn’t sound remorseful in the least, “didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”

“What happened?” Regulus asks, bored tone falling to conceal his genuine concern. “He actually seemed pretty keen. Which is something I never wanted to think of my Professor as.”

“Oh, he was.” Sirius laments, draining the last of his beer. “I asked him to take me home, but then he remembered his kid’s there with the sitter.”

“And that’s it? I can’t imagine that’s enough to make it that awkward between you two…” James prods gently. 

“It was painful to watch,” his darling brother quips and sips his pop. Being the designated driver, he had switched over to non-alcoholic drinks after the first round. 

“He, well…” Sirius plays with his rings, a nervous habit that immediately clues in the other two that there’s more to the story. “He asked for my number. To take me out.”

“Oh, you beautiful knobhead,” James sighs, while Regulus actually smacks his own forehead. “I assume you said no, then?”

Sirius nods solemnly. “You know I don’t date.”

“Which is ridiculous and stupid, for the record.” Regulus has made his opinion known plenty of times, and now once again. 

“He’s so hot though!” James leans over the table and shakes him by the shoulders. 

“James!” Regulus scolds his boyfriend, flicking his ear. “That’s my Professor!”

“And he’s hot,” James shrugs, pressing a placating kiss to his temple. Sirius pretends to retch at the display. “That’s homophobic, Sirius,” he deadpans.

“I’m gayer than both of you together!” Sirius protests, tossing his hair over his shoulder. 

“The fact you wear crop tops doesn’t make you gayer than me,” his brother argues, “it just makes you a slag.”

“Don’t you slut shame me just because-”

A loud “Tonks, wait!” cuts him off, and he looks over curiously to see Remus’s ex-wife walking towards him with determination. 

“Shit, Sirius, what did you do?” James whispers a second before she reaches them, and Sirius can only widen his eyes at him helplessly.

“Sirius, hi,” Tonks says, slightly breathlessly. “Remus says the two of you were cockblocked by our son.”

“We- I- I suppose,” he stutters, still unsure of her intentions, “I’m not mad or anything, I get it.”

Tonks waves off his explanation. “Do you still want him?” She rolls her eyes when Sirius gapes at her. “Cause if you do, I’ll go get Teddy to mine. Twenty minutes, tops.”

Sirius looks beyond her, and finds Remus watching the scene unfold from a few steps behind in wide-eyed horror.

“I’m so sorry,” he approaches and grasps her shoulders, trying to pull her away. “I didn’t ask her to do this, I swear.”

Sirius considers for a moment, glances at his brother and his best friend who are both trying to keep their hysterics contained. 

“Yes,” he tells her confidently, before locking eyes with Remus again, “if you want to, that is.”

“I- yes, I do.” The crooked smile, though tentative, is back on his face, and Sirius beams in return. 

“Alright.”

“Alright!” Tonks repeats, clapping her hands excitedly. “I’ll be going then,” she sends a thumbs up to Fleur, who stands up and grabs their purses, “happy birthday, Rem,” she winks at him and scurries off. 

Fleur stops next to him, kisses his cheek goodbye and follows her girlfriend out. 

“Be safe!” Tonks shouts from the doorway, barely audible over the grungy music, and that’s what finally gets James and Regulus to snap. They burst out laughing, James nearly knocking over his boyfriend’s drink.

“Great, well, this is mortifying.” Remus says with a grimace. 

“Ignore them,” Sirius snorts, pulling his jacket on. 

“At least pay for your drinks!” James calls after him, but Sirius only blows him a kiss and grabs Remus’s elbow. 

“Don’t wait up!”

“Brat!” His best friend calls after him fondly.

Remus offers him another cigarette as soon as they step outside, which Sirius accepts. They smoke silently for a moment. 

“If you don’t want to-”

“Shut up,” Sirius cuts him off, “you know I do.”

“My ex-wife doesn’t usually arrange my hookups, for the record,” Remus smiles, but it’s self-deprecating. 

“Didn’t think so,” he steps closer, nudging his bicep with his shoulder. Their height difference makes Sirius’s stomach clench with anticipation, and he immediately folds himself into Remus when he wraps an arm around his shoulder. 

“I don’t-” he gulps, “I don’t do this very often, actually.”

Sirius trails kisses at the base of his throat, relishing in the shaky inhale he receives. 

“I don’t mind,” he mutters against his skin, licking up a wide strip that tastes deliciously of musk and man.

The arm drops from his shoulders to his waist, pulling their fronts together, and Sirius can already feel him hardening against his stomach. 

“When can we go?” He pants, dropping his unfinished cigarette and grabbing Remus’s hips tightly. He has to rise on his toes to grind them together, but the guttural moan he receives in response is so very worth it. 

“Ten more minutes, at least,” he still has his smoke, and he takes a long drag while groping at Sirius’s arse, “my flat is a five minute walk from here.”

“The car blowie is still on the table, just saying.” Sirius offers. “Well, if you think you can get it up twice in the same night, old man.”

