t h e . h a b i t . o f . w i s h i n g

The Habit of Wishing
[by victoria p.]

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Remus likes his birthday present

Notes: Written for Pru, on her birthday.

Date: November 28, 2004

Remus sighs, because it's ridiculous for a grown man to be upset when no one remembers his birthday. Particularly since he hasn't celebrated it in nearly fifteen years, because he generally hasn't had anyone to celebrate it with.

But still, he'd thought Sirius might have mentioned it to someone, that Molly might have provided a cake or something, the way she had for Tonks a few weeks ago.

He stares at the fire and sips his firewhisky slowly, remembering all the gifts he's received this year -- Sirius's company, getting to spend time with Harry, doing something useful for the Order -- and decides that these are enough. Really, with Sirius free, and innocent, Remus thinks he need never receive another gift in his life and he'd be happy.

Sirius slips into the room quietly, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Getting drunk and maudlin in our old age, I see," he says, nodding his chin at the glass of whisky.

"You're still older than I am," Remus replies, smiling.

"True, true. But today you've caught up at last." Remus stills, and Sirius grins, vestiges of his good looks still visible when he smiles. "Ah, you thought I'd forgotten."

"No, I--"

"Liar."

"You've caught me," he says. "I confess." And he ducks his head, laughing, because this conversation is so familiar, and his body remembers, flooding with heat, how things used to end. But those days are long past. They are different people now, and while it's true that Sirius often creeps into his bed at night, it's usually as a dog.

Sirius waves his wand, and a small cake appears on the end table, candles already lit. "Happy Birthday, Remus," he says softly. "Make a wish."

"I already have everything I want." Sirius eyes him skeptically, so Remus closes his eyes and blows. As a child, he'd always wished for a cure for his condition; when he'd got a little older, he'd wished for friends who knew and didn't care, and when he was a young man, he'd wished for Sirius. After everything had gone pear-shaped, he'd stopped wishing altogether. The one thing he wants is something he can never have again, and he's resigned himself to that. He opens his eyes to see Sirius kneeling before him, staring at him intently. He swallows hard and says, "I'm afraid I've got out of the habit of wishing."

"I'm sorry," Sirius says, and his hands are warm through the material of Remus's robes. "I didn't tell Molly because I knew she'd make a fuss, and I wanted you all to myself." He leans forward slowly, and Remus meets him halfway, their lips touching in a soft, chaste kiss.

"Sirius?" Remus whispers, thinking, this may be a bad idea.

"It's not a bad idea," Sirius answers, crawling into his lap.

"I didn't say it was."

"You were thinking it."

Remus laughs, then, and wraps his arms around Sirius. Too thin, too scarred, too afraid-- All the things he's used to thinking about himself apply to Sirius now, as well, and it breaks his heart even as Sirius kisses him again, harder this time, licking at his lips. Remus opens to him, sliding his hands into Sirius's long dark hair to hold him close.

They spend a few minutes just kissing and touching, relearning the taste and texture of lip and tongue and skin, and Remus thinks, this is enough, more than I ever expected, but Sirius has other plans.

Another wave of his wand, a spell murmured against his ear, and their robes are gone. Sirius slips to the floor again, dragging his lips down Remus's chest and belly, making him gasp at the feel of skin sliding against skin. One hand wraps around the base of Remus's cock, pale against his curly dark hair, and Sirius dips his head to lick at the moisture beginning to bead at the tip.

Remus groans, head falling back and eyes falling closed before he forces them open. He wants to watch, to see what he's only imagined in the past two years, since that night in the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius takes his time, slowly licking the whole length of Remus's cock, as Remus tries to hold still, tries to savor it, Sirius's fingers and lips and tongue, kissing and stroking, no rhythm to it yet, just Sirius relearning what he likes and teasing Remus with it.

"Sirius," he growls, when Sirius begins sucking on his balls, hand still wrapped firmly around the base of Remus's cock and not moving. Sirius raises his head and laughs joyfully, a sound that nearly undoes Remus altogether.

"Patience is a virtue," Sirius says, before once more applying his mouth to Remus's prick with quick, teasing kisses that are driving Remus mad, heat rushing through his veins like lava from a volcano. "Isn't that what you're always telling me?" He swirls his tongue around the head, and Remus whimpers, wanting more, wanting to sheathe himself in the silky wet heat of Sirius's mouth. "Slow down," Sirius murmurs, lips like butterfly kisses on highly sensitive skin. "You move too fast." Remus can't take it anymore, and jerks against Sirius's lips. Sirius takes him in, sucking hard, looking at him through long lashes and too-long hair.

Remus lets go, loses himself in that intense gaze, that hot mouth, as the world shatters and he has to close his eyes against the tidal wave of pleasure flooding through him and out into Sirius's mouth, down Sirius's throat.

It's been a long time, though, and he's vaguely conscious of Sirius pulling away before he chokes.

Then Sirius climbs back onto the sofa, wrapping himself around Remus like a blanket. "Sorry," he whispers, "I couldn't--"

"I don't care about that," Remus answers before shutting him up with a kiss, wanting an end to apologies between them. He tastes himself, salty and warm on Sirius's tongue, headier than the finest wine. When he breaks the kiss, he says, "I should have warned you--" Sirius laughs and they kiss again, the insistent heat of Sirius's prick pressed against Remus's hip. "I like my gift quite a lot," Remus murmurs, wrapping a hand around it. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of playing with it."

Sirius laughs again, his lips pressed to Remus's neck, and Remus realizes he was wrong before, that this is everything he's ever wanted, as he strokes Sirius to completion, reveling in the feel of hard, heavy flesh in his hand. Sirius comes in warm, white spurts over Remus's hand, body tense and arching like a bowstring, and when he's done, they curl up quietly on the couch, pulling a blanket over their entwined bodies, and Remus smiles, because his birthday wish has come true.

end

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