@wolfstarmicrofic — humid — 246 words — cw: suggestive Sick Sirius doesn't let go of him all morning. He follows Remus from bed to kitchen to sofa like a shadow, clinging to his arm, curling into his lap whenever he sits, pressing his face into his chest every chance he gets. He's quieter than usual, soft in ways that make Remus ache: no sharp grins, no bratty jokes — just whispered “Moony…” and the occasional wide, wet-eyed look that says more than words.
Remus strokes his hair, his back, kisses him when he leans up for it. With every touch, every sigh Sirius lets out against his chest, Remus feels something gnawing at the edges of his composure.
Gods, I want him.
It's not just desire, he realizes — it's hunger. Deep, primal, almost animalistic. Not just lust for Sirius's body, but an ache to consume every part of him: his chaos, his softness, his tears, his laugh. Every single one of his moods and states.
Every time Sirius clutches tighter, Remus has to bite back a growl. Every time Sirius sighs “don't let go” into his shirt, Remus wants to pin him down and make it true with every inch of his body.
He watches Sirius sprawl across the sofa under the blanket, Remus's hoodie slipping off his shoulder, lips red from kisses, eyes soft as he nuzzles against him. The thought flares, dangerous and raw: I could spend my whole life taking care of you. Worshipping you. Ruining you. I'll never get enough.
