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Sirius runs his fingers through his hair, staring down at the bathroom counter in the way one only does when deeply, deeply exhausted.
Heats last, typically, four days.
Sirius’ are a bit different, not for better or worse, and last around three days.
If you’re lucky, you wake up sweaty, with a heavy weight lying scaldingly hot on your stomach the second day, having spent the day before wondering why you hated everything a bit more, and just feeling itchy. That really knocks day one out, a sluggish loss of time and space, and then you must valiantly drag yourself towards day three. Through a morning shower or five on day two because you feel disgusting and you’re already burning, and then calling out of work because like hell Sirius is going to work that week.
Thus follows the trials and tribulations of trying to get comfortable in a home that is his own, calm the discomfort under his skin, and come to peace with the fact that the minutes will not go by any faster, no matter what he does.
Sometimes he takes Benadryl around noon and pretends it helps the itch after it knocks him out for a few hours.
The blankets always get taken off the bed, then put back on. Off the bed, washed, then put back on.
Off the bed, then put back on.
For an unmated Omega, it’s much harder.
Everything smells like himself or fabric softener, or when the door opens, and Sirius catches the errant smell of someone else lingering in the hallway, something foreign and unfamiliar. Sometimes, that's a trip to the bathroom to throw up the measly dinner and breakfast he was able to stomach.
He’s always had a weak stomach for an Omega.
And after you make it through day two, after Sirius has made what must count as a pitiful little nest in spirit, you arrive at day three.
Days three through four are lost in a whirl of misery, fucking, and the undying urge to change the sheets, but the physical incapability of doing so. It’s like the worst cold you’ve ever had, complete with body aches, cold sweats, internal cursing as to why he was ever put on this earth in the first place, and bone-deep exhaustion. Highlighting that exhaustion is the incessant need to fuck himself. To be full. To be split open and cracked and have his Omega appeased. The other half of Sirius, who surfaces in a few moments of horrible clarity, typically, is not enthusiastic about the never-ending orgasms.
When Sirius was younger, he’d try to just ride the last two days out by himself.
Not that that has changed, but he’s a bit more tactful with it now.
He does what he must and loathes every second of it when he manages to. Never one to call on someone to help him through the heats, James would be weird and even weirder now that he is dating Sirius’ brother and Barty isn't his type. Everyone else is an Omega themselves, and while that's not uncommon, two Omegas sharing a heat, Sirius just hates the ordeal so much that he likes to punish himself.
He’s been told he’s incredibly insolent when it comes to being an Omega.
With the only relief being the blissful moments before he wakes up after passing out, when he’s not sure what time it is or where his phone is, sweaty and slick after having come all over his own pillow. The pillow gets tossed angrily across the room, his tears get wiped, and he forces himself to sleep until it happens again and again, just killing time, until he pitifully fucks himself once more, possibly cries again, and then feels like dying all over again.
Until he goes and retrieves said pillow tossed across the room because something tells him he must.
Sometimes he even calls out an extra day as well, after it’s all over with. Totally fine with being fired.
But sadly, it’s not a Wednesday.
It’s Friday, and it’s well into day two.
Pushing seven o’clock in the evening, and Sirius is already sweating. He’s been sweating for days. There’s a pile of dirty laundry in the back of his closet. There’s a literal heat under his skin, seeping out of his bones that makes his clothes cling to his body in a way that’s vile and has him moaning. He cleaned yesterday, knowing that if he somehow made it out of his room in the next few days and saw dishes in the sink, he’d probably die.
Yet, there are more dishes in the sink now, and he’s starving again. He could eat a fucking house, yet knows the chance of throwing it all up after is very high, and Sirius hates throwing up. His stomach is churning with heat, food is not what he craves, and it’s mixing wrong all over again.
“Fuck,’ he sighs, lifting to meet his eyes in the bathroom mirror. “For fucks sake.”
Another shower would do him good, so Sirius turns and flicks the light off as he heads to the living room.
He’s decidedly not good and doesn’t care to be.
He would have made a wonderful Alpha. He’s sure of it.
Sirius’ feet drag heavily, and something very, very surface-level is settling in his chest, with a ticking clock attached. Brimming with a fogginess he knows will hit like a slap to the face soon, he feels weak when he falls on the couch, lying there in silence and hearing his heart begin to accelerate.
