Work Text:
Sirius Black has lived a relatively normal life in his thirty two years, and he likes everything he’s built for himself. He has his brother, his best friend, and his bookstore. Everything is perfect, but he still feels like there’s something missing. A small crack inside his chest that nothing has ever been able to fill. He’s gotten used to the feeling, though. It’s there—always present—but Sirius has just accepted it. Because again, he has everything he could want.
Moonbeam Books has been extremely successful in the past decade. Sirius’ parents thought he was crazy for dropping out of Uni to open a bookshop, completely disowned him for not going a traditional career route. But something about it just felt right to him. Once Regulus signed on to help with the business side of things after finishing his own Uni studies, also saying fuck you to their parents, everything fell into place.
Sirius is comfortable with his life. His days are spent stocking shelves, chatting with customers, who range from devoted readers seeking recommendations to casual browsers lost in the aisles. Between conversations and working the register, there are quieter moments spent managing the business—tracking sales, updating the store’s website, and planning upcoming events. Sirius’ days are predictable, but in an ever-changing way. No two days are the same at the shop, so it gives him a good balance. Something he’s found he needs after the chaos of his childhood. It’s the same for Regulus.
But, one Thursday, the predictability of Sirius’ life changes. All because of one encounter.
“Excuse me,” a low and smooth voice calls from behind him.
That crack that lives inside Sirius sings at the sound. He turns from where he’s shelving the new shipment of Brandon Sanderson and promptly, the breath is knocked straight from his lungs. He isn’t sure what it is about this man, but when their eyes meet, there’s a strange pull, as if something deep inside Sirius recognizes something in him. His heartbeat quickens, but not in surprise—more like the way it does in anticipation when he sees a band he loves perform live, or when he’s riding his motorcycle on a backroad and no one’s around. The man is tall, lanky, light brown curls messily sitting atop his head and a few scars littered along his face and neck. But mostly what Sirius is transfixed by are his eyes—hazel—swirls of brown and green, but the green is more prominent, contrasting nicely with the dark blue jumper he’s wearing.
They stare at each other for what feels like a beat too long before Sirius finally clears his throat and finds his ability to speak again. “Hi, sorry. What can I help you with?”
He grins, “I’m looking for Maurice by E.M. Forster. I checked the classics section but couldn’t find it.”
“Oh, yeah that’s going to be in the LGBTQ section, there’s a small classic lit section there too. Want me to show you?”
“Sure.”
Sirius gently puts the stack of Brandon Sanderson he was shelving down and leads the man down various aisles until they make it to the LGBTQ section. He runs his finger along the rows of books in the classic literature section until it snags on Maurice.
“Ah, here we go.” He pulls it out and hands it to the man, trying not to get lost in his eyes. In the passing of the book, their hands brush and at the touch, there’s a quiet, unspoken recognition stirred inside Sirius. An electric current that hums with a deep familiarity, one he can’t explain. That little crack saying yes. It’s the feeling of something long lost and suddenly rediscovered, like they’ve touched in another lifetime, in another place, and now, without words, their fingers whisper the secret.
The man’s breath hitches too, eyes gazing down at where their hands touch. Quickly, they both pull their hands away, the man holding the book close to his chest.
“Um, so are you reading Maurice for fun? Or?” Sirius asks.
“Oh, actually it’s one of my favorites. I just moved here from Wales, and somehow my copy got lost in the move of it all, and I can’t really exist without having one on my bookshelf.”
Sirius nods. “I haven’t read it,” he admits sheepishly.
The man’s eyes go wide with astonishment, “What? It’s a classic!”
“Yeah, yeah I know. I probably should read it considering we pride ourselves on being a queer owned bookshop and it's a piece of classic queer literature. I just always figured it was depressing, and I can only handle so much tragic gay media, you know?”
“No, it has a happy ending actually!”
Sirius sees the excitement sparkling in the man’s eyes as he talks about it.
“Huh, a book written that long ago that isn’t just a devastating story about queer people who are in love but can’t be?”
