Controlling Feral Instincts

I try to brush away the thoughts while I compulsively began to crack my knuckles to occupy my hands. The small pops of fluid seem to distract Mrs. Weasley as she pauses her speech to stare at me, a reproachful look gracing her features. I try to offer her a small smile before looking down at the kidney pie that sits half eaten on my cold plate. I feel something clumsily bump against my shins beneath the table. My brow furrow impulsively as the, what I guess to be, foot knocks against my leg again, accidentally sliding up my pant leg. Breath hitching I begin to twist the stained cloth napkin now in my hands.

I bite my lip to the point the pressure seems like it would break the skin; I feel the slightest tang of coppery blood on the tip of my tongue. Maybe if I look up, you’ll stop. Through graying fringe, I meet your gaze. How wonderful it is to be greeted by that old glint of mischief glazing over your eyes. I don’t need to repress the smile this time, you think it’s for what I have just done, but I know it’s the smile I only give you.

“What about you, Remus?” I look up hearing my name called from the far end of the table. I raise an eyebrow unsure of what to say; to tell the truth I hadn’t been paying attention to what Molly had been saying since you came down from feeding Buckbeak half way through the meeting. “Will you, Remus. No one else can?” I noted the hint of remorse in her voice that made me blindly agree to whatever she was asking. “Oh thank you, Remus darling.” I hear you suppress a bark of laughter and cover it gracefully with a cough. The table beams at me.

“Arthur and I have to go back to the Burrow and help the children pack and I guess everyone else also has pre-engagements. I promise this is the only time you’ll have to stay.” Stay? What’s Molly talking about? “If that’s the last order of business, then I guess the meeting is dismissed.” The small kitchen was filled with the sound of wooden chairs shuffling against dusty paneled floors as the order prepared to leave. I watch them make for the door, but I hang back to speak with you.

“Sirius, what did I just agree to?” You’re so close that familiar Muggle cologne you used to wear hangs in the air filling my senses.

“I do believe, Moony ol’ friend, that you agreed to spend the night with me in this wretched….house, if that’s what you want to call it.” You throw your arm around my shoulders as you steer me into the kitchen. I hold my breath, praying I can control the urge to wrap my arm around your waist. Letting go of my body, you begin to prepare some tea. Your nimble, calloused fingers work as if they’ve preformed the task a thousand times.

You hand me a steaming cup, telling me that we can sit in the drawing room if I wish it so. I select a book to read, my only defense against talking to you. I can’t trust myself to speak with you for this long, alone. Sitting in an old armchair that emits a small cloud of dust upon being sat in, I begin to read. You appear in the room shortly after I have settled in the chair. Holding something in your hands, a Muggle candy Tonks brought from home, you sit on the couch adjacent to my chair.

The crinkling of plastic distracts my focus and I look up through my fringe to find a sucker being swirled around in your mouth. My insides tighten seeing your tongue work around the sweet candy so tentatively. A dark red stain starts to spread in the middle of your tongue and on your lips. They look so full and crimson, so soft and inviting to taste…

I place the book I’m reading on the chair as I stand up. Sauntering up to you, I straddle your hips, a seductive smile contorts my lips for the first time in my life; I let it take control. My palms are pressed against your thighs as I bring my face close to yours. In your hand, you hold the sweet candy; a dazed but happy look fills your eyes as I move towards it. My instincts tell me to take you now, but I know foreplay will torture you as mush as you have been torturing me. At first, I run my saliva slicked tongue around the circumference of the cherry sphere but soon I move to the tip. Kissing it first before taking the sucker fully into my mouth, I hear you let a moan roll in the back of your throat making it come out as a feral growl. Soon, my lips are as deeply stained with the sin as yours. The taste is sweet, but I know it’s nothing compared to the taste of it upon your lips. I release the candy and move closer to your cherry lips. My hands now move up your lanky form to the nape of your neck. The shaggy black hair that you now wear long feels smooth against the backs of my hands as I begin to run my fingers through the fine strands. Then, your lips I finally claim.

I lurch forward as I regain control of my thoughts. I can’t let that happen, can’t risk the little bond I have with you already for a damned kiss. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. Your gaze is on me; I can feel it. “What’s the matter, Remus?” Your voice is sincere and worried.

“It’s nothing, Sirius. I’m just tired; that’s all.” I smile to show I’m all right. You shift on the sofa and then stand up abruptly. “Well, do you think we should turn in then?” I nod, I don’t have the strength to fight you…I’m using it all not to snog you. I trudge up the three flights of stairs behind you, admiring the grace you have regained since Azkaban. You turn to the left and point me to the right telling me I can sleep in your old bedroom if I wish to. I refuse, but you insist that it’s all right.

A few hours after I had fallen asleep I was woken by the same dream flashing through my mind. I had to do something….maybe just lose control for a moment, and take a small risk. It’d be so out of character, but it’d be intriguing. I stumble out of your bed and make for the door in the darkness. The hinges literally screech for oil. The door to the room you are sleeping in is directly across the hall. I slowly walk up to it, raising my fist to knock.

I lose my nerve and begin to go back, but my heel catches on a loose floorboard, and I fall unceremoniously to the floor. You stir, and before I know it, your voice is calling my name. Your pajama clad figure looms in the doorway.

“Moony? What in blazes?” You stop to help me up, but my weight cannot be supported on the limb.

You carry me down the stairs, careful not to rouse your mother’s portrait. In the kitchen, you let me sit on the cold marble counter top. Like a faithful puppy, you fetch my wand. I hear you mumble a simple healing charm, and the pain in my ankle subsides. Now, all I have to deal with is your gaze once more.

“Thank you, Padfoot,” I manage to whisper. My voice is huskier than I intended, and I thank Merlin for the darkness that hides my blush from you. You stand up and look me in the eye. I cannot look away. “You’re welcome, Moony.” Something sparkles in your eye as the waxing moon catches its glint. I see my reflection in the deep depths.

I can’t look at myself any longer, and I close my eyes.

Biting my lip, I dare to open my eyes again and see your face closer to mine, a worried look creating faint lines on your forehead. I lost you once before to Azkaban, and I thought I’d never be able to kiss you….I lost you after I found your innocence, and I thought a hug was all I’d have from you.

I slide off the counter top; your hands support my hips as you help me down. They linger there before reluctantly leaving. Why? I smile as I bring them back. “Sirius.” You look up at your name, tearing your gaze from what I think to be my lips.

I touch you. I caress your skin. I let myself do these things I’ve only thought of…you don’t pull away. I run my fingers through your hair. Let them trace the hard line of your structured jaw. Let them feel your still cherry stained lips. Then, finally, I let my lips brush against yours.