Remus raises his eyebrow and takes another drag. It’s maddening, how unaffected he manages to look while his erection is digging into Sirius’s abdomen.

When he exhales this time, Sirius covers his mouth with his own, inhaling the smoke he releases. Sirius smirks when he feels him twitch in his trousers, blowing the smoke back out from the corner of his mouth. 

“Are you actively trying to kill me, Sirius?” He groans, head thudding against the brick wall, the cigarette is gone and both hands are now on his arse. 

“Just a little death,” he jokes, receiving an unimpressed look for his efforts. 

“Maybe I should accept the car blowie,” Remus rumbles, big hands squeezing and massaging and pulling him apart. “Might get you to shut up for a while.”

“As you wish, birthday boy,” Sirius leers, reaching between them to give him a quick stroke over his trousers before grabbing Remus’s hand and pulling him towards his car. 

“Fuck, you’re evil,” he grunts as he stumbles behind him. 

It takes them a moment to configure their position once they reach the vehicle, but they end up with Remus in the front passenger seat, pushed back as far as it goes, and Sirius kneeling in the footwell. 

“Can’t wait to get you in my mouth, fuck,” he mumbles, making quick work of Remus’s belt buckle and zipper. A big hand covers his own when he reaches to pull him out. 

“Wait, wait,” Remus takes a moment to clear his mind, “do you have a condom here?”

Sirius fumbles blindly around the glove box behind him, before Remus takes pity on him and reaches forward to grab one. 

“Go on, then,” Remus nods at Sirius’s hand, where it still rests on the waistband of his pants. His tone, and the way he subsequently tears the wrapping open with his teeth, make Sirius want to whimper pathetically. 

He finally grabs him, taking a moment to admire what is, completely objectively, a gorgeous cock. Sirius has to physically restrain himself from lapping up the bead of precome that already slides down his shaft. 

“God, baby,” he groans, rolling the condom over himself and squeezing at his base, “you’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?”

Sirius does whimper, then, and it’s just as pathetic as he’d feared. A hand in his hair, gathering, pulling, prevents him from wrapping his lips around the head. 

“I asked you a question,” Remus admonishes, stroking himself lazily, millimetres away from his lolling tongue. “I expect an answer.”

“Shall I write an essay, Professor?” Sirius teases, just to be difficult. What he didn’t expect (but maybe secretly hoped for), was the way Remus’s cock twitched and thickened even more at his words. “Oh, you like that, Professor.”

Remus’s eyes widen for just a second, before a smirk curls his plush lips. 

“You still haven’t answered,” he lets Sirius’s head just a fraction closer, rubbing himself once on his straining tongue before pulling him away. “Don’t make me fail you, baby. You already need this extra credit to pass my course.”

“Jesus, okay,” Sirius caves with a whine, “I am gagging for it. I want your cock shoved down my throat until I fucking choke on it.” He only receives an impatient tut, Remus’s head is tilted in amusement. “I-” he tries again, “I’m gagging for it… Professor Lupin.”

“Good boy,” he says and releases his hold on Sirius’s hair. 

He doesn’t waste a second, taking him down as far as he can in one smooth plunge. He can feel the blunt head nudging the back of his throat, his girth straining his open jaws. 

There’s still a bit of length he can’t fit, which baffles Sirius. He’s an expert cocksucker, if he may say so himself, and it’s been many years since he encountered a dick he couldn’t take entirely in his throat. 

Remus pulls him off by his hair, rubbing himself a few times as Sirius watches intently. 

“You’re huge,” he whispers, sounding wrecked already. A tug in his curls reminds him of the game they’re playing. “Professor Lupin.”

“Look at you,” he praises, “what a quick learner you are. Think you deserve a reward, baby?”

“Please, Professor,” he looks up at him through wet lashes (and when did his lashes get wet?). “I’ll be so good.”

“You are good, baby,” Remus lets him suckle on his head, the usually off-putting taste of latex barely registering in his deliriously horny mind. “My good baby.”

He moans around him, working his tongue into the slit and over every bit of him he can reach, still held firmly in place. 

“Think you can fit all of me, baby?” He asks, and Sirius nods to the best of his ability. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are.”

Remus lowers him slowly, completely controlling the pace. He grants Sirius ample time to adjust, which he hadn’t given himself on his first attempt. His jaw still aches from being wrenched wide open, but the glide of his length is smoother. He only brings him down halfway before pulling him back up. Sirius keens, suckling on the head as if it would draw the rest of his hardness into his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well,” Remus murmurs, his left hand leaving the base of his dick to caress Sirius’s cheek gently. Possibly wiping off his tears. He thinks there are tears on his face. “My good baby,” and with that he guides him back down, finding a slow rhythm where each time he allows Sirius just a tiny bit further down his shaft. 

When Sirius’s nose is finally buried in the thick thatch of hair, all of Remus fully down his throat, it takes him a few seconds to even register it. Once he does, he’s whining and swallowing around him, desperately trying to do what he’d been told. To be good. 

