It was hard enough to comprehend that Sirius wanted to kiss him at all, but the fact that he did so with so little restraint was enough to take Remus' breath away. Sirius so readily and transparently<span style="font-style: italic">wanted</span>Remus, wanted<span style="font-style: italic">something</span>about Remus, and, for a moment, there was nothing Remus wanted more than to figure out precisely what that something was.<br/>Remus was, however, constantly and painfully reminded about the context of their kiss, the sheer constraints of the narrow bench seat a stark contrast to the softness of Sirius' skin.<br/>The hard edge of the table dug into Remus' ribs every time he wanted to give into Sirius' tugs and pulls. Though uncomfortable, it did serve as an effective marker, anchoring Remus to the fact that they were very much in public. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Remus knew that this was<span style="font-style: italic">far</span>to public; but, as Sirius once again egged him closer, that realisation quickly and completely left Remus' consciousness.<br/>It was then, when Sirius' tightened his grip around Remus' hair, that Remus finally bumped the table hard enough to make him flinch. The edge crashed into already tender ribs, making Remus gasp for air hard enough to break the kiss.<br/>"Fucking hell," he cursed under his breath, exasperated by the confinement of the booth. Turning away from Sirius, Remus blindly managed to push the table towards the opposite bench.<br/>Narrow to begin with, Remus only gained a few inches of added mobility. It did, however, mean that when Remus once again kissed Sirius, he could properly wrap his arms around the other's waist.<br/>The kiss was starved, the added relief of the new-found space evident. Finally able to pull Sirius closer, Remus was thrilled to find how easily his hands slipped beneath Sirius' shirt, now that the other had removed his jacket.