All I Want For Christmas, SB/HG
On account of I can be bothered to wait for it to be uploaded to the archives on rs.org, here's my newest fic in all its cheesy glory.
Title: All I Want For Christmas... (or something along those lines)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hermione/Sirius
Summary: Christmas happens to be the worst time of year for two lonely people that are strangely drawn to each other. (forget the other summary.)
Yes, it's cheesy and Christmasy, with a lovely ending. I think it's making me ill. :P I like this pairing, though. I think I'm going to use them in a new story, however, and make them more rough around the edges, kind of.
Hermione sat in her flat, curled up in her favorite armchair, watching the snow fall lazily onto the cobblestones below, much to the annoyance of last minute shoppers rushing through the streets. It was only four days before Christmas, and she was feeling melancholy.
Twenty-two and all alone. One of the happiest times of the year, and she had no one to share it with. She flipped idly through her book, then put it down, realizing that she couldn't concentrate. It was so quiet. The silence was almost suffocating her, so she walked to her CD player and popped in something she randomly pulled out of the shelf. As something soft and muted drifted into the background, she listlessly walked into the kitchen and went through the motions of preparing dinner, not because she was particularly hungry, but because it was something to do. After sticking a frozen lasagna that her mother made her in the oven (yes, she liked preparing foods the Muggle way, even though it was so much easier to point and heat). That done, she went back to her chair and tried to read. With the smells of heating food and the sounds of music in the air, she drifted into sleep unexpectedly.
***
She was laying on a warm beach, the sand smooth against her back, the waves lapping at the shore. The sun was beaming down on her, and she was wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini and coconut tanning lotion as the mystery man above her slowly, tortuously rubbed it into her back. She arched and sighed contentedly.
"HERMIONE!" somebody yelled.
She woke with a start to a roomful of smoke and started coughing. Her smoke alarm was going off frantically as more of the grey smoke billowed out from the kitchen.
The oven. Oh, shit. She jumped up, panicking, only to run into a brick wall that knocked her backwards. Suddenly, the brick wall raised a wand and muttering a few careful spells, extinguished the fire and cleared out the smoke. All that lingered in the air was a slight cherry scent from an air-freshening charm.
A brick wall that could do magic? thought Hermione, as she rubbed her eyes and coughed.
That was the last time she bought a bottle of coffee liqueur again. That stuff was stronger than she thought.
"Hermione? Are you okay?"
She looked up into the concerned eyes of Sirius Black.
Well, this was embarrassing, she thought.
"Er, yeah," she stuttered, taking the proffered hand and climbing to her feet. "I must have forgotten about the oven...I was making something to eat, and I guess I fell asleep."
"You gave me quite a scare there, when I Apparated into a roomful of smoke. You're sure you're alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "Thanks for rescuing me. But why are you here?"
"Harry wanted to drop something off to you, and since I had things to do in this area, I told him I would drop it off so he didn't have to leave Ginny alone, because she's so close to her due date."
"Oh, how is she?" Hermione asked, feeling awful because she hadn't visited recently.
"Oh, good, good, just antsy. She can hardly wait to have the baby, and Harry's as excited as a Niffler in a roomful of gold. And just as nervous."
Hermione smiled wistfully, ignoring the pang of longing that burned in her chest at the thought that she might never have a baby herself. Her stomach growled, jolting her thoughts.
Sirius must have heard her as well, for he suggested, "Why don't we get something to eat?"
"Sure...you mind if we order in, though? It looks like the snow is falling more heavily."
He agreed, and after he ordered, they sat down in front of the small fireplace, glasses of wine in hand. They caught each other up on various news, and were talking about plans for Christmas.
"I'm not really sure what I'm doing," Hermione hedged. "I've been invited to dinner with Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Lavender, but it would be strange, going on my own." Eager to turn the topic of conversation back to him, she asked him the same question and swirled the last of her wine around absently. He topped off both of their glasses before answering.
"I'm probably going to crash in on Harry," he joked, but she caught a wistful look in his eyes, almost of sadness.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Ah, nothing," he said, but then from the sight of her raised eyebrow, he sighed dejectedly. "God, just, I'm so old, and here I am, wandering around, no roots, no stability, no nothing. No woman wants me," he smiled wryly.
I highly doubt that, Hermione thought, as she took in his sexily disarrayed dark jaw length hair that hit his cheekbones bluntly in a lean face. For someone as old as he was, he was more handsome than ever.
"Really," Hermione commented. "Why's that?"