He’s always liked a bit of pain with his pleasure, a few smacks to his arse, a careful hand around his throat, a rough stretch when he’s under-prepped. But nothing has ever felt like this. He’s floating and hazy and he’s not in pain, not really. He feels cherished, controlled, owned, and that’s somehow better. 

“That’s it, baby.” Remus’s voice is distant and all-encompassing at the same time. “So good, taking me so well.”

He moves, up and down, slow and steady. He moves, but he’s not in control at all. He doesn’t move, he’s being moved, being used in the best type of way. 

He can’t do anything except obey, except let Remus use him until the firm weight on his tongue becomes even heavier, and he’s pulsating deep in his throat and emptying himself into the condom. 

“Baby,” his low timbre cuts through the fog, “Sirius, can you hear me, love?”

He blinks, vision fuzzy around the edges. 

“Feels nice,” he manages to say through the cotton-stuffed feeling in his mouth, “I’m good, Professor.”

“You’re so good, baby,” Remus leans forward, kissing all over his face and running gentle fingers through his hair while his mind clears. “You were so good for me, baby. The best.”

“Best,” he repeats quietly, feeling silly with the big dumb smile that stretches his swollen lips. 

“Think you can walk, love?” Remus is still stroking him, and he leans into his touch. “I think we should get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Remus is already tucked back into his trousers, not looking nearly as dishevelled as Sirius feels. His legs are jelly when he steps out of the footwell, tipping back heavily onto the car while Remus gets out as well, shutting the door behind him. He hears the familiar sound of his car locking, assumes it must be Remus’s doing. 

He’s still unsteady as they start walking, leaning his entire body weight on Remus, who all but carries him through the dark streets of Oxford to his flat. 

By the time they finish climbing the stairs and Remus is fiddling with a second lock, Sirius has enough presence of mind to start feeling embarrassed. He has no fucking clue what just happened to him, and it’s frankly mortifying he ended up so bloody useless after all of his big talk earlier. 

Remus must be cursing Tonks in his mind for putting him in this situation, where he has to take care of some prat on his own birthday. 

“Come in,” Remus smiles at him disarmingly when he finally wrestles the door open. “Tea?”

Sirius nods, twisting his rings as he follows him into a modest, but pristine kitchen. Remus puts the electric kettle on, busying himself by grabbing mugs and tea bags and milk and sugar cubes and chocolate digestives, flitting around restlessly until the kettle finally boils. 

“Cheers,” Sirius mumbles in thanks when Remus sets a mug in front of him, before sitting down with his own steaming tea. 

“So-” 

Remus starts speaking at the same time Sirius says:

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Sorry?” Remus repeats in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t mean to, er, check out like that…” Sirius feels his whole face burn with shame. 

Something seems to click for Remus when he says that. 

“Was that the first time you…” He trails off, searching for the right words. “The first time you’ve felt like that?”

“I mean… yes?” Sirius thinks that if his face gets any hotter, he might actually spontaneously combust. 

“Oh, love,” Remus looks like he’s holding back a smile. It should feel condescending, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels compassionate, like it did whenever his favourite teacher at Harrow made sure he understood the material before exams. “Sirius- Christ, this is definitely not a conversation I thought I’ll be having tonight. Sirius, what do you know about BDSM?”

“Like, chains and whips and whatnot?” Sirius will burst into flames. He will. 

“It can be, sure,” he blows on his tea and takes a tentative sip, grimacing when the liquid proves to be too hot still. “For a lot of people, though, it’s more about control. Pain can be a part of it, but not necessarily.”

“Oh,” he’s not sure what else to say. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Remus sighs, setting the mug down and taking Sirius’s hands in his own larger ones, “I should’ve had this talk with you before, but your friend had called you a brat, and you seemed so confident when you- well, regardless. I’m sorry, truly.”

“Was I-” Sirius cuts himself off, pulling his hands back to grasp his mug. The burning ceramic feels grounding. “Was it not good for you?”

Remus is crouching next to him in an instant, turning Sirius’s chair carefully until he’s squatting between his spread legs. 

“Sirius,” his calloused palms on his cheeks are also grounding, so he releases the mug and grabs onto firm wrists instead. “Sirius, baby, you were so fucking good. You were brilliant. Do you understand, baby?”

Sirius nods, but when he looks into his eyes he knows that’s not enough. 

“I understand-” he falters. 

What should he be calling him when he’s not begging for his cock? And why does he still feel like begging for his cock?

“Just Remus, for now, love.” Remus sees through him immediately, sees him.

“Remus,” he repeats, licking his lips. His mouth is so dry. 

“Drink your tea, love,” he pushes his hair out of his face gently, so fucking gently, before returning to his seat. “Drink, have some chocolate. We can talk once you feel better.”

He wants to whine at the lack of contact, feels pitiful and ridiculous for it. Remus, once again, reads him like an open book.

