Fic: January for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peccadilloes
Dec. 22nd, 2019 12:52 pmsmallgiftsmods posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
small_giftsTitle: January
Author/Artist:abradystrix
Recipient:peccadilloes
Rating: NC-17
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Smut and intensity towards the end, swearing, references to sex*
Word count: 1485
Summary: Sirius returns from a mission to a shifted landscape and a frosty reception.
Notes: Dearpeccadilloes, happy holidays and I hope you enjoy! I have aimed to include as many of your wishes as possible... Ab x
January, 1979
A delicate layer of ice covers the pond like gossamer, shining in the afternoon sunlight. Sirius, nerves twitching, watches a particularly portly duck makes his way across the ice, expecting him to swiftly plummet below. Though cracks appear, the ice miraculously holds, and the duck waddles on his way.
The smoke from his cigarette curls into the crisp January air, and he feels Remus shift beside him as he pushes his hands further into the pockets of his old woollen coat. They have been sitting like this for almost an hour, in the listless liminal space that seems to expand to fill the size of Sirius’ growing irritation.
‘I expect you took her here,’ he says, breaking the silence with the loftiest tone he can muster. Remus furrows his brow and turns a wry gaze upon him.
‘The park directly beside my flat? Yes, I expect I did.’ Sirius is well aware that Remus has no time for him today, but the urge to push and prod and fight and scream is rising in him.
‘Did she like it?’
’The pond? Or the sex?’ Remus’ voice is hard and cold.
‘Both.’ Sirius snaps back.
’No idea, and I suppose so.’
‘Did you?’
‘I’ve always loved this pond. I consider it one of the best ponds in the greater London area.’
‘Ha fucking ha. You know what I mean.’
There’s a silence for a moment. Remus turns to look at Sirius and although his tone is light and his words simple, his eyes are blazing.
’She isn't you.’
Sirius’ heart beats a little faster under a swoop of what feels like victory. He won’t give Remus the satisfaction of a smile, but he lets out a hiss of air and his shoulders sag slightly under his ridiculous fur coat. He loves this coat, lined in egregious scarlet silk, and warmer than Padfoot’s pelt in winter. The shine of the fur contrasts strongly with the muted wool of Remus’ trench coat, with its numerous pockets and patches. He stubs out his cigarette under the heel of his battered Chelsea boot.
On a whim, he drops his head onto Remus’ shoulder. He hears Remus sigh and he allows himself to smile, his mouth hidden beneath the oversized coat collar.
‘I can’t set you right, you know,’ Remus says, quietly, staring up at the clearest of blue skies.
‘What?’
‘When you get like this – in a spin. I can’t do it. You’re a law unto yourself, Sirius. You can’t have expected me to wait, not really. You set the rules.’
Sirius can’t really argue with that. His heart sinks a little. He wants to shout and scratch and raise merry hell, but out here on this cold blue winter afternoon he finds that suddenly he just can’t stomach it. He pulls back and stands up, uneasy on his feet, shifting his weight and yearning to run. But that quintessential something keeps him in Moony’s orbit, and together they wordlessly walk back towards the flat.
They take the long way – the pavements circling the open swathes of common. The ground is dry, crisp and frosted, and Sirius relishes the crunch under his feet as they cross the widest part of the park. He feels every small crackle in his bones, the crushing of the stiff, white blades a small rebellion against the beauty and light of this day, an imprint of Sirius Black and his anger at the world. Remus is silent, his eyes focussing in front of his feet, his face half hidden beneath an old Gryffindor scarf. Sirius wants to grab him and shake him and kiss him and rip his stupid wool coat off but instead he keeps walking.
By the time they reach the narrow staircase of Remus’ building, Sirius’ heart is pounding again, the bracing cold air reviving his anger, his frustration and his want. The thought of anyone else on these stairs twists his heart and as Remus casts a blue fire into the old fireplace it’s all Sirius can do not to scream. He settles for throwing his fur on the sofa and excusing himself.