If he would just call someone and take a moment to set up a profile on one of those Find an Alpha sites, it could be quick, easy, and mostly painless, but Sirius is nothing if not stubborn and someone who loves a fucking reason to complain.
“Fuck.”
He may have washed his dishes and made his bed, but Sirius forgot about grocery shopping, he realizes, as he looks over at the empty fruit bowl by the sink.
Trash bags are added to the delivery order cart first.
Two packs of microwave mac and cheese are added, along with a thing of cookies that were suggested. Tissues, so many tissues, are added, as well.
Baby wipes. Laundry detergent pods. Bread seems like a good idea. Cheese seems like a maybe, so he tosses it in there as his one why not? A whole thing of water bottles. Some electrolytes, as well. He adds some more Benadryl in there, just in case, as well as some pain killers that never work, but oh well.
You can never have enough towels, and with a few extra added, Sirius tosses a soft-looking blanket in the cart too, apologizing to whoever is about to pick up this order.
Sirius rolls his eyes at the total and clicks order.
Order confirmed.
He waits, and it is too late, and not until he waits too long, wishing what's about to happen would not happen, does he see who has accepted his order.
“Fucking kidding me,” he groans, flopping onto the couch. “No,” he mumbles pathetically. “Cancel. C-Cancel…cancel it. Fuck.”
Sirius cancels the order. He adds everything back to the cart, plus one more blanket, and tries again.
We’ve received your order, and the store is getting started.
He waits.
“Fuck, man,” he shouts this time, tossing his phone. “Fuck!”
Arrives in 25–35 min.
Remus Lupin is picking up your order.
He can't cancel it again. He knows that.
Sirius does need these things.
This is bad, though, for numerous reasons.
It’s just that every time he orders delivery, it's always Remus. One time it was Steve, and another time it was some dude named Jessie who brought him a bunch of bad fruit and left his things two neighbors down, but for the most part, it’s always Remus.
To the point where Sirius isn't one to meet them, he would much rather his things be left outside for him to grab, but he's met Remus a handful of times.
He kinda knows the guy.
And it seems Remus has infinite time to bring Sirius whatever he needs. Food from restaurants or stupid shit like toilet paper by itself when he’s run out and too lazy to go to the store. Remus even knows what kind of shampoo Sirius uses. He is quite lazy and takes advantage of his tax bracket when it comes to modern age delivery vs. getting in the car and driving all the way to the store at any given time.
It's just also that Remus is kind of his favorite person.
And he always tips Remus well.
When Sirius was younger, he had a favorite stuffed animal. Its name was Peanut, and it was a little cat, and he carried it everywhere. Only Regulus was allowed to touch Peanut, and by the time he was sixteen, others wouldn't dare to bring up their own stuffed animal waiting at home. Sirius did sit and wonder, however, when he was out with friends, if Peanut was okay.
When he left home, Peanut was not just put in a box, he rode as a passenger on the way to their next adventure. Peanut is sitting between two plush pillows on his bed right now, and he is always put right in the middle after Sirius makes said bed.
Sirius kinda feels the same way he does about Remus that he does about Peanut.
But Remus is thirty-six, Sirius googled him, and he's kind of old and hot in the way only a slightly older, read ten-year-ish, Alpha can be. He’s not old, but gives off the air of someone who is experienced in finances and also knows how to fuck. He’s a bit awkward, while still being quiet, but is kind enough to always smile at Sirius, and maybe that’s his problem.
All the guy has to do is smile, and Sirius is on his back.
Remus is also not a stuffed cat. He’s a real person.
Remus is cool in a way that doesn't remind Sirius of his father one bit, and really, Sirius doesn't think he has much autonomy or choice in what his Omega wants. Isn’t that the whole schtick? Instincts? Something in him tells him not only would Remus take very good care of him, fill him up until he’s overflowing, but they should probably mate and be together forever.
He’s come on his own fingers too many times to count in the past, imagining what it might feel like if Remus were to bite him. There’s no denying, as much as Sirius loathes being anything other than a normal person, that his Omega aches for a bite and something to keep.
Remus is respectful, though. Of course, he is, because he’s a good Alpha who, maybe without even knowing it, shut down Sirius’ meek advances early on.
He gave up a long time ago.