“Would you like to come here, baby?” He pats his thigh, and Sirius is halfway to him before he can even finish the sentence. “You’re so lovely,” he mumbles into his hair once he’s in his lap, “you did so well, baby.”

Something settles within him at the constant stream of praise. He drinks his tea, and then Remus’s when he offers it to him, and eats a truly concerning amount of chocolate digestives. Throughout it all, Remus is stroking him tenderly, all over, bringing sensation back to numb limbs and tingling skin.

“How are you feeling?” He asks a while later. 

“Better, a bit embarrassed.” Sirius answers honestly.

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about,” Remus smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Sirius is curled in his lap like a kept thing, like a beloved pet. It’s life-changing. Revolutionary.

“Still,” he chuckles, raising his head. “I’m almost thirty, I shouldn’t be getting this thrown off by giving head.”

“It’s not about the sex,” Remus explains patiently, “not entirely. It’s about control, giving it up and handing it over to someone else. Being at someone’s mercy, or having them at yours. It’s about trust, most of all. Trusting that the other person would keep you safe, and wouldn’t push your boundaries when you’re at your most vulnerable. Does that make sense to you?”

“I think so.” Sirius bites his lip. “Is that what you like? Controlling someone else?”

“Most of the time, yes,” he grins, and there’s a mischievous glint in his amber eyes that makes Sirius want to know more. “I can sub, for the right people, but it’s quite rare I want to.”

“That’s cool,” he says. Dumbly. Why did he say that?

“I think so, yeah,” Remus laughs, and this time the blush on Sirius’s cheeks isn’t from shame, but desire. Desire for this sexy dork that literally made him lose his mind without even touching him. 

Sirius kisses him, readjusts so he’s straddling his lap rather than sitting on it sideways. Remus is indulgent when he responds, unhurried, palms slowly exploring the part of his torso revealed by his crop top. He grinds down, but Remus stills his hips. 

“I’m not ready to go again, baby, not quite yet,” he trails fluttering kisses along Sirius’s jaw, “but I could eat you out, if you’d like.”

Sirius inhales sharply, nodding his enthusiasm. Something about the way he talks, casual and plain and absolutely filthy, gets him from zero to sixty in three seconds flat, and he’s already whining and begging mindlessly as Remus sucks bruises into his pale skin. 

“Wait, pause,” Remus pulls back, “I need to know what you expect from this, love.” Sirius grimaces at the pet name, the wrong pet name. “Baby?” He nods. “Okay, baby. How about… we start slow, yeah? And then you can see how comfortable you are with all of this?” Sirius nods again. “If you’re my baby, I need you to use your words to answer.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius replies. His voice is higher and breathier than usual, and so, so needy. 

“Good, baby. Now I need you to listen very carefully, Sirius, this is vital.” Remus’s tone, and his use of Sirius’s proper name, clears out the fog surrounding his thoughts just enough to retain the new information: safe words important; green means good, go; yellow means slow, adjust, check in; red means stop, aftercare. He repeats them back to Remus, earning a rumbling good boy. 

“Now, you’re going to go clean up for me, I’ll show you to the bathroom, and I’ll be waiting for you in bed whenever you’re ready. Understood, baby?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. Come.”

Sirius follows like a well-trained dog on a leash, like there’s nothing he can do but follow. 

He’s guided to an en-suite bathroom, and cleans up to the best of his ability while his hands shake with anticipation and his prick is so hard every accidental brush against it makes him hiss. 

Remus didn’t say if he should get dressed before coming to him, but the thought of putting his tight jeans back on makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Instead, he stays naked and a little damp from his quick shower, covered only by the fluffy pink towel secured around his hips. 

“Bloody hell, baby,” Remus grunts when Sirius steps into the bedroom, “look at yourself, so fucking gorgeous.”

He rises from the edge of the bed and meets him with a sweet kiss. Remus’s firm grasp on his waist is grounding, broad palms almost completely encircling his slim midriff, and it dissipates some of the nervous energy coursing through him. 

“What’s your colour, baby?” Remus checks in with a gentle stroke to his cheek. 

It takes Sirius a moment to find his voice, but once he does: “Green, Professor.”

“Good, baby,” a kiss to his forehead, “my good baby. Are you ready for more?”

Sirius nods, Remus waits. 

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good, come.” Remus walks him to the wardrobe, stopping in front of the full body mirror on one of the sliding doors. “Look at yourself,” he says, standing flush behind him and lifting Sirius’s chin until their eyes meet in the reflection. “What do you see?”

Sirius hesitates, still unsure of how this is supposed to go. 

“There are no wrong answers here, baby. What do you see?”

“I see Baby,” he replies, breathless, and it’s really not Sirius in the mirror, with those big grey eyes and blown pupils and flushed cheeks and bruises blooming on his neck. “Baby and Professor.”

He said there are no wrong answers, but the proud grin he receives makes Sirius think he gave the right one. 

