Rating: Soft R
It was a slow ascent from the murky depths of sleep. He was weary and his bones ached constantly now; he believed that the years had earned him the right not to be risen with the sun. But unfortunately his partner had taken to a light and short slumber as the years had passed - even if usually he knew not to rouse the werewolf before midday.
And yet something nagged and tugged at him to wake up now, something more insisting than the cruel sharp light that swept in from a crack in the heavy curtains that one of them always forgot to close properly for the night. Why had the other man called him by his childhood nickname?
"Moony, wake up. Wake up!"
The werewolf opened one eye experimentally, and then closed it before opening the other, a deep groan signaling that he was on his way to the land of the woken. Even though his back and shoulders protested, quite noisily to his own ears, he rolled over to face the other presence in the bed. Just to stop the man from yanking at his pyjama-top, mind. Where was the fire, Sirius?
"Mmmupgurl," he managed, burrowing deeper into his pillow, and hoping that if he pulled the blanket over his head the other man would take the hint. "Zxbithut?"
Oh, he was chuckling now, the bastard. Sirius Black, always wanting to live dangerously. Wheezy laughter reached his ears through the thick cloth, probably making his still-handsome face shine in a way that despite the lines made it look decades younger. He knew that it was rare enough of a sight that it most likely was worth giving up the comfort of the warm nest he'd made for himself.
"I'm up," he tried again. And as he opened his eyes he was greeted to the sight of the other's crinkled in mischievous mirth, a bony hand brushing his rough cheek in a gentle wish of a good morning. And then his field of vision was obscured by a sea of white, thin and silky wisps of it tickling his nose as dry lips pressed against his forehead.
"So am I, as it were," the other man said as he pulled back, the happy chuckle still perfectly present in his voice. "Would you look at this?"
Remus let his gaze drop down to what the other man was beaming so proudly at, and had to suck in his lips so as not to burst out in a surprised chuckle himself. Would you look at that, indeed. The juvenile giddiness became mixed with awe and reverie as the werewolf continued staring at the impressive tenting at the front of the other man's blue-striped bottoms. He managed to tear his eyes off it only enough to catch a glimpse of his partner's cocky grin before just the fact of its being there demanded his full attention again.
He hadn't realized what his hand was doing until he saw his fingers tugging down the waistband of the other man's trousers, dragging them down and over the bulge to better be able to admire this rare spectacle. And sure enough there it was, the picture of something he knew neither of them had seen for many, many years. A perfect jutting erection without a wrinkle in sight. The head of it round and purple and glistening, and so very inviting. Asking him to kiss it, it was.
"No, don't! Don't," Sirius yelped, palm landing on the werewolf's thin shoulder to still him. But his pale eyes were still laughing as he leaned back against the bed's headboard in smug contentment. "I want to enjoy it as long as it lasts. They don't come every day, these, my friend."
"Don't I know it," the werewolf said with a bit of a smirk, and decided to crawl up to peck a kiss on the old bugger's lips instead. He wouldn't wish Sirius a good morning, how ever, because he was supposed to be acting cranky for being woken up so early, and because it was obvious that the priggish sod was having a perfectly good morning, as it were. What he hadn't accounted for was Sirius opening his mouth for him in the manner of years ago, the man's tongue teasing his lips and beckoning his own to plunge in. And he did, closing his eyes and letting the wave of it wash him over.
It was disgusting, really. The bitter taste of morning mingling and mixing with the bitter taste of morning. But it was sweet and soft, also. The way after all the years Sirius would still surrender to him so completely. Just the thought of it made the blood course through him faster, warming the chill of his old joints that he had thought permanent by now. He could still feel the buzzing of it in his ears as he had to draw back for breath.
"Hm?" the man thus dubbed mewed absently, pale cheeks flushed as he slowly battled to reopen his eyes. A cocked eyebrow and a nudge of his head from Remus invited his attention southward, to where something not quite as soft as it ought to have been -- they were positively ancient, the both of them, for Merlin's sake -- was rubbing against his hip. Sirius found himself grinning again, deciding that it would be only polite to greet this rare visitor, as was proper. "Well, hel-lo there."
"Padfoot!" Remus tried very hard to make his squeal sound indignant, batting the other man as he -- by the feel of it, he was really laughing too hard to be able to tell -- attempted to give him a handshake to somewhere that could hardly have been mistaken for his hand, an extremity though it certainly was. Snuggling closer to the old dog that had been his partner through thick and thin he waited for the heaves of laughter to subside, so that maybe they could make use of this most auspicious of circumstances. After all, Lord knew when they'd get such jolly visitors again.