Snapshots: Consummation

[toujours_nigel]

“Lily will kill me if I let you skip out on this, you know. It’s one of her things...planning Remus’ life.” Sirius gives a glum, non-committal nod. “And usually, you’re just as much in the thick of things as she is... make me feel like a stranger in my own marriage.”

 

“Fascinating, James.” Sirius mutters, then straightens, “I’ll be there...wouldn’t do to let you get killed, would it?” The false charm was, James decides, something he’d have to tell Sirius to reserve for perfect strangers. “But could you get out of here now? I’m sort of... I’m not in the mood for this conversation.” Bullshit! You’re expecting someone, aren’t you, Padfoot? Someone you don’t want me to see. “Tell Lils I’ll talk to her.”

 

“Throwing me out, Sirius? How very...”

 

The bell rings. Sirius throws him a slightly desperate look, then opens the door a crack, standing so that James can’t see past him.

 

“Hi, was wondering whether you’d show up today.”

 

“How could I not?” asks a vaguely effeminate voice. Probably a young boy...what is he talking to Sirius for? “You feed me, don’t you?”

 

“Right. Food.” Sirius throws him a backward glance; he raises his eyebrows in answer. “How much time d’you have?”

 

“Coupla hours...Jacko’s keeping an eye on me. Simon,” Simon? Holy Merlin, Simon? “Is there a problem? Should I leave?”

 

“No, no problem, kid. Listen, the pizza’s probably sitting on the stairs, y’know the delivery guy never bothers to climb up here. How ‘bout you go get it? I’ll lock the door and come with.”

 

Footsteps retreat and Sirius turns back to him, an oddly out-of-place anxious smile on his face. “Prongs, just leave, OK? I’ll explain later.” He locks up on his way out, throwing him a last, pleading, glance.

 

James cocks a sardonic eyebrow at the empty room. Yeah, he is just going to go back home while his best mate is hiding something from him that, even at first glance, promises to possess great blackmail-value. Who is he, Snivellus?

 

About ten minutes have passed when ‘Simon’ re-enters the room. Behind him is a boy of about their age, slender and oddly delicate, with a shock of unruly black hair and brown eyes.

 

“Eat up, then we’ll talk,” ‘Simon’ says, then immediately asks, “Did Jacko hurt you?” Note to self, James thinks under his Cloak, after teasing Siri... Simon mercilessly; get Remus to mimic his tone so that more teasing can ensue. “Have you had anything at all to eat today?”

 

“Nope,” the boy returns round a bite of pizza. “Three customers starting at eight...bondage, buggery and blow-job. This’s the first bite of solid food since lunch yesterday.” What exactly is this boy?

 

“Speaking of... you’re going to be here two hours, so I believe I owe you...” Sirius pauses, pulling out a Muggle wallet and rifling through it. James can’t move now if he wants to.

 

“Forty pounds,” the boy puts in softly.

 

“Sixty it is,” Sirius returns, forcing the money into his hands. “Now eat.” The boy stares at him mutely, but Sirius has his mulish expression (more commonly known as the I’m-not-going-to-let-Moony-starve-and-I-don’t-care-if-I-have-to-force-feed-him-in-order-to-achieve-my-ends expression) and smiles blandly at him. “EAT.”

 

Well, boy eats fast, he’ll give him that. Within minutes, he’s polished off half the pizza and slid into Sirius’ lap. “Thanks. I dunno why you always feed me. Not like I’m the sort to treat to dinner ‘n’ a movie, really.”

 

“Makes me feel less guilty,” Sirius replies, then catches his mouth for a brusque kiss. “Besides, I’ve already told you I’ll help you get out of this life if you want.”

 

“No, I’ve seen people try...Robbie, he was my roommate, Jacko killed him, after he’d had him gang raped. I can’t risk that.”

 

“I’m a lot scarier than a roadside pimp, Eric.” Sirius voice has hardened into what James knows is the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “I just...ne’er mind.” Another kiss, rougher this time. “Eric, get up.”

 

The boy grins, backing into a wall, nearly bumping into the couch where James sits frozen. “I’m up,” he smirks, undoing his flies, “so’s he.”

 

Sirius says nothing, face blank, as he sinks to his knees in front of the lad and takes him in his mouth. Don’t watch, pervert, don’t watch those full lips stretching to take it in, don’t memorise the look in his eyes, the lines of his fingers pinning the whore’s hips, don’t wish he were tasting you instead. Just don’t. You threw away happiness with both hands and now you’re sitting on his faded couch, watching him deep-throat a Muggle slut who looks vaguely like you. Don’t dare complain. 

 

The boy jerks. Sirius’ fingers tighten on his hips, holding them in place as he drinks him down, throat working convulsively and James cannot quite bite back a moan.

 

“That was...Simon, that was great.” The boy pulls his trousers back on, still grinning. “None of my other johns does that.”

 

“I’m not your other johns,” Sirius replies shortly, standing, fingers scrabbling briefly on the couch, inches from James’.

 

“That you’re not. So, should I take care of you, then?” His fingers close on Sirius’ erection, briefly stroking it through denim.  

