FIC:Capnolagnia [James/Sirius]
Title: Capnolagnia
Authors: Anj & Seph (aka rosesanguina & petulantgod)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: James/Sirius
Word Count: 4,000
Warnings: Drug use? (Cigarettes, babes, check the title!)
Author's Notes: Written for imochan's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IMO! We ♥ you (liek woah).
" Oi, nice arse, Potter!"
James felt his face split with a grin, automatic reaction to the much-missed voice, and he gave his trunk one last shove into the under-train luggage hold before straightening and turning slowly around, settling his face into an appropriately annoyed expression and raising an eyebrow at his grinning companion.
"Black," he returned, eyeing the taller boy sternly. "Fashionably late, as always. One would think you were hoping for a repeat of second year."
"I never repeat anything," replied Sirius gravely. "That would be predictable. And worse still, boring. Variety is the spice of life, Potter, and that's a lesson you could well use, old man."
James snorted, reaching up to rumple the back of his hair and giving Sirius his best you're-an-arse stare. "Says the man who owns but one colour of clothing. Honestly, isn't it a bit tacky, considering your name is, in fact, Black?"
"It's not tacky," Sirius said with a sneer. "It's hip accessorising, and you, my oh-so-square friend, might take a page from my book."
"You," James replied, "are such a ponce."
And there it was: the inevitable reversion to violence as Sirius' fist connected with James' upper arm, solid thwack followed quickly by raucous laughter as best mates slung arms about each others' shoulders and made their way onto the train. Remus was absent this year, joining the responsible ones in the Prefects' car and reducing their merry party to three, but nearly three months' absence equates to a lot of adventures, and James and Sirius never once fell silent, continually attempting to better each other as their stories became more and more outrageous and left poor Peter staring at them with eyes the size of saucers as he perched raptly on the edge of his seat.
Finally, once they had exhausted their tales of piracy and stealth and pubic hair and wicked filthy roguish charm, James turned to Peter, stepping into Remus' role to ask, "So how was your summer then, Pete?"
Peter stammered, caught himself, tried again, and James wondered with a stab of pity how the poor bloke ever managed to not slit his throat from being so obviously awkward, especially when constantly surrounded by the likes of himself and Sirius.
"Er...nothing really exciting," he said, high-pitched squeak sounding quite apologetic. "My mum sent me to camp again, not nearly anywhere as exciting as where you spent your summer, Jamie, and I had to stay with my Aunt Edna for a week -- you know, the one with warts on her--"
"Yes, we remember," James interrupted him, pushing that mental image far from his mind.
"Really, Pete," Sirius said, voice slightly muffled behind one hand, "you do have the most horrid time of things. I'm quite inclined to say that you do, in fact, lose at this great game called puberty."
James snorted, turning to fire off some witty insult or another just because he could (with the added bonus that it made Peter think he was defending him and therefore liked him quite a lot)... and stopped, blinking in surprise at the darkly coloured... thing... dangling from Sirius' lips.
Sirius smirked, giving James his patented I-am-smug-yet-nonchalant-in-my-cool-Siriusy-way look, and James felt something clench uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Sirius looked... older, more self-assured, and all of a sudden, James felt like he'd lost their competition for good, especially since he had absolutely no idea what the... thing... was, and Sirius looked so evilly delighted that the last thing on earth he'd ever want to do would be to ask.
Fortunately, he didn't have to.
"Er...what's that?" Peter blurted, looking utterly flummoxed.
Sirius beamed, as if someone had just named him Witch Weekly's Sexiest Bachelor (damn him), and collected the thing between index and middle finger, pulling it from his mouth with a flourish and fixing Peter with a secretive smile. "This," he replied dramatically, waving the thing around so the fragrant smoke swirled about his face, "is a clove."
James blinked. He'd heard of cloves, a few Christmases ago when they'd been to visit his grandparents -- he hadn't paid too much attention at the time, but he could remember some of the conversation, and what Sirius was holding out didn't look especially practical for impaling an orange.
Once again, good old reliable Peter came to the rescue. "What er...what are you supposed to do with it?"
Sirius smiled a strange, iniquitous smile so different from his customary mischievous smirk that it sent an odd shiver down James' spine, and pulled out his wand. "You smoke it," he said simply, touching wand-tip to its end until it glowed orange and then flared as Sirius' lips tightened around it and his cheeks hollowed slightly.
James didn't stare. It took a great deal of effort on his part, but he most certainly did not stare. Sirius was flaunting his newfound knowledge of... of burny things in an attempt to gain Maximum Coolness Points, and James certainly wasn't going to give him the pleasure. If Sirius thought he could crow over James' ignorance about the matter, he was sorely mistaken.
Adopting an expression of unimpressed indifference (easily mastered when one deals with Snape on a regular basis), James stretched out comfortably in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle and regarding Peter with his standard superior smirk. Only Peter wasn't looking at him with that same adoring smile as he always did -- in fact, Peter wasn't looking at him at all. He was staring at Sirius, mouth hanging slightly open, and James suddenly wanted to hit him. This was not how the year was supposed to start.