"I've never really been one for settling down, and at that time, ever girl I met wanted a commitment. I wasn't ready. Don't know if I still am. But unfortunately, it gets a little lonely. Being all by myself, with no one to talk to, to share my day with, to, you know," he coughed and grinned, "share those moments with."
"Ah," Hermione replied, blushing slightly and looking into her lap.
"Why are you so sad?" he asked. "Don't deny it," he cut in before she could interrupt him with the protest that sprung to her lips.
"I guess for the same reasons you have. Everyone around me has someone...Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender...and me, well, I have no one. Not since my parents died. And here I am," she continued, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice, "another Christmas where everyone smiles guiltily at me and avoids the subject of romance around me. God, I'm so sick of it," she said, feeling angry. "I'm so sick and tired of being alone," she finished, hating herself for letting those small tears leak out of her eyes.
"Me too," Sirius whispered softly, almost to himself. "I don't want to be alone anymore." Hermione raised her eyes to his.
"We don't have to be alone...for tonight, anyways," she almost mouthed, the suggestion was that quiet.
Those pools of chocolate looked into his, pleading silently. "I don't want to be lonely, Sirius," she said, and that was all he needed. Leaning towards her gently, he kissed her tentatively instead of ripping her clothes off like he was usually inclined to do towards most women he was attracted to. But Hermione was different...she was like a piece of fragile glass that had to be handled delicately. He cupped his hand to the back of her head, drawing her in closer as he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth to fit over hers perfectly. He glided his tongue along the seam of her lips, silently asking permission, and hesitating slightly, she wove her tongue in and out with his, exploring curiously, and tasting him. He was intoxicating, more so than the wine, that tasted even better the second time in his mouth. The way his chapped lips moved slightly against hers caused a delicious friction that made tingles erupt up and down her spine. Shifting over, he nudged her up onto the couch from the floor, where he followed her, never breaking contact. She was half sitting, half lying on the armrest as he slipped his arms around her waist, awkwardly pinning her hip to the cushion with his elbow. He slowly moved his fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, reveling in the feel of her warm flesh that suddenly erupted into goosebumps. He could feel her wrapping her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. Groaning a little, he broke the kiss.
She looked into those obsidian shards that glittered a little as he looked back at her.
"Look, Hermione," he started awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this."
She bit her lower lip as though she were going to cry. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him. "Sirius, if you leave right now, I may just have to kill you."
"Er, that wouldn't be good," he joked feebly.
A sly smile curved her mouth. "I'm not looking for a wedding band," she said. "But I know what I do want, and I'm looking straight at him." She pushed herself off of the couch and walked over to him. She tugged the tails of his loose button down shirt out of his pants, and started unbuttoning.
"Good to know you're so decisive," he said, gulping a little.
"Mm-hmm," she said, unfastening another button.
"So, what exactly are you planning?" he asked, chewing on his lip.
She frowned as she struggled with a particularly annoying button, and giving up, she just pulled and let the button fly off somewhere.
"You know, I'm rather fond of this shirt," he told her, as she slid her hands up his chest, across his shoulders, and nudging his shirt down and onto the floor.
"That's too damn bad," she replied, as she pulled his belt out with a smooth, fluid motion. He grabbed her hands and stilled them, before the last of the blood in his body went straight to his cock.
"Let's continue this somewhere else, shall we?" He grabbed his hand and transfigured the couch into a bed with a fluffy blue duvet right in front of the fireplace. He scooped her into his arms and proceeded towards the bed until he tripped and promptly crashed on the bed with her in his arms.
"So much for the smooth, suave Romeo of Hogwarts," Hermione joked at their less than graceful landing.
"I used to have more finesse," he replied sadly.
"Good thing I don't care then," she replied, smiling.
"Good. Now, you are wearing far too many clothes," Sirius commented, as he peeled her shirt off and popped the button on her jeans, helping her kick them off. He was left in boxer shorts and she was left in her bra and panties.
He was so handsome, he put many wizards half his age to shame, Hermione thought. He still had a well defined body, lean and hard in all the right places, the muscles rippling in his back and abdomen. She loved all of the tattoos, piercings and scars adorning him that only made her tremble in excitement. Before she could rip his boxers to shreds in anticipation, he stopped her again.
"Ladies first," he said, before he started to kiss his way down her neck, to the sensitive spot on her collarbone, down to the tops of each breast. He cupped on in a hand and started to rub tortuously through the silky fabric.