“My good, clever baby,” he murmurs, kissing along his jawline. “Can I see all of you?”

“Yes, Professor.” The words come easier now, he knows what his role is. 

Remus tugs at the towel, lets it drop to the ground as he looks over Sirius’s bare body. He’s still fully dressed, smart trousers and brown belt and jumper with elbow patches. The contrast makes his cock twitch. 

“So beautiful,” he praises, “and so hard for me already.” Remus smiles at him in the mirror. “Can I touch you, baby?”

Sirius wants to scream and cry, wants to whine and throw a tantrum. Wants to tell Remus he can do whatever the fuck he wants with him, just bloody do something already and stop bloody talking. 

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius says instead. 

“Good baby,” he hums approvingly, and then that big, huge, calloused hand is wrapping around his cock, and Sirius’s knees nearly buckle. They do buckle, actually, but there’s a strong arm under his ribs, holding him up until he can support himself again. “What a pretty cock, a pretty cock for a pretty baby.”

Sirius still might combust, actually. 

Remus touches him slowly, his free hand trailing over Sirius’s taut abdomen and teasing over his nipples, until the edge of anxiety and skittishness is replaced with the maddening pleasure of the too loose and too dry strokes of his palm. 

“More,” he whines, but instead the touch disappears completely. 

“Is that how a good baby talks?” Remus asks evenly, giving him a chance to correct himself. 

“More, please, Professor,” the words tumble out of his mouth, garbled from the overwhelming… everything.

“There he is, my good baby,” the hand is back, slicker now with his precum and blissfully tight, firm pulls drawing constant moans from deep within his chest. 

Sirius presses backwards, gasping when he feels a hardness against his arse. 

“Professor-”

“I know, baby,” he chuckles into his neck, giving a slow grind that chafes his arse against the strained fabric of his trousers. “I promised you something, though. I’ve got to be good to my good baby, right?”

“Y-yes, Professor,” he squeezes his eyes shut after he stumbles over the short syllables. 

“Is there something else you want, baby?” He inquires. “You need to use your words to get what you want.”

“Will you- want you to fuck me, Professor.” Sirius glances at himself in the mirror, flushed from his hairline all the way past his chest, pupils blown so wide he looks high, short curls falling out of his bun and sticking to the sweat already dampening his neck and forehead. 

“Instead of eating you out?” Remus is still too composed, voice even and a teasing smirk on his lips when Sirius looks at his reflection. 

“No,” he shakes his head, more strands escaping the bun, “both… Professor.”

He hums in consideration, releasing his hold on Sirius and taking a step back. Sirius sways unsteadily, and immediately there’s a strong hand gripping his hip.

“My lovely baby,” he praises, a single finger slides down his spine, stopping just above the swell of his arse. Sirius whines. “My lovely, greedy baby, aren’t you?”

He nods desperately, the rest of his hair coming loose and falling over his shoulders messily. “Greedy, yes, Professor.”

His calm facade finally cracks, both hands sliding up his sides to wrap around his torso securely. Sirius’s arms, that until now hung limp and useless, rise to hold onto his, delicate fingers pushing back the soft knitted fabric until they find sinewy, scarred forearms underneath it. 

“So good for me,” he mumbles into his hair, “you were made to be my good baby.”

Sirius whimpers and squirms against him, grinding against his covered erection. 

“Soon, baby,” it’s a dark promise, bordering on predatory, but Sirius feels serene more than anything. “Get on the bed.” He scrambles to obey, all but throwing himself on top of the covers. “Eager,” Remus chuckles, “grab two pillows and face the mirror. Good, baby. Now, place one under your hips, one wherever you choose, get comfortable.”

Sirius watches himself in the mirror, arse up in the air, hips not touching the pillow beneath them, and the other pillow clutched in his arms as he rests his head and chest on it. He looks obscene. Debauched.

He hears Remus groan, catches sight of him in the mirror pressing the heel of his palm to his clothed cock. 

“You have no idea,” he growls, still touching himself, “the things I want to do to you…”

“Please,” Sirius keens, arching his back. 

Remus’s reflection raises an eyebrow at him, and when Sirius doesn’t understand there’s a light smack to his arse. It’s barely strong enough to sting, but it sends shivers up his spine. 

“Please, who?”

“Please, Professor!” He feels his cock now dribbling steadily, soaking the pillow underneath. 

“Good,” there’s a soothing hand where the hit landed, massaging gently. “What’s your colour, baby?”

“So fucking green, Professor,” he pushes into his palm, earning a chuckle and an even lighter smack. “You can… you can hit harder than that.”

“Another time, maybe,” he settles on his knees behind Sirius, between his spread legs, and bends to kiss over his tailbone, making him wriggle in excitement. “Wait, Sirius. Yellow.”

His head snaps back, worriedly searching Remus’s expression.

“It’s alright, love,” Remus reassures calmly, “just a question, need you present. Do you want me to fix up a condom?”

