Sirius makes a surprised sort of noise, but wastes no time returning the kiss, lifting his hands—still clasped around Remus’—to cup Remus’ face, and for a great, blissful moment, Remus’ mind goes blank. Nothing exists except Sirius’ lips on his, his hands around his jaw, the scent of his shampoo. Remus can think of nothing but how perfect this is, and how long he has waited for it.