Because Remus is a polite Alpha who, most of the time, leaves Sirius’ things on the mat, the only exception being when an ID must be presented for liquor. It’s never been an issue. They keep it cordial.
It's chill.
Sirius doesn't think it's a wise choice for Remus to drop off his order, though.
Seems just like a bad, bad idea for Sirius and what the next few days hold for him, and it's also slightly embarrassing, he guesses.
All of it inherently is.
Remus has arrived at Target.
Very much too late to cancel the order now, and it's pushing eight.
Sirius busies himself with cleaning his already clean apartment. He loses his shirt five minutes later, having soaked through it, and a phone break comes right after, knowing the air is on as low as it can go, but he’s still burning up.
It’s like knowing something just terrible is going to happen any moment.
That’s the only way he can explain it, but Sirius gets up again, ya know, just in case Remus needs to come in to set the waters down. Possibly chivalrously not wanting Sirius to have to drag them inside himself, and that thought almost paralyzes him.
That is not his intention. He would like to make that clear, regardless of what is about to happen.
Sirius pushes on.
He does the remaining dishes, he cleans out his fridge, and definitely tosses a few things that are fine because they just smell like shit. Nothing seems right. Sirius drinks a glass of water because he needs something to do with his hands and knows he’ll forget about the concept of water, or very well close enough, soon. His skin crawls a few more times, urging him towards his bed, but he denies and waters his plants as well.
“Hey, Sirius. They're out of Kraft. Is this okay?”
Sirius reads the text in the app and has to support himself on the counter. A strangled noise escapes his throat.
What the fuck? No, this is not okay.
Just forget the mac and cheese, then, he texts back. I only like shells.
Sirius sets his phone down and goes to watch a show or something. He doesn’t know. Ten minutes pass as he lies there, trying to ignore how that crawling has all led to the pit of his stomach, like hands and fingers digging around. The sweat his body is producing has leaked through his limbs and pooled between his hips and back.
There’s a strange feeling at the top of his spine that’s creeping a bit closer.
Remus has completed shopping for your order.
Your order is on the way.
Sirius runs his fingers through his hair, calming his skipping heart, and sighs as he stares down at the little notification.
There is nothing to be done.
A good Alpha would bring us the things we need.
What has been set in motion will be. Sirius pulls himself off the couch and finds a hoodie. It scratches against his skin, but socks are located as well, and he ties his hair up. The hood is put on when he gets the Remus is approaching message, and he gathers the measly bits of his lucidity he’s able to find as he stands.
He always parks in the same spot, so Sirius drags himself to the windows in his kitchen and catches sight of his dark, turned-off, and empty car. He runs to the couch. In a panic, he grabs the air spray and sprays it all over like some fake vanilla blossom is going to mask the way he smells. The way everything smells.
He’s desensitized to it, and he could still hurl.
Maybe two minutes later, there’s a knock at his door.
Sirius freezes and flicks the kitchen light off. He waits, hoping Remus will get the message and leave everything outside. Yet, he knocks again, voice muddy through the door.
“Sirius?”
Sirius goes a bit weak at the knees and shuffles towards the door. Clearing his throat, he says. “Y-Yeah? You can just leave everything out there.”
“Well,” there’s a pause. “I mean, it’s a lot. I don’t mind—”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Really, it’s no big deal.”
Sirius pretends to bang his head against the door. Fuck Remus for being so kind and capable, like a proper Alpha. Surely he’d be sweet to Sirius, right? Maybe it’s a bit taboo to ask a stranger to fuck you, but people go out to bars. They hook up. It’s kind of the same thing. He doesn’t know if he would really want Remus to be sweet with him, anyway. Sirius could just—
“Sirius?”
“Huh?”
“I said open the door, I don’t mind.”
Alpha said open the door.
Sure, Sirius can do that.
He’s halfway twisted the knob when time catches up to him, the sound of his swallowing too loud in his throat. Sirius’ head peeks through the crack first, forgetting he had chained the door, and he meets Remus’ eye.
And there he is.
In all his glory, Remus Lupin, whom Sirius always thought was much too handsome to just be a delivery driver.
This must be his side gig, something he does for some extra cash. Maybe to spend on other Omegas, probably, but that’s a thought for another time, when Remus isn't standing in front of him holding a pack of shells mac and cheese, looking, actually, very concerned.