Unfortunately for James, it didn't get the slightest bit better.
It was completely ridiculous how a little tube of scented paper could earn him so much attention and acclaim, but by lunch the next day, Sirius was officially once again established as the most popular bloke in school; only this time, James wasn't up there with him. Just that morning, no less than sixteen girls had come up to him and asked him to go to Hogsmeade with them (as opposed to James' five), and four had tripped over James in their distraction as they ogled Sirius. (Which prompted Peter to ask for (and be denied) a smoke at least twenty-five times.) Even McGonagall had been charmed out of assigning a detention (for disrupting the class with his ludicrously distracting sophistication) by Sirius' utter self-assurance, made all the more roguish by the Thing dangling from the corner of his mouth.
The only person, in fact, who seemed entirely unimpressed with Sirius' shenanigans (aside from Evans, who was, as a rule, unimpressed with everything, hence the reason she owned James' heart) was Remus, who'd glared irritably at Sirius when he'd filled their dormitory with smoke and told him to 'put out that disgusting fag before I stub it out in your arm', which had left Peter extremely perplexed and led to an explanation of what exactly it was that Sirius was doing, complete with discussion of lung cancer and any number of other potentially deadly side effects, which, of course, had sent Sirius off in a huff and left James torn between tracking down his best mate or hanging about with Remus, who was experiencing what they liked to call PFMS (or pre-full moon syndrome), and Peter, who was... well, Peter.
The decision was easy enough to make. Executing it was the hard part.
It was really annoying, James thought as he took the stairs two at a time and nearly knocked over a gaggle of first years along the way, how no matter how irritated he was with Sirius at any given time, he still felt like he was short a piece whenever the berk was MIA. And of course, when Sirius wanted to go missing, then that was exactly what he did, leaving James to chase his arse down, pin him to a wall, and glare at him until he offered that little smirk that was half-apologetic but not really in that cocky way he had down to a T, and some days James really hated him and wanted to punch that stupid expression right off his face.
But he was still Sirius and the best friend James had, and even hating him felt like love. Not that James would ever admit that, of course.
Not in the least bit surprisingly, James finally found him outside, managing to sprawl indolently even while standing as he leaned against the dark stone and lifted another one of those fucking fags to his mouth. He was dressed all in black, as he'd taken to doing sometime the end of fourth year, and looked such the epitome of cool that James understood for a moment how Peter must feel.
"Can't live without me," Sirius thought with a smirk that didn't do much to cover the genuine joy the thought gave him.
He stabbed out his fag in the stones and lit up another, carefully sheltering the end from the evening breeze and revelling in his own unquestionable suavity. Hearing the telltale hiss of James' exasperated sigh, Sirius looked up and took a long, slow pull on the cigarette, blowing out the exotically scented smoke with a (carefully-practiced) sensual curve of his lips.
"Fashionably late as always, Potter," he murmured, holding out the black-labelled pack with a roguish grin that delighted in its own supreme savoir faire. "Wanna smoke?"
James gritted his teeth for a moment, hearing his mum's voice in his ear telling him to take a deep breath, count to five, don't let it get to you, but he wasn't a kid anymore and his mum couldn't help him with this, especially since James was entirely positive neither of his parents had ever heard of a cigarette before either.
Sometimes, living in a Pureblood bubble really wasn't all what people made it out to be.
Resisting the urge to stare at Sirius' mouth (and convinced that that was the entire purpose of the damned things in the first place), James straightened his spine and stalked purposefully across the courtyard and over to where Sirius was... lounging.
"Had to give you time to practise, you know," he returned, arching a brow and eyeing Sirius' stance. "Wouldn't want to have to laugh at you when you lost your balance and tipped over face-first onto the flagstones. Common courtesy and all."
He managed a smirk, holding Sirius' gaze as he reached into the pack, fingers closing around the end of one cigarette and withdrawing it. His eyes didn't waver as he tried to copy Sirius' easy curl of lip around the thing without looking like that's what he was doing -- not that he had to look, considering the fact Sirius had been flaunting the damned things all day and it had thusly been impossible to ignore looking anyhow. Stupid bastard and his stupid mouth. James was fifteen and his best mate had an oral fixation.
The world hated him.
"Well aren't we droll this evening, Mr Potter? Don't s'pose you'd like to share with the class where you got that fine case of the bitchfits..." Sirius drawled as he gave James a light, eyes lingering too long on the succulent line of James' lips, sending his brain plummeting to somewhere in the general vicinity of his pants. Leaning hard against the wall, Sirius tipped his head back and looked up at the sky, determinedly ignoring the sudden pang of want coursing through him. "Egad, could it be that someone mayhap missed someone else and that the first someone's name might begin with a J? Eh, wotwot? Say thee nay?"
