"I love your house. It's so different from mine." Sirius threw his trunk onto the floor next to James' bed, where it landed with a heavy thud. He'd been in this room many times before, but never with the possibility of staying permanently. The knowledge that he would be here for longer than a fortnight made the place look strangely new. The Quidditch posters plastered across the green painted walls, the textbooks lying forgotten in a messy pile in the corner, the broom polishing kit scattered across the writing desk - it was like Sirius was witnessing it all for the first time.
"You mean you don't enjoy old house elf heads lining the corridors? I think that's the best part of your house." James smirked from where he leaned against the doorframe, all casual and easy. His hands rested in the pockets of his jeans, which he wore in the summers in place of the traditional heavy robes and stiff trousers. His hair was a mess, as usual - a thick, charming sort of mess.
That's why he loved the git. The world was James' playground, and everything in it his toy. He could mould it, shape it, twist it to his means with a Slytherin-type cunning that always made Sirius wonder. At this point, he couldn't deny his crush anymore. He'd stamped it down easily in the beginning, but every year it seemed to grow stronger.
James stretched, raising his arms high past his head. The hem of his faded t-shirt rose up and exposed a sliver of skin. Sirius drank in the light trail of hair below his navel as desire bubbled up in his gut.
James lowered his arms with a yawn. "If you hadn't arrived so late, we could have gone for a flight."
"That's a brilliant idea," Sirius said. He turned his head to gaze out the window. A few stars were already out, spaced far apart in the sky. They twinkled at him, issuing him his own personal invitation. Even with their glittering light, it was too dark to see more than a few feet ahead. He looked back at James with a slow grin. "We can always go now."
The spark in James' eye, the hint of a smile, told Sirius he was intrigued. "It's dangerous to fly at this time of night," he said, less like a warning and more like an enticement. "Dad will be pissed if he wakes up."
"You scared of the dark?"
James' smile broadened. Sirius knew James never could resist a challenge - or anything that gave him a chance to show off.
"You know I'm not," James said. "I'm up for it if you are."
Sirius nodded. "Oh, I'm up for it."
"Then you're on."
The air was heavy with summer warmth, even this late at night. The Potter residence was nestled on the outskirts of their village, in a wide clearing surrounded by trees. As he rose up higher on his broom, Sirius could barely make out the branches and leaves of the forest - like shadows against the night sky.
"Where are you?" James called from somewhere behind him. "You're already up there? I can't see a bloody thing."
"Just fly up, your eyes will adjust soon enough."
In a faint rush of air, James came into view next to him, stopping so close that their knees bumped together. Sirius floated in place, letting the touch linger.
"The stars are brighter from up here," Sirius said.
James looked around. "Still can't see shit, though." He looked back at Sirius, his face barely illuminated by the starlight, and shot him a mischievous grin. "Race you around the clearing." Before Sirius could respond, James shot off, leaning low on his broom to gain speed. "Don't hit any trees!" he called back, his laughter sharp in the dead silence of the night.
Sirius wasted no time heading after him. The wind, warm and stifling, whipped against his face and through his hair. It dried his eyes, and he had to blink furiously and squint, making it even harder to see in the darkness. Still, he wasn't going to let James gain too much distance. James' head was inflated enough as it was, and Sirius wanted to see the shock on his face when he lost.
Sirius propelled himself faster, pushing his broom to its full potential. His body thrummed with the thrill of it, driving his heart beat faster and faster as he anticipated crashing at any moment. Then -
The impact hit him like a punch in the stomach. He had collided with something hard and solid. But then a gut-wrenching shout of pain told Sirius he hadn't crashed into a tree, but into James. Before Sirius could so much as turn his head to look around, he hit the ground with such force, it swept the air from his lungs. Aches bloomed in his shoulders and knees.
James groaned near him. Sirius pulled himself onto his hands and knees and crawled along the alternating patches of dirt and dewy grass.
Another groan in response.
"You all right?" Using his hands for eyes, Sirius felt the warm skin of James' body where his shirt had drawn up, exposing his stomach. He pulled his hand away suddenly.
"James?" he asked again. "Are you hurt?"
"No." James sounded croaky. "Just a bit winded, that's all."
Sirius smiled, reaching out again. He found James' arm and slid his hand up to James' shoulder. "I hit you with my broomhandle." James snorted, and Sirius knew he was just fine. "I'd say that's a bit more than just windswept," Sirius insisted. "Where'd I hit you?"