There he is, the Remus Lupin, and there it is as well.
It being Sirius’ brain melting to his feet.
Like a graceful snap, he feels the moment his heat actually starts.
The burning sitting heavy on his stomach slips under his skin, lighting him up even further, and it's not until he blinks does Sirius feels it in his cunt. How empty he is, and how much he’s suddenly aching. His underwear is soaked in an instant. His lips part, unable to do anything about it but try to hide the lower half of his body behind the door.
He blinks.
Remus is so tall.
Sirius glances up and meets his eye. “Sorry, what?”
“I said,” Remus swallows, glancing down at all the bags surrounding his feet. Two blankets, a fuck ton of tissues, extra towels, and cookies sure do look like a whole lot and very damning now that it's in front of him. “Quite a selection here, but uh…” He clears his throat. “That’d be a joke in bad taste. I’ll bring these inside and get out of your hair.”
Sirius blinks again. “Huh?”
“Nothing.”
“I…” he trails off, but Remus is breezing past him. Mac and cheese in one hand and the entire pack of water bottles in the other, which is impressive and should not be so hot. Sirius feels as if he's been spun in circles, almost breaking his neck to follow where Remus is going, and the man only brushes him with his clothed arm.
He lights up even further, knees almost buckling.
Sirius thinks it best if it is a bit dark and he can’t see as well or at all, really, so he leaves the lights off. But the hallway light still spills close enough as Remus goes back and grabs the rest of the things and then, to Sirius' horror, starts to unbag them onto the counter.
It finally moves him away from the door. “Oh, really—”
“Sorry, I—”
They both fall silent.
This is weird, is the first thought Sirius has.
He doesn’t know this guy, and Remus is dressed in…something nice. Something like he was somewhere before this and has somewhere to be after, so why is he here in the first place? In Sirius’ apartment, standing here wasting time as the silence stretches on. It’s only the sound of the shifting grocery bags that accompany them, and the first real time, Sirius supposes, that they’re meant to have a conversation.
Doesn't he have other deliveries to do?
“Don’t you have other deliveries to do?”
“Not really, no.”
“O-Okay,” Sirius nods. “Well…”
“You’re, uh,” Remus says, sniffing. He rubs at his nose. This is a disaster in slow motion. “I should leave, I’m sure,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m not trying to intrude.”
Remus glances behind him, and Sirius, ever the idiot, glances back too.
They’re both staring at his empty living room, now.
His mouth starts to water. Not quite like a dog, but there’s spit collecting, and he can taste it. The rich, opulent scent of something that must be dipped in gold, and as he turns back from looking at a bunch of nothing, he realizes he’s tasting Remus.
His hips ache, and more slick leaks form his hole, because it’s Remus who smells like sinking into a warm pillow and slipping down, through a bed, into a soft and worn leather chair with nowhere to be and a fire lit beside you. His Omega wants to drown in it, suffocating over and over again until Sirius dies from too much of a good thing. Too much of a luxury he surely cannot afford.
Remus smells so fucking good, it could make Sirius sick.
He’s going to be sick.
“You gotta go,” he blurts out. Swinging for the bathroom, then turning back. “I—”
Remus moves for him at the exact moment Sirius thinks he’s listening as a good Alpha would. Sirius turns for the hall, losing his hoodie somewhere along the way. He realizes, sometime right before hanging a right past his bedroom and tossing said hoodie towards his bed, that Remus is not leaving.
It's really no use, though.
The whole house reeks, and Sirius is going to throw up. He’s overheated, in that hoodie with Remus in his apartment, talking to him, but Sirius unable to have him. His head feels like it’s full of cotton and soaking up something thick. He’s sticky all over. He’s cursing under his breath, and the pinch in his stomach spreads all through his fingers. Sirius feels his cunt beg even as he falls to his knees before the toilet. He weakly kicks the door closed before throwing up.
It’s just terrible.
The whole situation. There’s no getting around it.
Silence stretches on, hardly broken up by the flush of the toilet, before Sirius can’t bear it any longer.
“Are you still here?”
A pause, and then, “Well, yeah.”
“Please leave.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, because you’re still here.”
There’s another long pause before he hears Remus sigh, and it makes Sirius’ stomach churn once more.
Alpha is unhappy.