James rolled his eyes (which had the added advantage of keeping him from fixating on the line of Sirius' throat, pale and darkly shadowed and making his stomach twist in a way he didn't want to think about at all) and leaned against the wall as well, crossing his legs at the ankle and taking a deep drag off the cigarette--
And immediately felt pain explode behind his eyeballs as he coughed so hard he thought his head was going to explode, though whether from humiliation or the coughing itself, he wasn't quite sure.
"Oh fuck, James, what a-- You idiot!" Sirius burst into laughter and delivered a few hearty blows to James' back - strictly in the interests of being a good friend, mind - and took a drag without skipping another beat. "You're meant to suck on it, not swallow it," he chuckled before thinking twice about the statement and flushing a flattering rosy shade.
"I thought the two went hand in hand," James mumbled hoarsely, gulping in air to cool his throat and not really registering what he'd just said until he felt Sirius' hand still on his back, at which point he felt quite certain it was, in fact, possible to die of mortification.
Clearing his throat, Sirius managed to choke out an, "I'm sure I wouldn't know."
The awkwardness reached critical levels as his hand developed a mind of its own, first rubbing James' back slowly, then lifting before the magnetic pull of touch drew it back in another energetic smack that knocked what little air James had managed to suck in right back out.
This would be an appropriate time for an apology, but Sirius really couldn't figure out how to make his tongue untangle. It was far too busy conspiring with his prick on how to get James naked to be bothered with such things as 'Sorry there, mate's, and as James looked up at him with what could only be described as "disgruntlement befitting a postal worker", settled instead for a nice, "Nnghhhhohh," much to Sirius' dismay.
Sirius was trying to kill him. It was official. It wasn't enough to completely show him up, what with the ubercoolness and the knowledge of All Things Muggle, not to mention the hair that managed to look sexily tousled rather than just shaggy like James' own and the Obvious Physical Displays of Manhood that he'd acquired during the summer months while James had been fitfully glaring at his chest in the mirror every morning and trying to figure out if there was a spell to make hair grow in a semi-normal pattern not resembling crop circles, noooo.
Now he was capitalising on the fact that James' cock refused to obey any sort of logic, even he is a bloke and that is not okay even if he does have a very pretty mouth and what the fuck is wrong with you, Potter? and if Sirius didn't get his hands off right now James was going to do something even more humiliating, so he sucked it up (and he really needed to stop thinking about sucking) and gave Sirius a hard shove before fixing him with a dark, silent glare.
James' hand barely had time to pull away from Sirius' body before he'd squared his feet, sent the ashes from his cigarette flying with a deft flick of his wrist, stuck it expertly to the inside of his lip, and pushed back with a feral gleam lighting his face. "Wanna play, Jamie? We oughtn't to roughhouse, you know, might start coughing again and your mummy wouldn't like that..."
James felt his back hit the wall, a jagged stone digging into his spine, and was suddenly, irrationally furious, all the day's frustration twisting into an ugly beast deep in his chest, and he narrowed his eyes, braced himself against the stone, and snarled, "Shut your hole, Black, before I shut it for you," as his hands flew to Sirius' shoulders in a mindless, rough shove.
The half-smoked fag fell unheeded to the ground by their feet and Sirius muttered, "Shut it for me," grey eyes drifting shut as he crushed his mouth to James', body moving mindlessly against the hot pressure of his hands. His own fingers came up to tentatively caress the smooth lines of James' cheekbones, fingertips playing over the light stubble on his jaw before he pushed his glasses up and out of the way, letting them lodge in the tangled mess of his hair. He remembered himself suddenly, his cheeks flushing scarlet as he took a shaky half-step backward, licking the taste of James' mouth from his lips before he could stop and stuttering, "Sorry, fuck, sorry, Jamie, I didn't- um- It's just the-"
James went still, writhing mass of fury freezing completely for a moment before dropping straight into his belly and bursting hot and hungry with lust as Sirius flattened him back against the wall, lips rough and demanding-not demanding against his and fingers nothing like a girl's as they slid against his skin. Sirius was hard, god, so hard against him, familiar weight pinning him against rock and the tangy-sweet scent of cloves and smoke and best mate curling in his nostrils, and James shuddered, forgetting everything but the feel of warmth and skin and need surrounding him until suddenly it was gone and Sirius was staring at him in horror, words tripping from his lips, and don't you dare say it was just the cigarettes you fucking bastard, James thought in a sharp fit of pique, tightening his hands against Sirius' shoulders and hauling him back into another kiss.
If James was going to be miserable and horny and confused, Sirius was damn well coming right along with him.
