Current mood:	cheerful
Current music:	she holds the hand that holds her down, she will rise above
Entry tags:	sirius/remus:dogdays

day 14: Burning Up
dogdaysofsummer day 14: Burning Up | 679 words

Burning Up

Sirius's hands are cool against his back, gentle, and Remus thinks he's going to die. Not because of the sunburn, which, truth be told, is far more painful than he'd like to admit, but he can't cop to that without exposing himself to some serious mockery, and it's not like he's not used to bearing incredible amounts of pain anyway, but because Sirius keeps touching him, and he's not rough, not thoughtless, not careless. It reminds Remus of full moon mornings, when Sirius eases him back into the creaky old bed in the shack and tucks a blanket around him, and then turns back into Padfoot, somehow knowing how much Remus needs to cling to someone or something on those mornings, and it's just easier to cling to a dog than to one's best mate. Fewer questions that way, and Remus avoids questions, especially ones about why it's always Sirius and never the others he wants to cling to.

Nobody would ever believe Sirius could be so gentle, and Remus hasn't told them, because one, he doesn't want to sound like a girl, and two, nobody would believe him anyway. And three, which he won't even admit to himself, he doesn't want anyone else to know this side of Sirius. He wants to believe Sirius is only like this with him. He knows that's foolish, knows that James must know, and the dozens of girls Sirius has dated over the past three years must have seen this side of him, as well, and felt the gentle touch of those long, deft fingers on their skin, more intimately than Remus has. But as long as he doesn't mention it, nobody can tell him he's wrong.

Remus thinks Sirius should become a healer -- he has the hands for it, the touch, better than some of those hamfisted fools at St. Mungo's who treat him roughly because they're afraid that even contact with his blood can contaminate them, better even than Pomfrey, sometimes, who has so many other students to look after that she is occasionally perfunctory with him, especially in the years since Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail have joined him and his injuries are fewer and less severe.

Sirius rubs soothing salve over his burned skin, murmuring cooling charms in a low, rough voice, and Remus's body responds, even in the midst of stinging pain. He's grateful he's lying on his belly, so Sirius can't see his reaction. Because he has no wish to watch those grey eyes harden in disdain, to lose the touch of those skilled fingers on his skin.

He rests his forehead against the pillow and has almost relaxed -- the pain is gone but he isn't ready yet to have Sirius stop touching him, so he says nothing, enjoying the attention while he can -- when he feels the brush of something else along his shoulders -- lighter, more delicate than fingers. He holds himself still, and there it is again, tickling like the touch of butterfly's wings.

"Sirius?" he asks, his voice a hoarse croak.

"Moony," Sirius answers, his lips nearly touching Remus's ear, warm breath making him shiver.

He turns his head and Sirius is right there. "What--" His question is cut off by the warm press of Sirius's lips against his, the wet-slick of Sirius's tongue teasing his mouth open and fluttering against his in a jittery question.

Remus is too stunned to answer for a moment, but then he responds, sliding his tongue over Sirius's hungrily, feverishly. He attempts to roll over without breaking the kiss, hands coming up to slide through Sirius's soft, dark hair, but their position is too awkward and they slip apart. He laughs nervously, breathlessly, still afraid this might be some kind of joke, but Sirius's eyes are solemn, intent.

"Remus," he says this time, and Remus answers, "Yes."

The heat now blossoming beneath Remus's skin has nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the bright star in his arms, each kiss adding fuel to the fire between them, which Remus hopes will never be quenched.

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Feedback is adored.

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The prompt was sunburn, which I'd been hoping for, having the idea for this ficlet in my mind since this whole exercise started. *g* I'm also hoping thunderstorms will show up at some point, because mmm...thunderstorms...

Also, does anyone have a copy of "Burning Up" by Madonna they could send me? It's the only one of her songs that I like that I don't have. pirate.satellite @ gmail.com.