He flushes the toilet again and rises, brushing his teeth aggressively. Twice. He rinses his mouth out and tries to brush the hair away from his forehead, wanting to tame it into something somewhat nice to try and save face.
Alpha is out there waiting for us.
He shoves aside the cotton and swallows the embarrassment. There’s simply no time for it. His cheeks are flushed, and there's a general haze to his face, his eyes glassier than normal and blown wide. He looks like a ridiculous whore and doesn't have a hoodie to hide in now. His whole body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his underwear soaked. There’s no laundry in the bathroom because Sirius cleaned, and it would just be even weirder to wrap himself in a towel, though he considers it.
Sirius steps out of the bathroom, deciding that taking his underwear off would only make this worse, as well.
Remus is leaning against his kitchen counter. With his arms crossed, and even from here, in the dark, he can see the look of concern. Sirius doesn’t like how he can feel how far Remus is from him, in a series of discontented breaths.
That is not his Alpha.
That’s a random man.
But Sirius can smell it now that he's admitted that's what all this is about. He’s being tortured by his own biology, playing a puppet in this embarrassing and veering into mortifying territory.
He’s being poisoned.
By Remus, standing there six foot something and hot. Literally hot because Sirius swears he’s hotter now, too, just looking at him. The switch-up is making him a bit breathless. It's making something inside him even more upset. The hot and cold breaks him out into another sweat, and he crosses his arms over his chest before remembering he’s shirtless.
Sirius leans back into his bedroom to grab his hoodie off the floor, head swirling from the little movement and the urge to run in there and fall to his knees. He’s about to tell Remus he really needs to lie down, but jumps at the still foreign voice.
It's one thing to thank someone for delivering your groceries. It’s another thing to stay inside a person's house while they throw up after you deliver them.
“Is there no one here to take care of you?”
Sirius’ feet stutter as he walks closer. He bristles. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Remus looks taken aback and then laughs. He laughs, glancing away. “I’m sure you can. I was just asking. I thought…” Sirius takes another step forward. “Well, I thought you had a partner. That one time—”
“Who?”
Remus stares at him, then shrugs. “Well, I wouldn't know, would I?”
Sirius thinks back on all of their meetings, flipping through the index in his mind to try and remember a time when there was anyone else here other than just him. He doesn’t have much of a social life at the moment. It comes and goes in waves, but work also keeps him busy. He’s surely not bringing anyone home.
It just can’t be.
Remus must be mistaken.
“No, no,” he rushes, before clearing his throat. “God, no.” Sirius has made it weird again. Time to backpedal. “But I can take care of myself, so. Thank you for bringing all this for me.” He glances at the counter. Time to pack it up. He needs to change his underwear now. “And the mac and cheese. Did you…”
There’s more cotton stuck, and his fingers have gone cold.
Sirius feels his limbs growing heavier, which means he’s about to end up on his back.
“I just stopped at the convenience store on the way here.”
“Oh,” he says, listlessly. “Then I owe you, let me…I know my wallet is around here, some—”
“Let me make you something to eat. You sit. Then we can call it even.”
“You really don't have other deliveries?”
“I really only ever deliver your groceries,” Remus says with a shy smile. “Go sit on the couch.”
Go sit on the couch.
Sirius’ feet move much faster than his brain, and now he’s on the couch. Damn near levitated. It’s the poison. He stumbles on the edge of the rug. He’s lightheaded and empty. Completely purged of everything once in him, he needs something to fill him back up, or he might just float away.
He moans against the cushions. “Can you bring me some water?”
“Ice?’
“No.”
Sirius hears the glass clink onto the table before him and wearily glances up. “Thank you, but you need to leave.”
“You’re going to throw up again?”
Sirius glances up from where he’s been head in hand, studying his knees. Remus set an apple in front of him, and even that makes his stomach spin. His vision is a bit here and there, and he really wants a medal for how fucking hard he is resisting the urge to drag Remus down onto the couch and throw himself at the man like a whore.
If he opens his mouth, he might just scare Remus away.
He might just roll over like a bitch in heat.
Sirius hates that’s all he’s capable of thinking about now, in the face of such a kindness, like annoying pestering ants crawling past and all over his normal thoughts, is Remus’ cock. He bets Remus has a nice cock, he bets it would fit just perfectly. He bets Remus would fill him up so well, over and over again until—
Sirius reaches for the glass of water to take a sip, and almost drops it.