“Exactly. That’s one of the reasons why Maurice is so important. It was written in 1914-1915, but Forster knew it couldn’t be published at that time. It wasn’t until years after his death that it came out. So, Forster actually wrote this hopeful, positive story about queer love, but kept it hidden for decades.”
“Wow, I guess I’ll move it up my TBR,” Sirius says.
“You have to.”
They both stand quietly, neither leaving, but not much else needing to be said. Like they want to stay in the moment a bit longer, something keeping them together.
“Well, thanks for helping me find it.”
“Course, happy to help.”
The two of them stand, continuing to let the moment linger, eyes locked on each other.
“Sirius, can you come here?” Regulus’ voice rings through his earpiece.
Something in Sirius’ chest drops at the disruption. Reluctantly, he looks at the man. “I have to go; I just got a call. But um, enjoy the book. Come back anytime.” His cheeks heat.
“Thanks, I will.”
The man turns and Sirius watches as he heads towards the checkout counter. Sirius groans before heading to the back offices.
Once he makes it there, he finds Regulus sitting at the desk, spreadsheets open on his computer. His glasses slid halfway down his nose as he fumbles through paperwork.
“You called?” Sirius says, voice laced with annoyance.
“I did,” Regulus answers, not looking up. “Wait—why do you sound annoyed about it?” He looks up with a pinched expression.
Sirius thinks back to the man, the feeling he had while talking to him. Frankly, he didn’t want it to end. He probably would have found a reason to keep talking to him had Regulus not interrupted, he’s pretty good at keeping a conversation going when he wants to.
“Nothing. Sorry.” Sirius paces around Regulus’ office, fingers dragging on various books and trinkets.
”Stop touching my things. Why are you pacing?”
”Have you read Maurice?” Sirius asks.
Leaning back in his chair, Regulus slides his glasses up top of his head, mussing his curls up on the way. “Obviously.”
“Has James?”
“Yeah. But only because I read it to him.”
“You read it to him? Like a child?”
“No, Sirius. I read it to him as a couple’s activity. Something we could do together. That book is practically required reading. So obviously James had to read it.”
Sirius hums in acknowledgement.
“Why are you asking me about Maurice?”
“Oh, um. A customer was asking for it. I was still chatting with him when you called me in here.”
“Why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing.”
“You are. I see it. Your cheeks are red.”
“Shut up, Regulus.” Sirius rolls his eyes.
Regulus chuckles softly, pulling his glasses back down on his face.
“Why did you call me back here, anyways?” Sirius asks.
“Right. So, I was doing some numbers, looking ahead to forecast sales. Given the strong numbers we’ve seen for the holiday season and the upcoming release by V.E. Shwab next month, we expect an increase in sales of about 96%. We may want to plan for extra staff and stock to meet demand.”
“We can easily order more copies. But staffing—that might be tough. All the Uni kids have gone off. I suppose I could put a couple ads out online and see if I can get some short-term help?”
“You should definitely do something. If my projections are correct, which they usually are—”
“Okay, okay,” Sirius says sarcastically.
“Sorry I’m…good at my job?” Regulus says dryly.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep going with your correct projections.”
“You need to hire people.”
“Okay, I hear you. I’ll put up some signs and an ad online.”
“So,” Regulus says, “Tell me about this customer.”
“Regulus–”
“What? You don’t blush very often. I want to know more about it.”
Sirius rolls his head back. Regulus is right, he doesn’t blush very often. He also never gets Deja vu the way he did when he and the man brushed hands. Something was so familiar, but Sirius can’t place it. And the way that broken crack inside him sang at the sound of his voice…Sirius can’t stop thinking about it.
“There was just something about him,” Sirius starts, plopping himself in the chair opposite Regulus’ desk. “He had these eyes that I felt like I knew. It was strange.”
The door to the office creaks open. “What was strange?” James saunters in, coffee in hand, and makes his way around the desk to place a kiss atop Regulus’ head.
“Sirius has a crush on a customer,” Regulus jokes, taking the coffee cup.
“No way. Tell me everything.” James moves to sit on Regulus’ desk, to which Regulus rolls his eyes in response, but there’s a fond smile on his lips when he looks up at his husband.
