Sirius wished for a moment that anyone who had ever put pressure on James, who had criticised him for the opinions he had expressed and the choices he had made since coming to Hogwarts, had heard what James just said about Harry, and about Lily. Anybody who thought James was selfish, was just an immature teenager, was dead wrong. James had always looked out for the people he cared about, always considered what was right for them, even if that wasn't what he wanted for himself. James's consideration of Harry and Lily - and of the fact that Sirius absolutely would want to be the one to go with Harry - made Sirius burn with love and pride for his friend.
Sirius actually doubted Harry would want to go to the gravesite, although he definitely would ask. Lily, on the other hand, probably would want to go, and Sirius would want to accompany her. One's own grave should never be witnessed alone.
But thoughts of graves were promptly buried deep within Sirius's mind as the kiss that he had started with James intensified. This time, he didn't stop to think about what either of them was doing. His whole body flashed hot as he pushed his tongue deeper into James's mouth, his own mouth wide open, pressing against James's so hard that their teeth were touching. And then James was straddling him, and he shoved his other hand up James's shirt, fingers groping instead of idly touching.
Right now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
It should have felt awkward, teeth clacking, lips bruising - Sirius' hand pulling and tugging and James could feel where a nick of nail scratched at his skin. It didn't. It felt hungry and lonely and not lonely and home all at once. Gold fever, and Sirius was the world's richest vein. It felt like the rush right after an animagus transformation when the world was nothing but scent and sounds, brighter than any colors he could see with his human eyes.
James groaned and pushed to tilt them over. Sirius would understand. Padfoot always understood him. This wasn't using. It was need. Though he'd never have guessed his response to everything would be this. His hands reaching and grabbing to pin Sirius beneath him, one hand still on that collar, owning and claiming.
James pulled back, eyes a little wild, lips a little pinked and swollen. He was panting a little. "Take care of me."
That's all Sirius wanted to do. In every possible way.
The last piece of normal fell into place with a soft click.
And Sirius ached.
Suddenly frantic, he ran his hands up and down James's chest, pressing his thumbs into James's nipples, running his fingers across James's ribs. He pushed himself up a bit and started kissing James again, but he couldn't open his mouth wide enough, move his tongue fast enough, suck on James's lips hard enough.
One of Sirius's hands could only move so much, as James was lying on that shoulder, his hand around Sirius's collar, the slightest of his finger movements making Sirius feel wilder and wilder. But his other hand was free, and he reached down and started rubbing over James's groin, pushing against the hardness, pressing down at the top.
But it was over trousers and that wasn't good enough. Sirius wanted to get a proper hold, to grip James with full strength, to be able to squeeze and pull and tug and everything. He started working at James's trousers, trying to unbutton and unzip them, all the while kissing James with hurricane force.
Grunting, his hips twisting down hard against the hand and fumbling fingers at his groin, James nipped back giving as good as he got. Maybe harder. Right now, for the next a hundred and sixty eight hours, Padfoot was his. A thousand and eight minutes. Six hundred, four thousand, eight hundred seconds - and counting.
He bit at the junction by ear and neck, familiar in scent and taste, look and sound - feeling Sirius arch against him. A wiggle of his fingers and a few spoken words and both their cloths began to unbutton, unzip and untangle free.
James pushed at cloth, wriggling out of his own clothes. It was hurried and frantic and he would never have been this way with a girl - they tended to want things slow and by the book; candles, music, flowers. And he'd done it. It'd been about them. Their needs. Their wants. Their fantasies. Best friends didn't have to do any of that.
He pulled Sirius' hand onto his dick, but it was a reversal of the last time. It was eager. He was helping. He was kissing back, legs tangled, clothes strained and caught and trying to catch at limbs and his own hand gripped in Sirius' hair, having given up its perch hanging onto the collar.
James kissed like it was the end of the world and he was planning to die with a mouth full of plunder. He took. He owned, tongue lashing and fighting for control. He'd asked to be taken care of, but he wasn't simply waiting for it. The slip of his hand, past Sirius' zips and buttons to hold them both together was just another sign of that.
Underneath James, Sirius wriggled, trying to help the magic push his clothes down as one hand dug into James's back and the other one encircled James's cock, stroking long and deep, fingers coming together at the top to squeeze the soft tip and then plunging back down again. James's own hand, wrapped around Sirius's, followed the motion.
