Rounded With A Sleep
Remus is curled up on the sofa, nearly asleep, when Sirius enters the common room, bells jingling. He slips into the small space Remus has left, and pulls off the garish crown he's wearing, removes the belled slippers from his feet.
"'Our revels now are ended,'" Remus murmurs. Sirius smiles, leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. Remus turns into it, meets Sirius's lips with his own, still unable to believe this is real, this is his.
He can't remember when it began, but he knows he's wanted Sirius for almost as long as he's known him, and loved him even longer.
That Sirius feels the same is still a shock; in quiet moments when he's alone, Remus tries to figure it out, but there's no rhyme or reason to it. Sirius can have anyone he wants, and for some reason, he wants Remus. Remus is willing to take it for as long as Sirius is willing to give.
He twines his fingers through Sirius's hair, tangles their legs, seeking warmth and comfort and the rightness that comes from being pressed against Sirius. They kiss lazily for a while, enjoying the quiet of having the common room all to themselves. With most of their schoolmates home for the holidays, they've had more opportunities to be alone together than usual.
James is up in their dorm room, making time with Lily Evans -- making up for the six years she refused to have anything to do with him, Sirius jokes -- and they've promised to stay out all night.
This is no hardship; there's something cozy about the Gryffindor common room at Christmas, with garlands strung and a fire crackling in the hearth.
Remus is both more tired and more on edge than is his wont, as the full moon is tomorrow night. The tension drains away as Sirius touches him, fingers against his scalp, face, chest. His limbs are heavy with desire, his cock aching for Sirius's touch. He wants to make it last tonight, instead of their usual hasty snog-and-wank sessions in dark and hidden corners, so no one finds out. The wine they had with dinner gives everything a softer edge, his vision blurred on the periphery, Sirius his sole focus.
He shifts, begins moving his hips, straining for contact, friction, release. Sirius moans, pushing back against him, and Remus can feel his erection hot and hard through two layers of clothing.
With sure fingers, he unbuttons Sirius's trousers, skimming lightly over his flat belly before wrapping around his cock.
Sirius exhales sharply, his breath hot against Remus's lips. He wriggles and his trousers slide down to his ankles. In the firelight, his skin is golden, kissed with flickering shadows; the long column of his throat, arched and vulnerable to Remus's teeth, is a work of art equal to anything Remus has seen in a museum.
Sirius pushes at the waist of his pajamas, and Remus growls in approval, raising his hips and gasping as the material glides over the sensitive head of his cock.
Sirius laughs, a barking sound Remus will forever associate with joy, and tosses the pants over his shoulder before returning his attention to Remus's body. He slides his fingers around Remus's cock, matches the rhythm of his stroking to Remus's. They move together, harsh breathing and occasional murmurs the only sound above the hiss of the wind outside and the crackling fire within.
Remus stares up into Sirius's eyes, dark with desire and focused solely on him. Sirius presses hot, openmouthed kisses against his throat and jaw, teases him with little licks at the corners of his mouth before kissing him fully, tongue sliding against tongue. The tension in his body builds to a breaking point and the world shatters around him. Remus comes, shuddering in Sirius's arms, moaning into his mouth.
Sirius thrusts once, twice, three times, and then he comes as well, spurting hot and sticky over Remus's hand.
They lay entwined for a few moments, and Remus wishes he could stay that way forever, warm, sated, loved. Sirius murmurs nonsense syllables into his ear, and Remus translates them as the declaration neither of them will ever make. He returns the vow with kisses, surprising Sirius with his fervor. Sirius kisses him back, gentling him with lips and breath and tongue.
"Happy Christmas, Remus," Sirius says, smiling against his mouth.
"Happy Christmas," Remus replies, allowing Sirius to curl around him and press him back into the cushions after a murmured cleaning charm. He pulls a blanket over them, not bothering with putting their clothes back on. Soon Sirius is off in dreamland, breathing deep and even.
"'And our little life is rounded with a sleep,'" Remus murmurs, drifting off, content.