Work Text:
“Sirius,” said Remus, eyes never leaving the Transfiguration essay he was midway through writing, “my love, my light, my life. No matter how obscenely you keep sucking on that sugar quill, I will not be distracted and led away to bed.”
Sirius groaned with disappointment and muttered something about middle-aged teenage werewolves spoiling all his fun.
“We can’t all bash out fantastic essays in five minutes flat,” Remus sighed, glancing up from ink and parchment to full and glossy lips. “If I could, you’d be getting it so hard right now.”
“Tease,” Sirius hissed, chucking the sugar quill at Remus.