James made a noise like stifling a laugh. "In the arse," he said, his voice still rough. "You hit me with your broomstick in the arse."
Sirius playfully slapped him across the cheek. "Wanker."
"Stop that!" James reached over and grabbed Sirius' hand. Strangely, he pressed it flat against his cheek; Sirius held his breath. "You've already injured me enough as it is."
Sirius cleared his throat. "Let's get back inside." With his free hand, he grasped James by the waist and attempted to lift him, James holding onto Sirius' shoulders. "Did I really get you that bad? Can you walk?"
"We'll see." James gritted his teeth and reached behind himself to rub his back. Sirius bent down to pick up their brooms. "Actually, it was more in the area of my lower back," James said, taking his broom from Sirius. "It'll be a nasty bruise tomorrow."
Sirius placed his hand there, on the small of James' back. He rubbed the spot over the fabric of James' thin shirt, which clung to sweaty skin. "There?"
James swung his arm around Sirius' shoulder. "Right there, yeah. You nearly killed me. I told you it was too dark to fly."
"Don't be a baby," Sirius teased as they began walking back toward the house.
Inside, Sirius helped James up the stairs. The house was dark and quiet, with only one light from the kitchen illuminating the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. James put a finger to his lips, indicating they should be quiet, and Sirius nodded.
James clung to the railing, and Sirius couldn't tell if he was making a show of it or if he really was finding the stairs difficult to climb.
He replaced his hand on James' back, sliding it up his spine. "Need some help?"
"Shh, you'll wake my parents," James whispered.
Sirius rested his other hand on James' shoulder. In a much lower voice, he asked, "Are you sure they'll be angry we went out?"
"Of course they will, you know my dad. But they won't find out -"
James staggered as they reached the landing, and Sirius caught him just in time with both hands under James' arms. He held onto James' warm body until James stopped swaying. Sirius shut his eyes at the feel of James' chest rising and falling. He traced his palms along James' ribs, and James inhaled sharply.
Sirius let go, clearing his throat. James didn't say anything. Didn't even look at him.
Sirius forced out a laugh. "Don't fall on your face, you berk."
When they got to his room, James limped over to his bed and fell down on it face-first. He groaned into his mattress and, his voice muffled, said, "Sirius, can you check my back?"
Sirius stood in the doorway, not sure he trusted himself to get any closer. James' shirt had ridden up, exposing an inch of skin over the waistband of his jeans. It was calling to Sirius, telling him to press his lips against it.
"Sirius," James repeated.
Sirius flinched. James was lifting his arse slightly off the mattress, and it was so hard for Sirius to look away.
"Come on, check how badly you've mauled me. I want to know if I'll be able to walk again."
Swallowing hard, Sirius strolled to the bed. "You'll walk again, you wanker," he said as he sat down beside James.
James turned his head to face him, his grin alive and mischievous.
Sirius grabbed the hem of the t-shirt, lifting it up James' back. The bruise was already beginning to bloom, a blotch of light purple and blue over that perfect, smooth skin.
"It's hardly more than a spot," Sirius said, running his thumb over it.
James canted his hips into the mattress. "A spot that hurts."
"It's turning purple."
"Really?" James asked as though a bruise were a fascinating concept. He craned his neck trying to have a look. "I want to see it."
"It's not very exciting." Sirius grinned at James' silliness, but his breath caught in his throat as he considered the possibility... Speaking as evenly as he could, he said, "I could massage your back, if you like."
He held his breath watching James' face: his grin not altogether disappearing, but no longer a grin either.
"I mean, it could help. If it hurts really badly." Sirius' heart pounded in his chest, and he considered rescinding the offer with a laugh and playing it off as nothing more than a dumb joke.
Until, without looking at him, James shrugged, crossing his arms in front of him on the bed and laying his head on top. "Go on, then."
Sirius swallowed his nerves, covertly wiping his sweating palms on his trousers. He stared at James, particularly at the lovely swell of his arse, unsure of how to begin. His hands hovered over James' back, an inch from his skin, until he decided to just do it.
James wriggled when both of Sirius' hands were on him. The skin of his back was buttery soft, lightly tanned from the summer sun. Sirius imagined all the time James probably spent shirtless outdoors, flying around his family's property, probably high above the trees where the sun could reach him.
