More fic! :D
I had every intention of posting some drabbles on Wednesday night, but since I came home from dinner ridiculously drunk I figured that I might want to wait until I was sober to do so. ;)
So, I have a few things here that you all might be interested in! These were more drabbles written in 10 mins over IM with prompts by pre_raphaelite1. Mixed characters and ratings. All unbeta'd and only slightly tweaked after being written.
1. Padfoot and Harry. G
There was a gruff rumble of breath and a deep rattling sigh. Tiny hands alternately clutched and relaxed in sleep, tugging at silky black hair, prompting another breath and a shifting of weight.
He didn't mind the boy. Merlin, no. Loved him. With an irrational, fierce flutter in his chest that made him curl protectively about the small, fragile body, that made his jaw ache in clenching at the idea of anything disturbing him, harming him. He'd tear anyone apart who even tried it.
Bending down to the sleeping form he gently nuzzled one plump baby cheek, the lashes a delicate flutter as Harry shifted and dreamed. Mine, he thought. To protect. To love. Mine. A bushy tail thumped out a soft, happy rhythm on the hearth rug as Padfoot's breath ruffled the cornsilk of Harry's sleep-mussed hair.
Mine.
2. James and construction. G
It was brilliant. Masterful. Flawless, if he had to come up with a single word.
Well, apart from the wiggly bit at one of the far corners. And the top wasn't exactly perfectly even, but as far as such things went, it was Solid English Construction. Better yet, Solid Potter Construction, which, as everyone knew (or if they didn't, they would eventually come to the inevitable conclusion) was even better.
He surveyed his masterpiece, chest swelling with pride, a faint prickle of - could that be tears? - something more deeply affecting. James watched the sun shine down on this, his artistic triumph - 100% non-magical in design and execution and he knew in his heart that he was a part of something greater: ancient and timeless, the whispered secrets of master craftsmen filtering down the years to this one perfect day.
It was just then that Sirius Black, Scourge of All Sacredness, made his final, fatal error. Tumbling forward in a laughing heap he landed, square on his arse, in the middle of James' sandcastle. James' jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek and inside of a minute he saw his next project laid out before him in shining greens and blues. And so he set about dunking Sirius' head with his fine skilled hands, a sparkle of laughter filling the warm sea air.
3. Sirius and vibrators. Hard R
Sirius Black loved cock. No two ways about it. Remus Lupin's cock, most specifically. It was an almost contant craving, driving him to increasingly indecent acts in half-darkened hallways, behind statuary, in the ubiquitous abandoned classroom.
As much as this continuous activity dulled the edge of his need, there did not seem to be a single person alive who could (comfortably) meet his demands when he got on an obsessive jag. How fortuitous then, to stumble across a catalogue one afternoon in the dormitory, left out, seemingly by accident by some unnamed party too distracted to remember to stuff it back under his mattress before leaving for lessons. And such things inside he'd never imagined in all his wildest dreams. Cocks there, yes. Manufactured by Muggles! And the colours. The shapes. The sizes. The... varying speeds?
Sirius found himself bewildered and allured in equal amounts. How was such a thing possible? How could decent people actually make a living manufacturing things that were clearly meant for... well... I mean, they DID know what people would do with these things if given enough time to consider it, didn't they?
So he stole it, let it take up uneasy residence with some of the other spotty magazines beneath his own bed, taking it out in rare moments of daring to pour over it time and time again. He soon memorised his favourite pages, corners dogeared, the glossy paper bent and worn until one day, when he reached for it, cock already hard and half out of his trousers, a slip of parchment fluttered to the floor, decorated with Remus' slanted writing: "So have you decided then?"
4. Snack with thorns. R
Teeth sunk deeply into his neck and his hips jerked upwards hard. His chest ached with the desire to cry out, but he wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of making a noise. He licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded, breath rough and he took his revenge, grabbing hold of Snape's crotch and squeezing, near-painfully, while forcing him backwards with a shove of strong shoulders against thin ones.
Snape fell back a pace, mouth going wide first in shocked pleasure at the touch of Sirius' hand, next in a grunt of discomfort as he backed into the ever-blooming rosebush just behind him. Sirius grinned savagely and ground forward into him, replacing his hand with his hips. Snape's eyes flashed hatefully at him, and Sirius laughed, tearing open the top of Snape's robes.
"Got to pay better attention to your surroundings, mate."
Lips curled back over stained teeth. "Are you going to stand around all evening chatting? If so, I have other things to do."
"Shut up." The laughing mouth turned down and Sirius' eyes darkened at the bright spots of blood welling up from the wounds on Snape's pale shoulders. "I'm getting to it. And you'll be fucking sobbing for more when it's over."