She felt her muscles tensing as shivers ran up and down her skin. His deft fingers were nudging her bra straps down and off her shoulders, until he reached behind her suddenly and flicked the clasp open. Tossing the garment onto the floor, he brushed his lips feather soft across the delicate skin on her breasts. She was quite sure he could feel her heart pounding, like the sweet summer rain that would beat on her windowpane. He slid his mouth to a nipple and she gasped in surprise at his warm, wet mouth sucking and tasting.
His hands were everywhere-- on her arms, running up and down her sides, dancing along her torso and ribcage. A small giggle escaped, and he stopped and looked at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"No, don't stop," she begged. "It's so good..."
"Almost as good as this?" he grinned, and then savagely assaulted her ribs with his merciless fingers, tickling her insanely as she wriggled and shrieked and batted his hands away.
"Say "mercy!"" he commanded.
"Never!" she gasped between breaths.
The tickling increased.
"Okay!" she cried, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "Mercy! Please!"
Relentless, he kept up his antics.
Figures, she thought, he was a Maurauder, after all, and they never played by the rules. Well, two can play at this game. She reached a hand between them and grabbed the band of his shorts, fingers dangling dangerously close to his raging hard on.
All of a sudden he stilled, and the laughter disappeared from his face, to be replaced with a look of feral lust.
"Game over," he growled.
She nearly came right then and there. The look, the growl...she had read about men never being able to last, but she thought she had more willpower than that. Damn.
She grabbed him and pulled him to her before he could grab her first. She ground her lips onto his.
He found himself kissing her like he needed her to survive, like a dying man needed water. He couldn't get enough of her intoxicating taste, the sweet scent of her hair and skin, and wanted more. He slid his hands down to her hips, stroking the soft skin there. He broke the kiss and stared at her. Her lips were swollen and red, her eyes unfocused, a dreamy smile on her face. She had a very appealing pink blush spreading across her decolletage and face. He wanted nothing more than to drive right into her right then and there, but wanted this to be for her, for some reason he couldn't explain.
Moving down to her legs, he kissed a path from her foot to the inside of her thigh, loving how she trembled at his touch. He started to stroke her through her panties.
"Oh, Merlin," she breathed. "I want...I want..."
"What do you want?" he asked her, in a low voice.
"I want you," she cried. "You have three seconds to get rid of these stupid knickers or else."
"That's what I like to hear," he murmured. With a quick snap of his wrist, he had torn off the offending garment and tossed them away.
"Hope you didn't like those too much," he rumbled as he eased a finger into her tight passage.
"Mmm, no...not really..." she moaned, as she arched her hips toward him, wanting more. He added a second finger, and started to move them slightly. He increased his pace and then added his thumb to her throbbing clit, barely circling it, as she gasped breathily, nearing her peak. She cried out incoherently when he removed his fingers, and replaced them with his mouth. Licking lightly, he dragged his tongue over her clit, lingering a little longer each time until she finally stiffened and shuddered, falling into release.
He loved how he was able to make her fall apart in his arms like this, as he tasted her sweet ambrosia, and she lay there, trying to breathe. Kneeling over her, she looped her arms gracefully over his strong shoulders and linked her fingers behind his neck. He grabbed a long leg and lifted it up over his shoulder as he placed himself at her entrance. Slowly, he eased his cock into her, feeling ready to expload as he pushed gently until he had finally sheathed himself inside of her slick, wet passage.
He gasped with desperation as he realized he had to make it. He wasn't a randy 17 year old boy, for Merlin's sake. He surely could hold it.
He started to move slowly, languidly as she clutched his shoulders. Her body felt like every nerve ending was on fire as every inch of her skin tingled. He upped his pace, sliding in and out of her with infinite expertise (she wasn't about to think of where all his practise came from.)
"Oh, Padfoot," she moaned.
"Fuck," he groaned. "I'm not going to make it," he staggered. "Feels...too...good..." His thrusts became more erratic as their pace quickened, the only sounds in the room being the crackling fire and the contact of skin on skin, and the moans and gasps and pants filling the air.
She felt like she was flying. Sweet bliss was being filled so completely by him, as he carried her away in his arms. The delicious tension was too much, as they both fell over the edge together into a pleasure induced nirvana.
Sighing contentedly, they collapsed on the bed, cuddled into each other's arms. After snuggling for a while in their post coital glow, Sirius spoke tentatively.
"I don't want to be lonely tomorrow night. Or the night after that. Now that I've had what I've been missing, well..." he left off, unsure of what she was going to say.
"Me neither," she smiled, looking into his eyes and linking hands with him as she closed her eyes.
