See this?

Sirius needed this, he knew; not just the catharsis of sex, that was something they'd both needed in the past, but some kind of -- assertion. That what he offered was acceptable, desireable; that Remus wanted him. Because if both of them wanted it, then it was okay, whatever the rest of the world might say. Whatever poor, repressed Sirius had thought years ago when he wondered why the women he fucked never made him happy.

All those women, he thought, as Sirius kissed his way down his chest and stomach. All that sex never made him half so happy as he was with me.

The power was almost more erotic than the feeling of Sirius' mouth on his cock -- the knowledge that he had the ability to make Sirius pleased or miserable just by his presence. He couldn't ever misuse it, or it might be lost, because Sirius always walked a razor-thin tightrope, but then who wanted to misuse it? All he wanted was for his -- boyfriend, his lover -- to be happy.

I had to paste that to someone, totally context-free, because it was so damn beautiful.

You just keep doing what you're doing, Sam-- you've got it.