Slicksoft press of lips and hard gnash of teeth tore a desperate whimper from Sirius' throat and he surged forward, crushing James back into the wall with his weight and sliding his tongue into his mouth, hands smoothing down James' sides and rucking up his shirt with hasty pulls to slip his hands under the fabric and against skin, ohfuck skin hot and real and not imagination no real skin James' skin so longed for so wrong and oh nothing matters nothing just skin lips tongue James... The knobs of his spine rose and fell against Sirius' fingers as they writhed and shifted, and then James' thigh was against his crotch and he shouldn't but he wanted to and he did and he couldn't stand it ohfucksogood and he could feel the warmth of James' body right through his clothes and warm against his thrusting cock warm and familiar and right and Sirius groaned into James' mouth as he rocked their hips together--
More, he thought, and even as he curled his tongue around James', his hands slid down over the high tight curve of James' arse and around his hips to the button of his trousers, to his belt, and it's too much to fuck with and he could't be arsed and why the fuck were trousers so fucking complicated and I'd like to give whoever invented clothes a piece of my mind--
"Please," he whispered as he pulled away a hair's breadth to suck in a breath, "Please, Jamie." And if James reached out his hand to touch Sirius' sleeve, he could touch his heart.
Oh god, Sirius tasted wild, soursweet and so oddly familiar against James' tongue and his body was hard and firm and no curves no soft breasts crushing into his chest but oh hard cock digging into his thigh instead and this was better, more real somehow because no bird was ever as important as Sirius and now Sirius' skin under his fingers and Sirius' tongue in his mouth and Sirius' ohfuck Sirius' hand firm and sure against his cock and Sirius knew him, knew him like nobody else, and Sirius wouldn't cry or scream or sulk or break and James moaned desperately, pushing his hips forward against hard jut of bone and grasping fingers and raising blurred eyes to Sirius' face, seeing want and need and hope there, and yes thought James in whispered silence as he twisted fingers in Sirius' hair and pulled him close, driving his hips into Sirius' with a strangled groan and silencing tremulous doubt with lips and teeth and tongue.
A triumphant barking laugh erupted from Sirius' lips and he buried his face in James' throat, grinding the aching length of his prick into James', so close, so close, separated by nothing but thin fabric, and Could melt together, could fuse like lightning-struck sand into glass sculpture into perfect oneness could... Like fire like rain like every force of nature and more, always more, and give it to you, give you more, give you everything, and it's not nearly enough... Give you all my heart, Jamie, give you every broken bit...
Love welled up from deep within him, and Sirius swelled with it until he thought he'd burst, swelled with this love so big it consumed him, and he tangled his arms around James' back, gripping his arse in both splayed hands and dragging him forward again and again to meet every needy thrust to give him every fucking bit of him to take and need and want and have and, "YesyesfuckyesJamieohhhh..." slamming forward again and shuddering until he thought he'd die, and he didn't care he was coming in his trousers like a stupid kid, didn't care because he was whispering, "James, love you, James..." like a prayer against his ear and he wasn't pushing him away.
Steady moans like fire against his skin and thrusting hips driving him back and back and back against palms and stone as Sirius' cock dragged heavy-hot against his own and it hurt so good so desperate and they fit somehow fit like they always had since the day they met, blue eyes meeting grey, hands touching, matching grins and mischievous winks and grandiose words and conspiratorial smirks and friendship-kinship all precursors to this to the rough-sharp slam of bonemuscleskin and so close, so fucking close to touching to sliding together to being together and oh the thought of that, of sweat-slick skin bare chests and thighs and cocks sliding through joined circle of hands fuck as James stiffened with a low cry, yes and Sirius and love intertwining on his lips as he buried his face in warm dark hair and spilled hard and stickywet into fabric confines.
Trembling, Sirius clung to James, his breath coming out in great shaky gusts as the world slowly began resolving into something resembling normal.
"Fuck," Sirius panted finally, pulling away only to slump to the ground with his back against the wall. "Merlinfuck, James, I had no idea... Ohh."
With a slightly awkward and highly satisfied sigh, Sirius reached into his pocket for his fags, jabbing one between his lips with still-wobbly fingers and lighting up. Closing his eyes and letting his head loll back against the wall, Sirius inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out through his nostrils with a groan of pleasure before holding up the pack again with a cheeky grin. "Die young and leave a pretty corpse?"
James blinked heavily, utterly dazed and eminently grateful for the wall's support else his legs give out and he succumb to gravity in a manner entirely unbefitting of a champion Seeker's grace. His brain had decided to go on extended holiday, it seemed -- any confusing thoughts that had been whirling about his head before were now silent, leaving nothing but a hazy stupor of pleased lassitude, and his fingers reached into the pack again and brought a fag halfway to his mouth before he realised what he was doing.
Gaze glazing over with a glare that would freeze even Lily Evans in her tracks, but with an undercurrent of amusement and affection that only Sirius could inspire, James slid to his knees and punched Sirius right in the arm. "You utter arse," he grumbled, and then laughed, feeling light and floaty and giddy as he collapsed against Sirius' side and stole the cigarette from between his lips instead, taking a careful drag and feeling right proud of himself when all that happened this time was a curl of woodsy warmth flaring in his chest.