My perspective on Christmas just got a lot more positive, she thought, before she fell into sleep, a wry smile on her face.
Title: All I Want For Christmas... (or something along those lines)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hermione/Sirius
Summary: Christmas happens to be the worst time of year for two lonely people that are strangely drawn to each other. (forget the other summary.)
Yes, it's cheesy and Christmasy, with a lovely ending. I think it's making me ill. :P I like this pairing, though. I think I'm going to use them in a new story, however, and make them more rough around the edges, kind of.
Hermione sat in her flat, curled up in her favorite armchair, watching the snow fall lazily onto the cobblestones below, much to the annoyance of last minute shoppers rushing through the streets. It was only four days before Christmas, and she was feeling melancholy.
Twenty-two and all alone. One of the happiest times of the year, and she had no one to share it with. She flipped idly through her book, then put it down, realizing that she couldn't concentrate. It was so quiet. The silence was almost suffocating her, so she walked to her CD player and popped in something she randomly pulled out of the shelf. As something soft and muted drifted into the background, she listlessly walked into the kitchen and went through the motions of preparing dinner, not because she was particularly hungry, but because it was something to do. After sticking a frozen lasagna that her mother made her in the oven (yes, she liked preparing foods the Muggle way, even though it was so much easier to point and heat). That done, she went back to her chair and tried to read. With the smells of heating food and the sounds of music in the air, she drifted into sleep unexpectedly.
***
She was laying on a warm beach, the sand smooth against her back, the waves lapping at the shore. The sun was beaming down on her, and she was wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini and coconut tanning lotion as the mystery man above her slowly, tortuously rubbed it into her back. She arched and sighed contentedly.
"HERMIONE!" somebody yelled.
She woke with a start to a roomful of smoke and started coughing. Her smoke alarm was going off frantically as more of the grey smoke billowed out from the kitchen.
The oven. Oh, shit. She jumped up, panicking, only to run into a brick wall that knocked her backwards. Suddenly, the brick wall raised a wand and muttering a few careful spells, extinguished the fire and cleared out the smoke. All that lingered in the air was a slight cherry scent from an air-freshening charm.
A brick wall that could do magic? thought Hermione, as she rubbed her eyes and coughed.
That was the last time she bought a bottle of coffee liqueur again. That stuff was stronger than she thought.
"Hermione? Are you okay?"
She looked up into the concerned eyes of Sirius Black.
Well, this was embarrassing, she thought.
"Er, yeah," she stuttered, taking the proffered hand and climbing to her feet. "I must have forgotten about the oven...I was making something to eat, and I guess I fell asleep."
"You gave me quite a scare there, when I Apparated into a roomful of smoke. You're sure you're alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "Thanks for rescuing me. But why are you here?"
"Harry wanted to drop something off to you, and since I had things to do in this area, I told him I would drop it off so he didn't have to leave Ginny alone, because she's so close to her due date."
"Oh, how is she?" Hermione asked, feeling awful because she hadn't visited recently.
"Oh, good, good, just antsy. She can hardly wait to have the baby, and Harry's as excited as a Niffler in a roomful of gold. And just as nervous."
Hermione smiled wistfully, ignoring the pang of longing that burned in her chest at the thought that she might never have a baby herself. Her stomach growled, jolting her thoughts.
Sirius must have heard her as well, for he suggested, "Why don't we get something to eat?"
"Sure...you mind if we order in, though? It looks like the snow is falling more heavily."
He agreed, and after he ordered, they sat down in front of the small fireplace, glasses of wine in hand. They caught each other up on various news, and were talking about plans for Christmas.
"I'm not really sure what I'm doing," Hermione hedged. "I've been invited to dinner with Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Lavender, but it would be strange, going on my own." Eager to turn the topic of conversation back to him, she asked him the same question and swirled the last of her wine around absently. He topped off both of their glasses before answering.
"I'm probably going to crash in on Harry," he joked, but she caught a wistful look in his eyes, almost of sadness.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Ah, nothing," he said, but then from the sight of her raised eyebrow, he sighed dejectedly. "God, just, I'm so old, and here I am, wandering around, no roots, no stability, no nothing. No woman wants me," he smiled wryly.
I highly doubt that, Hermione thought, as she took in his sexily disarrayed dark jaw length hair that hit his cheekbones bluntly in a lean face. For someone as old as he was, he was more handsome than ever.
"Really," Hermione commented. "Why's that?"
"I've never really been one for settling down, and at that time, ever girl I met wanted a commitment. I wasn't ready. Don't know if I still am. But unfortunately, it gets a little lonely. Being all by myself, with no one to talk to, to share my day with, to, you know," he coughed and grinned, "share those moments with."
