anarchy in the uk
I really don't know what kind of crack I was smoking when I wrote this, luna_k, but here is your birthday fic. You wanted Punk!Gary!Sirius and Punk!Ginny, and Lord help me, but I actually wrote it. My brain hurts so bad right now. I think I sprained something. Short, yes, but porny. And gratuitous piercings! Yay! WARNING: I raped canon.
Graffiti
*****
So he wakes up and there's a girl in his lap and she smells toxic like gasoline, rubbing her ass against his crotch, broken fingernails slicing into the skin of his neck. All sharp edges and silver studs poking into sensitive places, stupid bloody kids and their damn jewelry, except he thinks he's got something stuck in his eyebrow and when her tongue scrapes across his, he can feel the click of metal against metal, and Lord help him, but he thinks he might be pierced in other places, too.
Gasping, Sirius pulls back, feels her sharp-soft tongue dart down his neck, fingers curling around his studded dog collar. "Excuse me," he gasps, "but I think I might be dreaming."
Ginny Weasley glares up at him through layers of eyeliner and cheap, runny mascara. "Fuck you, you're not dreaming," she snaps, wrapping her bony white fingers around his cock. "You're high, that's what you are."
Is he? Sirius doesn't remember. He doesn't remember any of this, not the dirty yellow walls covered in ugly graffiti, not the stained mattress, not the raw track marks in his arm. "Is that it, then?" he asks, hissing in a breath when Ginny laughs and squeezes, runs a thumb across his zipper, and oh, yes, Sirius is definitely pierced there.
"Higher than kites," she purrs, like a kitten, but not nearly as sweet. Her red hair's all hacked off and dirty, and she's wearing nothing other than a The Clash tee shirt and a pair of red satin panties. She has long white legs that stretch on for hours and a tattoo phoenix gleams bright on her left calf. It seems to move as Sirius stares at it, feathers shedding, eyes winking.
"You know, I actually don't do drugs," he says a little weakly, and she snickers at him, undoes his flies.
"Oh, yeah, right, you don't do drugs. Your bloody fault we don't have rent this month, you know."
Inexplicably, Sirius starts to apologize for this until Ginny's mouth is around his cock, silver studs sparking, and man, but death is really fucked-up.
Graffiti
*****
So he wakes up and there's a girl in his lap and she smells toxic like gasoline, rubbing her ass against his crotch, broken fingernails slicing into the skin of his neck. All sharp edges and silver studs poking into sensitive places, stupid bloody kids and their damn jewelry, except he thinks he's got something stuck in his eyebrow and when her tongue scrapes across his, he can feel the click of metal against metal, and Lord help him, but he thinks he might be pierced in other places, too.
Gasping, Sirius pulls back, feels her sharp-soft tongue dart down his neck, fingers curling around his studded dog collar. "Excuse me," he gasps, "but I think I might be dreaming."
Ginny Weasley glares up at him through layers of eyeliner and cheap, runny mascara. "Fuck you, you're not dreaming," she snaps, wrapping her bony white fingers around his cock. "You're high, that's what you are."
Is he? Sirius doesn't remember. He doesn't remember any of this, not the dirty yellow walls covered in ugly graffiti, not the stained mattress, not the raw track marks in his arm. "Is that it, then?" he asks, hissing in a breath when Ginny laughs and squeezes, runs a thumb across his zipper, and oh, yes, Sirius is definitely pierced there.
"Higher than kites," she purrs, like a kitten, but not nearly as sweet. Her red hair's all hacked off and dirty, and she's wearing nothing other than a The Clash tee shirt and a pair of red satin panties. She has long white legs that stretch on for hours and a tattoo phoenix gleams bright on her left calf. It seems to move as Sirius stares at it, feathers shedding, eyes winking.
"You know, I actually don't do drugs," he says a little weakly, and she snickers at him, undoes his flies.
"Oh, yeah, right, you don't do drugs. Your bloody fault we don't have rent this month, you know."
Inexplicably, Sirius starts to apologize for this until Ginny's mouth is around his cock, silver studs sparking, and man, but death is really fucked-up.