Everything in Sirius's mind was a blur. There were no words, no coherent thoughts, only sensations, touches, colours - and a deep, manic urgency. He wanted James, and he wanted to be wanted by James, and right now nothing else existed but the two of them. He didn't know how they had got there, and he didn't care. But he did know where he was going, and he couldn't get there fast enough.
Sirius groaned against James's lips, and he pulled his tongue back, meeting James's in his own mouth now, letting James possess him. His head was pressed against the mattress, neck tilted back, hand extending down and then stroking up in a rhythm that matched his breaths. The soft, wet noises of their kisses competed with the sound of skin on skin and Sirius's ragged breaths for prominence, a strange, lustful symphony punctuated by staccato moans from deep within Sirius's chest. He was so hard right now, and every brush of James's hips against his groin was making him want to reach his other hand down and -
Fucking sweet relief in the form of his best friend's hand. "Prooooooonnnngs!" Sirius moaned, breaking off the kiss for a moment, the pitch of his voice low at first, but quickly climbing higher and higher until it gave out entirely. He thrust into James's hand, trying to match the rhythm of his own hand.
He and James had wanked each other before, but it had always been a casual affair, slow, deliberate, relaxed. This was the complete opposite, driven by years of pain, loneliness, mourning, grief...intense love and devotion for the one person who understood him...overwhelming physical desire. All of the things that had kept them apart now bound them together, bodies touching in so many places that Sirius wasn't sure what was his own any more. He now fully belonged to James.
But Sirius had always belonged to James. There'd never been a doubt of it - to James; best mate, best man, best friend. This was just another part of it. New but good. So very good. Hair falling into his eyes and most of their clothes off, James broke off the quest to merge, lapping briefly at Sirius' mouth and pushed back to look directly into his best friend's eyes. To watch him. To take control.
Pre-come slick below their waists, fingers wet and stroking, James stared, never looking anywhere else but into Sirius' eyes - looking home. It was yet another reversal, but of something that felt far older, far more set. He'd been Sirius' home, Sirius' rock. Stable Prongs to Padfoot's enthusiasm and eager wagging tail or to the soft whines and flopped ears and a soft black body curling in on itself. James was used to that. So the click, the tangle of tension in one hot line between them both, feeling himself snap into anchor in grey eyes, watching that face, that wide, wanting, wanton reaction. It made him shudder, his own eyes going half lidded.
"Sirius." Because somehow just this once, it fit. But James didn't stop there. "Padfoot. Pads" The last name rounded in his mouth, like a marble and yet not, because it didn't stay, it melted.
James' hand stroked, thumb flicking the warm tip that wasn't his, a glimmer of a smirk on his face mixing in with his open eyed, happy shock. It matched his determination. And when his eyes flickered down between them, finally, it was to take stock. The look was slow as he took note of every inch of Sirius' body he could see, and then intentionally bent low, and nipped-sucked to leave a mark just under the left nipple; intentionally marking.
"Yeah, Pads?"
James popped off with a loud smack, and tugged Sirius' head back more, his fingers still tangled in hair almost as unruly as his, at the moment.
"Yeah?" The touches between them got lighter, teasing. James slipped his hand a little deeper, blunt fingernails scraping at Sirius' balls. "Yeah?"
Sirius tried to catch James's lips as they left his, hungrily sucking on them during their brief return. Swollen and wet, they reached out again, desperate, but found nothing, causing Sirius to moan, the pitch so high that it was almost a whimper. He opened his eyes, but it was so hard to focus through the building pressure in his groin, and he let out a deep groan - such a contrast with the noise he made just before.
Finally, the blur resolved into hazel eyes boring into his own, marking him, claiming him, and Sirius whispered his agreement - "Yours, yours, yours..." - in rhythm with his hand as it slid and tugged on James's cock. As much as James sought control, Sirius relinquished it. He wanted to give everything, anything, to James - but it was so much more than physical desire which drove this willingness; it was the deep ties of friendship, the love and the loss they shared, their mutual understanding and blind devotion to each other, that were the true cornerstone. The lust was an extension of it all, sharp, intense, and so, so, right.