Sirius shakes his head, relaxing from his momentary panic. “Hate it with a barrier,” he mumbles into the pillow, “feels like nothin’. I’m clean though, swear. Get tested regularly.”

“Alright, love. I’m clean, too.” Remus says. He leans over Sirius, his taller frame eclipsing his own easily, and places a soft kiss on his lips. “Ready to continue, baby?”

“Ready, Professor,” Sirius confirms, sighing into the pillow when Remus kisses his nape, scruff scratching his skin as he travels down, down, down until hot breath hits his puckered hole. 

He draws a sharp breath, anticipation rushing through him, making his blood sing in his veins. And then there’s a wide, wet tongue running over his entrance. 

“Oh, fuck,” all the air leaves his lungs at once, as he grinds back against the talented tongue lapping at him, prodding his hole and pushing past the tight ring of muscle. Strong hands pull him apart, giving Remus more room to take him slowly apart. “Professor,” he whines, feeling teeth scraping lightly over his rim. 

“Yeah, baby,” he groans, licking into him, soaking his skin with spit that trickles down to his balls. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good, feels so good,” he whimpers, over and over, incapable of any other words as Remus thoroughly devours him.

Sirius is feral, crying out with pleasure, unable to catch his breath as Remus alternates between broad strokes and deep plunges of his tongue. He spreads his legs further, Remus taking his invitation and burying his face to fit snugly between his cheeks, short scruff leaving delicious burns on his sensitive skin while he licks into him like there’s nowhere in the universe he’d rather be. 

Sirius can feel his orgasm already tugging at him, helped along by the cool air Remus suddenly blows onto the overheated area. He wanders lower, tonguing over his perineum before licking a long strip back up to his hole, a firm thumb replacing the tongue and massaging his prostate through the skin. He keens desperately, barely has the presence of mind to warn, to beg.

“Can I- ‘m so close, please, can I come?”

Remus bites into the meat of his arse. “Yes, baby,” he moans, the vibration of it shaking Sirius to his core, “my good baby, come for me.”

And Sirius does. He moans and shivers through his release, untouched cock spurting all over the pillow, hot come hits his chest as he clenches around Remus’s relentless tongue. He’s floating again, feels wide, calloused palms caressing and soothing, guiding his pliant body to lie down comfortably. 

“You did so well, baby,” Remus praises gently, curled around him in a cocoon of warmth and safety. Soft kisses on his neck make him hum contentedly. “My perfect baby, so fucking gorgeous.”

“Professor,” he breathes out, cuddling into his embrace. He’s never felt so sated in his life.

“There you are,” he chuckles fondly, pressing a lingering kiss behind his ear. “How are you feeling, love?”

His mind clears a bit at the gentle endearment. No more Baby, at least for now. 

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the soft pillow under his head. How many pillows does this man own?!

“Good, you were absolutely incredible, love.”

Sirius feels himself blush, which is ridiculous. Remus just had his tongue up his arse, but this slight praise is what gets him flustered?

“Yeah, you… you too,” he manages to reply.

Remus detaches from him, rolling onto his back. Sirius isn’t proud of the distressed sound he’d made at the loss of contact. 

“Relax, love,” the amusement is clear in his voice when he presses up to him again, bodily pulling him up until Remus is leaning against the headboard, and Sirius against his clothed chest. “Eat.”

“What’s with you and chocolate?” He asks, unwrapping the candy Remus handed him and taking a small bite. 

“It’s good after scenes,” he explains, pressing a kiss to Sirius’s sweaty temple. “Gets your blood sugar back up, keeps you from dropping.”

Sirius hums, chewing slowly. He isn’t sure what scenes or dropping are in this context, but he does feel significantly more settled once he finishes the chocolate. 

“Are you still gonna fuck me?” He asks, running his tongue over his teeth until he no longer feels any stickiness coating them. 

“I think maybe we’ve done enough for today,” Remus laughs, his chest shaking slightly under his back. Sirius pouts, turning his head so he can see his disappointment. “I don’t want to push you, love. First times like this can be pretty intense.”

“But you didn’t get off,” he complains. 

“I got plenty from you tonight, darling.” Remus pecks his lips, quick and chaste. “Maybe in the morning, if you feel up for it.”

Sirius never spends the night with his hookups. It’s just not something he does, keeps everyone’s expectations on the same page. 

“In the morning,” he concedes, feeling sleep already tugging at his eyelids as something damp is dragged over his tacky skin, cleaning him up. 

***

Sirius wakes up in an unfamiliar bed to the sound of his phone ringing. It’s plugged into a charger on the bedside cabinet, which he doesn’t recall doing. 

Arms tighten around him when he reaches for it, but he strains until he manages to grasp the device, the charging cable disconnecting when he pulls it to his ear. 

“Hello?” He answers sleepily, barely recognising the scratchy voice that leaves his throat. 

“Oh, you’re alive!” James, way too awake on the other end, exclaims jovially. 

Sirius groans in response. 