Remus really needs to go.
“If you need someone—”
“Listen, I—”
Stealing a peek, Remus looks at Sirius like he really would have preferred not to be interrupted, making him repeat himself eventually as he says, “If you need someone here. For your…your heat, I mean. I—”
“I don’t know you.”
“It was just a suggestion—”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You may be fine repeating yourself, but I'm not,” Sirius bites. He doesn’t mean to. He doesn't own a clock, but he can tell this one has stopped. They’ve run out of time. “My bedroom—”
“I know where it is.”
Sirius is picked up with a swiftness that startles him, and makes him realize Remus heard him perfectly fine the first time.
He asks slowly, “You usually spend your heats alone?”
All formalities are dropped, and Sirius’ head feels like it's moving twice as slow as his body. His brain is still back on the couch, but his limbs and cunt clearly can tell he’s being carried to bed by an Alpha. A very handsome Alpha who is being very respectful even now, seeing as Sirius finds his nose shoved in Remus’ neck on instinct.
The Alpha doesn't bat an eye, but he does repeat himself.
“Do you?”
“Huh?”
“Spend your heats alone.”
“Y-Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Well, I—”
“You should have an Alpha to take care of you.”
“I don't need–”
“Maybe you don't have one because all you seem to like to do is argue, ever think about that?”
Sirius is confused and about to fall out of Remus’ arm from how fast he draws back. “Excuse you.”
It comes out slurred, like he’s three shots deep on an empty stomach. There’s a small part of his brain that says excuse me as well, and the other ninety percent is screaming for hands on him. Fingers in him. A knot or a cock. Preferably both, yeah. He doesn’t care, and Sirius’ desperation grows when his brain matter starts to drop. He’s inhaling the poison. He’s bearing his neck.
The poison is down his throat, now, making it near impossible to speak half-truths.
Sirius’ bed comes into view, a pathetic mess of blankets and pillows that makes his inner Omega cringe. To have such an Alpha see such a pitiful display of ability is shameful, but Remus still lets him fall into bed gracefully.
Sirius’ mouth fills with blanket as soon as he finds his way to his knees and presents.
Remus yanks his pants down, sensing the urgency. Sirius’ underwear goes with them, and he’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t Remus’ wet, warm tongue as soon as his sensitive skin hits the cold air, licking up the inside of his thigh.
The last of what meek fight he had in him disappears in an instant.
“I always thought you just had a useless, lousy Alpha at home,” Remus says, talking against Sirius’ needy, weeping hole. “He wouldn't get off his lazy ass to go and get you ice cream or something, or at least that's what I told myself.” He sounds like he’s a bit out of breath, mouth full of Sirius’ cunt like he can’t waste a drop. “Sorry.”
“You…” Sirius tries, but has to swallow. He doesn’t know what Remus just said. He doesn’t…he doesn’t know. “You thought—”
“Just in passing.”
Sirius goes slack-jawed. Short, sharp pants lead his slurred words. “..’bout m-me?”
“Well, yeah.”
Even with Remus’ fingers finally buried deep, they’re not enough. He adds another, three now, and presses deeper, searching for something he does find. Sirius gasps for a broken breath. Fresh slick leaks down his thighs when Remus mumbles, “You gotta take three if you want my cock, baby.”
His words hit like a punch, take and cock and baby making him moan. Remus can’t decide if he wants his fingers in him or his tongue down his cunt, and that’s okay with Sirius. That’s enough for now. There’s a thread, and he follows it, remembers he can’t be too greedy. This man is doing him a kindness, he doesn’t know—
“Come to find out, all this time you just needed an Alpha to take care of you, huh?”
“Alpha,” Sirius whines, the word sweet on his tongue, soaking up the cotton.
“Shh.”
“H’hurts.”
“Gonna make it better,” Remus assures, crowding over Sirius’ back, and that feels better. He needs to be as close to consumed as possible. He’s so far away, Sirius could cry. “Can't believe you were just going to…going to lie in this bed alone. Can't say the idea of you whining, trying to fuck yourself, isn't appealing, but you don't deserve to hurt.”
“Y–You…” Sirius tries, but something is becoming unbearable.