Every time James's thumb grazed the tip of his cock, he gasped and then grunted, his hips pushing forward and his hand tugging extra hard on James. His legs kicked against the side of the bed as James sucked on his chest. And through the jumble of colours and phrases that were Sirius's fragmented thoughts, it occurred to him that this experience was entirely unique - that even though he had done far more with other people, it had never been like this. He felt completely wild, totally out of control, squirming, writhing, shivering, pulling and thrusting and twisting with complete abandon.
And then James started speaking, and Sirius's answers came out without any thought.
"Uh-huh," he whispered in response to James's first question. Fingers pulled his hair, pushed his head into the bed, and he yanked it back even more, surrendering to James's touch.
"Yeah, Prongs, yeah!" he said more loudly, and then, just as he needed James to pull harder, James's touch lightened, and he writhed and pushed up, desperate for more, tugging that much harder on James.
"Unnnnnnnnnnhhhh, please, please, please, I want you so much right now!"
James was teasing him, driving him completely mad. His toes twisted into the side of the bed, and he reached his free hand up towards James, trying to grab onto his shoulder, wanting to pull him down so every bit of their flesh could touch, so he could start thrusting and pushing.
He loved Sirius like this. He loved knowing he could make Sirius like this. It'd never been so much before. But the release, the surrender, it'd always belonged to him. Always. This was trust. And it was good to know that in twenty years it'd never gone away. He'd left a mark.
Teasingly, James moved his hand to Sirius' inner thighs, stroking softly. There were things they could do right now. He knew of them. And Merlin knew Sirius had never been shy about talking about what he did and with whom. They'd never been able to have too many secrets from each other. But the touch on him, the hard, strong, desperate strokes made him tremble. Now wasn't the time to take things any further away from what they knew. Not now. Right? There would be time later - during the week. For right now...
Tumbled down on top of Sirius so they were body to body, every inch, seared hot and wet between them, James braced himself and started to move, grunting low in his throat, hair sticking to his temples. He was suddenly flushed and dewed with perspiration. Hips thrusting, rolled like on ball bearings against Sirius' stomach and cock. James kissed him, feathered and askew as he moved, but still, a kiss, tongue tempting.
At James's taunting touch on his thighs, Sirius arched his back way up and off the bed, his head still pinned down by the hand James had thrust into his hair, his own free hand gripping and tugging at the bed covers. Had he been in a more analytical state of mind, Sirius might have noted that such a position was much easier and more comfortable to maintain in the body of a seventeen-year-old. But as it was, Sirius was barely in his mind at all, let alone some sort of rational, coherent state.
Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, "James...PLEASE!"
And then James was on top of him, and Sirius was burning up and soaking wet. He breathed in the heat, sweat from two bodies combined, intertwined, just like their legs and hands and hair and everything. As James pushed his hips forward, Sirius tried to match his move in the opposite direction. At some point, he had moved his hands, because now they were gripping James's arse - not to steady James, as it was James who was determining the rhythm, James who was thrusting hardest, but just to hold onto him, to have another point of contact.
He was close, so close.
Sirius groaned, loud and long, as James's lips met his again, and he was on the verge of opening his mouth, inviting James back in, surrendering this part of himself to his mate. But first, lips pressed against James's, he whispered hoarsely, "Prongs, I'm yours, IwantyouIwantyouIwantyou, do you want me?"
Slick, smooth, hot. Firm hands on his arse, hot breath against his lips.
Do you want me?
James looked down into that hint of insecurity, thrown momentarily by the shadow in Sirius' eyes. He almost stopped. Almost. But his hips weren't taking direction from his brain anymore.
"Bloody hell, Pads!"
He leaned in and kissed him, as softly as he'd have kissed a girl. "Been mine for ages. Been mine forever you bleedin' arse. Now come for me already."
They were better than any tender, sweet, loving words. And although James's actions had already spoken loudly and clearly, Sirius needed to hear him say it, especially in light of the tension between them before Sirius had taken the potion.
He kissed James back just as softly and then turned his head to one side, concentrating on the intense pressure between his legs. His entire body was pressed against James's, and with each thrust, the pressure built. He quickened the place, pressing his fingers into James's arse, each shove accompanied by a low grunt.