“Please don’t mess up any of my paperwork, James. I beg you.” Regulus says collecting what must be the important bits and moving them away from James.
“Course, love. Now Sirius, tell us.”
“I don’t have a crush on him! I just met him. I don’t even know his name, actually. Damn, I should’ve asked. I just—he asked me where to find Maurice because it’s one of his favorite books and—"
“Oh, I love Maurice. Regulus read it to me a couple of years ago.”
“Yes, he told me. Cute couples activity and such. Anyways, I brought him over, and we were talking, and I don’t know…there was just something about him. It’s hard to explain, but I got this odd feeling. Like I knew him somehow, but not in a way I could place. Like everything about him felt familiar, like I’d been here before, talking to him—except I hadn't. It was like a flash of something that didn't quite fit, but was still there, hanging in the air. Like my brain couldn't catch up with what it was trying to remember." Sirius paused, still trying to shake off the unease. "I can’t stop thinking about him."
“Woah. That’s wild, mate.”
“I should have asked for his name.”
“Hey, if there’s some weird cosmic thing between you two, maybe he’ll come back!”
“Or maybe he’ll come back because we’re one of the only queer owned bookstores in the area, and I’d bet he’s probably queer if he said Maurice is one of his favorite books,” Regulus follows up flatly.
The three of them chat for a bit longer before Regulus shoos the two of them out of the office to get back to work. James heads back to the cafe in the bookstore while Sirius goes back to stock more shelves. The man with the light brown curls, the green hazel eyes, and the faded scars along his face and neck floating through his mind the rest of the day.
________________________________
Sirius thinks about the man at least once a day for the next two weeks. Every time the little bell on top of the door to the shop rings, Sirius’ eyes snap over hoping to find a head of brown curls and hazel eyes. His stomach drops a bit every time it’s not him.
It’s Saturday morning, which means the rush of customers who want an early morning coffee and to peruse the shop while they drink will start soon.
“Think he’ll show up today?” James asks.
Sirius runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t know. It’s been two weeks, and I mean, unless he has a book he wants I don’t really see why he would come back.”
“Sometimes people just like walking around a bookshop, though. There’s still a chance he’ll come. And if he does, you should get his number—or at the very least, his name.”
“I know, I know. I will.”
The bell rings at the front of the shop, and when Sirius turns his head, as if it's divine intervention, his heart jumps up into his throat.
Because there he is.
Brown hair, hazel eyes, an oversized patterned jumper, he comes walking in. Sirius isn’t aware that his feet are carrying him over until he’s right next to the man.
“Finish Maurice already?”
The man smiles, it’s warm and reaches up to his eyes. “I’ve read it a thousand times. I’m here for something I haven’t read, now.”
“Anything I can help you find?” Sirius offers, desperately hoping he’ll say yes just so they can have more time to chat.
His eyes rove over Sirius’ face, and the weight of his stare brings heat to Sirius’ cheeks.
“Yeah, I’m looking for In Memoriam by Alice Winn.”
“Another tragic gay love story?” Sirius quips.
“You could say that,” he grins.
Sirius takes him over to the LGBTQ fiction section, running his finger along all the spines until it lands on the one he wants. When their hands touch in the pass, a small gasp falls from the other man, along with a little shock of electricity that could be chalked up to typical static, but it feels more…cosmic than that. Like that brief contact between the two of them had sparked something unspoken, but deeply known between them, the bustling bookshop around them going quiet at the touch.
The man pulls back, holding his book close to his chest. “So, uh—”
“I’m Sirius,” Sirius blurts out. “Uh, by the way.” He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and when he looks back at the man his lips are curled up into a small grin. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Remus.”
Remus.
Even the name rolling through his mind sounds familiar. Like a song he’s heard before and never forgotten the words to.
“Look, I know this is probably going to seem….forward….but would you want to get dinner? I remember you said you just moved here recently, and I know some really great places in the area. If you’re interested, of course.” His cheeks burn immediately. Not out of embarrassment, but purely because he’s nervous Remus will say no.
