Under Me, You
by Victoria P.

Sirius remembers this, the feel of Remus beneath him, the electric glide of skin against skin. It is a new thing (new scars to map with fingers and lips) and an old, familiar one (the curve and hollow of ribs, the flat belly) to be relearned. He runs his fingers over Remus's body, through the mat of light brown hair, not yet grey, on his chest; over thin arms, watching the muscles move like light under water as Remus touches him.

When Remus touches him, he feels young again, feels himself again; remembers a time when he liked himself, his body. Remembers the best times, when his body was touching Remus's.

He tries to recapture it now, thankful that Remus welcomes his touch.

With his lips he traces patterns on Remus's chest, words he will never speak - - confessions, apologies, supplications. Remus arches beneath him, runs long- fingered hands through his hair and pulls him up for a kiss. Remus tastes of tea and honey, lost youth and premature age, home and hope and all the things Sirius can't remember, but can't forget.

He rubs his cheek against the angular jaw, enjoying the rough scratch of stubble on stubble, the salt tang of flesh under his tongue as he licks and kisses his way down. He sweeps his thumbs over fragile-looking collarbones, feeling the hidden strength in Remus's body.

Remus writhes beneath him, hands sliding over his shoulders, nails scraping down his back, the sting of pain giving an edge to pleasure. He slips one thigh between Sirius's, thrusting against his hip.

"Lie still," Sirius orders, and Remus laughs.


"Remus." Warning.

"Sirius." Teasing. Merlin, he's missed this.

"Let me. Please."

In response, Remus bucks up against him. Growling, he uses his weight to press Remus to the mattress.

"Wait," he says. "I need--" Remus stops moving at the desperation in his tone, though Sirius can feel the tension in his body. "I need to remember this," he whispers, nibbling at Remus's earlobe. "I need to go slow."

"Slow," Remus breathes. "You're going to be the death of me."

"The little death, anyway." That earns him a huff of laughter that trails into a whimper as he begins his southward journey again.

He kisses and licks his way down Remus's body, the smooth firmness of it at odds with his own bones protruding through skin pulled tight from years of desiccation.

He pays special attention to the inside of Remus's elbows, the skin behind his knees, the arch of his foot. He uses his teeth, leaves marks, proof that this is happening. Sirius could spend hours just reacquainting himself with the taste and texture of Remus's skin, but Remus's patience is wearing thin.

Remus growls and moans, his breathing ragged, his vocabulary reduced to four or five words ("Fuck. Yes. Sirius. There. Please."), as Sirius remembers how to touch him. His hands fist the sheets, then slide through Sirius's hair. Sirius closes his eyes, trying to imprint the moment on his memory, so he will never forget, never have it ripped from him again, no matter what happens.

He moves up and takes Remus's mouth in a kiss, tongues tangling. Remus thrusts his hips and they're moving together. His body knows this rhythm, this fire along his nerves, the slick, hard heat of Remus's cock against his. The friction is unbearable, the best thing he's ever felt. It's rising inside him, spiraling out through his body, and he wants this moment to last forever. He keeps his eyes open, staring as Remus comes hard and fierce against him, breathing his name.

With Remus trembling beneath him, the orgasm roars through him, and he rides it out, clutching at Remus, making promises he swears this time he'll keep.

They lie together for a few minutes, sticky, warm and sated.

Remus murmurs, "Scourgify," and then gathers him close.

"I like your body," Sirius says. "And I like my body when it's with your body."

"Mmm. Go to sleep, Sirius."

He will, in a while. Now, he just wants to lie curled around Remus, and listen to him breathe.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
~e.e. cummings


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