Marauder crack

The moon at Sirius' home (Crying love)

At Hogwarts.

Remus doesn't know HOW he knows this, but he KNOWS that Sirius has received his letter from him and he is reading it. At that moment. Miles away. He knows. There's nothing in his magic books about that kind of hunch or mystical connections or whatever, but it doesn't matter. That night, Sirius is the brightest star in the constellation of the Great Hound and he has the certainty that Sirius is reading his letter. Now, at that moment, while he walks through Gryffindor Tower, barefoot, tall, lanky, shirtless, looking through the windows, waiting he doesn't know what. Remembers the beginning of his letter. Sirius is far away, but Remus knows it. He feels him.

[We agree that I miss you. You ask how much, but I suspect that what you want to know, Padfoot, is something else. You want to know how I miss you and where it hurts, and how I relieve myself to bear the pain.]

At Potter's garden.

Sirius has enough space inside the tent to lie down and read leaning on one elbow, head supported with his hand. His hair falls over his face, he has only read three sentences and is convinced that Remus Lupin has the power to read minds because fuck yeah, that's exactly what he wants to know. He wants to know if to Remus all of this - all of this between them that is new and inexplicable - is so intense as for him. If he burns the same or is burning alone.

Reads.

[In agreement, let's say I tell you, I'm not afraid to scare you because Sirius Black is not so easily scared. Let's say I'm writing this in bed and you are reading it in bed, and we are missing each other deeply. Let's say it hurts you as much as it hurts me, and that you read this scroll with only one hand because the pain is unbearable, and it's hot and you miss me enough to need a... let's say, a quick relief. Here and now. It is an assumption, naturally, I am not saying that I read your letters alone, lying in your bed, imagining what are you doing, if there is room for me in that tent, or what could happen if I suddenly showed up, at midnight and we had to share that narrowness in the dark. Sweaty for the summer. Alone. Together. You and me, Sirius].

At Hogwarts.

The silence in the boys' room is so intense, so solid, so real that Remus often speaks to himself, out loud, to scare him away. This night, he wants to talk too, but only one thing occurs to him.

- Sirius.

He is away. Shining brightly in the sky. Far away in the Potter's garden. And if Remus concentrates he can see him. He could swear that he can see him.

Reading.

[When I use the bathroom in the Common Room, I have the feeling that anyone who walks in could know what happened that night and see right through me. Like if it were written on the walls. What we did. Although it is not what happened that haunts me in my sleep, but what would have passed if James hadn't entered. Let's say sometimes I wonder what would have happened, and when I do, the answer is anything. It would've happened whatever you would've wanted because I wouldn't have known how to stop]

England. James's house. The Potter's garden.

Sirius rereads the last sentence. Remus couldn't have stopped. It wouldn't be necessary, because he wouldn't have asked him to stop. Never. He misses him with anger now. He curses each and every mile and day that separates from him. The tent has a silver tint due to the Crescent moon.

When September comes he won't stop until he rips off Remus moans to bites.

The letter continues.

[It's like I'm still locked in that bathroom. Waiting for you to finish what you started then. Hurts. If this is missing you, it hurts. I think it hurts. I miss you under the flesh, you haunt me from deep within myself, as if you were the moon, Sirius. I'd like to reach out and touch you but you're not here, so it's my turn to touch myself, while I write to you, while I read you, while I think of you and it is not enough, but it has to be worth it. You make me sweat and sleepless nights, you make me think of you with one hand in my pants and the other writing this letter. I don't know if that answers your question].

Sirius neither. In fact, he no longer remembers the question. Remus has done with his blood what the moon with the tides and now all he feels is a pulsating throbbing between the legs and nothing in the brain. Nothing except Remus' last words.

He puts his hand inside his pants. Under the boxer shorts. Holy sshit. Yes, better. He holds on tightly. He caresses himself. Above. Down. Better. Remus. The top of his class, the perfect boy, lying on his bed, dressed but with his pants unbuttoned, thinking about him, touching himself. That is what undoes Sirius. Imagines him out of control, deranged as in that bathroom.

He can't stop reading.

[But I know what I want].

[I want to be there with you, that you are here, that we go back to that bathroom, that is not my hand that is making me howl like it's the full moon, but you, your hand, your fingers, your mouth, god, Sirius, whatever part of you against me, rubbing me, caressing me, licking me. You. Me. With you. Doing anything to you Sirius, whatever you want, whatever you ask. Because you dominate me like the moon. Because I don't miss you Sirius, I am sick for you and if you read this letter and feel the same pressure and you relieve like me, imagining me, then I pray not to heal me. What does it matter to be sick, if it is from you? ]

The last words are just a blur in a corner of his mind. Sirius is unable to follow. He closes his eyes. He gets carried away. The hand goes alone. He is at Hogwarts. Or Hogwarts is at James's house. It doesn't matter. Anyway, he is with Remus and the universe conspires for them to go to bed in the same bed, or in the same tent. They wallow and they bite each other naked, taking off their clothes hurting themselves and Remus lets him lick all his scars, he lies face down, open for him.

Sirius dies. All that is solid falls apart. A buttery death. What is liquid turns into snow and burns. Cums. He bites hard so he doesn't moan. He starts to tremble.

In Scotland, Remus thinks he can see him. Cumming without stopping and touching himself, with his neck tense and that vein running through his forehead, swollen with exertion. He has his letter aside and Remus runs off, undoes, melts into his Gryffindor bed.

Less than a week to the end of the course.

They both gasp, their pants unbuttoned and moisture on the stomach. The moon is in the house of Sirius and the longest summer of its lives about to end.