Remus smiles, “I’d love that. Are you busy tonight?”
“Hm, well…a bit forward aren’t you?” Sirius tucks his chin, fluttering his eyelashes.
Remus smirks, pulling his lips between his teeth. “Just following suit, you know?”
A smile stretches across Sirius’ face. “Tonight is perfect. Give me your phone and I’ll add my number.”
________________________________
As the hours tick closer to the date, Sirius wonders if maybe he overstepped inviting Remus out. It’s not like they know each other, even if he does feel like he knows him in some weird way.
Sirius stares at his closet, feeling the weight of choosing the perfect outfit. After trying on a few options, and hating each one, he settles on his favorite vintage Kinks t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. Simple, but it feels very him. He’s having a particularly good hair day, his dark waves falling perfectly just a bit past his shoulders. He tries a half bun, but ultimately decides against it. Running a hand through to smooth the waves out once more from his failed bun attempt, he looks in the mirror one final time, feeling as satisfied with his appearance as he can. Nerves are rattling around his gut, and Sirius keeps trying to remind himself that this is normal.
He hasn’t been on a date in a while, so the first date jitters are strong. Everyone Sirius has ever dated has never felt quite…right. Always something that didn’t quite click. Which is why it feels so odd with Remus. Something clicked between them instantly, leaving Sirius drawn to him, mind on a loop of his face, his hair, his voice.
A notification from his phone jolts him.
James [18:52]
good luck tonight!
Sirius [18:53]
Thanks he should be here soon to pick me up
Was this too forward to invite him out? I mean we barely know each other.
Regulus [18:55]
Probably.
James [18:55]
REG
it’s not. he said yes!
Sirius [18:56]
Fuck you Reggie
Regulus [18:57]
You asked.
James [18:58]
you can’t say anything love
we fucked on our first date
Regulus [18:58]
That was different.
Sirius [18:58]
No it’s not and also disgusting
Sirius grimaces at his phone as another text comes in.
Regulus [18:59]
Get over it, Sirius. We’ve been together for 10 years. We fuck.
Sirius [18:59]
Plugging my ears and pretending I can’t hear you.
James [18:59]
speaking of plugs…
Regulus [18:59]
James.
Sirius [19:00]
JAMES.
Anyways he’s gonna be here any minute
James [19:00]
GOOD LUCK
Sirius opens the door, and the breath is once again knocked from him, reminiscent of the first time he saw Remus in the bookshop. The sight of him sends Sirius’ heart whooshing into his stomach, goosebumps breaking out all over making the hair on his arms stand at attention. Eyes raking down Remus’ body, Sirius takes in his dark brown jumper, swallowing when he eyes his fitted black trousers. When his gaze makes it back up to Remus’ face, there’s a knowing smirk there, a gleam in his eye.
“Hi,” he says, softly.
“Hi,” Sirius says, warmth filling his cheeks. “You look—”
“You too,” Remus finishes. A long pause fills the space between them, Sirius rocks back on his heels, and Remus pins him with a heated stare. A blush blooms on both their faces, and Sirius thinks how cute it looks on him. “You ready?”
Sirius nods, throwing on his favorite leather jacket and they head out the door.
The walk to the pub is quick, the biting January air contrasting the warmth spreading through Sirius’ body as he and Remus talk. Conversation flows easier than he expects for two people who barely know each other. Something about Remus feels easy, intrinsic. He learns about his life in Wales, and what brought him to London—Uni—getting a Master’s Degree in English. How his goal is to teach, and how he’s always had this wild dream of getting to be in a library after hours, alone with all the books and how peaceful he thinks it would be. Sirius tells Remus about the boarding school he and Regulus went to, where he met James. Remus tells him about a gnarly car accident he was in as a teenager, about his best friend Lily who he met when he was in Uni.
The entire walk to the pub Sirius wonders if maybe they’ll touch again, craving that feeling he got the other times their skin brushed—wanting to know if it will happen again. Remus walks with his hands tucked into his pockets, and Sirius matches it, his own hands tucked away. But every so often their elbows will knock, and it sends a flutter into Sirius’ stomach. Sometimes, Remus will glance over, and their eyes will meet, and Sirius feels as if the air itself thickens, pressing down on him like a weighted blanket.
