[fic] Names (R/S, R)

[rynne]

First of all, happy Mother's Day to all the mothers on my flist! All of you amaze me, because I can't imagine myself doing what you do every day. <3!

Second of all, raelala is now a Master of Arts, and a bunch of her friends created the_lint_trap (it catches the fluff, you know) as a graduation present. Here's what I wrote for her.

Title: Names
Author: Rynne
Rating: R
Word count: 705
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Summary: Names have power.
Author's notes: HAPPY GRADUATION, RAE! Gratuitous fluff, just for you! <3


Names have power.

It isn’t necessarily a life-or-death sort of power, but it’s power all the same. For if names are nothing more than a convenient thing to call a person, then why does Remus shiver pleasantly whenever he thinks Sirius, or get caught up in thoughts of mouths and tongues rough against skin whenever lips form those particular syllables?

“Remus,” Sirius says, and his name has power, too, when it’s Sirius who speaks it. When Sirius says Remus in just that way, with a voice husky and caressing, Remus’s eyes dilate and his throat parches and his cock hardens, and he wants. Oh, how he wants.

“Sirius,” Remus says, and loves the taste of the name on the tip of his tongue. He kisses the corner of Sirius’s mouth, murmuring, “Sirius, Sirius, Sirius,” until it’s a litany that has its own power too, because it can make Sirius shiver and shake and try to hold Remus down and kiss him until their names catch in each other’s throats and make it hard to breathe.

“I love you I love you I love you,” Sirius says, his hands running through Remus’s hair, lightly down his arms, dancing across the smooth planes of his chest. “Remus. Remus.”

“Sirius,” Remus sighs in return, and leans into Sirius’s touch. His bones are melting and he can’t move, can’t do anything but let Sirius do what he wants. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” Sirius murmurs, and his hands come to rest on Remus’s hips, so warm above the worn flannel of the pyjama bottoms, and getting warmer, hot enough that Remus feels he’ll soon have burn marks in the shape of Sirius’s hands on his skin, and never before has he so looked forward to getting marks on his body. Sirius makes the difference, Remus thinks, the name having delicious power inside his mind to turn something horrible into something beautiful.

But then, “Go on,” Remus says, shifting his hips, feeling impatient. Hands on old flannel feel good, but he knows from experience that hands on smooth flesh feel better, and right now, he wants Sirius’s hands on his skin with everything he is.

Sirius laughs at his impatience, a chuffling noise right above his belly, and then he leans forward to kiss it and wraps his arms around Remus’s waist to hold them tight against each other.

“Be patient,” Sirius says, and steps back just enough for him to ease the pyjama bottoms slowly off Remus’s hips. But he’s going so slowly, so, so slowly, and Remus just wants to growl and rip the flannel away, but then Sirius is nipping the skin around his belly and hipbones, and he doesn’t want to do anything to interrupt, doesn’t want to make Sirius stop.

Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Remus chants inside his mind, unable to say anything more coherent than a moan out loud. The name feels almost as good in his mind as on his tongue, bringing up other memories of times like this, when Sirius is kneeling in front of him with Remus’s cock in his mouth. The syllables of Sirius’s name seem to caress and stroke his mind the same way that Sirius’s tongue is caressing and stroking his cock, and he doesn’t want to concentrate on anything but the feel of both, holding onto them with a fierceness that would have surprised him if he hadn’t realized long ago that Sirius has this effect on him.

Then the world seems to crystallize for a moment, and the sun rises in Remus’s eyes—and then explodes right in front of him, enveloping him in heat, and he cries, “SiriusSiriusSirius,” as he comes.

The flannel is in a puddle at his feet and Sirius is still fully clothed, but he doesn’t care. His spine has melted and his thoughts are floating, and he feels so deliciously warm. Then Sirius stands them up and leads them to his bed, minus Remus’s pyjamas, and lays them down on it and pillows Remus’s head on his chest. Remus closes his eyes and listens to Sirius’s heartbeat and thinks Sirius, and the rises and falls of the name in his mind become a comforting mantra that lulls him to sleep.

Comments

[twilekangel.livejournal.com]

Woho, fluffy pr0n! Exactly what the doctor prescribed, thank you.

[rynne.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it!