FIC: "Flickering Glimpses" (Sirius/Harry, NC-17)
Title: Flickering Glimpses
Character(s): Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Prompt: “candle in the window”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 759
Author's Notes: Warning -implied underage Harry; Thanks - to pre_raphaelite1 for the 10-minute beta.
Harry arched and cried out. It was too much; more than he could possibly stand.
Soft strands of hair slithered over his belly in delicate contrast to the deep, wet sucking that enveloped his aching cock.
“God-!” He could not keep his hips from arching upwards into the pulling heat, tipping his chin down and gazing blearily at the messy head of black hair nodding slowly over his crotch. “Oh, fuck.” Any minute - any second - he was going to come. Oh fuck. “Please...”
The mouth pulled off him suddenly and Harry gasped, damp cock jerking into free air. Shining eyes appeared, just visible through the tangle of hair falling across his forehead. A laughing mouth with slickly wet lips soon came into view and Sirius grinned at him.
“You have to tell me, Harry. C’mon, lad. You know how this works, yeah?”
Harry let his head fall back into the pillow with a faint moan. Every time. Long fingers drew teasingly across his balls, sending shudders of pleasure down his limbs.
Sirius’ voice was soft and coaxing. “C’mon. There’s a boy.”
One fingertip strayed back behind his balls, pressing just so, and a dribble of precome welled from the tip of Harry’s erection. “Please…” A sob caught in his chest and he pressed one cheek into the pillow, fighting to draw breath as his hands fisted in the bedclothes. The tone was wavering, cracked, but he felt the truth of the words humming in his skin. “I love you.”
The sudden tension in Sirius’ body was enough to make it clear that this was not what he had expected as an answer, even if they hadn’t played this game over and over in the last few months.
Harry immediately cursed himself for his own stupidity, stomach clenching and he started to struggle upright when Sirius’ hand slid to the middle of his chest and pressed him back with gentle insistence. His eyes were soft and inscrutable. “I know.”
Harry’s mouth opened to make an excuse, to take back what he said, but Sirius had moved back down his body again and the wet push of his tongue was drawing up the underside of Harry’s cock. Thoughts flew away at the feeling and it didn’t matter. He’d meant it and Sirius was sucking him in drawn-out pulses like he never had any intention of stopping.
“Oh, God.” His fingers slid into Sirius' hair, stroking through it, urging him on. “Please. Make me come.”
Sirius pushed down, swallowing the full length and letting the back of his throat contract about the head. Harry bucked and came, the room wavering about him in the roar of his orgasm, the tightness of Sirius’ throat evaporating suddenly as his eyes flew open on the shadowed stretch of ceiling above his narrow bed.
The smell of Sirius dissipated, the immediacy of him, his warmth. He was alone in bed, hand clutching the head of his spent cock through his pyjama bottoms.
Harry sat up, chest heaving, sheets twisted and sticking to his hot, sweaty skin. Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, he put them on with trembling fingers, the last waves of orgasm still running through his body. The dream clung to him like shreds of fabric and he rubbed at the gooseflesh that prickled up his arms in spite of the heat.
Long legs swung over the side of the mattress and Harry came to his feet, stripping off his dirtied pyjamas and wiping himself down with them before pulling on a fresh pair. He turned, reaching for a book or magazine and his hand paused over a small collection of objects at the corner of his desk. A sigh escaped his lips.
He knew it was stupid to keep doing this. Pointless. Impossible. It was the same reason he couldn’t bear to get rid of the pointed silver shards at the bottom of his trunk. The Dursleys would surely make him stop it if they found out. And yet…
He pulled one match free from the diminishing book and kindled it in his cupped palm. Lowering his hand, he touched the flame gently to the wick of a half-melted birthday candle he had rescued from the bin and set it carefully on a chipped plate, placing it all on the sill of his open window.
The thick, still July air remained quiet as he dropped into his desk chair. Harry watched the unwavering flame, cheek on fist, as the first glowing touches of dawn coloured the edge of the sky.