Dinner goes similarly. There’s never a lull in conversion, and when there is it’s because one or both of them is lost looking at the other. With every brush of their hands Sirius can’t shake the feelings that they’ve touched like this before. Not here, not now, but sometime somewhere. It wasn’t just the touch—it was everything about the way their hands met, like some familiar pattern he had already lived through, perhaps years ago. Sirius’ mind buzzes with questions on an endless loop.
Have we met?
Why does this feel so normal?
Do you feel it too?
It’s as if the universe is giving them a reminder that they have, in some unspoken way, always known each other.
The two of them linger outside the pub, neither seemingly wanting the night to end. Sirius’ back is pressed against the cold stone, a cigarette hanging off his lips while Remus goes on about Maurice. Sirius’ heart swells listening to him talk, and he thinks he could do this forever—that he has done it forever. Somewhere in some universe he’s listened to Remus talk endlessly about his favorite books. Sirius starts to talk about his favorite books, they have a few favorites in common. Then he moves onto his favorite bands, which ones he’s seen live and which ones Remus has seen live too. It seems they’ve overlapped in shows quite a bit over the years, and they speak with a shared energy, words tumbling over each other in excitement as they realize how many things they've done in parallel.
The night is nearly over, but Sirius isn’t ready for it to end. That’s when an idea pops into his mind.
“So, I know you said you always love the idea of libraries at night, when it’s quiet and no one else is around. Well, I can’t get us into a library, but I do happen to own a bookshop, and it’s pretty close?” Sirius asks, voice pitching up a bit nervously in an effort to spend more time with Remus.
A wide grin spreads across his face, reaching up to his eyes causing little wrinkles to appear that Sirius wants to touch. “I’d love that.”
The bookshop is just a couple of blocks from where they had dinner, and it only takes a minute for Sirius to slot his hand into Remus’, the feeling of their skin together sending jolts of warmth into his chest.
He grabs his key, nerves rolling around his stomach. Is this crazy? He thinks to himself.
They walk in, and Sirius keeps the lights on a low dim. It’s calm and quiet right now, peaceful. Sirius takes in Remus’ face and there’s a wide smile on it as he looks around.
“Did you always want to open a bookshop?” Remus asks as Sirius jumps to sit on the counter.
“Nah, not really. I never knew what I wanted to do with my life. I’m not much of a planner, but my brother loves books and we wanted to do something together. Don’t get me wrong, I love books, but not in the same way he does.”
“Hence, not having read Maurice?” He says pointedly with a smirk.
“Exactly,” Sirius chuckles. “Once he and my best mate got together, the bookshop kind of just came together. Actually, it happened because we were all drunk one night and somehow started talking about shops we could open together. James had been working as a barista through Uni while studying business and loved it more than he expected so when Regulus and I decided we would try to open a queer owned bookshop in the area, James jumped in with these big dreams of adding a cafe so people can come work and read or study. Just have a safe space for anyone who wants it.”
“That’s really great. It’s nice you get to do it with them.” Remus places his hand atop Sirius’ and a warmth spreads through his chest, filling into the space of that crack inside him.
“Yeah, it is.”
Sirius looks into Remus’ eyes, the look so inviting, he gets a bit lost.
“Remus…”
“Hmm?” Remus asks, stepping closer. Sirius instinctively opens his legs for him, inviting him in.
“I feel like since we met….I don’t know,” Sirius averts his gaze unsure if he’s about to sound crazy. “I have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach around you, like I…like I know you from somewhere.”
A small gasp escapes Remus' lips at Sirius' statement, his cheeks flushing pink as a knowing spark lights up his eyes.
“I’ve had the same feeling. It’s weird. It’s like I’ve met you before, but unless you used to live in Wales, I know I haven’t.”
Remus’ body is pressed against the counter now, as close as he can get. Arms on either side of Sirius’ body, caging him in. The air between them is charged, something larger than them drawing the two towards each other.