So, I have a few things here that you all might be interested in! These were more drabbles written in 10 mins over IM with prompts by pre_raphaelite1. Mixed characters and ratings. All unbeta'd and only slightly tweaked after being written.
1. Padfoot and Harry. G
There was a gruff rumble of breath and a deep rattling sigh. Tiny hands alternately clutched and relaxed in sleep, tugging at silky black hair, prompting another breath and a shifting of weight.
He didn't mind the boy. Merlin, no. Loved him. With an irrational, fierce flutter in his chest that made him curl protectively about the small, fragile body, that made his jaw ache in clenching at the idea of anything disturbing him, harming him. He'd tear anyone apart who even tried it.
Bending down to the sleeping form he gently nuzzled one plump baby cheek, the lashes a delicate flutter as Harry shifted and dreamed. Mine, he thought. To protect. To love. Mine. A bushy tail thumped out a soft, happy rhythm on the hearth rug as Padfoot's breath ruffled the cornsilk of Harry's sleep-mussed hair.
Mine.
2. James and construction. G
It was brilliant. Masterful. Flawless, if he had to come up with a single word.
Well, apart from the wiggly bit at one of the far corners. And the top wasn't exactly perfectly even, but as far as such things went, it was Solid English Construction. Better yet, Solid Potter Construction, which, as everyone knew (or if they didn't, they would eventually come to the inevitable conclusion) was even better.
He surveyed his masterpiece, chest swelling with pride, a faint prickle of - could that be tears? - something more deeply affecting. James watched the sun shine down on this, his artistic triumph - 100% non-magical in design and execution and he knew in his heart that he was a part of something greater: ancient and timeless, the whispered secrets of master craftsmen filtering down the years to this one perfect day.
It was just then that Sirius Black, Scourge of All Sacredness, made his final, fatal error. Tumbling forward in a laughing heap he landed, square on his arse, in the middle of James' sandcastle. James' jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek and inside of a minute he saw his next project laid out before him in shining greens and blues. And so he set about dunking Sirius' head with his fine skilled hands, a sparkle of laughter filling the warm sea air.
3. Sirius and vibrators. Hard R
Sirius Black loved cock. No two ways about it. Remus Lupin's cock, most specifically. It was an almost contant craving, driving him to increasingly indecent acts in half-darkened hallways, behind statuary, in the ubiquitous abandoned classroom.
As much as this continuous activity dulled the edge of his need, there did not seem to be a single person alive who could (comfortably) meet his demands when he got on an obsessive jag. How fortuitous then, to stumble across a catalogue one afternoon in the dormitory, left out, seemingly by accident by some unnamed party too distracted to remember to stuff it back under his mattress before leaving for lessons. And such things inside he'd never imagined in all his wildest dreams. Cocks there, yes. Manufactured by Muggles! And the colours. The shapes. The sizes. The... varying speeds?
Sirius found himself bewildered and allured in equal amounts. How was such a thing possible? How could decent people actually make a living manufacturing things that were clearly meant for... well... I mean, they DID know what people would do with these things if given enough time to consider it, didn't they?
So he stole it, let it take up uneasy residence with some of the other spotty magazines beneath his own bed, taking it out in rare moments of daring to pour over it time and time again. He soon memorised his favourite pages, corners dogeared, the glossy paper bent and worn until one day, when he reached for it, cock already hard and half out of his trousers, a slip of parchment fluttered to the floor, decorated with Remus' slanted writing: "So have you decided then?"
4. Snack with thorns. R
Teeth sunk deeply into his neck and his hips jerked upwards hard. His chest ached with the desire to cry out, but he wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of making a noise. He licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded, breath rough and he took his revenge, grabbing hold of Snape's crotch and squeezing, near-painfully, while forcing him backwards with a shove of strong shoulders against thin ones.
Snape fell back a pace, mouth going wide first in shocked pleasure at the touch of Sirius' hand, next in a grunt of discomfort as he backed into the ever-blooming rosebush just behind him. Sirius grinned savagely and ground forward into him, replacing his hand with his hips. Snape's eyes flashed hatefully at him, and Sirius laughed, tearing open the top of Snape's robes.
"Got to pay better attention to your surroundings, mate."
Lips curled back over stained teeth. "Are you going to stand around all evening chatting? If so, I have other things to do."
"Shut up." The laughing mouth turned down and Sirius' eyes darkened at the bright spots of blood welling up from the wounds on Snape's pale shoulders. "I'm getting to it. And you'll be fucking sobbing for more when it's over."