With a firmer grip, Sirius ran his hands up James' back. He dipped his fingers under James' shirt where his skin was warmer. James gasped, his ribcage expanding in Sirius' hands.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you," Sirius said, his voice embarrassingly gentle. James would surely snigger and mock him, and might even call him a poofter just to be funny.
To his surprise, James kept his head down and remained quiet. "No, s'fine," he mumbled, his eyes tightly shut.
"Is this good, like this?" Sirius asked as he pressed down with his thumbs, rubbing in small circles.
"Mm." James sighed through his nose and kept his eyes shut.
Sirius took that as a murmur of assent. Fleetingly, he wondered if he was turning James on, and his blood rushed to his groin. That would be nice. It would be more than nice. To have James get hard over his little massage. Sirius cleared his throat again - a gruff, scratchy sound - and pushed the thought away, reminding himself that the only enjoyment James was getting from this was having Sirius fuss over him. James liked girls. Specifically, he liked Lily. In fact, Sirius liked girls.
The thing was, James' body was so inviting. And his smile was so warm and infectious. Sirius wanted to be around him all the time. But that's how all best mates felt about each other. Right?
This was not working. He needed a better angle.
"Move up," Sirius commanded.
James scooted further up the bed until there was enough room for Sirius to straddle James' legs. With each knee planted in the bed on either side of James' thighs, Sirius settled his weight on top of him. James' arse pressed against the front of Sirius' trousers, and Sirius almost stopped breathing in his effort not to rut against it. For the moment, he contented himself with the light pressure against his cock, made all the better when he leaned forward to continue rubbing James' back.
This was a better angle, indeed. He lifted James' t-shirt until it bunched up under James' armpits, exposing his entire back. James' had such a perfect Chaser's body. Tall and lean, but strong around the shoulders and arms. Sirius gripped James' ribs in his palms, sliding his hand up and down James' sides and feeling the muscle all the way down to his trim waist and hip bone. The bruise at the small of his back was darker now.
Sirius gingerly ran a finger over it. "Does it still hurt?"
"Yes," James whispered, and Sirius didn't miss the strain in his voice. He secretly hoped it was from something other than the pain. "It stings. Don't touch it."
"What if I touch around it?" Sirius used his thumbs to caress the skin around the bruise until it turned light pink.
"You sound shaky." Sirius smiled, ignoring the way his heart beat furiously in his chest. "Are you sure it's all right?"
James was not usually shy. He was never modest or self conscious. But now, he buried his face in his arms and spoke softly, his voice muffled. "Just keep doing it."
It felt like a quiet victory. Whenever they horsed around at school, with lingering touches and flirtatious smiles, James always pulled away before it got too heated. There would be a sharp laugh and a slap on the back, and Sirius would be left feeling strangely frustrated in a way he didn't want to relate to his best mate.
But this James, doused in soft lamplight in the middle of the night, spread out on his bed, was pliable and complacent. Sirius wondered if James could feel his hard-on pressing against his arse.
Swallowing and licking his lips, Sirius let his hands roam right to the waistband of James' jeans. His thumb peeked underneath, and James inhaled sharply. Daring himself, Sirius trailed his palms up and over James' arse.
When he felt James stiffen, Sirius immediately let go and slid off.
"Right," he said. "That should have done it." He flew out of the room and ducked into the loo for refuge, cursing himself for letting it go too far. He really should not have touched James' arse. Oh, why had he done that?
Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!
It was half an hour before he found the courage to creep back in. James had put out the lamp and was curled up in bed. The rest of that night was hot and sticky, and Sirius slept restlessly.
Breakfast was fragrant blueberry scones, scrambled eggs, and fried bacon, accompanied by an assortment of fruit, freshly pressed pumpkin juice, and a pot of strong tea.
"Have I told you how much I love your house, Mrs Potter?" Sirius said as he packed his plate full of bacon and eggs.
Mrs Potter smiled from across the table. "Well, we are always happy to have you, Sirius, you know that."
Sirius stuffed his mouth with a heaping forkful of egg. "Yeh, I 'ow"
"Have some tea," Mr Potter said. The teapot floated up from its spot on the table and made its way to Sirius's teacup, pouring until the china cup was full to the brim.
"-hanks," Sirius said.