“Sirius,” Remus says, voice low and soft, eyes meeting Sirius’ in an almost burning stare.
His gaze lingers, and it’s heavy and magnetic. Sirius feels his breath catch, almost as if Remus’ eyes are pulling them closer, without a single word being spoken. It's a gaze that holds a thousand unspoken thoughts, and he can’t help but wonder if Remus knows the effect he’s having—if he can sense how his attention stirs something deep within Sirius.
Remus’ eyes flick down to Sirius’ lips, and he opens his mouth as if to say something.
Sirius doesn’t give him a chance before he’s fisting Remus’ jumper in his hand, pulling him the rest of the distance until their mouths meet in a crash. It’s bruising the way they kiss, teeth tugging on lips, small gasps falling from both of them. Remus’ hands thread through Sirius’ hair, gripping at the base of his skull, tipping his head back slightly for better access to deepen the kiss. Their tongues slide together in a way that’s both exploratory and familiar simultaneously.
Something unfurls in Sirius’ chest when Remus’ lips trace along his jaw, sucking down his neck.
“Rem-“ Sirius can barely get words out when a long stripe is licked up his neck, Remus taking his earlobe between his teeth.
“This feels so weird,” Remus whispers in his ear.
“Weird?” Sirius asks, pulling away a bit to meet his eyes. The hand Remus had tangled in his hair slides to cradle his cheek.
“Good weird. I—I don’t know how to describe it. It feels like I just know you and what you like. But how can that be? We barely know each other. It’s deep, like it’s in my bones or something.”
“Yeah, yeah same. It’s a good weird, but weird nonetheless.” Sirius’ hands slip underneath the hem of Remus’ jumper, the warm skin there breaking out into goosebumps as they meet again in a kiss. Sirius’ hands explore Remus’ body. He can feel scars, from the car accident he mentioned being in as a teen, his hands gentle with them. Sliding across planes of muscle, his fingers snag on something metal.
“Remus,” Sirius pants against his lips. “Do you have a fucking belly button piercing?”
Lips pulling into a smile, Remus laughs softly, “Why? Do you like it?”
Sirius nods, “Fuck, I really do,” he says as he rids Remus of his jumper exposing his entire body. Eyes roving, drinking in every inch of him that he can. Sirius worries he might be drooling, because Remus is so hot. His hands move on their own accord, lips following suit as he kisses along his chest, unable to stop tracing his skin, the raised scars, teeth biting at that belly button ring. Remus swears as Sirius pulls away, dragging his hands up higher until they're looped around Remus’ neck.
His own jacket and shirt come off quickly and Remus’ hands are now glued to Sirius’ body. Exploring every inch of him he can, squeezing his hips as he kisses down his neck. Sirius hisses when Remus bites the junction of his neck, and instantly eyes are on him, silently checking if that was okay. It’s like they don’t have to use words with each other to know what’s being said. Sirius nods, “Please, Remus.”
Remus dips in again, kissing his lips, then his jaw, nipping down his neck until he makes it back to the spot he was just on and bites once more with intention. Fingers twisting in Remus’ curls, Sirius moans. Slowly, Remus starts to undo the buttons on his pants, anticipation growing as his cock strains against his jeans.
“Is this okay? Is this what you want?” Remus asks.
Sirius nods fervently, "Yes. Yeah, I want it Remus, I really do."
Remus grins, leaning in to kiss him once more before sinking down to his knees, pulling off Sirius’ pants as he goes, leaving him in just his briefs.
Remus’ palm rubs along his shaft, only a thin piece of fabric between their skin, and his breath quickens, heart racing. He mouths at Sirius’ cock over his briefs and the room starts to go blurry. He can’t imagine what it will be like to feel Remus’ mouth on him fully.
Involuntarily bucking up, Remus laughs, fingers tucking underneath the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down until Sirius’ cock springs free, hitting his stomach leaving a trail of precome.
“Look at you, fuck Sirius, you’re gorgeous.”
The lack of touch is driving him mad. “Remus, please, fucking touch me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I thought you said you already know what I want? That you can tell?” Sirius taunts.