He returns from the bathroom ready to fight, to wail, to scream and beat his fists on walls, but he’s surprised to see Remus curled up on the sofa in his wool coat, softly asleep. His heart stills for a moment as he takes in the exhaustion on Remus’s face, the careworn lines and the hollow indigo bags that linger beneath his eyes. The four months since he left for his mission slide into focus for Sirius. Remus has been here the whole time, not knowing.
How many moons has he missed?
He sinks down beside Remus and curls into his side, an arm protectively over his chest. Remus shifts towards him and mumbles something unintelligible.
It sounds like ‘again’.
---
Remus wakes up to the smell of pot.
A haze fills the room and he rolls over to see Sirius, his silhouette dark against the fading blue and violet sky outside. He’s gazing up at the mirror over the mantlepiece, the cracks in its corners and the burnished metal frame.
The strange, flat energy of the new moon has hollowed Remus out. He feels exhausted, drawn and empty as he watches Sirius take a drag of his joint, pausing to place it down on an old green glass ashtray that only ever emerges when he’s in the flat.
Remus sits up slowly, his head swimming with the sweet, acrid smell and the last vestiges of sleep.
‘Hi,’ Sirius says softly, glancing at him.
Remus hadn’t expected softness. He had expected anger, resistance, a cold wall of fury burning bright in the half-light. He reaches for the joint, and eyes Sirius suspiciously as he exhales.
‘I’m sorry.’
Remus coughs, chokes on his surprise.
‘You’re sorry?’
‘Yeah, I reckon I am. I’ve been gone a while. And we didn’t… I didn’t ask you to wait. Not really.’ Sirius won’t meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on his nimble, white fingers twisting in his lap.
Remus hesitates.
‘I wanted to wait. I did. She… She was just there. And I hated myself for it.’ He speaks quietly but firmly, and pushes his knee into Sirius', whose hand moves instinctively to grip his thigh, fingers spread and digging into the flesh beneath his shabby cords. Remus hisses with pleasure, and something kindles in his chest, through the numb ennui of the moonless sky.
He’s only been back since this morning and already Remus is exhausted and exhilarated from the gambit of Sirius, and his mercurial emotions, his frenzied impetus to feel. But there’s no denying that it does something to him, to his very core, and he can feel his body respond even with the ice only half-thawed between them. He looks up at Sirius, and finds his grey eyes staring right back at him, defiant, determined and brazen.
In an instant they are kissing, if kissing is what you can call it. Sirius is pressed down on top of him, his hands tangled in Remus’ hair, his lips hot and insistent on his mouth, their tongues tangled in a frenzy of instinct and need. Remus’ heart is pounding and he feels Sirius pressing into his inner thigh and knows that he is done for. He can feel the silk and fur of that damn coat underneath his back, because of course Sirius hasn’t put it away. As Sirius grapples with his shirt, lifting the worn flannel out of his waistband and allowing his fingers to spread over Remus’ back, the mix of of textures is almost painful in its pleasure. He growls into Sirius, pulling his shirt open, hands all over his surprisingly cool chest. He feels Sirius’ heart thudding, a thready pulse in his neck as Remus starts to bite, lick and nibble.
His moans are the definition of indecency, sending a thrill straight to Remus’ cock which strains against his trousers. It’s mere moments before he is reaching for that damned button fly and tugging insistently until they are both naked, the fire setting their skin aglow, and the sun finally set in the clear indigo sky.
This - this is everything, thinks Remus, as he grabs Sirius around the waist and flips positions.
They are breathing heavily, and the fine sheen of sweat on Sirius’ upper lip might be the most beautiful thing Remus has ever seen. He reaches a hand to touch it, and Sirius takes his thumb into his mouth and bites. Remus cries out, and draws his hand back to grip Sirius by the hips, lifting him onto a summoned cushion. Sirius grins lazily at him, eyes ablaze, utterly wanton. Remus leans down to kiss him hard on the mouth.
‘Do your worst,’ Sirius breathes.
‘Oh I will.’
Remus looks him dead in the eye, and with a smile, sinks into oblivion.
Author/Artist:
abradystrixRecipient:
peccadilloesRating: NC-17
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Smut and intensity towards the end, swearing, references to sex*
Word count: 1485
Summary: Sirius returns from a mission to a shifted landscape and a frosty reception.
