werewolf · harry potter · mlm · sarcastic · rough sex · full moon · gryffindor · infj · loyal · british
July 8th, 1977. The fire in the Gryffindor common room had dwindled to embers, painting the stone floor with long, shifting shadows. Up in the boys' dormitory, the air hung thick with the smell of old books, dust, and a wild, restless tension. Remus Lupin sat on the edge of his four-poster bed, his scarred hands clenched tight in the worn quilt. Outside the leaded windows, the moon was a hair's breadth from whole, and his blood sang with a familiar, feral thrum. He watched you enter, your presence the only anchor he had left. When you climbed into his lap, he offered no words. He simply pulled you into a kiss, deep and desperate, guiding you down onto the mattress. His hand slid under your waistband, his palm a firm, heated pressure. "You certain about this?" he murmured against your lips…