DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s (quoted at the beginning and end of the story) is from the King James Bible.

Posted by: Elspeth (AKA Elspethdixon).

Author’s notes: * Warning: This fic contains two guys making out.  We’ve gone way beyond kissing, y’all. *  This fic is dedicated to Taira, who bribed me into writing it with her beautiful fanart, and to the rest of the crew of the H.M.S Wolfstar.  I have written what is essentially a slash smutfic to the Song of Solomon.  I think there’s a possibility that I may burn in Hell for this—and if so, y’all are coming with me.

 

A Seal Upon Thine Heart

My beloved is white and ruddy,

The chiefest among ten thousand.

His head is as the most fine gold;

His locks are bushy, and black as a raven:

His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the river of waters,

Washed with milk, and fitly set:

His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:

His lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh:

His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:

His belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires:

His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold:

His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars:

His mouth is most sweet, he is altogether lovely.

This is my beloved, this is my friend.

 

The moonlight poured down onto the balcony of the little flat, tucked away in a rather less-than-nice corner of London.  It glinted off the rusting cast iron railing, softened the hard cement of the balcony floor, and turned the giant black telescope resting on it’s tripod into an otherworldly tangle of shadows and silver light, it’s long shadow stretching through the sliding glass doors and across the carpet of the room beyond them like a finger pointing straight toward the bed against the room’s far wall.

            The same moonlight poured out over the sheets and blankets like water, turning the pale figure lay there into a statue of alabaster and shadow, dark hair floating like black feathers over the pillows.

            “Moony,” the voice, weighted with a solid East End accent that rendered it distinctly less than ethereal, broke into Remus’s reverie, “you goin’ to stand there in the doorway admirin’ me all night or are you gonna get over here and kiss me?”

            Remus’s feet suddenly seemed griped by a strange sort or paralysis.  Sirius was not peacefully asleep, as he had thought, but awake and watching him, eyes gleaming in the darkness like pale twin moons.  That stare, heavy with an invitation that he had long ago ever given up hoping for, seemed to pin him against the doorjamb, freezing him in place like an animal trapped by hunters.

            “I know you’re watching me,” Sirius continued.  “You waitin’ for an engraved invitation, or what?”  He rolled off the bed in one smooth movement, gliding with the cat-footed step of a veteran of countless auror unarmed combat classes.  He stopped a few steps away from Remus, clearly waiting for some sort of response.         

            “I thought you were asleep,” Remus whispered.  Sirius slept in nothing but boxer shorts, and the planes and muscles of his chest and stomach were thrown into sharp relief by the moonlight.  He was beautiful.  Well, alright, perhaps not beautiful—he had a bit too much body hair for beautiful—but certainly breathtaking.

            Sirius cocked his head to one side slightly, a gestured borrowed from his animagus form.  “D’you watch me sleep a lot?”

            Remus simply smiled.  He wasn’t going to admit that watching Sirius sleep had become a regular practice of his over the past few months, a guilty pleasure stolen during the small hours of the night, when his flatmate wouldn’t be able to feel the eyes memorizing the lines of his face and body.  Even now that they were officially More Than Flatmates, he still had no intention of confessing his late night reveries.  They were too special, too secret, and above all, far too mushy and girly sounding.  “You’re cute when you sleep,” he said instead.  “Quiet.  Still.  It’s the only time that you’re ever either.”

            “I’ve also got a dog animagus’s hearin’ and a year’s worth of trainin’ from Mad-Eye Moody, the most paranoid man on earth.”  He smiled, teeth glinting white.  “I know when I’m being watched.”  The smile changed subtly, became a fraction more tentative, a bit shy.  He reached up with his left hand and pushed a lock of hair back behind his ear.  “Do you want to come in, an’ do a bit more than just watch?”

            Remus actually felt his ears go hot.  Sirius had a gift for making the most innocuous seeming statements sound lascivious in the extreme.  A few moments later, when he’d taken those few steps across the moonlight striped carpet toward the other man, he realized that the statement had sounded lascivious because it had been lascivious.

            One hand settled on his shoulder and the other reached up to cup his face, fingers gently tracing along his jawline, cheekbone, brows, sliding through the short hair at his temple…

            “I could practically hear your thoughts all week.  ‘Let’s take things slow.  Let’s not rush into this.  Now that I’ve got him, please, God, don’t let me scare him away.’”  Sirius paused and looked straight into Remus’s eyes pupils dilated by the darkness until he looked as if he’d been drinking.  But Remus could tell, from this close, that he hadn’t been.  “I’m a drunk, Moony,” Sirius whispered, “not a monk.  Even if the two words do rhyme.  And I want to pick up where that kiss the other day left off.”

