Summary: A series of mini stories mapping the awkward journey from boy to man - and all the pit stops in between. Slash, SB/RL.
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and NC-17, but only if you squint and stand on your head.
Distribution: Right now it's at the SBRL Y!Group, and the remusxsirius LJ. And my LJ.
Disclaimer: Well, I certainly don't own them -grumble-. All praise JKR and all her slashy undertones -g-.
Author's Note: I set the rating for chapter 3 to be R, but it doesn't look like decided to comply with my request ... -looks at ff . net strangely-
Also, it seems to hate astericks so it didn't put them in -hates ff . net-
Four: Velvet and Cashmere
It begins as many things do, passively and quietly, the first sign so small - the brush of fingertips across a palm - it might have been ignored. It is a revelation of sorts, a warning that turning back would be an impossible feat of utmost self-control, should either choose to take the moment back. The world is astonishingly still, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the pounding of two wild heartbeats. Shallow breathing in synchronization speaks volumes of the desire that builds, creating crackling tension in the air. Sirius leans forward first, but pulls back to search within Remus' eyes, asking - pleasepleasepleaseplease - for confirmation that it is not only him who is stifled by wonderment, that it is not just years of unresolved desire that is creating this within his mind, that it is real and true and - please - Remus could take everything from him if for only one moment of reciprocated love.
Sirius wonders idly if that is too much to ask from another boy.
Remus knows nothing but the breath across his lips, so close yet just beyond his reach. He wonders if the millimetres between them is actually miles and if all his frustration has brought on already impending insanity. The air hangs thickly around him and Remus senses Sirius is about to pull back, and when he does, eons later, Remus feels an aching loss.
He looks away, suddenly ashamed for ever allowing himself the hope that his coveting was shared. Hanging his head, he mutters his apologies, choking on the false words of self-reproach and knowing that truly he could never be sorry for loving Remus, for wanting him beyond any doubt.
Remus watches as ivory hair falls over Sirius' face and covers the silver eyes so laden with guilt and pain, and suddenly needs to join his friend in self hatred, and begins to also apologize profusely.
Both stumble over words of little meaning and while sorries tumble from their lips, silver meets gold and suddenly words are ineffectual and inadequate and all that matters is the velvet of Sirius' lips against the cashmere touch of Remus' cheek. Perhaps he missed his mark, but by doing so found that running his lips across Remus' skin produced its own efficacious response, in the form of fingers tangled in ebony strands and growls of approval. Sirius pulls Remus closer, and with not a fragment of the pendulous doubt that had plagued him for so long, he meets the other's lips with fervent passion, a product of so many early mornings filled with aching desire.
Noses gently felt their way across paths of rough skin. Necks sufficiently explored and tracked by eager mouths. Bodies mapped with the curious uncertainty of a blind man searching for light in the perpetual darkness. Hard chests pressed together acted as stark reminders of the loss of familiarity of breasts and soft curves.
Remus smells of old books and smokey candlelight, and Sirius breathes him in, savouring the blessed taste on his tongue. He would like to stay like this forever, nose buried in the other boy's neck, all senses suffocated and drowning within the cashmere that surrounds him.
Sirius is the dew of early morn that sweeps across the world, a deific covering of velvet upon Remus. He clings to this moment with a silent desperation, wishing once again for that little part of Sirius that he could steal away and worship for eternity.
They can no longer be described as friends but as lovers - mates, bound by love and trust and complete desire.
They wish to sink - to melt - into one embrace to live inside each other.
Little boys - don't won't can't - do this.
But then, perhaps they are no longer little boys.
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Author's notes:
Magus Durron: Thank you! For your review, for putting me in your favourite authors/story list, just thank you! You made my day!