He needs a cock. He needs a knot.
“You want it?”
He manages a nod.
“Good. Then up,” Remus says, swatting at his thigh, and Sirius still doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s about to get what he needs, he trusts that. “C’mon, up on your knees, baby.”
Sirius rises on shaky arms.
The first brush of cock against his hole has him almost buckling. He’s caught by a strong arm around his waist right before Remus fucks into him. He forgot what it felt like to be filled. It’s been so long, but that hardly matters now.
Sirius goes limp, letting Remus take him.
His lips try to find something to say, his teeth clash as he gasps at the punishing pace the Alpha sets. Being fucked up the bed, but dragged back. He’s caught between Remus and his own Omega, and for the first time, Sirius gives in. What ends up tumbling from his lips, though, is a variety of sounds that amount to nothing in the end.
If anything, they spur Remus on further, his hips meeting the plush of Sirius’ ass harder with every thrust.
“Gonna make it all better, baby. Can you hold on to me? Fuck.”
Sirius’ vision goes spotty. No, he wants to say. No, he can’t move. It feels too good. His hind-mind is preening as he’s split open on such a nice cock. As he’s taken, praised, and told he’s being a good Omega.
“No,” he whines, hardly knowing what he’s protesting. “Please m’move.”
“I am moving, baby.” He hears Remus’ breath catch and stutter when Sirius’ cunt tightens, wet enough to fuck him deep, but having to slow down. “It’s not enough?”
“What…What the fuck,” Sirius gasps at the change in pace. “P-Please.”
“Say ‘Please, Alpha.’”
“Alpha,” Sirius whines
“Just once for me, baby.” Remus forces his spine into a deeper arch, raising his hips.
“Alpha, p-please.” Sirius pants helplessly, on the end of a too-rough thrust. “Need…Need it. Please, R-Remus. Remus.”
Remus lets it be then, fucking him like he’s about to rid Sirius’ body of all of this.
Sirius cries.
It would almost hurt if it didn't feel so good to get exactly what he needs for the first time, maybe ever. He opens up, fucked up the bed with the heaviness of Remus’ thrusts, and Remus stops trying to keep him in one place. Sirius’ mouth is dry, the tears on his lash line drying right before they can fall.
Remus keeps him down, full, and this is how it’s supposed to be.
“Fuck c-can’t believe you–you’re...” Remus loses his words too, a tangle of limbs. Sirius jerks when he bottoms out, biting his lip, and it bleeds onto his tongue.
“G’gonna come.” His voice is a wreck, contrasting how easily his slick hole is taking every inch of the Alpha's cock. “Need…I need—”
“Can’t knot you,” Remus bites, and tears do fall from Sirius’ eyes in an instant because that can’t be right.
No, no, no.
“Alpha, please,” he cries from being denied the one thing he wants and also because a moment of clarity, ever unforgiving, strikes him. “I-I can take it. I promise, I…”
“Fuck.”
Clarity gone. He can only beg.
“Please, ah-hah, please. N-Need it so bad.”
Tears spill freely now. He does everything he can think of because clearly Alpha is unhappy, dissatisfied, if he doesn't want to knot and spill down his hole.
“I can’t, baby.” Remus insists, but Sirius can feel a swelling at the base of the cock driving into him. “F-Fuck. Fuck. Bad idea, this is…you’re gonna take Alpha's knot? Be good, no. You wanted it, you want it so bad, so…so don’t run away,” he pants. “Take it.”
Sirius can feel, a moment later, Remus’ knot swell just enough to catch every time he draws back. It bullies against his already fucked-raw hole, overstimulating him, and he’s still crying, he realizes. Remus pulls him back onto his cock, voice harsh. “Take it.” He growls. “You wanted it so bad, you worked so hard for it. It’s yours, baby.”
Alpha said take it.
Sirius lets himself take it. Throat too raw to cry out when he feels too much resistance, which turns into a ringing in his ears the moment Remus’ knot finally slips inside him. Filling him up fuller than he’s ever been, Sirius comes.
Spots bloom behind his eyelids, feeling the way Remus is locked inside him but still trying to fuck him. Seemingly unable to stop. Swelling even more. Sirius can’t…he can’t—
“S’too much,” he gasps. Remus pulls him up to sit in his lap, now, impaling him further on his cock.