"James," Mrs Potter said, "aren't you hungry?"
James's head snapped up from where it had been drooping forward onto his chest. "Hm?" His plate remained empty in front of him, the fork and napkin untouched. "Oh, yes. I'm fine."
Mrs Potter frowned. "What on earth are you saying? I asked if you're hungry."
James looked at his plate. "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't sleep much." He glanced at Sirius, then flushed pink in the cheeks and looked away. "Just some tea for now."
The teapot soared over to him, dribbling from its spout all over the table. Mrs Potter tutted, frowning at the brown spots now speckling her white tablecloth.
"What are you boys planning on doing today?" Mr Potter asked.
Sirius chewed slowly, suddenly wondering the same thing. He turned to James again. This time, James didn't look up. "No idea," Sirius said finally.
"Why don't you help me in the garden?" Mrs Potter offered.
"Oh, Mum," James said, rolling his eyes.
"I think it's a fine idea" Mr Potter said with an air of finality that Sirius knew not to question. Mr Potter was one of the rare people James didn't often care to test.
Hours later, Sirius was bent over the final rose bush in the Potter's back garden. His neck and back muscles ached, and he winced as another thorn pricked him in the wrist. These gardening gloves were useless. So much for protecting his hands.
"Why can't one of the the house elves just do this?" James complained, trimming off a branch of a tall bush. He had been shaping the bushes all morning. Not one of them looked better than they'd been before.
"Because gardening is relaxing," Mrs Potter said from her corner of the garden. She had taken the much simpler - in Sirius's opinion - task of watering all the plants. Of course she'd be relaxed; she wasn't being attacked by rose thorns or battling unruly branches.
"Yeah," James grumbled, "really relaxing." He clipped off another branch at random.
"Psst, James," Sirius hissed.
Sirius gave him the most devious grin he could muster, knowing James wouldn't be able to resist a prank. "I know a charm that can turn all these roses black. We can tell your mum there's Dark Magic about."
The corners of James' lips turned up for a brief moment, but then the almost-smile faded.
"Aren't you up for it?" Sirius asked, his spirits quickly fading as well.
"Not right now, Sirius." James turned back to his bushes. "And besides, my mum really believes that crap."
James might as well have told him they were not longer friends.
"Fine," Sirius said, forcing a laugh and ignoring the painful feeling curling in his chest. "Be boring."
He really shouldn't have touched James's arse last night. Sirius turned back to the roses but didn't see them. He felt like he was going to be sick. James hated him now. What if he never wanted to prank with him again?
Then the worst thought - the one that made Sirius's blood spike with panic.
What if James didn't want him to stay here anymore?
He could hear James tossing and turning in bed. Sirius sighed, facing away from him.
A twin-sized bed had been floated up for him by one of the house elves and placed in a corner of James' bedroom. Sirius huddled close to the wall. Any marginal amount of distance away from James helped. He had spent all day on eggshells, wondering when James would finally blurt out that he wanted Sirius to go home and never come over again.
Sirius flinched. Steadying his breathing, he asked, "Yeah?"
"It's bloody cold in here, isn't it?"
He had no idea what this was about, after James hadn't spoken a word to him all day, but maybe James was finally getting over it. A vine of hope started up in his chest.
"I'm not cold," Sirius replied. He held his breath, waiting for a response. When none came and the only sound came from Sirius's ragged breathing, he swallowed and asked, "How's your back feeling? Does it still hurt?"
There was a pause. Sirius thought James might not reply. Until he did -
"It's a bit sore." James rustled around in his bed some more. Then he said quietly, "I think the massage helped."
Sirius's heart nearly jumped to his throat. And bloody hell, with that one statement, all his blood seemed to flood south. But why was James bringing up the massage? Hadn't it scared him dumb?
No, Sirius reminded himself, it had been his hands on James' arse that had done that.
Oh, but his arse...
"Have you ever given a massage before?" James asked, and Sirius realized he hadn't responded to James' previous comment.
"Er," he choked out. "No, I haven't. I'm glad you liked it."
"You're good with your hands."
He could be really good with his hands if James wanted.
But no! Those kinds of thoughts were what got Sirius into trouble in the first place. James was his best friend. He couldn't entertain thoughts about him. It would be… nearly incestuous.
"Merlin, but it's bloody cold," James said again. "Do you have any extra blankets over there?"