And then, with several frantic pushes, the tip of his cock rubbing against James's stomach, he finally crossed that delicious line over the edge. He felt like the world was exploding and he wanted it and it was happening and there was heat and pleasure, tightness and release, everything in the universe focused on one area, nothing else existing but bursts of pure ecstasy.
Warm, sticky come hit his belly, and James's, spreading around as Sirius shuddered and heaved his hips forward and up in a few large thrusts, alternately panting and groaning. His hands pressed James's groin further into his own, and he lifted his head up, seeking James's lips.
"Planning to..." He puffed out. The trail of heat that'd hit his stomach already congealing and tacky. But not enough to stop him moving.
James bowed his head, grunting softly and going for broke, feeling the slide of skin against skin. The prickles of Sirius's chest and groin hair. The heat between them.
The room smelled of come and sweat and them. James shifted, feeling his cock notch along Sirius' hipbone and shivered.
"Uh huh." He moved faster, slumped forward for just the right weight and just the right friction. James pulled one of Sirius hands off his ass. "Touch me, Pads."
And Sirius was more than willing. He let James guide his hand down. Some of his come had spread onto James's cock, and as Sirius stroked, hard and fast, it acted as a lubricant, making Sirius's motions smoother and faster. He hooked his ankles around James's legs and pressed his other hand firmly against James's arse.
He was a little more lucid now, and after several strokes, he opened his eyes to watch James.
James' mouth was open slightly, as he breathed hard, lips pink and wet. For the moment, his focus was turned inward. He needed to...it was so close. And it felt like he hadn't done this in longer than a few weeks. His whole body coiled up tight waiting to release.
"Uh huh, yeah, touch me. Touch me!" James' eyes closed and he lost himself to sensation. But not completely.
"There, Pads?" His grip on Sirius tightened. James knew it had to be painful but he couldn't let go. Right now, in the moment it all felt like a dream and any moment he'd wake up, frustrated and alone or with the wrong Sirius. The one he couldn't let touch him.
"Pads!" James groaned again, eyes fluttering open. His gaze bore down, pinning with the full intensity of everything inside him. James shivered, breath hitching and then writhed as Sirius' hand touched just the right spot. His hips snapped, driving in, fingers fisting into the sheets of the bed, every thrust matched with a groaned 'yes', ass pushing against Sirius' hand.
"Fuck yes!"
Another shiver, and hard thrust into the now second spread of wet warmth and James sagged, after shocks making him jitter-fuck into Sirius' fist, until he had to move his friend's hand away because oversensitivity was starting to happen.
James exhaled, eyes closed, head bowed, trying to remember how to breathe.
Yes instead of no. Grabbing instead of pushing away. Shivers of pleasure instead of fright. And so personal, so open, so intimate.
Each shout, each command, was electricity, shot straight through to Sirius's heart.
He stroked harder and harder, wanting to do everything for James, to make him scream in ecstasy. Had James not been so close, had his hand not been clamped onto Sirius's wrist as if his life depended on it, Sirius might have pushed himself down the bed and taken James into his mouth. The idea briefly flashed across his mind, and then James was twisting and shaking and shoving and yelling, and warm, gelly liquid was pushing its way through Sirius's fingers, still encircling James's cock, squeezing and pulling, encouraging James's orgasm to completion.
He lightly held onto James's hand as it pulled his from James's cock, still hard and hot and wet. He wrapped his other hand around James's back, lightly dragging his fingers up and down.
Breathy, ragged panting. Wet, sweaty, sticky skin. The smell of sex.
And James. His best friend. Who was satisfied and happy.
Sirius actually doubted Harry would want to go to the gravesite, although he definitely would ask. Lily, on the other hand, probably would want to go, and Sirius would want to accompany her. One's own grave should never be witnessed alone.
But thoughts of graves were promptly buried deep within Sirius's mind as the kiss that he had started with James intensified. This time, he didn't stop to think about what either of them was doing. His whole body flashed hot as he pushed his tongue deeper into James's mouth, his own mouth wide open, pressing against James's so hard that their teeth were touching. And then James was straddling him, and he shoved his other hand up James's shirt, fingers groping instead of idly touching.