Or maybe that was just from Sirius' smile.
Authors: Anj & Seph (aka rosesanguina & petulantgod)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: James/Sirius
Word Count: 4,000
Warnings: Drug use? (Cigarettes, babes, check the title!)
Author's Notes: Written for imochan's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IMO! We ♥ you (liek woah).
" Oi, nice arse, Potter!"
James felt his face split with a grin, automatic reaction to the much-missed voice, and he gave his trunk one last shove into the under-train luggage hold before straightening and turning slowly around, settling his face into an appropriately annoyed expression and raising an eyebrow at his grinning companion.
"Black," he returned, eyeing the taller boy sternly. "Fashionably late, as always. One would think you were hoping for a repeat of second year."
"I never repeat anything," replied Sirius gravely. "That would be predictable. And worse still, boring. Variety is the spice of life, Potter, and that's a lesson you could well use, old man."
James snorted, reaching up to rumple the back of his hair and giving Sirius his best you're-an-arse stare. "Says the man who owns but one colour of clothing. Honestly, isn't it a bit tacky, considering your name is, in fact, Black?"
"It's not tacky," Sirius said with a sneer. "It's hip accessorising, and you, my oh-so-square friend, might take a page from my book."
"You," James replied, "are such a ponce."
And there it was: the inevitable reversion to violence as Sirius' fist connected with James' upper arm, solid thwack followed quickly by raucous laughter as best mates slung arms about each others' shoulders and made their way onto the train. Remus was absent this year, joining the responsible ones in the Prefects' car and reducing their merry party to three, but nearly three months' absence equates to a lot of adventures, and James and Sirius never once fell silent, continually attempting to better each other as their stories became more and more outrageous and left poor Peter staring at them with eyes the size of saucers as he perched raptly on the edge of his seat.
Finally, once they had exhausted their tales of piracy and stealth and pubic hair and wicked filthy roguish charm, James turned to Peter, stepping into Remus' role to ask, "So how was your summer then, Pete?"
Peter stammered, caught himself, tried again, and James wondered with a stab of pity how the poor bloke ever managed to not slit his throat from being so obviously awkward, especially when constantly surrounded by the likes of himself and Sirius.
"Er...nothing really exciting," he said, high-pitched squeak sounding quite apologetic. "My mum sent me to camp again, not nearly anywhere as exciting as where you spent your summer, Jamie, and I had to stay with my Aunt Edna for a week -- you know, the one with warts on her--"
"Yes, we remember," James interrupted him, pushing that mental image far from his mind.
"Really, Pete," Sirius said, voice slightly muffled behind one hand, "you do have the most horrid time of things. I'm quite inclined to say that you do, in fact, lose at this great game called puberty."
James snorted, turning to fire off some witty insult or another just because he could (with the added bonus that it made Peter think he was defending him and therefore liked him quite a lot)... and stopped, blinking in surprise at the darkly coloured... thing... dangling from Sirius' lips.
Sirius smirked, giving James his patented I-am-smug-yet-nonchalant-in-my-cool-Siriusy-way look, and James felt something clench uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. Sirius looked... older, more self-assured, and all of a sudden, James felt like he'd lost their competition for good, especially since he had absolutely no idea what the... thing... was, and Sirius looked so evilly delighted that the last thing on earth he'd ever want to do would be to ask.
Fortunately, he didn't have to.
"Er...what's that?" Peter blurted, looking utterly flummoxed.
Sirius beamed, as if someone had just named him Witch Weekly's Sexiest Bachelor (damn him), and collected the thing between index and middle finger, pulling it from his mouth with a flourish and fixing Peter with a secretive smile. "This," he replied dramatically, waving the thing around so the fragrant smoke swirled about his face, "is a clove."
James blinked. He'd heard of cloves, a few Christmases ago when they'd been to visit his grandparents -- he hadn't paid too much attention at the time, but he could remember some of the conversation, and what Sirius was holding out didn't look especially practical for impaling an orange.
Once again, good old reliable Peter came to the rescue. "What er...what are you supposed to do with it?"
Sirius smiled a strange, iniquitous smile so different from his customary mischievous smirk that it sent an odd shiver down James' spine, and pulled out his wand. "You smoke it," he said simply, touching wand-tip to its end until it glowed orange and then flared as Sirius' lips tightened around it and his cheeks hollowed slightly.
James didn't stare. It took a great deal of effort on his part, but he most certainly did not stare. Sirius was flaunting his newfound knowledge of... of burny things in an attempt to gain Maximum Coolness Points, and James certainly wasn't going to give him the pleasure. If Sirius thought he could crow over James' ignorance about the matter, he was sorely mistaken.
Adopting an expression of unimpressed indifference (easily mastered when one deals with Snape on a regular basis), James stretched out comfortably in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle and regarding Peter with his standard superior smirk. Only Peter wasn't looking at him with that same adoring smile as he always did -- in fact, Peter wasn't looking at him at all. He was staring at Sirius, mouth hanging slightly open, and James suddenly wanted to hit him. This was not how the year was supposed to start.