Notes: Dear
peccadilloes, happy holidays and I hope you enjoy! I have aimed to include as many of your wishes as possible... Ab xJanuary, 1979
A delicate layer of ice covers the pond like gossamer, shining in the afternoon sunlight. Sirius, nerves twitching, watches a particularly portly duck makes his way across the ice, expecting him to swiftly plummet below. Though cracks appear, the ice miraculously holds, and the duck waddles on his way.
The smoke from his cigarette curls into the crisp January air, and he feels Remus shift beside him as he pushes his hands further into the pockets of his old woollen coat. They have been sitting like this for almost an hour, in the listless liminal space that seems to expand to fill the size of Sirius’ growing irritation.
‘I expect you took her here,’ he says, breaking the silence with the loftiest tone he can muster. Remus furrows his brow and turns a wry gaze upon him.
‘The park directly beside my flat? Yes, I expect I did.’ Sirius is well aware that Remus has no time for him today, but the urge to push and prod and fight and scream is rising in him.
‘Did she like it?’
’The pond? Or the sex?’ Remus’ voice is hard and cold.
‘Both.’ Sirius snaps back.
’No idea, and I suppose so.’
‘Did you?’
‘I’ve always loved this pond. I consider it one of the best ponds in the greater London area.’
‘Ha fucking ha. You know what I mean.’
There’s a silence for a moment. Remus turns to look at Sirius and although his tone is light and his words simple, his eyes are blazing.
’She isn't you.’
Sirius’ heart beats a little faster under a swoop of what feels like victory. He won’t give Remus the satisfaction of a smile, but he lets out a hiss of air and his shoulders sag slightly under his ridiculous fur coat. He loves this coat, lined in egregious scarlet silk, and warmer than Padfoot’s pelt in winter. The shine of the fur contrasts strongly with the muted wool of Remus’ trench coat, with its numerous pockets and patches. He stubs out his cigarette under the heel of his battered Chelsea boot.
On a whim, he drops his head onto Remus’ shoulder. He hears Remus sigh and he allows himself to smile, his mouth hidden beneath the oversized coat collar.
‘I can’t set you right, you know,’ Remus says, quietly, staring up at the clearest of blue skies.
‘What?’
‘When you get like this – in a spin. I can’t do it. You’re a law unto yourself, Sirius. You can’t have expected me to wait, not really. You set the rules.’
Sirius can’t really argue with that. His heart sinks a little. He wants to shout and scratch and raise merry hell, but out here on this cold blue winter afternoon he finds that suddenly he just can’t stomach it. He pulls back and stands up, uneasy on his feet, shifting his weight and yearning to run. But that quintessential something keeps him in Moony’s orbit, and together they wordlessly walk back towards the flat.
They take the long way – the pavements circling the open swathes of common. The ground is dry, crisp and frosted, and Sirius relishes the crunch under his feet as they cross the widest part of the park. He feels every small crackle in his bones, the crushing of the stiff, white blades a small rebellion against the beauty and light of this day, an imprint of Sirius Black and his anger at the world. Remus is silent, his eyes focussing in front of his feet, his face half hidden beneath an old Gryffindor scarf. Sirius wants to grab him and shake him and kiss him and rip his stupid wool coat off but instead he keeps walking.
By the time they reach the narrow staircase of Remus’ building, Sirius’ heart is pounding again, the bracing cold air reviving his anger, his frustration and his want. The thought of anyone else on these stairs twists his heart and as Remus casts a blue fire into the old fireplace it’s all Sirius can do not to scream. He settles for throwing his fur on the sofa and excusing himself.
He returns from the bathroom ready to fight, to wail, to scream and beat his fists on walls, but he’s surprised to see Remus curled up on the sofa in his wool coat, softly asleep. His heart stills for a moment as he takes in the exhaustion on Remus’s face, the careworn lines and the hollow indigo bags that linger beneath his eyes. The four months since he left for his mission slide into focus for Sirius. Remus has been here the whole time, not knowing.
How many moons has he missed?
He sinks down beside Remus and curls into his side, an arm protectively over his chest. Remus shifts towards him and mumbles something unintelligible.
