#solntse

“Evil to me.” Sirius’ sigh gusts across Remus’ collarbone, warming his skin even as the sweat cools. He huffs, groans, and buries his face deeper into the bend of Remus’ neck. “Always. Malveillant. Esprit de tourment.”

Remus snorts. “Aren’t you poetic?”

“Hmm,” is his only answer. But it comes with a smile pressed to his jaw, so he supposes it’s alright.

Sirius is heavy against him—deliciously so, from the long weight of his arm across Remus’ bare chest to the leg pinning his whole left side from the hip down. Remus flexes his hand; he’s still a little tired from holding that thing up and out of the way. Sirius had hardly rolled over as much as he had rolled onto Remus, heart still racing from post-coital bliss. And, Remus muses, using the last trickling bits of his consciousness to make up poetry about the utter torment Remus apparently wrought on his poor frail self.

He gives Sirius another five-count before raising his head an inch off the pillow to peek down at him. “Still suffering?”

“Mm.”

Remus smiles, though Sirius has yet to open his eyes. “Still French?”

“Ouais.”

“You’re so cute like this.”

“How?” The ‘h’ is softer than usual, almost invisible as it shivers across the span of Remus’ throat.

“Post-fuck.”

“Loup.”

Remus hums, gathering him a little closer with a gentle squeeze. His arm, too, is trapped beneath the heft of Sirius’ body. “I dunno, you’re all…cuddly, and toasty, and I can really feel how strong you are when you lay on me like this.”

“Smush?”

“No,” he laughs, kissing Sirius’ forehead for good measure. He’s exhausted—clearly, they both are—but he also kinda wants to lick the salt off every inch of Sirius. “Well, yeah, but I like it. You’re more clingy. It makes me feel good, ‘cause it means you feel good, and you’re always an octopus and that’s always great but it’s even better when I know I did that for you.”

A beat of silence falls.

Remus feels his face warm all over again and drags his free hand across his eyes. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. “So. That was a lot of words to say that I just…love you a lot. All the time.”

“Called me something.”

Remus frowns. “Huh?”

“You called me something.” There’s a crease in Sirius’ brow, though his eyes are still closed. “I’m forgetting.”

“Uh…clingy?”

“Non. Ott…opta…”

Remus wracks his memory. “Octopus?”

A sudden, sharp snap makes him jump. “C’est ça.”

“For real?”

“Swear to god,” Sirius snorts, shaking his head as much as Remus’ shoulder will allow. “I have no idea.”

“I call you that all the time,” Remus laughs as he teases his fingers over Sirius’ bare ribs to make him squirm. His protests are mostly muffled (and mostly French), but he doesn’t roll away. Remus lowers his head to the round of his shoulder, brought high for now to hide Sirius’ pink cheeks. “You wrap yourself around me like one. With the arms and everything.”

Sirius’ confusion is clear even with his eyes closed.

“You know, like…” Remus presses one fingertip to the valley of his spine with a soft pop noise. Sirius cracks an eye open at last, so he crooks a second to join it, walking them up to his nape with more sucker-sounds that make Sirius grin. Remus feels him shiver when he presses a smile to the curve of his bicep before opening his mouth for an open-mouthed kiss to the skin—and another, slightly to the left, and another, and another, picking up the pace while he draws Sirius close with both arms. Tiny red-purple marks adorn the site of each kiss; they’ll fade fast, but Sirius’ growing laughter won’t.

Sirius hoots when Remus sinks his teeth in a little harder, breathless and smiling up at him for the second time that evening as amusement wracks him. “D’accord, un poulpe, I got it, I got it.”

“Pulp.”

“Poulpe.”

“Pool?”

“Pool-puh.” Sirius pops the second syllable at him from where he’s spread so prettily on their pillows. A kiss follows hot on its heels. “Octopus,” Sirius mumbles into his mouth, licking forward like he can take the word back for himself. “Taking advantage of me.”

Remus lets himself indulge for a few more seconds before answering. “I was answering your question.”

“Fucked out. Don’t know English.” Sirius’ teeth flash over his lower lip. “Talking fast.”