FIC: Every Love and Each Regret 2.2
Jul. 29th, 2008 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesEvery Love and Each Regret [Formerly Untitled Series]
Part 2, Chapter 2
R
Sirius/OMC
Lyrics from Matchbox 20's 3 a.m.
it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault
Sirius is drunk, so drunk. God, he doesn't think he's ever been this drunk in his life. Drunk enough not to care that right now Remus is off meeting someone who he won't tell Sirius about. Off meeting someone who is at best a lover and at worst an enemy. Except that friends and enemies are all tangled up together now, and Sirius doesn't know what to think so he opts for getting drunk enough not to think. He never wants to think again, not about Remus, not about the war, not about himself.
The boy in his arms is probably about eighteen, and although Sirius isn't much older, he feels disgusting, like a dirty old man taking advantage of some dumb kid who doesn't have a clue what this is really about. Sirius has his hand down the back of the boy's trousers and he's far enough gone not to care that they’re in an alleyway, just minutes from the flat. The boy's own hands are fluttering across Sirius' back and down to his hips, pulling him closer. It makes him ache because once, long ago, before they grew confident and then complacent in their knowledge of one another, Remus had touched him like that.
Sirius presses kisses down the side of the boy's neck - just as Remus likes - feels him squirm, and hears a breathless whimper. He clumsily pushes the boy's hair - light brown, of course - away from his face, making sure not to meet his eyes because they're wrong, they're just brown and flat and boring, with no flecks of gold or indefinable light. Dimly, through the rush of alcohol and the pounding of anger-resentment-guilt-heartache Sirius hears the boy saying,
"Rather do this in a bed."
There's an obvious attempt at coquetry in his voice, but Sirius can hear right through to the boy's very genuine concern that Sirius will want to fuck him right here in the alleyway. Instead he nods blearily and steps back, tipping his head in the direction of his flat. They don't speak as they walk, and Sirius wonders if he's really going to do this, or if he will sober up first.
The boy tries to slide an arm around Sirius' waist, but Sirius takes the chance to cross the road, shrugging him off. He doesn't want this to be affectionate, he doesn't even want the boy - Mark or Mike and fucking Julian for all Sirius knows - to talk. He has a superficial resemblance to Remus and for now, as far into the bottle as Sirius is, that seems a good enough reason.
Sirius hustles MarkorMike through the living room and into the bedroom. He notices Mark - he decides arbitrarily that it's Mark - noticing that two people clearly share this room. He gives Sirius a puzzled look and Sirius submits to a brief kiss to stave off any awkward questions. He pushes Mark down onto the bed and struggles out of his own jeans, hopping awkwardly and thinking how once, years ago, Remus would have laughed at him for that. Mark only watches in silence.
Sirius fucks him from behind and focuses his eyes on the hair instead of the smooth, scar free back and he can just, just pretend that this is Remus, that they have gone back to being eighteen and happy. Mark seems to have finally picked up on the fact that this has nothing at all to do with him but he doesn't seem to mind enough to tell Sirius to stop, or even raise the slightest objection. He's basically silent as Sirius moves over him and in him. Sirius bites his lips because he knows exactly what name will spill out if he doesn't.
He feels sick already and he knows without a doubt that half-absent duty sex with a lover he doesn't trust is still a million times better than drunk confused angry sex with a stranger. Still though he can't stop because it's been a long time, and Mark is so tight, and he looks just enough like Remus through Sirius' drunken eyes to maintain the fantasy. He wants to come, wants it to end, so he tightens his grip on Mark's hips, pulls him up and drives into him with short, half-angry thrusts.
He thinks it's sweat at first, and carries on telling himself that even as he twists his head to dash his tears away on his shoulder. This is so fucking wrong, and he doesn't want to be here, but he doesn't want to be anywhere else either, especially not with Remus, in a room full of silence and unasked questions.
When he finishes it's brief and messy and unsatisfactory for both of them and Mark looks at him with raised eyebrows. Sirius ignores him and tries to calm his hitching breath, wiping a hand over his face. He feels abruptly, completely filthy and knows that it's done. It's over.
