Work Text:
“No.”
(Because Remus is a man for whom pleasure has always been something stolen. Even during that glorious interlude in his teens, a part of him stood to one side, reminding him he was a thief in the garden of his body, its fruits not truly his to enjoy. And after 1981 Remus decided never to go back into the garden at all)
“Say it.”
(Because Sirius, trapped in miserable Grimmauld Place, is losing patience. Everyone knows stolen fruit is the sweetest kind. So Sirius is going to steal Remus’s pleasure...in order to give it back to him. But it's not an *entirely* altruistic project...)
“NO.”
(Remus face-down on the library table, wiry arms splayed across the dark wood, trousers at his ankles. Sirius’s hand around his cock, Sirius’s teeth in the cartilage of his ear, Sirius nudging his hole)
“Say it, Moony: Whose pleasure is this?”
(Sirius bites harder, feels Remus’s dick jump in his fist)
“Ah—fuck—"
(He’s close)
“Say it. Whose?"
(Sirius eases the tip of his cock inside
and the word drops from Remus’s lips,
a branch yielding one perfectly-ripened peach)
“Mine.”