"I think I've got two."
"Not fair. I've only got the one."
"Cast a heating spell, then. Or call a House Elf."
"I could," James said. "But I wouldn't want to wake any of them. And a Heating Spell would just wear off after I fell asleep."
"Well, do you want my other blanket?"
"And have you freeze to death? How would I explain that in the morning?"
"Let me just kip with you."
"Come on, Sirius," James said. "It's no big deal, I'm freezing over here."
Sirius bit his lip. His pulse was racing. "Sure," he breathed. He was definitely half-hard now. The thought of James climbing into bed with him was enough to cut his breath short. He was very glad to be facing away.
There was a rustling sound like a blanket being moved, and then the creak of James' bed. Sirius didn't move a muscle as he listened to James' soft footsteps make the short walk across the room.
Sirius bit his lip harder, staying very still. James was getting into bed with him. James was lifting the blankets and sliding underneath them. The bed was barely big enough for Sirius, and James' body pressed flush against his. Their shoulder blades skirted together. James wriggled, trying to get comfortable, and their bums pressed into one another through thin pajama bottoms. Sirius shut his eyes tightly.
James continued to twist and turn, pressing more of himself against Sirius's body. Sirius's heart raced as he was crowded against the wall by that warm body.
"Are you trying to take over the bed?" Sirius asked, sounding less annoyed and more breathy.
"I can't get comfortable."
"That's because this bed was made for a House Elf."
James jutted his leg out.
"Ow! That was the back of my knee." Sirius kicked him back.
"Stop it," James whinged.
They proceeded to struggle in a battle of legs and feet, kicking and wriggling, until James's legs somehow ended up underneath Sirius's.
"This is ridiculous," Sirius said as his nose knocked against the wall. He twisted his body around until he was facing James.
But it was quickly clear to him that this was a bad move. Now his front was pressed tightly against James's back. And the thing was, James made no attempt to scoot over. In fact, he pushed into him further, until Sirius was essentially spooning him.
Sirius was hard now.
He bit his lip in an effort to stay perfectly still. If James didn't feel his erection pressing into his arse, Sirius would be damned. There was no way he didn't feel it jutting between the cleft of his cheeks. The fabric of his pajama bottom was nearly nonexistent.
Sirius realized he'd been holding his breath, and he slowly eased it out. The wind from his lungs tousled the hair at the back of James' head. If James felt it, Sirius couldn't tell. He was too busy inhaling the distinct scent of James - warm and soapy, with a hint of grass. How could those familiar smells possibly make him even stiffer? What kind of power did James have over him?
Then James moved, and Sirius let out a grunt as his cockhead was rubbed ever so deliciously by the curve of James's full bottom.
He then realized James was breathing hard.
Sirius swallowed, inhaling a sobering breath deep into his lungs and letting it out slowly. His heart was beating so fast, he imagined James could hear it. This whole thing was unreal. It wasn't - couldn't be - happening.
"James," Sirius whispered.
James stilled. He was silent, but his shoulders still moved up and down with his heavy breathing.
"James," Sirius repeated. He waited for yet another few moments of silence. He was certain James wasn't going to respond. But when he did...
"Yeah?" James's voice was hoarse and seemed to come from the gut. Sirius's eyes fluttered momentarily shut.
"Are you cold anymore?" Sirius stammered, before scowling into James' hair, cursing his idiotic brain.
Sirius felt strangely satisfied, and he didn't say another word, until slowly he fell asleep.
Sirius felt his mind waking up from the dirtiest dream of James dancing in his lap… and it all faded away with the morning sunlight dancing instead over his shut eyelids.
Sirius blinked. Immediately, he turned his head and hid his face in the pillow to avoid the glare from the open window. Why was it open? Hadn't the blinds been drawn last night?
Last night. James's arse pressed into him. It was then Sirius realized James was no longer in bed.
What had he been dreaming of? He could no longer remember, but he knew it had been bad because of the overwhelming feeling of guilt pressing him into the mattress like a weight upon his body. And his cock was leaking all over the inside of his pajama bottoms, with cold spots of wetness over his inner thighs.
He should probably get up. Take a shower. Wash away the evidence of such a thing. But the thought of showing his face to the world kept him paralyzed, so he kept it pressed into the pillow… which smelled of sleep and of James.
