They made love on Wednesday morning.
Remus sighed as Sirius took him, the dull ache of pleasure spiraling lazily as his prostate was nudged with every few thrusts of Sirius' cock. It was slow. Good. Really good, and it worked like this because they were not twenty years old anymore. It took longer to get THERE, and the journey to orgasm was sweet and languid and drawn out as if they could stay there for hours, just basking in the golden glow of sweet ecstasy as they moved together like branches in a storm, rocking back and forth as their mouths made sounds like the wind.
This is how Remus liked it.
They fucked on Thursday morning.
Skin slapped on skin as Remus dug his fingers into Sirius' hips hard enough to bruise. He pounded his cock into Sirius' arse roughly and listened to his lover scream in part pain, part pleasure. Sirius' back was hunched over and Remus raked his nails over the protruding vertebrae, leaving red lines that made him dizzy to look at them. Sirius loved this, he knew. Loved the submission. Loved the fast pace, the spiking pressure of arousal building quickly and suddenly, sticky come rinsing away the residue of pain.
This is how Sirius liked it.
Details of the events that led to the Ministry turn-around are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.
Remus put the Daily Prophet down, his head spinning and his headache roaring. He blearily noticed Molly setting a cup of tea in front of him.
He didn't touch it.
"I know that he just wanted to get out of this house," she said tentatively. "He was so miserable here. Life just isn't fair sometimes."
It was Friday morning. It should have been his turn.
"No," he croaked wearily. "It's not."