"Ah," Hermione replied, blushing slightly and looking into her lap.
"Why are you so sad?" he asked. "Don't deny it," he cut in before she could interrupt him with the protest that sprung to her lips.
"I guess for the same reasons you have. Everyone around me has someone...Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender...and me, well, I have no one. Not since my parents died. And here I am," she continued, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice, "another Christmas where everyone smiles guiltily at me and avoids the subject of romance around me. God, I'm so sick of it," she said, feeling angry. "I'm so sick and tired of being alone," she finished, hating herself for letting those small tears leak out of her eyes.
"Me too," Sirius whispered softly, almost to himself. "I don't want to be alone anymore." Hermione raised her eyes to his.
"We don't have to be alone...for tonight, anyways," she almost mouthed, the suggestion was that quiet.
Those pools of chocolate looked into his, pleading silently. "I don't want to be lonely, Sirius," she said, and that was all he needed. Leaning towards her gently, he kissed her tentatively instead of ripping her clothes off like he was usually inclined to do towards most women he was attracted to. But Hermione was different...she was like a piece of fragile glass that had to be handled delicately. He cupped his hand to the back of her head, drawing her in closer as he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth to fit over hers perfectly. He glided his tongue along the seam of her lips, silently asking permission, and hesitating slightly, she wove her tongue in and out with his, exploring curiously, and tasting him. He was intoxicating, more so than the wine, that tasted even better the second time in his mouth. The way his chapped lips moved slightly against hers caused a delicious friction that made tingles erupt up and down her spine. Shifting over, he nudged her up onto the couch from the floor, where he followed her, never breaking contact. She was half sitting, half lying on the armrest as he slipped his arms around her waist, awkwardly pinning her hip to the cushion with his elbow. He slowly moved his fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, reveling in the feel of her warm flesh that suddenly erupted into goosebumps. He could feel her wrapping her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. Groaning a little, he broke the kiss.
She looked into those obsidian shards that glittered a little as he looked back at her.
"Look, Hermione," he started awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this."
She bit her lower lip as though she were going to cry. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him. "Sirius, if you leave right now, I may just have to kill you."
"Er, that wouldn't be good," he joked feebly.
A sly smile curved her mouth. "I'm not looking for a wedding band," she said. "But I know what I do want, and I'm looking straight at him." She pushed herself off of the couch and walked over to him. She tugged the tails of his loose button down shirt out of his pants, and started unbuttoning.
"Good to know you're so decisive," he said, gulping a little.
"Mm-hmm," she said, unfastening another button.
"So, what exactly are you planning?" he asked, chewing on his lip.
She frowned as she struggled with a particularly annoying button, and giving up, she just pulled and let the button fly off somewhere.
"You know, I'm rather fond of this shirt," he told her, as she slid her hands up his chest, across his shoulders, and nudging his shirt down and onto the floor.
"That's too damn bad," she replied, as she pulled his belt out with a smooth, fluid motion. He grabbed her hands and stilled them, before the last of the blood in his body went straight to his cock.
"Let's continue this somewhere else, shall we?" He grabbed his hand and transfigured the couch into a bed with a fluffy blue duvet right in front of the fireplace. He scooped her into his arms and proceeded towards the bed until he tripped and promptly crashed on the bed with her in his arms.
"So much for the smooth, suave Romeo of Hogwarts," Hermione joked at their less than graceful landing.
"I used to have more finesse," he replied sadly.
"Good thing I don't care then," she replied, smiling.
"Good. Now, you are wearing far too many clothes," Sirius commented, as he peeled her shirt off and popped the button on her jeans, helping her kick them off. He was left in boxer shorts and she was left in her bra and panties.
He was so handsome, he put many wizards half his age to shame, Hermione thought. He still had a well defined body, lean and hard in all the right places, the muscles rippling in his back and abdomen. She loved all of the tattoos, piercings and scars adorning him that only made her tremble in excitement. Before she could rip his boxers to shreds in anticipation, he stopped her again.
"Ladies first," he said, before he started to kiss his way down her neck, to the sensitive spot on her collarbone, down to the tops of each breast. He cupped on in a hand and started to rub tortuously through the silky fabric.