            “I don’t think you’re either,” Remus whispered back, tilting his face up towards Sirius’s.  “You’d better not be, when I’m done with you.”

            He leaned forward, sliding his own arms around Sirius’s waist and laying his lips gently against Sirius’s.  Sirius closed his eyes and opened his mouth and set about proving that he was a much, much better kisser than Lily, or Fuschia White, or that one girl from Ravenclaw.  If nothing else, all of those annoying girls he’d dated had definitely been good practice.

            The two of them stumbled back across the room, until the bed caught Sirius in the back of the knees and he fell backwards across it, Remus on top of him.  Calloused fingertips were sliding up under Remus’s shirt, caressing his skin in feather light touches.  He bent forwards, drawing his lips down the line of Sirius’s throat, down across his chest, tongue flicking out over the smooth scar tissue cutting across his shoulder.  Sirius made an odd noise deep in his throat and arced his back up, head thrown back so that the whole column of his throat was exposed.  One of his hands slid lower, down Remus’s stomach and below the waistband of his briefs, almost tickling as it brushed ever-so-lightly across his abdominal muscles.  The other slid upwards, brushing across his nipple, starting a tingling burn in his blood as if every nerve there were hotwired to his groin.

            “Oh God.”

            “You want me to stop?” Sirius asked, voice slightly breathy.  “ ’Cause if so, you’d better say now, and stop doing that thing with your tongue before-” his voice cut off in a long groan as Remus let his tongue continue what it was doing.  Sirius’s skin had a very appealing taste, all salt and sweat and hair and just the slightest hint of motorbike oil.  The moonlight pouring in through the balcony doors was whispering things to his blood, tickling at the back of his mind, producing images of things like dens, and puppies, and mating, all of which were completely inappropriate to the situation.  Still, it made a part of him wonder what it would be like to have Padfoot’s fur between his jaws instead of Sirius’s skin beneath his tongue.

            Sirius groaned as Remus fastened his mouth down on top of the other man’s once more, teeth pulling at each other’s lips and tongues thrusting together.  His hips thrust upward and his hands cupped Remus’s buttocks, grinding the two of them together, and bare moments later, Remus, trailing frantic kisses once again down that lovely, exposed, submissive throat, sank his teeth into Sirius’s flesh.  Hard. 

            Sirius made a groaning sort of cry, and dug short fingernails hard into Remus’s skin, and then everything was hands and teeth and salty, sweaty flesh.

 

^_~

 

            The next morning, Remus woke to find the two of them twinned around each other in Sirius’s bed, Sirius’s head on Remus’s stomach and their legs tangled together.  Sirius sleeping in sunlight, he decided, was exponentially more beautiful than Sirius sleeping in the moonlight.  For one thing, the golden light of early morning illuminated every hair on his chest and arms, making them glint golden brown when viewed from just the right angle.  For another, it picked out all the tiny freckles across his shoulders, adorable and quite invisible by moonlight.  And finally, it lit up every inch of that sharp-cheekboned, crooked-nosed face, all angular planes and hollows and just made for an artist to sketch, if only Remus had had any artistic talent.

            He ran the fingers of his one free hand lightly over Sirius’s hair, not wanting to wake him just yet.  Last night had been… incredible.  That was the only word for it.  Worth every week of lonely misery spent wondering if Sirius could ever return his feelings, worth every evening spent dragging Sirius home from the Leakey Caldron and other such establishments, worth all the hours of worry when squads of aurors were deployed against Voldemort’s Death Eaters and Sirius pulled double shifts of overtime…  Well, perhaps it wasn’t really enough to compensate for the worry and the danger, but at the time it had come pretty damn close. 

            Remus traced a fingertip ever so lightly against the dark bruise on Sirius’s neck, edged with red teeth marks, halting the motion when his mate—yes, mate—began to stir.  Sirius was his now, marked as his.  Forever, or at least, for as long as they chose to make forever last.

 

Set me as a seal upon thine heart,

As a seal upon thine arm:

For love is as strong as death;

Jealousy as cruel as the grave:

The coals thereof are coals of fire,

Which hath a most vehement flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

Neither can the floods drown it.