“G–Gonna fill you up, that’s what you want?”
Sirius nods limply, feeling lips against his neck. He whines, baring his neck again because he’s got the knot, he’s filled and warm, and Alpha is taking such good care of him.
All he needs now is the bite.
Remus comes a moment later, filling him up with a ragged, gutted pant against the side of his neck. Sirius feels teeth, the smooth porcelain of them, and it’s enough for a moment. Enough for him to lie there and take it, moaning and being a good Omega while his hole clenches, struggling to take everything it’s being given. Remus presses deeper, seeming to lose himself too, and now they’re both lost in the consequence.
In the euphoria of a warm, wet hole to come in and a heavy knot, deep where it needs to be.
“Baby,” Remus pants, hips stilled now. “Sirius,” he mumbles, and it brings him back down to earth slightly. “You with me?”
Sirius feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Turning his face to the side to catch his breath, he’s leaking and impaled on Remus’ cock still, so he can only moan. He doesn’t know where he went there for a bit. It could have been a few seconds, or Remus could have robbed him blind and left by now, and he would have been none the wiser.
Terribly irresponsible on his part.
He feels Remus hiss and his hips jump when Sirius clenches around his knot, baser instincts bleeding out but never forgetting all of Alpha's come must stay inside.
“Y–Yeah,” he manages eventually, stuck staring at the sheets eye level around him. He can’t really move. He did…well, he didn’t think any of this through, and Sirius thinks his proper thinking might have left him sometimes around noon, yesterday, anyway.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What do you need?”
Remus has a big cock, and it’s starting to hurt a bit, being skewered. “Need you to stop moving. Oh my god.”
“Sorry.”
There’s a long pause, and then, “Can you help me turn over, my back—”
“Oh, fuck. Yes, of course,” Remus rushes out, sounding much more like his local delivery driver again. “Sorry, baby.”
Sirius preens at that, but probably should still ask if Remus is meaning to stick around. If not, that’s fine, but he needs him to leave promptly so he can cry about it, if that's the case.
Once Sirius lifted again, very carefully twisted and spun, and maneuvered onto his back in bed, knot still lodged deep, he mourns having been able to see Remus while he fucked his lights out.
Did they even kiss?
Maybe next time.
“So…”
“How long do you have?”
Very ominous.
How long does he have until he turns into a heat-ridden slut again and begs for more cock?
Well, who really knows?
Sirius hates talking about his heats. The embarrassment is back. He takes a deep breath, wincing as he starts to feel Remus’ knot going down enough for an emptiness to look his way. “Well,” he starts. “Probably about an hour, give or take, so you should leave now if—”
“Oh.”
Sirius meets Remus’ eyes, takes in his wrinkled shirt and the makings of a hasty fuck, and thinks he really doesn't know this guy. He doesn’t at all, actually, other than he fucks well and is kind of sweet.
Sirius thinks he might just be really sweet.
So, he amends, “I mean, if you want to stay, I don't mind.”
“I’m not trying to impose…”
Sirius scoffs. “We’re stuck here for at least twenty more minutes. You can't even pull out, yet.”
He thinks now is the worst time to talk about imposing.
“No,” Remus glances down, and he feels his cock twitch inside him. “No, I can’t.”
“And you swear you don’t have someone waiting for you at home?” Sirius asks, raising a brow. Remus looks offended. That’s good. That means he has morals. Sirius might as well grill him while he’s got him here, though. “Also, how come you were always my delivery driver? What do you do, like…what’s your job?”
“I’m in finance.”
Sirius grimaces.
A finance bro.
“Are you opposed to dating someone ten years younger than you?”
“No.”
“Are you threatened by an Omega that possibly makes more money than you?”
“Don’t start dirty talking, now.”
Sirius cracks a smile at that. Cute and funny. “Well, are you a stalker? Is that why you always delivered my things?”
“Uh,” Remus looks mildly disarmed. “No. No, actually, I was helping a friend out one night and ran your groceries up here for him. I delivered your things, and you answered the door and…”
“And?”
“Well, you’re very pretty,” Remus says matter-of-factly, brushing some hair away from Sirius’ face. “And you kind of smell sweet like cherry pie,” he says bashfully, and that’s fucking cute. God damn it all. “I love cherry pie.”