She felt her muscles tensing as shivers ran up and down her skin. His deft fingers were nudging her bra straps down and off her shoulders, until he reached behind her suddenly and flicked the clasp open. Tossing the garment onto the floor, he brushed his lips feather soft across the delicate skin on her breasts. She was quite sure he could feel her heart pounding, like the sweet summer rain that would beat on her windowpane. He slid his mouth to a nipple and she gasped in surprise at his warm, wet mouth sucking and tasting.
His hands were everywhere-- on her arms, running up and down her sides, dancing along her torso and ribcage. A small giggle escaped, and he stopped and looked at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"No, don't stop," she begged. "It's so good..."
"Almost as good as this?" he grinned, and then savagely assaulted her ribs with his merciless fingers, tickling her insanely as she wriggled and shrieked and batted his hands away.
"Say "mercy!"" he commanded.
"Never!" she gasped between breaths.
The tickling increased.
"Okay!" she cried, tears of laughter streaming down her face. "Mercy! Please!"
Relentless, he kept up his antics.
Figures, she thought, he was a Maurauder, after all, and they never played by the rules. Well, two can play at this game. She reached a hand between them and grabbed the band of his shorts, fingers dangling dangerously close to his raging hard on.
All of a sudden he stilled, and the laughter disappeared from his face, to be replaced with a look of feral lust.
"Game over," he growled.
She nearly came right then and there. The look, the growl...she had read about men never being able to last, but she thought she had more willpower than that. Damn.
She grabbed him and pulled him to her before he could grab her first. She ground her lips onto his.
He found himself kissing her like he needed her to survive, like a dying man needed water. He couldn't get enough of her intoxicating taste, the sweet scent of her hair and skin, and wanted more. He slid his hands down to her hips, stroking the soft skin there. He broke the kiss and stared at her. Her lips were swollen and red, her eyes unfocused, a dreamy smile on her face. She had a very appealing pink blush spreading across her decolletage and face. He wanted nothing more than to drive right into her right then and there, but wanted this to be for her, for some reason he couldn't explain.
Moving down to her legs, he kissed a path from her foot to the inside of her thigh, loving how she trembled at his touch. He started to stroke her through her panties.
"Oh, Merlin," she breathed. "I want...I want..."
"What do you want?" he asked her, in a low voice.
"I want you," she cried. "You have three seconds to get rid of these stupid knickers or else."
"That's what I like to hear," he murmured. With a quick snap of his wrist, he had torn off the offending garment and tossed them away.
"Hope you didn't like those too much," he rumbled as he eased a finger into her tight passage.
"Mmm, no...not really..." she moaned, as she arched her hips toward him, wanting more. He added a second finger, and started to move them slightly. He increased his pace and then added his thumb to her throbbing clit, barely circling it, as she gasped breathily, nearing her peak. She cried out incoherently when he removed his fingers, and replaced them with his mouth. Licking lightly, he dragged his tongue over her clit, lingering a little longer each time until she finally stiffened and shuddered, falling into release.
He loved how he was able to make her fall apart in his arms like this, as he tasted her sweet ambrosia, and she lay there, trying to breathe. Kneeling over her, she looped her arms gracefully over his strong shoulders and linked her fingers behind his neck. He grabbed a long leg and lifted it up over his shoulder as he placed himself at her entrance. Slowly, he eased his cock into her, feeling ready to expload as he pushed gently until he had finally sheathed himself inside of her slick, wet passage.
He gasped with desperation as he realized he had to make it. He wasn't a randy 17 year old boy, for Merlin's sake. He surely could hold it.
He started to move slowly, languidly as she clutched his shoulders. Her body felt like every nerve ending was on fire as every inch of her skin tingled. He upped his pace, sliding in and out of her with infinite expertise (she wasn't about to think of where all his practise came from.)
"Oh, Padfoot," she moaned.
"Fuck," he groaned. "I'm not going to make it," he staggered. "Feels...too...good..." His thrusts became more erratic as their pace quickened, the only sounds in the room being the crackling fire and the contact of skin on skin, and the moans and gasps and pants filling the air.
She felt like she was flying. Sweet bliss was being filled so completely by him, as he carried her away in his arms. The delicious tension was too much, as they both fell over the edge together into a pleasure induced nirvana.
Sighing contentedly, they collapsed on the bed, cuddled into each other's arms. After snuggling for a while in their post coital glow, Sirius spoke tentatively.
"I don't want to be lonely tomorrow night. Or the night after that. Now that I've had what I've been missing, well..." he left off, unsure of what she was going to say.
"Me neither," she smiled, looking into his eyes and linking hands with him as she closed her eyes.
My perspective on Christmas just got a lot more positive, she thought, before she fell into sleep, a wry smile on her face.