There's no way he can keep this from Remus.
"Get out," he says.
three days later...
Part 2, Chapter 2
R
Sirius/OMC
Lyrics from Matchbox 20's 3 a.m.
it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault
Sirius is drunk, so drunk. God, he doesn't think he's ever been this drunk in his life. Drunk enough not to care that right now Remus is off meeting someone who he won't tell Sirius about. Off meeting someone who is at best a lover and at worst an enemy. Except that friends and enemies are all tangled up together now, and Sirius doesn't know what to think so he opts for getting drunk enough not to think. He never wants to think again, not about Remus, not about the war, not about himself.
The boy in his arms is probably about eighteen, and although Sirius isn't much older, he feels disgusting, like a dirty old man taking advantage of some dumb kid who doesn't have a clue what this is really about. Sirius has his hand down the back of the boy's trousers and he's far enough gone not to care that they’re in an alleyway, just minutes from the flat. The boy's own hands are fluttering across Sirius' back and down to his hips, pulling him closer. It makes him ache because once, long ago, before they grew confident and then complacent in their knowledge of one another, Remus had touched him like that.
Sirius presses kisses down the side of the boy's neck - just as Remus likes - feels him squirm, and hears a breathless whimper. He clumsily pushes the boy's hair - light brown, of course - away from his face, making sure not to meet his eyes because they're wrong, they're just brown and flat and boring, with no flecks of gold or indefinable light. Dimly, through the rush of alcohol and the pounding of anger-resentment-guilt-heartache Sirius hears the boy saying,
"Rather do this in a bed."
There's an obvious attempt at coquetry in his voice, but Sirius can hear right through to the boy's very genuine concern that Sirius will want to fuck him right here in the alleyway. Instead he nods blearily and steps back, tipping his head in the direction of his flat. They don't speak as they walk, and Sirius wonders if he's really going to do this, or if he will sober up first.
The boy tries to slide an arm around Sirius' waist, but Sirius takes the chance to cross the road, shrugging him off. He doesn't want this to be affectionate, he doesn't even want the boy - Mark or Mike and fucking Julian for all Sirius knows - to talk. He has a superficial resemblance to Remus and for now, as far into the bottle as Sirius is, that seems a good enough reason.
Sirius hustles MarkorMike through the living room and into the bedroom. He notices Mark - he decides arbitrarily that it's Mark - noticing that two people clearly share this room. He gives Sirius a puzzled look and Sirius submits to a brief kiss to stave off any awkward questions. He pushes Mark down onto the bed and struggles out of his own jeans, hopping awkwardly and thinking how once, years ago, Remus would have laughed at him for that. Mark only watches in silence.
Sirius fucks him from behind and focuses his eyes on the hair instead of the smooth, scar free back and he can just, just pretend that this is Remus, that they have gone back to being eighteen and happy. Mark seems to have finally picked up on the fact that this has nothing at all to do with him but he doesn't seem to mind enough to tell Sirius to stop, or even raise the slightest objection. He's basically silent as Sirius moves over him and in him. Sirius bites his lips because he knows exactly what name will spill out if he doesn't.
He feels sick already and he knows without a doubt that half-absent duty sex with a lover he doesn't trust is still a million times better than drunk confused angry sex with a stranger. Still though he can't stop because it's been a long time, and Mark is so tight, and he looks just enough like Remus through Sirius' drunken eyes to maintain the fantasy. He wants to come, wants it to end, so he tightens his grip on Mark's hips, pulls him up and drives into him with short, half-angry thrusts.
He thinks it's sweat at first, and carries on telling himself that even as he twists his head to dash his tears away on his shoulder. This is so fucking wrong, and he doesn't want to be here, but he doesn't want to be anywhere else either, especially not with Remus, in a room full of silence and unasked questions.
When he finishes it's brief and messy and unsatisfactory for both of them and Mark looks at him with raised eyebrows. Sirius ignores him and tries to calm his hitching breath, wiping a hand over his face. He feels abruptly, completely filthy and knows that it's done. It's over.
There's no way he can keep this from Remus.
"Get out," he says.
three days later...