Unfortunately for James, it didn't get the slightest bit better.
It was completely ridiculous how a little tube of scented paper could earn him so much attention and acclaim, but by lunch the next day, Sirius was officially once again established as the most popular bloke in school; only this time, James wasn't up there with him. Just that morning, no less than sixteen girls had come up to him and asked him to go to Hogsmeade with them (as opposed to James' five), and four had tripped over James in their distraction as they ogled Sirius. (Which prompted Peter to ask for (and be denied) a smoke at least twenty-five times.) Even McGonagall had been charmed out of assigning a detention (for disrupting the class with his ludicrously distracting sophistication) by Sirius' utter self-assurance, made all the more roguish by the Thing dangling from the corner of his mouth.
The only person, in fact, who seemed entirely unimpressed with Sirius' shenanigans (aside from Evans, who was, as a rule, unimpressed with everything, hence the reason she owned James' heart) was Remus, who'd glared irritably at Sirius when he'd filled their dormitory with smoke and told him to 'put out that disgusting fag before I stub it out in your arm', which had left Peter extremely perplexed and led to an explanation of what exactly it was that Sirius was doing, complete with discussion of lung cancer and any number of other potentially deadly side effects, which, of course, had sent Sirius off in a huff and left James torn between tracking down his best mate or hanging about with Remus, who was experiencing what they liked to call PFMS (or pre-full moon syndrome), and Peter, who was... well, Peter.
The decision was easy enough to make. Executing it was the hard part.
It was really annoying, James thought as he took the stairs two at a time and nearly knocked over a gaggle of first years along the way, how no matter how irritated he was with Sirius at any given time, he still felt like he was short a piece whenever the berk was MIA. And of course, when Sirius wanted to go missing, then that was exactly what he did, leaving James to chase his arse down, pin him to a wall, and glare at him until he offered that little smirk that was half-apologetic but not really in that cocky way he had down to a T, and some days James really hated him and wanted to punch that stupid expression right off his face.
But he was still Sirius and the best friend James had, and even hating him felt like love. Not that James would ever admit that, of course.
Not in the least bit surprisingly, James finally found him outside, managing to sprawl indolently even while standing as he leaned against the dark stone and lifted another one of those fucking fags to his mouth. He was dressed all in black, as he'd taken to doing sometime the end of fourth year, and looked such the epitome of cool that James understood for a moment how Peter must feel.
"Can't live without me," Sirius thought with a smirk that didn't do much to cover the genuine joy the thought gave him.
He stabbed out his fag in the stones and lit up another, carefully sheltering the end from the evening breeze and revelling in his own unquestionable suavity. Hearing the telltale hiss of James' exasperated sigh, Sirius looked up and took a long, slow pull on the cigarette, blowing out the exotically scented smoke with a (carefully-practiced) sensual curve of his lips.
"Fashionably late as always, Potter," he murmured, holding out the black-labelled pack with a roguish grin that delighted in its own supreme savoir faire. "Wanna smoke?"
James gritted his teeth for a moment, hearing his mum's voice in his ear telling him to take a deep breath, count to five, don't let it get to you, but he wasn't a kid anymore and his mum couldn't help him with this, especially since James was entirely positive neither of his parents had ever heard of a cigarette before either.
Sometimes, living in a Pureblood bubble really wasn't all what people made it out to be.
Resisting the urge to stare at Sirius' mouth (and convinced that that was the entire purpose of the damned things in the first place), James straightened his spine and stalked purposefully across the courtyard and over to where Sirius was... lounging.
"Had to give you time to practise, you know," he returned, arching a brow and eyeing Sirius' stance. "Wouldn't want to have to laugh at you when you lost your balance and tipped over face-first onto the flagstones. Common courtesy and all."
He managed a smirk, holding Sirius' gaze as he reached into the pack, fingers closing around the end of one cigarette and withdrawing it. His eyes didn't waver as he tried to copy Sirius' easy curl of lip around the thing without looking like that's what he was doing -- not that he had to look, considering the fact Sirius had been flaunting the damned things all day and it had thusly been impossible to ignore looking anyhow. Stupid bastard and his stupid mouth. James was fifteen and his best mate had an oral fixation.
The world hated him.
"Well aren't we droll this evening, Mr Potter? Don't s'pose you'd like to share with the class where you got that fine case of the bitchfits..." Sirius drawled as he gave James a light, eyes lingering too long on the succulent line of James' lips, sending his brain plummeting to somewhere in the general vicinity of his pants. Leaning hard against the wall, Sirius tipped his head back and looked up at the sky, determinedly ignoring the sudden pang of want coursing through him. "Egad, could it be that someone mayhap missed someone else and that the first someone's name might begin with a J? Eh, wotwot? Say thee nay?"
