fic: Armed With Every Precious Failure
Title: Armed With Every Precious Failure
Pairings: James/Sirius
Rating: R
Summary: He is going to get himself killed one of these days.
Word Count: 900
Notes: written for incognito for her birthday. Thank you to starrysummer for the beta and to bluerose16, foreword and sunblossoms for the encouragement. The title is from The Weakerthans' "Aside" because I am incorrigible.
∞~∞~∞
"Hold still," James says, his voice gravelly from too much alcohol. His words slur together so it comes out more like a groan, and Sirius isn't sure how to react. He squirms under James' grip, but it's with only half the effort, and soon James' lips are against his, and a wet, pink tongue is begging entrance. They kiss clumsily, tasting firewhisky and butterbeer in each other's mouths, tasting boy-wildness on each other's necks, and all the summer carelessness that comes with being sixteen years old.
Somewhere the clock is chiming two, and James' hips snap against Sirius' body in time with the second strike. His body falls out of rhythm again and he pants into the curve of Sirius' neck. They're both shaking with arousal and if Sirius just angles his body a little more to the right, he'll feel the heat of James' cock slide against his own, through layers of awkwardness and trousers and robes.
"Want- want you," Sirius whines against James' lower lip as they kiss. They've grown comfortable fitting like this, James' hands resting at the indentation of Sirius' waist, just above his hipbones, Sirius' fingers curling in the mess of James' hair so he has something to tug on. He pulls James close, impossibly close, until they melt together in a sticky mess of groans and come. James comes first because he's always first, charging into danger and fiddling with the hook of Lily's bra and talking about becoming an Auror when all Sirius wants to do is skip rocks across the lake and turn Snivellus' hair interesting colors. James looks serious when he comes, eyes startlingly dark for just a second, and he freezes against Sirius and Sirius thinks, fuck. It's alwaysalwaysalways that dark-eyed look just before James walks away and leaves Sirius panting.
But then they're laughing and talking pranks again, and it's as if nothing had ever happened. They stink of sex and too-closeness, but they'll charm it all away and ignore it, pretending this was only about fleeting physical need, a press of one body to another, an accident. They'll forget about the adrenaline-rushed emotions that fluttered through their thoughts this and every time they've kissed. There aren't emotions to this because James wants Lily and Sirius wants- Sirius doesn't know what he wants. Knows he doesn't want James. Can't.
Sirius grins and slings his arm around James' neck, ignoring the awkward lurch of muscle as James winces at the contact. Too much too soon mistake. It was. It wasn't. It didn't happen. James will dive headfirst into sex with Sirius but he'll never admit that he did, that those were his fingers curling in Sirius' hair, leaving marks on Sirius' neck, that those were his lips parting and pursing around Sirius' cock. He lives for the denial, lives for the thrill of not-allowed, the danger of it, the ease with which he can brush off the whole incident and pretend it never happened.
It never did. James wants Lily, and Sirius wants what he cannot have.
Tomorrow they will work on their Transfiguration homework in the library and when Remus and Peter get up to get books off the shelves, James will bump Sirius' arm, accidentally, and they'll kiss and grope and touch and it will feel wonderful. But that is tomorrow and Sirius knows that, for now, things are over and things are not things. Are nothing. He will walk James back to the dormitory and they will both go on about how they shouldn't drink quite so much and neither one will mean it, and Sirius will stumble nearly into an armchair and James will laugh and Sirius will laugh, too, will think, I want you, will say nothing. They will climb into their beds and Sirius will glance over at James and his eyes will say, tonight, please tonight, but James won't be looking at him. They will sleep and when they wake up, it will be a new day. Sirius will wait until the moment in the library when he can feel James' skin again, under the pink of his tongue. He will wait. He's patient with this, because he can't rush and can't press and can't charge ahead like James does, not with this, because this isn't his. This belongs to James, is James' to twist and manipulate and break, and leave behind.
Sirius doesn't love James, not like that. They're boys, both of them, they don't love like that. Girls do. Lily does. Lily loves James. Sirius doesn't. He isn't allowed. He just wants. He wants James just like he would want anyone. He just- He just- He just wants James more.
"One of these days," James says, clumsily, "you're going to get yourself killed." They're both tripping up the stairs and Sirius is taking them two at a time. James is right and James doesn't know that Sirius is rushing because it hurts to walk next to James, to know that the fifteen minutes just now have meant absolutely nothing to him, and Sirius is sticky with absolutely nothing, and feeling very much the same.
He is going to get himself killed one of these days. Going to: steps two at a time, trying to run away, tripping over his own blunted need. Going to get himself killed: waiting, turning, leaning over the stairwell for a touch that never comes.