Character(s): Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Prompt: “candle in the window”
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 759
Author's Notes: Warning -implied underage Harry; Thanks - to pre_raphaelite1 for the 10-minute beta.
Harry arched and cried out. It was too much; more than he could possibly stand.
Soft strands of hair slithered over his belly in delicate contrast to the deep, wet sucking that enveloped his aching cock.
“God-!” He could not keep his hips from arching upwards into the pulling heat, tipping his chin down and gazing blearily at the messy head of black hair nodding slowly over his crotch. “Oh, fuck.” Any minute - any second - he was going to come. Oh fuck. “Please...”
The mouth pulled off him suddenly and Harry gasped, damp cock jerking into free air. Shining eyes appeared, just visible through the tangle of hair falling across his forehead. A laughing mouth with slickly wet lips soon came into view and Sirius grinned at him.
“You have to tell me, Harry. C’mon, lad. You know how this works, yeah?”
Harry let his head fall back into the pillow with a faint moan. Every time. Long fingers drew teasingly across his balls, sending shudders of pleasure down his limbs.
Sirius’ voice was soft and coaxing. “C’mon. There’s a boy.”
One fingertip strayed back behind his balls, pressing just so, and a dribble of precome welled from the tip of Harry’s erection. “Please…” A sob caught in his chest and he pressed one cheek into the pillow, fighting to draw breath as his hands fisted in the bedclothes. The tone was wavering, cracked, but he felt the truth of the words humming in his skin. “I love you.”
The sudden tension in Sirius’ body was enough to make it clear that this was not what he had expected as an answer, even if they hadn’t played this game over and over in the last few months.
Harry immediately cursed himself for his own stupidity, stomach clenching and he started to struggle upright when Sirius’ hand slid to the middle of his chest and pressed him back with gentle insistence. His eyes were soft and inscrutable. “I know.”
Harry’s mouth opened to make an excuse, to take back what he said, but Sirius had moved back down his body again and the wet push of his tongue was drawing up the underside of Harry’s cock. Thoughts flew away at the feeling and it didn’t matter. He’d meant it and Sirius was sucking him in drawn-out pulses like he never had any intention of stopping.
“Oh, God.” His fingers slid into Sirius' hair, stroking through it, urging him on. “Please. Make me come.”
Sirius pushed down, swallowing the full length and letting the back of his throat contract about the head. Harry bucked and came, the room wavering about him in the roar of his orgasm, the tightness of Sirius’ throat evaporating suddenly as his eyes flew open on the shadowed stretch of ceiling above his narrow bed.
The smell of Sirius dissipated, the immediacy of him, his warmth. He was alone in bed, hand clutching the head of his spent cock through his pyjama bottoms.
Harry sat up, chest heaving, sheets twisted and sticking to his hot, sweaty skin. Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, he put them on with trembling fingers, the last waves of orgasm still running through his body. The dream clung to him like shreds of fabric and he rubbed at the gooseflesh that prickled up his arms in spite of the heat.
Long legs swung over the side of the mattress and Harry came to his feet, stripping off his dirtied pyjamas and wiping himself down with them before pulling on a fresh pair. He turned, reaching for a book or magazine and his hand paused over a small collection of objects at the corner of his desk. A sigh escaped his lips.
He knew it was stupid to keep doing this. Pointless. Impossible. It was the same reason he couldn’t bear to get rid of the pointed silver shards at the bottom of his trunk. The Dursleys would surely make him stop it if they found out. And yet…
He pulled one match free from the diminishing book and kindled it in his cupped palm. Lowering his hand, he touched the flame gently to the wick of a half-melted birthday candle he had rescued from the bin and set it carefully on a chipped plate, placing it all on the sill of his open window.
The thick, still July air remained quiet as he dropped into his desk chair. Harry watched the unwavering flame, cheek on fist, as the first glowing touches of dawn coloured the edge of the sky.