The sound of footsteps made his breath still and his muscles taut.
"Sirius, are you awake?"
He didn't move.
"I know you are," James continued. "Your hands are over your head. No one sleeps like that. They would suffocate."
Sirius sighed, slowly giving in and rolling over. He settled on his back and wiped the fringe of hair from his eyes. James was standing at the door already dressed. He leaned casually against the doorframe like the day Sirius had arrived, which was only two days ago yet felt like ages. James had his hands thrust into his jeans pockets.
Sirius wanted to rip those jeans off and see the dark hair that dusted James' thighs.
"Why are you dressed?" Sirius asked.
The corner of James' mouth twitched up. "It's bloody morning, and that's what people do."
Sirius groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. He inched lower into the bed and pulled the blanket up higher.
"Are you planning on staying in there?" James asked.
Sirius nodded. He lifted his knees to hide his erection.
The birds from outside chirped. A pan clanked somewhere downstairs. A faint pop nearby meant one of the House Elves had Disapparated. And still, Sirius didn't move. Still, his breathing came fast and shallow.
James turned and shuffled from the room. Sirius could feel his absence, even without looking.
Eventually, he decided it was better to tear himself from the sheets than spend another moment in the void James had left.
"You two have been lying around all morning, wasting your day away," Mrs Potter said as she entered the lounge to find them both sprawled on opposite sofas. "Is this how you're going to spend your whole summer?"
"It's hot," James said plainly, kicking his feet. His legs hung over the arm of the sofa, and Sirius had been watching him swing them back and forth.
"Why don't you go flying?" Mrs Potter suggested. "That will cool you right down. Get some wind in your hair."
James looked at Sirius.
"We can't go flying," Sirius said.
"James…" Sirius grinned at James, whose eyes had widened. Sirius knew his back still ached, for he'd been complaining about it all morning. He could see it in James' eyes; he was scared Sirius was going to rat on him for their night tryst. "Last time we went flying, James… James swallowed a bug."
James snorted and pulled a throw pillow over his face, smothering his laughter.
"A bug?" Mrs Potter repeated with a quizzically raised eyebrow.
"Yes, a bug flew straight into his mouth, and now James is put off flying. Has been ever since."
"That's right," James said, removing the pillow. His cheeks were pink from mirth. "I can still taste the ruddy thing. In fact, I think I can still feel it." He grasped his stomach and looked down at it with comically wide eyes. "I think it's fluttering around in there."
"Nah, it probably flew out your bum by now."
James chucked the pillow at him, and Sirius smacked it away.
Mrs Potter frowned. "Why don't you try doing something productive?"
"Mum, we're not going into the garden again. I was attacked by that shrub, and I swear I still have the bruises to show for it."
Sirius wondered if the bruise on James' lower back was healing.
"Was it the shrub with the tiny purple leaves?" Mrs Potter asked. "That thing is a menace; it attacks everyone. I should really threaten to uproot it if it doesn't start to behave."
She gave up on prodding them and went outside to her garden.
"Why does everything dramatic seem to happen to you?" Sirius asked lazily.
"Trouble follows me everywhere," James said with a big, crooked grin.
Sirius wanted to kiss him.
James stared at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. "Sirius?"
"Do you like staying at my house?"
Sirius looked at him for a long moment, saying with earnest, "You know I do."
"You like staying here with me?"
A small ache bloomed somewhere near Sirius's heart as he looked at James lying there, idly swinging his legs, as if his words weren't loaded.
Then James turned his head to look at him. His eyes sparkled mischievously. Sirius wanted desperately to know what he was thinking.
"Do you?" James asked again.
"Of course I do. I told you I love your house."
James stared at the ceiling again, smiling to himself. "Good."
That night, Sirius felt the bed dip again. He felt James crawling close to him, the heat radiating from his body.
"My back hurts," James said, a little louder than a whisper.
Sirius turned around and faced James in the dark. When his eyes adjusted slightly, he could see the outline of his jaw, the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah," James said. "It's your fault, so you fix it." James spread out on his stomach, and it was then Sirius realized he wasn't wearing a shirt.
Sirius sat up to get a better look at the curve of James' back. "I can't see the bruising," Sirius whispered, blinking in the dark.
"Doesn't matter," James breathed.
