by Tavalya Ra

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Rowling is a goddess; may she have mercy on my soul for writing this.

If anyone wishes to archive this story on his or her site, please contact me at . Comments and criticisms are welcome. Flames will be ignored.

* * *

From the mantel, the clock chimed; Sirius lost count of the notes, but the hour did not matter, only that it was late. His eyes drifted from the page of his text and darted a glance across the room. Severus reclined in an armchair, absorbed by the potions manual in his lap.

Sirius shut his book and, gingerly tossing it aside, rose from the sofa. Softly, he padded across the room until he towered beside Severus’s seat. He leaned over the chair and nestled one hand under the other man’s chin. Calmly, with casual lethargy, Severus turned his gaze from the book to Sirius.

Sirius stared deeply into his obsidian eyes, eyes that were no longer cold, no longer closed to him. He sought in their depths a glimmer of emotion, acceptance or disapproval, and found they spoke clearly without words that he was ready and had in fact been waiting.

He slid the book from Severus’s grasp and set it on the end table. Severus closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed and his lips parted slightly. Sirius tilted his head forward; for several moments, there was no sound but their mouths locked in a slow and sensuous tango.

Severus’s arms snaked around his waist; his hands molded to the contours of his back with soft pressure. Sirius reached under him and gently lifted him from the chair. His precious and willing bundle securely cradled in his embrace, he proceeded upstairs. The door of their room was open; Sirius shut it with his foot after entering.

Tenderly, he laid Severus upon the bed and undid the row of tiny buttons down the front of his robe. He removed one layer of black cloth and discarded it beside the bed, then proceeded to the next. Every so often, his gaze wandered from his task to Severus’s face; the man’s eyes had become heated and smoldering. Anticipation mounted in both Sirius’s heart and stomach. Finally, the garments were removed, unveiling the pale flesh beneath. With one finger, he traced a line across Severus’s bare chest, stimulating the nerves along its course. The sensation drew a shallow gasp from the man.

"Sirius…" he hissed. The sound was silk, its caress sending shivers over Sirius’s skin.

"No, love," he whispered. "No words."

Their mouths- and hands- knew other ways to speak.