James rolled his eyes (which had the added advantage of keeping him from fixating on the line of Sirius' throat, pale and darkly shadowed and making his stomach twist in a way he didn't want to think about at all) and leaned against the wall as well, crossing his legs at the ankle and taking a deep drag off the cigarette--
And immediately felt pain explode behind his eyeballs as he coughed so hard he thought his head was going to explode, though whether from humiliation or the coughing itself, he wasn't quite sure.
"Oh fuck, James, what a-- You idiot!" Sirius burst into laughter and delivered a few hearty blows to James' back - strictly in the interests of being a good friend, mind - and took a drag without skipping another beat. "You're meant to suck on it, not swallow it," he chuckled before thinking twice about the statement and flushing a flattering rosy shade.
"I thought the two went hand in hand," James mumbled hoarsely, gulping in air to cool his throat and not really registering what he'd just said until he felt Sirius' hand still on his back, at which point he felt quite certain it was, in fact, possible to die of mortification.
Clearing his throat, Sirius managed to choke out an, "I'm sure I wouldn't know."
The awkwardness reached critical levels as his hand developed a mind of its own, first rubbing James' back slowly, then lifting before the magnetic pull of touch drew it back in another energetic smack that knocked what little air James had managed to suck in right back out.
This would be an appropriate time for an apology, but Sirius really couldn't figure out how to make his tongue untangle. It was far too busy conspiring with his prick on how to get James naked to be bothered with such things as 'Sorry there, mate's, and as James looked up at him with what could only be described as "disgruntlement befitting a postal worker", settled instead for a nice, "Nnghhhhohh," much to Sirius' dismay.
Sirius was trying to kill him. It was official. It wasn't enough to completely show him up, what with the ubercoolness and the knowledge of All Things Muggle, not to mention the hair that managed to look sexily tousled rather than just shaggy like James' own and the Obvious Physical Displays of Manhood that he'd acquired during the summer months while James had been fitfully glaring at his chest in the mirror every morning and trying to figure out if there was a spell to make hair grow in a semi-normal pattern not resembling crop circles, noooo.
Now he was capitalising on the fact that James' cock refused to obey any sort of logic, even he is a bloke and that is not okay even if he does have a very pretty mouth and what the fuck is wrong with you, Potter? and if Sirius didn't get his hands off right now James was going to do something even more humiliating, so he sucked it up (and he really needed to stop thinking about sucking) and gave Sirius a hard shove before fixing him with a dark, silent glare.
James' hand barely had time to pull away from Sirius' body before he'd squared his feet, sent the ashes from his cigarette flying with a deft flick of his wrist, stuck it expertly to the inside of his lip, and pushed back with a feral gleam lighting his face. "Wanna play, Jamie? We oughtn't to roughhouse, you know, might start coughing again and your mummy wouldn't like that..."
James felt his back hit the wall, a jagged stone digging into his spine, and was suddenly, irrationally furious, all the day's frustration twisting into an ugly beast deep in his chest, and he narrowed his eyes, braced himself against the stone, and snarled, "Shut your hole, Black, before I shut it for you," as his hands flew to Sirius' shoulders in a mindless, rough shove.
The half-smoked fag fell unheeded to the ground by their feet and Sirius muttered, "Shut it for me," grey eyes drifting shut as he crushed his mouth to James', body moving mindlessly against the hot pressure of his hands. His own fingers came up to tentatively caress the smooth lines of James' cheekbones, fingertips playing over the light stubble on his jaw before he pushed his glasses up and out of the way, letting them lodge in the tangled mess of his hair. He remembered himself suddenly, his cheeks flushing scarlet as he took a shaky half-step backward, licking the taste of James' mouth from his lips before he could stop and stuttering, "Sorry, fuck, sorry, Jamie, I didn't- um- It's just the-"
James went still, writhing mass of fury freezing completely for a moment before dropping straight into his belly and bursting hot and hungry with lust as Sirius flattened him back against the wall, lips rough and demanding-not demanding against his and fingers nothing like a girl's as they slid against his skin. Sirius was hard, god, so hard against him, familiar weight pinning him against rock and the tangy-sweet scent of cloves and smoke and best mate curling in his nostrils, and James shuddered, forgetting everything but the feel of warmth and skin and need surrounding him until suddenly it was gone and Sirius was staring at him in horror, words tripping from his lips, and don't you dare say it was just the cigarettes you fucking bastard, James thought in a sharp fit of pique, tightening his hands against Sirius' shoulders and hauling him back into another kiss.
If James was going to be miserable and horny and confused, Sirius was damn well coming right along with him.