Sirius shut his eyes against the onslaught of heat that overtook him, and he felt himself sway. Just the thought that James wanted him, that James ached for it, had him dizzy with lust. He could let himself imagine it, even if it wasn't true.
He grabbed James' waist, squeezing him, wanting to feel him with his hands. "Is this good?" he asked, his voice low.
Sirius continued to move his hands over the muscles in the James' back, massaging him. He would worship him if he could. "How about this spot?"
"It's very good," James groaned.
Sirius bit his lip. He felt some inner recklessness sizzle and take over… or maybe it was because he was mad with lust now… but he leaned down close to James' ear. "Tell me you want it."
James jutted his arse up. "Yes."
"What?" Sirius asked, breathless, canting his hips into that sweet arse.
"I want it," James admitted brokenly.
And Sirius couldn't fight the thing inside himself any longer. He fell upon James and buried his face in James's neck, kissing and biting. A ragged moan escaped James, who had surely not expected that. But Sirius wasn't in control of himself. All his pent up feelings seemed to pour out and take over, turning him rabid like a wolf. His thoughts left him, his worries nowhere in mind, and all he felt was want.
The scent of James seemed to take hold of him and pull him closer. He grunted as he continued to kiss, moving to James's shoulder and down his back. Sirius grabbed that pert arse he had been daydreaming about and rolled it in his palms.
James whined. God, the sound drove him wild.
"I want to have you," Sirius said, not recognizing his own voice.
Sirius pulled the pajama bottoms off James's arse and down his knees, and left them there, tethering James's legs together. Sirius couldn't think. He could only rut against James's arse until he needed more, and then he took off his own pyjamas.
The cleft of James's arse was hot and inviting, and Sirius rolled his hips against the crevice. When James wriggled, whining into the pillows, Sirius took hold of his arse cheeks and let his cock slide between them. His precum made James's cleft slick and slippery, and Sirius held James's arse tight, rutting between his cheeks. He could feel James's sensitive hole spasming against the shaft of his cock as he slid over and over and over it. Their balls were rubbing together. Sirius felt mad with it. James arched deliciously back into him.
He couldn't take any more, and soon his body tightened up with pleasure. Sirius let out a groan from deep in his throat. James was panting, clutching the sheets in his fists.
It washed over him like a wave, and he came, spattering in streaks over the small of James's back.
James trembled underneath him as his own orgasm took him. He rutted his hips once, twice into the mattress, his shoulders trembling as he came.
They stayed still for a long time. Sirius felt like he'd never catch his breath again. He couldn't even find the strength to lift himself off James's back. Not that he particularly wanted to.
The next thing Sirius knew, he was coming out of a dream. He hadn't even been aware of falling asleep. Something stirred underneath him, and Sirius jumped. Messy black hair impeded his vision.
Sirius's chest felt heavy with the memory of last night. He wondered if James would just pretend it never happened. If he would just get up and crack a joke and then go down for breakfast, as if it all meant nothing.
James peered around his shoulder, then caught Sirius's eye and smiled.
Sirius waited for him to hop out of bed.
Instead, James reached back and took Sirius's arm by the wrist, pulling it around him.
"Heya," James said with a yawn that Sirius's felt as his arm lay across James's waist.
"Hi," Sirius said.
"My bum's sticky."
Sirius grinned and laughed. "What?"
"It's sticky," James repeated evenly, "because you wanked all over it."
Sirius's cheeks got hot. "I did, didn't I?"
"So, you don't mind?"
James took hold of Sirius's hand and used it as leverage to turn himself around, until they were lying face to face on one pillow.
"Of course I mind a sticky bum. Who wouldn't?"
Sirius grinned. "I want to make it sticky every night," he joked.
The humour left James's face like water from a sieve, and his eyes darkened. "Maybe you can."
Sirius's cock began to fill, and his breath started to become heavy. Mornings always had him randy, and being like this - talking like this - with James was only making things worse.
"Maybe I can sneak into your bed at Hogwarts," James continued, "and put up a silencing charm." His eyes sparkled.
Sirius could hardly believe what he was hearing. It was better than he could have asked for. James wasn't going to get scared and kick him out, and he wasn't going to pretend this was a one time thing. Whatever it was, they had all summer and the rest of the year to figure it out, together.
And before he could talk himself out of it, Sirius leaned in and kissed James' smirky, sassy, gorgeous lips.