Remus is like a sonnet, practiced and shaped, scars like words against Sirius' mouth. They are jagged and raw; there are fresh marks on him after every full moon. Sirius mouths at them, sucks the pain out of them and swallows. In his belly, they coil around each other, whispering restlessly, and Sirius sees Remus in the moon when he glances at the night sky; on the moonless nights, he seeks Remus out and curls around him, arms wrapped tightly around him, and the wounds he kissed to wellness twist like poetry in his mind, tight and coiled, contained violence that brings pain that does not belong with their sweet love.
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Remus is like a sonnet, practiced and shaped, scars like words against Sirius' mouth. They are jagged and raw; there are fresh marks on him after every full moon. Sirius mouths at them, sucks the pain out of them and swallows. In his belly, they coil around each other, whispering restlessly, and Sirius sees Remus in the moon when he glances at the night sky; on the moonless nights, he seeks Remus out and curls around him, arms wrapped tightly around him, and the wounds he kissed to wellness twist like poetry in his mind, tight and coiled, contained violence that brings pain that does not belong with their sweet love.