It sounds like ‘again’.
---
Remus wakes up to the smell of pot.
A haze fills the room and he rolls over to see Sirius, his silhouette dark against the fading blue and violet sky outside. He’s gazing up at the mirror over the mantlepiece, the cracks in its corners and the burnished metal frame.
The strange, flat energy of the new moon has hollowed Remus out. He feels exhausted, drawn and empty as he watches Sirius take a drag of his joint, pausing to place it down on an old green glass ashtray that only ever emerges when he’s in the flat.
Remus sits up slowly, his head swimming with the sweet, acrid smell and the last vestiges of sleep.
‘Hi,’ Sirius says softly, glancing at him.
Remus hadn’t expected softness. He had expected anger, resistance, a cold wall of fury burning bright in the half-light. He reaches for the joint, and eyes Sirius suspiciously as he exhales.
‘I’m sorry.’
Remus coughs, chokes on his surprise.
‘You’re sorry?’
‘Yeah, I reckon I am. I’ve been gone a while. And we didn’t… I didn’t ask you to wait. Not really.’ Sirius won’t meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on his nimble, white fingers twisting in his lap.
Remus hesitates.
‘I wanted to wait. I did. She… She was just there. And I hated myself for it.’ He speaks quietly but firmly, and pushes his knee into Sirius', whose hand moves instinctively to grip his thigh, fingers spread and digging into the flesh beneath his shabby cords. Remus hisses with pleasure, and something kindles in his chest, through the numb ennui of the moonless sky.
He’s only been back since this morning and already Remus is exhausted and exhilarated from the gambit of Sirius, and his mercurial emotions, his frenzied impetus to feel. But there’s no denying that it does something to him, to his very core, and he can feel his body respond even with the ice only half-thawed between them. He looks up at Sirius, and finds his grey eyes staring right back at him, defiant, determined and brazen.
In an instant they are kissing, if kissing is what you can call it. Sirius is pressed down on top of him, his hands tangled in Remus’ hair, his lips hot and insistent on his mouth, their tongues tangled in a frenzy of instinct and need. Remus’ heart is pounding and he feels Sirius pressing into his inner thigh and knows that he is done for. He can feel the silk and fur of that damn coat underneath his back, because of course Sirius hasn’t put it away. As Sirius grapples with his shirt, lifting the worn flannel out of his waistband and allowing his fingers to spread over Remus’ back, the mix of of textures is almost painful in its pleasure. He growls into Sirius, pulling his shirt open, hands all over his surprisingly cool chest. He feels Sirius’ heart thudding, a thready pulse in his neck as Remus starts to bite, lick and nibble.
His moans are the definition of indecency, sending a thrill straight to Remus’ cock which strains against his trousers. It’s mere moments before he is reaching for that damned button fly and tugging insistently until they are both naked, the fire setting their skin aglow, and the sun finally set in the clear indigo sky.
This - this is everything, thinks Remus, as he grabs Sirius around the waist and flips positions.
They are breathing heavily, and the fine sheen of sweat on Sirius’ upper lip might be the most beautiful thing Remus has ever seen. He reaches a hand to touch it, and Sirius takes his thumb into his mouth and bites. Remus cries out, and draws his hand back to grip Sirius by the hips, lifting him onto a summoned cushion. Sirius grins lazily at him, eyes ablaze, utterly wanton. Remus leans down to kiss him hard on the mouth.
‘Do your worst,’ Sirius breathes.
‘Oh I will.’
Remus looks him dead in the eye, and with a smile, sinks into oblivion.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 02:54 am (UTC)‘I can’t set you right, you know,’ Remus says, quietly, staring up at the clearest of blue skies.
‘What?’
‘When you get like this – in a spin. I can’t do it. You’re a law unto yourself, Sirius.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 05:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 05:20 am (UTC)Lovely! Thank you. M.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 06:55 pm (UTC)this is so light and has still got all their edges in it! really appreciate this take on r's relationships/life outside of s, these coats, & so on.
one of those fics where like you're reading it really fast and almost don't want to keep reading it because it's so exactly right. great setting, narrative momentum going right through the end. feels like a genre classic. be proud of this one.