Right now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
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It should have felt awkward, teeth clacking, lips bruising - Sirius' hand pulling and tugging and James could feel where a nick of nail scratched at his skin. It didn't. It felt hungry and lonely and not lonely and home all at once. Gold fever, and Sirius was the world's richest vein. It felt like the rush right after an animagus transformation when the world was nothing but scent and sounds, brighter than any colors he could see with his human eyes.
James groaned and pushed to tilt them over. Sirius would understand. Padfoot always understood him. This wasn't using. It was need. Though he'd never have guessed his response to everything would be this. His hands reaching and grabbing to pin Sirius beneath him, one hand still on that collar, owning and claiming.
James pulled back, eyes a little wild, lips a little pinked and swollen. He was panting a little. "Take care of me."
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That's all Sirius wanted to do. In every possible way.
The last piece of normal fell into place with a soft click.
And Sirius ached.
Suddenly frantic, he ran his hands up and down James's chest, pressing his thumbs into James's nipples, running his fingers across James's ribs. He pushed himself up a bit and started kissing James again, but he couldn't open his mouth wide enough, move his tongue fast enough, suck on James's lips hard enough.
One of Sirius's hands could only move so much, as James was lying on that shoulder, his hand around Sirius's collar, the slightest of his finger movements making Sirius feel wilder and wilder. But his other hand was free, and he reached down and started rubbing over James's groin, pushing against the hardness, pressing down at the top.
But it was over trousers and that wasn't good enough. Sirius wanted to get a proper hold, to grip James with full strength, to be able to squeeze and pull and tug and everything. He started working at James's trousers, trying to unbutton and unzip them, all the while kissing James with hurricane force.
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He bit at the junction by ear and neck, familiar in scent and taste, look and sound - feeling Sirius arch against him. A wiggle of his fingers and a few spoken words and both their cloths began to unbutton, unzip and untangle free.
James pushed at cloth, wriggling out of his own clothes. It was hurried and frantic and he would never have been this way with a girl - they tended to want things slow and by the book; candles, music, flowers. And he'd done it. It'd been about them. Their needs. Their wants. Their fantasies. Best friends didn't have to do any of that.
He pulled Sirius' hand onto his dick, but it was a reversal of the last time. It was eager. He was helping. He was kissing back, legs tangled, clothes strained and caught and trying to catch at limbs and his own hand gripped in Sirius' hair, having given up its perch hanging onto the collar.
James kissed like it was the end of the world and he was planning to die with a mouth full of plunder. He took. He owned, tongue lashing and fighting for control. He'd asked to be taken care of, but he wasn't simply waiting for it. The slip of his hand, past Sirius' zips and buttons to hold them both together was just another sign of that.
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Everything in Sirius's mind was a blur. There were no words, no coherent thoughts, only sensations, touches, colours - and a deep, manic urgency. He wanted James, and he wanted to be wanted by James, and right now nothing else existed but the two of them. He didn't know how they had got there, and he didn't care. But he did know where he was going, and he couldn't get there fast enough.
Sirius groaned against James's lips, and he pulled his tongue back, meeting James's in his own mouth now, letting James possess him. His head was pressed against the mattress, neck tilted back, hand extending down and then stroking up in a rhythm that matched his breaths. The soft, wet noises of their kisses competed with the sound of skin on skin and Sirius's ragged breaths for prominence, a strange, lustful symphony punctuated by staccato moans from deep within Sirius's chest. He was so hard right now, and every brush of James's hips against his groin was making him want to reach his other hand down and -
Fucking sweet relief in the form of his best friend's hand. "Prooooooonnnngs!" Sirius moaned, breaking off the kiss for a moment, the pitch of his voice low at first, but quickly climbing higher and higher until it gave out entirely. He thrust into James's hand, trying to match the rhythm of his own hand.
He and James had wanked each other before, but it had always been a casual affair, slow, deliberate, relaxed. This was the complete opposite, driven by years of pain, loneliness, mourning, grief...intense love and devotion for the one person who understood him...overwhelming physical desire. All of the things that had kept them apart now bound them together, bodies touching in so many places that Sirius wasn't sure what was his own any more. He now fully belonged to James.
