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It’s late. The sun has gone down and Remus is bent over the wrong side of his desk, reading the slew of numbers upside down as if that might help him understand them better. Nothing is adding up.
Somewhere between the red-pen markings across the pages in front of him and the soft ticking from a clock outside his office, there are hands on his hips, large and unwavering. Remus’ fingers freeze on his desk, but before he can think to do anything else, there’s a voice in his ear.
“Miss me?” it says. Remus nearly collapses.
“Sirius?"
In one sweeping motion, he is spun around, pressed into the edge of his desk, and kissed fiercely. He knows this mouth. He kisses back with furrowed brows, whiplash on his tongue, warm and confused all at once.
"What are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, even as he allows Sirius to hoist him up onto the desk and fit himself between his legs.
“Picking up where we left off,” Sirius whispers between kisses. His hands are everywhere; in Remus’ hair, on his thighs–they start to unbutton his shirt, get distracted, then come back. Remus tilts his head to the side to give Sirius’ mouth better access to his neck, closes his eyes when his fingers trace along the seams of his pants, but pulls back when Sirius leans in to kiss him again. Sirius frowns at him.
“Two years ago?” Remus asks. He doesn’t do the math in his head. He doesn’t need to. Two years have passed since Sirius had woken him from his sleep in the dead of night, offering hurried and unsure goodbyes. It’s been his reference point for time ever since.
Sirius brings Remus’ hand up to his lips and kisses his wrist.
“Your pulse still races like it was yesterday,” he says. He grins. “Mine too."
There’s not a laugh line out of place; he looks the same. How is it that a man can’t tell you where he’s going if he’s going to come back the same?
"You assume I haven’t moved on,” Remus says slowly, relaxing a little as Sirius’ frenzied movements slow down.
“Have you?” Sirius asks, a note of worry in his tone. Remus considers lying for moment, but finally shakes his head. Sirius swallows. “You said you’d wait."
"Sirius, that was…"Remus bites down on the inside of his cheek. "That was when you were gone weeks or months at a time. I didn’t even know if you were coming back."
"Always, Remus,” Sirius says immediately, pain thick on his tongue. “For you, I’ll always come back.”
Always. He presses the word to Remus’ mouth and jaw and shoulder. Then he drops to the floor and presses it to his knee and the inside of his thigh. Remus cards a hand through Sirius’ hair and looks anywhere but at him.
“Where have you been, Sirius?" He asks softly.
“Business kept me away,” Sirius answers. His face sinks further in between Remus’ legs.
“And how long until it needs you back?” Remus presses. He stares at the ceiling and comes up with a division equation to solve. Sirius sighs.
“Are you so mad that you’re not going to let me get you off?” he asks. He bites Remus’ inner thigh gently over his slacks.
“Yes,” Remus says. He spreads his legs a little wider. Sirius, finely-tuned to Remus’ language, mouths the rest of the way up Remus' thigh and scrapes his teeth lightly along the bulge in his pants. Remus’ eyes cross and he loses his place in the equation and drops it entirely.
“These are my only good pants, Sirius…” he grits out. Having given up his reluctance to the intoxication of Sirius’ familiar and nearly forgotten touches, he chances a glance down. Sirius has a hand slipped beneath Remus’ half-buttoned shirt, fingertips stroking along his side. He’s looking up at Remus through half-lidded eyes.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” He says. His free hand comes up and rubs Remus’ erection, now hard and strained against his pants. Remus stifles a groan in response and tugs on Sirius’ hair. Sirius’ fingers move to unbutton and unzip him; after a few moments of awkward fumbling, Remus’ pants are open and pulled down just enough to free his cock. Sirius wraps a hand around the base and looks up at Remus again.
“God, I missed you.” And with that, he drops his head down, closing his mouth around Remus, hot and wet, taking him in as far as he’ll go. Remus tips his head back and lets out a surprised moan, struck by the sudden pleasure spreading down through his legs to the tips of his toes. His hands tangle further into Sirius’ hair.
For a while, there is nothing but the sound of Sirius’ mouth on Remus and Remus’ rugged breaths. Nothing’s changed here, either, Remus thinks. Sirius is enthusiastic and eager to please, hands reaching out and touching every inch of Remus they can find, mouth sloppy and skilled all at once. Remus watches the rise and fall of his head between his legs with delirious affection, hardly able to stand it.
“Don’t stop,” he blurts out, even as he feels his cock hitting the back of Sirius’ throat and Sirius doesn’t seem to have any interest in stopping. “Please, Sirius…"
Time passes like this until Remus’ legs are a trembling mess. Dizzy and weak with pleasure, he lets himself fall back onto the papers on his desk. Sirius’ hands slide up his thighs, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach.
It’s too much. All of it. Remus tries to last–tries to count–tries to come up with a single number–but he hasn’t been touched like this in two years, and the five before that come crashing back all at once. He comes, harder than he ever has before, crying out Sirius’ name as he does.
Sirius presses tentative, gentle kisses to his thighs, hips, chest, and neck until he finds his way up to Remus’ face, body pressed fully against him. Remus can feel that he’s hard, but Sirius just pushes Remus’ hair back and looks at him.
"Remus, talk to me,” he says desperately. “Please, I need you."
"I’m,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “God, I’m so fucking mad at you.”
Sirius bows his head to Remus’ chest.
“I know.