Inclining his head with a laugh, Remus leans in, tongue flicking at the spot underneath the head of his cock, and Sirius’ breath hitches as he bites his lip. Remus smiles, then his lips wrap around Sirius’ tip, tongue swirling sending his head in a million different directions—caught up in how warm Remus’ mouth is. As he takes Sirius in fully, the pressure of fingers digging into his thighs, Sirius resists the urge to buck his hips up, to search for more.
Remus starts moaning around his cock, and it takes everything in Sirius not to come from the sound alone. The bookshop around them seems to white at the edges, a blur of spines and shelves, and all Sirius can focus on is Remus. RemusRemusRemus.
How he feels, the heat of his mouth, the slide of his tongue, the strength of his grip on Sirius’ thighs as his hands slide back to knead at his ass. There’s no way Sirius can control himself now, his hips start rolling on their own accord, pushing himself deeper down Remus’ throat.
“Shit—sor—sorry,” Sirius says over a moan.
Remus pops off, hand wrapping around Sirius’ shaft as he looks up with those warm hazel eyes—Sirius is completely fixed on the way the shades of green and brown mix together like the earth—and smiles.
“Don’t stop,” he says, and Sirius can’t help the fuck that falls from his lips.
Remus leans back down, taking one of Sirius’ balls in his mouth, rolling the other with his fingers before his tongue traces a path all the way back up to his tip. Sirius knows he’s getting close—leaking and moaning and swearing. Remus laps it up like it's a god damn delicacy.
“Remus, you’re so good at this, I can’t—I’m not going to last.”
Remus silently looks up, lips wrapped around him and Sirius knows he’s telling him it’s okay, that Remus wants him to come.
So, Sirius does. He lets go of the last bit of resolve he has as he snaps like a rubber band pulled taut, spilling down Remus’ throat over broken cries of his name. The entire thing feeling like a distant memory blooming at the edges of his mind. Like he's been here before and some part of his genetic makeup remembers it.
Breathless, panting, and trying to regain his composure, Sirius lays back on the counter. One arm slung over his eyes, and he laughs as Remus kisses up his stomach, leaning over his body.
“You okay?” Remus asks.
“I’m fucking wonderful. That was—you are—I can’t believe that was the first time we’ve done that? It felt so…I don’t know—”
“Not like the first time?” Remus supplies.
“Yeah,” Sirius says, leaning up on his elbows. “It felt like that’s happened a thousand times.”
"I know. It was—so good. But like you said, it felt like it's happened before. I don't know how to explain it, but I'm not mad about it. It's kind of...nice, you know? I've never felt like this before."
Sirius' cheeks burn, a coy smile on his face. “What about you, though? I want to make you feel good, return the favor,” he says, eyebrows wiggling.
“Ah, maybe next time,” Remus says bashfully. “Fraid I—well," he trails off, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You were just so hot—and you tasted so good and I—” Remus’ cheeks are red, the color spreading down his neck.
“Did you,” Sirius says, eyes flicking down towards the wet spot on Remus’ pants.
He smiles in response with a shrug. Sirius leans down and kisses him.
“Look, I know it was already forward to invite you out on a date after meeting…twice. And now we’ve hooked up inside my bookshop—” Sirius starts.
Remus lets out a laugh, low and warm and it melts over Sirius’ body. “I’d really like to go on a second date, Sirius—if you’re interested.”
Sirius leans down again, kissing Remus softly, a hand cradling his jaw, “You took the words right from my mouth.”
“Remus.”
“Yeah?”
“Any chance you’d want to read me Maurice?” Sirius says over a grin.
“I’d love that," he smiles back.
The two of them clean up, and spend the next hour walking the aisles, talking books, hands clasped together like they’re melded with glue.
That crack inside Sirius starts to shrink the more time he spends with Remus.
Sirius liked his life before. It was relatively normal and he had everything he thought he wanted. But now, watching Remus take in book after book, eyes alight sending small smiles to him and pressing kisses to his lips, Sirius realizes that this is what’s been missing.