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Pre-come slick below their waists, fingers wet and stroking, James stared, never looking anywhere else but into Sirius' eyes - looking home. It was yet another reversal, but of something that felt far older, far more set. He'd been Sirius' home, Sirius' rock. Stable Prongs to Padfoot's enthusiasm and eager wagging tail or to the soft whines and flopped ears and a soft black body curling in on itself. James was used to that. So the click, the tangle of tension in one hot line between them both, feeling himself snap into anchor in grey eyes, watching that face, that wide, wanting, wanton reaction. It made him shudder, his own eyes going half lidded.
"Sirius." Because somehow just this once, it fit. But James didn't stop there. "Padfoot. Pads" The last name rounded in his mouth, like a marble and yet not, because it didn't stay, it melted.
James' hand stroked, thumb flicking the warm tip that wasn't his, a glimmer of a smirk on his face mixing in with his open eyed, happy shock. It matched his determination. And when his eyes flickered down between them, finally, it was to take stock. The look was slow as he took note of every inch of Sirius' body he could see, and then intentionally bent low, and nipped-sucked to leave a mark just under the left nipple; intentionally marking.
"Yeah, Pads?"
James popped off with a loud smack, and tugged Sirius' head back more, his fingers still tangled in hair almost as unruly as his, at the moment.
"Yeah?" The touches between them got lighter, teasing. James slipped his hand a little deeper, blunt fingernails scraping at Sirius' balls. "Yeah?"
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Finally, the blur resolved into hazel eyes boring into his own, marking him, claiming him, and Sirius whispered his agreement - "Yours, yours, yours..." - in rhythm with his hand as it slid and tugged on James's cock. As much as James sought control, Sirius relinquished it. He wanted to give everything, anything, to James - but it was so much more than physical desire which drove this willingness; it was the deep ties of friendship, the love and the loss they shared, their mutual understanding and blind devotion to each other, that were the true cornerstone. The lust was an extension of it all, sharp, intense, and so, so, right.
Every time James's thumb grazed the tip of his cock, he gasped and then grunted, his hips pushing forward and his hand tugging extra hard on James. His legs kicked against the side of the bed as James sucked on his chest. And through the jumble of colours and phrases that were Sirius's fragmented thoughts, it occurred to him that this experience was entirely unique - that even though he had done far more with other people, it had never been like this. He felt completely wild, totally out of control, squirming, writhing, shivering, pulling and thrusting and twisting with complete abandon.
And then James started speaking, and Sirius's answers came out without any thought.
"Uh-huh," he whispered in response to James's first question. Fingers pulled his hair, pushed his head into the bed, and he yanked it back even more, surrendering to James's touch.
"Yeah, Prongs, yeah!" he said more loudly, and then, just as he needed James to pull harder, James's touch lightened, and he writhed and pushed up, desperate for more, tugging that much harder on James.
"Unnnnnnnnnnhhhh, please, please, please, I want you so much right now!"
James was teasing him, driving him completely mad. His toes twisted into the side of the bed, and he reached his free hand up towards James, trying to grab onto his shoulder, wanting to pull him down so every bit of their flesh could touch, so he could start thrusting and pushing.
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Teasingly, James moved his hand to Sirius' inner thighs, stroking softly. There were things they could do right now. He knew of them. And Merlin knew Sirius had never been shy about talking about what he did and with whom. They'd never been able to have too many secrets from each other. But the touch on him, the hard, strong, desperate strokes made him tremble. Now wasn't the time to take things any further away from what they knew. Not now. Right? There would be time later - during the week. For right now...
Tumbled down on top of Sirius so they were body to body, every inch, seared hot and wet between them, James braced himself and started to move, grunting low in his throat, hair sticking to his temples. He was suddenly flushed and dewed with perspiration. Hips thrusting, rolled like on ball bearings against Sirius' stomach and cock. James kissed him, feathered and askew as he moved, but still, a kiss, tongue tempting.
"Pads"
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Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, "James...PLEASE!"
And then James was on top of him, and Sirius was burning up and soaking wet. He breathed in the heat, sweat from two bodies combined, intertwined, just like their legs and hands and hair and everything. As James pushed his hips forward, Sirius tried to match his move in the opposite direction. At some point, he had moved his hands, because now they were gripping James's arse - not to steady James, as it was James who was determining the rhythm, James who was thrusting hardest, but just to hold onto him, to have another point of contact.
He was close, so close.