“You didn’t come home last night,” he sounds eerily like his mother when he’s scolding, “we thought Professor Sexy might’ve kidnapped you.”

“I didn’t think that!” Regulus shouts from somewhere near James. “And for the record, I resent that nickname. And I would also like to remind you idiots that he actually is my Professor.”

Sirius smirks, recalling the previous night. “Mine too, Reggie. Mine too.”

The arms tighten around him again, and now there are soft kisses pressing between his shoulder blades. He sighs, sinking into the touch. 

“Will we be seeing you at all today, you magnificent floozie?” James teases. 

Sirius glances back, finding amber eyes twinkling in amusement. A playful bite to his shoulder. 

“Prolly not,” he replies, already distracted, “gotta go, Jamie.” He hangs up before either James or Regulus get the chance to reply, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand and twisting until they’re face to face. 

“Mornin’,” Remus smiles at him, humming sweetly into Sirius’s kiss. Their tongues slide together languidly, until Sirius shifts and feels his bare morning wood press into a matching one through cotton. Remus had evidently changed at some point, sleeping in his pants and a short-sleeved tee shirt.

Sirius takes a moment to admire his exposed arms, tracing his fingertips over lean, defined muscles and light scars that contrast beautifully with his olive-toned skin.

It’s all so natural in a way that should feel disconcerting to Sirius, but somehow isn’t. 

It’s natural when he pushes Remus onto his back, straddling his hips and grinding down. It’s natural when Remus’s hands immediately find his arse, kneading and guiding his movements. 

“Just me and you, now, alright?” Remus whispers against his mouth. 

“Brill,” Sirius kisses him again, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging upwards, separating only for the brief moment it takes Remus to pull his shirt over his head and throw it carelessly off the bed. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans when Sirius mouths down his neck, licking back up and sucking on his earlobe playfully. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Sirius winks, pulling his hair up into a messy bun while still grinding slowly. He trails his black painted fingernails over Remus’s chest, running them through the light fuzz covering his skin until they catch on a nipple. “Really fucking fit, actually.” It makes Remus chuckle airily, and then exhale harshly when Sirius leans to take the other in his mouth, while his fingers pinch and roll the one they had found. 

One of Remus’s hands slides up into his hair and his fingers slip under the loose bun, tightening and slackening in time with Sirius’s ministrations. He lets him continue his exploration, biting and sucking across his chest and leaving darkening marks in his wake, relishing in the low rumbles that vibrate against his mouth. 

Remus shifts between his thighs, his heels digging into the mattress and gaining him leverage to rock against Sirius’s arse.

“Lube, condom,” Sirius says with his teeth grasping a pebbled nipple. 

Remus strains until he reaches his other bedside cabinet, opening a drawer and grabbing the items without bothering to close it afterwards. Sirius slides off of him, allowing him to shuck off his pants before straddling him once again. He snags the condom from Remus, ripping it open and deftly rolling it onto his large cock. He reaches for the lube next, Remus letting him do as he wishes with wide-eyed reverence. Sirius slicks him up generously, before giving his entrance a similar treatment. He pushes some of the lube into himself, coating his inner walls with two perfunctory fingers before pulling them out and grabbing Remus’s dick.

“Sirius, slow down, love.” Remus grabs his wrist as he adjusts to align them together. “Don’t hurt yourself, we’ve got plenty of time.”

Sirius smirks at his concern, although an unfamiliar warmth spreads in his chest. “Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says smugly, “this bit I do pretty often. So lie back, relax, and enjoy the show.”

With that, and with Remus still holding his wrist loosely, he begins sinking down. He is bigger than most, if not all, of Sirius’s recent partners, but that only makes the burn of the stretch all the sweeter. He lowers himself slowly, regulating his breathing and biting his lip in concentration, but eventually he’s fully seated, arse resting against thick thighs. 

“Holy-” Remus cuts himself off with a groan as Sirius clenches around him purposefully. “You really are a brat, aren’t you?” He pants. 

Sirius flashes a grin that is all teeth, and begins moving carefully. He wants Remus to keep staring at him like this, awestruck, for the rest of eternity. He also wants Remus to throw him onto his back and rearrange his guts, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“Fuck, baby-”

“S’okay,” Sirius slurs, feeling his girth drag against his prostate with every rise and fall of his hips. “You can call me that,” he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “I like it.”

“I know you do, baby,” Remus’s chuckle turns into a moan halfway through, “I just want us both to stay present, this time.”

“I’m here,” he promises, picking up his pace until neither of them can form full sentences anymore. “So big, fuck, I’m so full,” he moans, cock-drunk, “biggest ever.”

He doesn’t know if that’s true. It probably is, but it really doesn’t matter. It has just the effect he’d hoped for, Remus growling and flipping them over, somehow staying inside him while he does so. 

“You’re fucking obscene, baby,” he grunts, finding a punishing rhythm with his hands in a bruising grip on Sirius’s thighs, nearly folding him in half. 