∞~∞~∞
Pairings: James/Sirius
Rating: R
Summary: He is going to get himself killed one of these days.
Word Count: 900
Notes: written for incognito for her birthday. Thank you to starrysummer for the beta and to bluerose16, foreword and sunblossoms for the encouragement. The title is from The Weakerthans' "Aside" because I am incorrigible.
∞~∞~∞
"Hold still," James says, his voice gravelly from too much alcohol. His words slur together so it comes out more like a groan, and Sirius isn't sure how to react. He squirms under James' grip, but it's with only half the effort, and soon James' lips are against his, and a wet, pink tongue is begging entrance. They kiss clumsily, tasting firewhisky and butterbeer in each other's mouths, tasting boy-wildness on each other's necks, and all the summer carelessness that comes with being sixteen years old.
Somewhere the clock is chiming two, and James' hips snap against Sirius' body in time with the second strike. His body falls out of rhythm again and he pants into the curve of Sirius' neck. They're both shaking with arousal and if Sirius just angles his body a little more to the right, he'll feel the heat of James' cock slide against his own, through layers of awkwardness and trousers and robes.
"Want- want you," Sirius whines against James' lower lip as they kiss. They've grown comfortable fitting like this, James' hands resting at the indentation of Sirius' waist, just above his hipbones, Sirius' fingers curling in the mess of James' hair so he has something to tug on. He pulls James close, impossibly close, until they melt together in a sticky mess of groans and come. James comes first because he's always first, charging into danger and fiddling with the hook of Lily's bra and talking about becoming an Auror when all Sirius wants to do is skip rocks across the lake and turn Snivellus' hair interesting colors. James looks serious when he comes, eyes startlingly dark for just a second, and he freezes against Sirius and Sirius thinks, fuck. It's alwaysalwaysalways that dark-eyed look just before James walks away and leaves Sirius panting.
But then they're laughing and talking pranks again, and it's as if nothing had ever happened. They stink of sex and too-closeness, but they'll charm it all away and ignore it, pretending this was only about fleeting physical need, a press of one body to another, an accident. They'll forget about the adrenaline-rushed emotions that fluttered through their thoughts this and every time they've kissed. There aren't emotions to this because James wants Lily and Sirius wants- Sirius doesn't know what he wants. Knows he doesn't want James. Can't.
Sirius grins and slings his arm around James' neck, ignoring the awkward lurch of muscle as James winces at the contact. Too much too soon mistake. It was. It wasn't. It didn't happen. James will dive headfirst into sex with Sirius but he'll never admit that he did, that those were his fingers curling in Sirius' hair, leaving marks on Sirius' neck, that those were his lips parting and pursing around Sirius' cock. He lives for the denial, lives for the thrill of not-allowed, the danger of it, the ease with which he can brush off the whole incident and pretend it never happened.
It never did. James wants Lily, and Sirius wants what he cannot have.
Tomorrow they will work on their Transfiguration homework in the library and when Remus and Peter get up to get books off the shelves, James will bump Sirius' arm, accidentally, and they'll kiss and grope and touch and it will feel wonderful. But that is tomorrow and Sirius knows that, for now, things are over and things are not things. Are nothing. He will walk James back to the dormitory and they will both go on about how they shouldn't drink quite so much and neither one will mean it, and Sirius will stumble nearly into an armchair and James will laugh and Sirius will laugh, too, will think, I want you, will say nothing. They will climb into their beds and Sirius will glance over at James and his eyes will say, tonight, please tonight, but James won't be looking at him. They will sleep and when they wake up, it will be a new day. Sirius will wait until the moment in the library when he can feel James' skin again, under the pink of his tongue. He will wait. He's patient with this, because he can't rush and can't press and can't charge ahead like James does, not with this, because this isn't his. This belongs to James, is James' to twist and manipulate and break, and leave behind.
Sirius doesn't love James, not like that. They're boys, both of them, they don't love like that. Girls do. Lily does. Lily loves James. Sirius doesn't. He isn't allowed. He just wants. He wants James just like he would want anyone. He just- He just- He just wants James more.
"One of these days," James says, clumsily, "you're going to get yourself killed." They're both tripping up the stairs and Sirius is taking them two at a time. James is right and James doesn't know that Sirius is rushing because it hurts to walk next to James, to know that the fifteen minutes just now have meant absolutely nothing to him, and Sirius is sticky with absolutely nothing, and feeling very much the same.
He is going to get himself killed one of these days. Going to: steps two at a time, trying to run away, tripping over his own blunted need. Going to get himself killed: waiting, turning, leaning over the stairwell for a touch that never comes.
∞~∞~∞