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Remus is very protective of his phone
He never leaves it unattended in public. It never sits on the table in restaurants. Never in an outside pocket of his jacket. He doesn't even let his best friends use it
That. Phone. Is. In. His. Front. Trouser. Pocket. At. All. Times.
And even if you did get it, it's not a laughable 4-number passcode. It's not even a "secure" six digit. That paranoid fucker has an entire phrase interwoven with random caps, numbers, special characters. And it only takes him a second to type it all—
But that's because Sirius means the world to him
And if anyone ever saw the fucking filthy pictures and videos Remus has amassed on it, he would murder them
He has discreet thumbnailed albums full of videos of Sirius with smeared makeup, gazing up with puppy eyes at the camera, wrecked and tear-stained as Remus slides his cock in and out of those pretty pink lips. His phone speaker not doing the sweet sound of Sirius's choking and gagging any justice
He has camera bursts, fifteen photos taken milliseconds apart, of Sirius's fingers, adorned with black nail polish, digging into his arse cheeks and pulling them apart so Remus can capture the moment his cum starts to drip from his boyfriend's gaping hole
And sometimes, when he's having a terrible day, he locks himself in the toilet at the abandoned end of his office and will hold down the live photo close-ups of Sirius's face mid-orgasm. He'll watch the desperate ecstasy on Sirius's face come to life, see his boyfriend throw his head back, mouth open wide enough for a cock, and eyes closed in bliss. 1.5 seconds of Remus's favourite view in the entire fucking world
And the selfies...
Naughty photoshoots of Sirius smirking in the mirror and showing off the new lingerie, the thigh-highs, and the tiny lacy panties Remus had bought. There are selfies of Sirius on their bed, dressed in a tight, crisscrossed harness, sucking on a red dildo shining with spit, staring coyly up at his phone
It's Remus's little treasure trove, videos and pictures more valuable than any gleaming golden trinket or endlessly-faceted gem
And if his phone ever got lost
He would erase it remotely without hesitation
No chance for someone else to see what's his
And it would be okay because he would simply start over again
Because pixeled Sirius is beautiful and breathtaking—
But nothing compares to the real thing, the real life feel of all that lust and passion embodied in soft, spankable flesh and pouty, kissable lips
And Remus always smirks, knowing, "The real thing is mine."