And James laughed when he started doing yoga. Look who’s laughing now, bitch.

His fingers tangle in short curls, glimpses of ivory in a sea of browns and greys. He tugs his head down, rising from the mattress and meeting in the middle in a kiss that’s more teeth and searing breath than anything else. 

Remus presses his thighs down further, and the new angle has fireworks exploding behind his eyes. 

“There, oh, God, don’t stop!” He cries out, clenching and squirming uncontrollably as Remus hits his prostate head on with every thrust. He’s shaking and babbling, precome pooling on his stomach as he gets closer and closer to the peak. 

He reaches to touch himself, but a firm hand grabs his wrist. 

“Think you can come without it, baby?”

Sirius thinks he could likely do anything this man asks of him, so he nods frantically. One of his legs is hitched up over Remus’s shoulder, before he takes both of his wrists in one big hand and anchors them above Sirius’s head. 

“Remus, fucking hell,” he cries out, screwing his eyes shut as his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami. It’s animalistic, the way Remus’s teeth sink into his neck as he fucks him through it, hips snapping against his arse mercilessly. 

Remus slows down to a stop once Sirius starts trembling with oversensitivity, his hard cock buried deep inside of him. Sirius’s legs are released, falling listlessly onto the mattress as Remus breathes heavily against his jaw. 

“Keep going,” he encourages feebly, clenching around him and feeling him jerk forward instinctually, “wanna feel you come inside of me.”

Instead, Remus pulls out. Sirius keens in protest, trying to grasp his hips and keep him sheathed. 

“Shhh, baby,” he places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “turn over, want you to be comfortable.”

Sirius rolls over with a whimper, the imagery of an obedient dog flashing in his mind again. 

“Jesus Christ, baby,” Remus groans into his spine, straddling his joined thighs. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Sirius confirms, smiling blissfully into the pillow as Remus re-enters him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, picking up a languid pace, “how are you still so tight?”

Sirius smirks lazily, constricting around him in weak spasms and enjoying the gentle thrusts as he comes down from his high. 

“You feel fucking divine, baby,” Remus takes his chin, pulling him into a slow kiss. “I’m so close,” he groans against his jaw, tucking his face into the crook of his neck as his movements quicken, his formerly even rhythm becoming erratic. 

Sirius reaches back to tug on his sweat dampened  curls, moaning in time with Remus when he finally stills, throbbing and pulsing against his core as he comes into the condom. 

Remus collapses half on top of him, softening cock beginning to slide out. 

“Stay,” Sirius demands petulantly, releasing his hair to reach backwards and grab onto his arse. 

Remus allows it, shifting to keep his weight off Sirius while still pressed intimately together. 

“Feeling alright, love?” Remus asks quietly, wrapping an arm around him securely and lacing their fingers together. 

“Better than,” he mutters, “your cock might be magic.”

They both laugh, Remus hissing when he inadvertently tightens around him. 

“Sorry, baby,” he chuckles as he finally pulls out, tying off the condom and tossing it into a nearby bin. 

“Rude,” Sirius pouts, and Remus kisses it off his lips. 

They lounge in bed for a bit, catching their breaths in a comfortable silence. 

“Mind if I wash up before I go?” Sirius speaks up eventually. He’s covered in tacky lube and drying spunk, which is really quite unpleasant. 

“‘Course,” Remus replies, eyeing him appreciatively as he leaves the bed and strides confidently to the en-suite, fully nude. 

He finds the bedroom empty when he returns, and ignores the odd twinge of disappointment in his chest. His clothes are folded neatly at the foot of the bed, with his phone and keys resting atop them. 

Remus is in the kitchen when he finally exits the bedroom, dressed and feeling slightly more composed. 

“Thanks,” he gives the keys a light shake in reference before shoving them into the pocket of his jeans, and Remus smiles in acknowledgement. “I should, er, head out.”

He really doesn’t know why he feels so awkward about it. Bloody hell, this is exactly why he never spends the night. 

“I was about to make breakfast, if you’d like some,” Remus offers politely, but Sirius is already feeling self-conscious about overstaying his welcome. 

“Nah,” he waves it off with a smile, “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

“Right,” his expression is indecipherable, until it smoothes into a matching smile. He rises from the small kitchen table and walks him to the door. “I’ll see you around, then?”

“Sure, yeah.” Sirius rises to his toes and kisses him chastely, unsure of what possessed him to do so. “See you around, Professor.”

***

A folded piece of paper falls out of his pocket when he pulls out his keys, fluttering to the ground of the pub’s parking lot. Sirius bends down and picks it up, heartbeat quickening when he reads the six words written on the note.

In case you change your mind.

Ten digits are written underneath it in the same messy handwriting. He saves the number in his phone under Professor Lupin and places the neatly folded note in the glove box. 

He doesn’t know why. 

He won’t use it. 

He. Doesn’t. Date. 

But maybe one more time wouldn’t be so bad.