Sirius groaned, loud and long, as James's lips met his again, and he was on the verge of opening his mouth, inviting James back in, surrendering this part of himself to his mate. But first, lips pressed against James's, he whispered hoarsely, "Prongs, I'm yours, IwantyouIwantyouIwantyou, do you want me?"
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Slick, smooth, hot. Firm hands on his arse, hot breath against his lips.
Do you want me?
James looked down into that hint of insecurity, thrown momentarily by the shadow in Sirius' eyes. He almost stopped. Almost. But his hips weren't taking direction from his brain anymore.
"Bloody hell, Pads!"
He leaned in and kissed him, as softly as he'd have kissed a girl. "Been mine for ages. Been mine forever you bleedin' arse. Now come for me already."
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He kissed James back just as softly and then turned his head to one side, concentrating on the intense pressure between his legs. His entire body was pressed against James's, and with each thrust, the pressure built. He quickened the place, pressing his fingers into James's arse, each shove accompanied by a low grunt.
And then, with several frantic pushes, the tip of his cock rubbing against James's stomach, he finally crossed that delicious line over the edge. He felt like the world was exploding and he wanted it and it was happening and there was heat and pleasure, tightness and release, everything in the universe focused on one area, nothing else existing but bursts of pure ecstasy.
Warm, sticky come hit his belly, and James's, spreading around as Sirius shuddered and heaved his hips forward and up in a few large thrusts, alternately panting and groaning. His hands pressed James's groin further into his own, and he lifted his head up, seeking James's lips.
"Want you to come, too, Prongs," he breathed.
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James bowed his head, grunting softly and going for broke, feeling the slide of skin against skin. The prickles of Sirius's chest and groin hair. The heat between them.
The room smelled of come and sweat and them. James shifted, feeling his cock notch along Sirius' hipbone and shivered.
"Uh huh." He moved faster, slumped forward for just the right weight and just the right friction. James pulled one of Sirius hands off his ass. "Touch me, Pads."
A hissing breath. "Close."
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And Sirius was more than willing. He let James guide his hand down. Some of his come had spread onto James's cock, and as Sirius stroked, hard and fast, it acted as a lubricant, making Sirius's motions smoother and faster. He hooked his ankles around James's legs and pressed his other hand firmly against James's arse.
He was a little more lucid now, and after several strokes, he opened his eyes to watch James.
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"Uh huh, yeah, touch me. Touch me!" James' eyes closed and he lost himself to sensation. But not completely.
"There, Pads?" His grip on Sirius tightened. James knew it had to be painful but he couldn't let go. Right now, in the moment it all felt like a dream and any moment he'd wake up, frustrated and alone or with the wrong Sirius. The one he couldn't let touch him.
"Pads!" James groaned again, eyes fluttering open. His gaze bore down, pinning with the full intensity of everything inside him. James shivered, breath hitching and then writhed as Sirius' hand touched just the right spot. His hips snapped, driving in, fingers fisting into the sheets of the bed, every thrust matched with a groaned 'yes', ass pushing against Sirius' hand.
"Fuck yes!"
Another shiver, and hard thrust into the now second spread of wet warmth and James sagged, after shocks making him jitter-fuck into Sirius' fist, until he had to move his friend's hand away because oversensitivity was starting to happen.
James exhaled, eyes closed, head bowed, trying to remember how to breathe.
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Each shout, each command, was electricity, shot straight through to Sirius's heart.
He stroked harder and harder, wanting to do everything for James, to make him scream in ecstasy. Had James not been so close, had his hand not been clamped onto Sirius's wrist as if his life depended on it, Sirius might have pushed himself down the bed and taken James into his mouth. The idea briefly flashed across his mind, and then James was twisting and shaking and shoving and yelling, and warm, gelly liquid was pushing its way through Sirius's fingers, still encircling James's cock, squeezing and pulling, encouraging James's orgasm to completion.
He lightly held onto James's hand as it pulled his from James's cock, still hard and hot and wet. He wrapped his other hand around James's back, lightly dragging his fingers up and down.
Breathy, ragged panting. Wet, sweaty, sticky skin. The smell of sex.
And James. His best friend. Who was satisfied and happy.
Everything was perfect. Except one thing.
"I'm bloody fuckin' hungry."
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