Lust For Life
Sirius has come to love Muggle London, with its pushy crowds and glaring neon lights, the swirling chatter of half-a-dozen languages as he walks down the street.
His explorations take him to pubs and clubs and little hole-in-the-wall places where the things that go on under the cover of darkness have nothing to do with eating death and everything to do with sucking down life in all its fullness: temptation, surrender and pleasure, not fear and cowering in the dark.
Back alleys and dirty kisses, strange men whose names he doesn't know and doesn't care to. He collects a whole new wardrobe -- leather, satin, silk -- and spends his days catching up on sleep, eating take-out and watching Remus hunt desperately for a job he'll never find.
He wants to take Remus out, show him this world he's found, share it with him. He wants to see Remus's eyes widen in surprised desire, his face go slack with pleasure, wants to hear those sounds he knows Remus makes when he comes. If he's honest with himself, he wants to be the one making Remus come.
Shortly after James and Lily's wedding, Sirius is at loose ends, best friend off on his honeymoon, Peter utterly useless and Remus off doing God knows what. Probably huddled in some moldy old bookstore, reading, instead of greedily consuming everything life has to offer the young and attractive.
Sirius plays among the Muggles; their ignorance of his world, his war, is a balm to his soul.
He finds himself in getting lost in the beat, the screech of guitars, the burn of whisky and the rough touch of a stranger's hands on his body.
A flash of light on shaggy brown hair catches his eye, the predatory grace of a slim body knifing through the crowd like a shark through water. No, Sirius thinks, a wolf through the woods.
He follows, drawn by the invisible cord connecting them, exits the club through the back door.
With a flash of white teeth, Remus shoves him face-first against the wall, sliding a leg between his and thrusting. He wraps one arm around Sirius's waist, hand untying the laces on Sirius's tight leather trousers; the other hand wraps around both of Sirius's wrists, pinning them to the wall above their heads, teeth skating over the sensitive skin of Sirius's neck as they move together, Remus's chest warm and solid against Sirius's back.
Sirius is barely breathing, hips jerking forward as Remus slides a hand down his belly and strokes his cock. Remus is whispering something, lost in the pounding of blood in Sirius's ears.
He lets his head fall back and moans. Remus's mouth covers his, swallowing his cries of pleasure, and he comes hot and hard over Remus's skilled fingers.
Remus breaks the kiss, lips swollen and curved in that dangerous smile. "Sirius," he says and Sirius shivers to hear it. "Mine."
Sirius nods, satisfied. This is what he's spent all these nights searching for.
"Yours."