Slicksoft press of lips and hard gnash of teeth tore a desperate whimper from Sirius' throat and he surged forward, crushing James back into the wall with his weight and sliding his tongue into his mouth, hands smoothing down James' sides and rucking up his shirt with hasty pulls to slip his hands under the fabric and against skin, ohfuck skin hot and real and not imagination no real skin James' skin so longed for so wrong and oh nothing matters nothing just skin lips tongue James... The knobs of his spine rose and fell against Sirius' fingers as they writhed and shifted, and then James' thigh was against his crotch and he shouldn't but he wanted to and he did and he couldn't stand it ohfucksogood and he could feel the warmth of James' body right through his clothes and warm against his thrusting cock warm and familiar and right and Sirius groaned into James' mouth as he rocked their hips together--
More, he thought, and even as he curled his tongue around James', his hands slid down over the high tight curve of James' arse and around his hips to the button of his trousers, to his belt, and it's too much to fuck with and he could't be arsed and why the fuck were trousers so fucking complicated and I'd like to give whoever invented clothes a piece of my mind--
"Please," he whispered as he pulled away a hair's breadth to suck in a breath, "Please, Jamie." And if James reached out his hand to touch Sirius' sleeve, he could touch his heart.
Oh god, Sirius tasted wild, soursweet and so oddly familiar against James' tongue and his body was hard and firm and no curves no soft breasts crushing into his chest but oh hard cock digging into his thigh instead and this was better, more real somehow because no bird was ever as important as Sirius and now Sirius' skin under his fingers and Sirius' tongue in his mouth and Sirius' ohfuck Sirius' hand firm and sure against his cock and Sirius knew him, knew him like nobody else, and Sirius wouldn't cry or scream or sulk or break and James moaned desperately, pushing his hips forward against hard jut of bone and grasping fingers and raising blurred eyes to Sirius' face, seeing want and need and hope there, and yes thought James in whispered silence as he twisted fingers in Sirius' hair and pulled him close, driving his hips into Sirius' with a strangled groan and silencing tremulous doubt with lips and teeth and tongue.
A triumphant barking laugh erupted from Sirius' lips and he buried his face in James' throat, grinding the aching length of his prick into James', so close, so close, separated by nothing but thin fabric, and Could melt together, could fuse like lightning-struck sand into glass sculpture into perfect oneness could... Like fire like rain like every force of nature and more, always more, and give it to you, give you more, give you everything, and it's not nearly enough... Give you all my heart, Jamie, give you every broken bit...
Love welled up from deep within him, and Sirius swelled with it until he thought he'd burst, swelled with this love so big it consumed him, and he tangled his arms around James' back, gripping his arse in both splayed hands and dragging him forward again and again to meet every needy thrust to give him every fucking bit of him to take and need and want and have and, "YesyesfuckyesJamieohhhh..." slamming forward again and shuddering until he thought he'd die, and he didn't care he was coming in his trousers like a stupid kid, didn't care because he was whispering, "James, love you, James..." like a prayer against his ear and he wasn't pushing him away.
Steady moans like fire against his skin and thrusting hips driving him back and back and back against palms and stone as Sirius' cock dragged heavy-hot against his own and it hurt so good so desperate and they fit somehow fit like they always had since the day they met, blue eyes meeting grey, hands touching, matching grins and mischievous winks and grandiose words and conspiratorial smirks and friendship-kinship all precursors to this to the rough-sharp slam of bonemuscleskin and so close, so fucking close to touching to sliding together to being together and oh the thought of that, of sweat-slick skin bare chests and thighs and cocks sliding through joined circle of hands fuck as James stiffened with a low cry, yes and Sirius and love intertwining on his lips as he buried his face in warm dark hair and spilled hard and stickywet into fabric confines.
Trembling, Sirius clung to James, his breath coming out in great shaky gusts as the world slowly began resolving into something resembling normal.
"Fuck," Sirius panted finally, pulling away only to slump to the ground with his back against the wall. "Merlinfuck, James, I had no idea... Ohh."
With a slightly awkward and highly satisfied sigh, Sirius reached into his pocket for his fags, jabbing one between his lips with still-wobbly fingers and lighting up. Closing his eyes and letting his head loll back against the wall, Sirius inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out through his nostrils with a groan of pleasure before holding up the pack again with a cheeky grin. "Die young and leave a pretty corpse?"
James blinked heavily, utterly dazed and eminently grateful for the wall's support else his legs give out and he succumb to gravity in a manner entirely unbefitting of a champion Seeker's grace. His brain had decided to go on extended holiday, it seemed -- any confusing thoughts that had been whirling about his head before were now silent, leaving nothing but a hazy stupor of pleased lassitude, and his fingers reached into the pack again and brought a fag halfway to his mouth before he realised what he was doing.
Gaze glazing over with a glare that would freeze even Lily Evans in her tracks, but with an undercurrent of amusement and affection that only Sirius could inspire, James slid to his knees and punched Sirius right in the arm. "You utter arse," he grumbled, and then laughed, feeling light and floaty and giddy as he collapsed against Sirius' side and stole the cigarette from between his lips instead, taking a careful drag and feeling right proud of himself when all that happened this time was a curl of woodsy warmth flaring in his chest.
Or maybe that was just from Sirius' smile.