 

Then they’re grasping air as his wrist is pinned to the wall. “I treat you well, Eric,” Sirius rasps. “I let you in my house, I feed you, I pay you twice your going price and then I get you off. I have no kinks and I’m a very regular customer. All I ask is you don’t touch me till I tell you to. Is that too much?” His grip tightens and the boy whimpers. “Now be a good little whore and get out.”

 

After the sounds of the boy’s footsteps have faded away, Sirius ventures into the kitchen. He comes out, nursing a beer and pulls up a chair facing the couch. “Y’know, Prongs, you should just have gone home when I told you to.”

 

“How long has this been going on?” James asks, almost before he’s fully shed the Cloak.

 

“How long have you been married?” Sirius retorts, looking at him levelly.

 

“Oh.” It has no right to, but the thought of Sirius paying this slut to touch him still hurts. “You actually set the wards on this place to admit him? For all you know, he could be...”

 

“Bella in disguise? Don’t be stupid, Jamie. Nobody can fool my wards.”

 

Sirius is being so stubbornly calm about this that it angers him more, but he won’t, can’t, examine the reasons. “Merlin, Sirius, if you wanted a fuck, you could’ve...there a hundred girls who’ll have you.”

 

“Not many with dicks though,” Sirius says reflectively, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Potter. Besides, I rather like the boy, his idiocy notwithstanding.”

 

“I noticed,” he drawls. “After all, you have so very much in common. I’m sure he sympathises about Bella as much as you do about... Jacko.” Sirius’ jaw has tightened; he’s gripping the neck of the beer bottle as though he’d dearly love to break his. “But Sirius, how did you become such an expert cocksuck? Did you practise on Lucius? Or was it Regulus, when you were kids? Do tell.”

 

“Get. Out.” The bottle flies past his ear and smashes into the wall. “Now.”

 

“Tut, tut, Simon. No need to get violent.” He is almost at the door, when Sirius speaks again.

 

“What is it to you that I spent a year banging a pretty slut? Why do you care?”

 

“Because,” he answers, eyes trained on the golden curves of the doorknob, “I love you.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.” He knows, without a single backward glance, that Sirius has left his seat and is hovering behind him. “And look at me!”

 

“I’m not lying,” he answers, complying. “I love you. You’re my...You’re my best friend, the one I always trust. You’re my equal, my rival, my everything. You’re...Lily may be my wife, but you’re my mate. You’re my...my Lancelot.”

 

He never knows whether Sirius actually understands his rant, or just reacts to the vehement sincerity. He rather suspects it is the latter, as he’s almost certain Sirius mutters “Absolute lunatic.” before closing the space between them. Then he can’t think, because Sirius’ hands ghost over his face and shoulders for a second, hesitant and seeking permission, before he is enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. “James,” face buried in the crook of his neck, hands clutching the back of his tee-shirt, “James,” lips at his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe, “I...Prongs, I need you.” His own arms, somehow around Sirius’ waist, very nearly holding him up, “need you, please, please,” Sirius’ erection pressed against his thigh, “Please, James, need you.”

 

The night he lost his virginity, Lily told him she hadn’t known it possible for anyone to undress that fast. He thinks he might just have broken his own record this afternoon. He thinks he might also break other records, but cannot be sure. How can he, when he does not even know how Sirius got them both into bed? The trail of clothes might provide a clue, but his brain has quite shut down and his body is drunk and revelling in the sensations of skin and hands and hips and Sirius. Sirius, writhing under him, thrusting against him, moans and lust and hunger.

 

But he cannot lose himself completely, much though he wants to. One last rational thought remains, a nagging mental thorn. Sirius will not kiss him. Refuses to, even when his legs are hooked over his shoulders and the tightness of his hand round Sirius’ cock mirrors the tightness of Sirius’ arse round his.

 

As soon as he pulls out, spent, Sirius rolls away, off the bed, and goes hunting for his wand. Returns fully dressed, carrying James’ clothes, and sits at the foot of the bed.

 

“Why in such a hurry to get rid of me, mate?”

 

“Won’t Lily be waiting for you?” he asks easily, smiling, something broken in the grey eyes.

 

“Nah, she knows I...” he starts, then scrambles over to Sirius, kicking blankets out of the way. “Padfoot, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” He grins unconvincingly, jabbing his wand at James, clearing up all traces of semen and love-bites. “Go home to your wife.”

 

“Right, and I’m Severus Snape.” He chooses to ignore the second comment, unsure how to respond to it. “Sirius, tell me.”

 

“I’ve wanted this since I was eight. And it only happened today ’cause you saw me sucking off a slut.” He smirks at the wall. “Speaking of, I should probably pay him double next day.”

 

His arm tightens around Sirius almost unconsciously. “You’re going to keep seeing him?”

           

Sirius turns to look up at him, hair brushing his chest. “You’re going to stay married to Lily?”

           

“It’s not the same,” he protests weakly.

           

“You’re right, it isn’t. Eric is not my wife. He doesn’t bear my name. He isn’t carrying my child.” He presses his face into James’ shoulder, idly kissing his collarbone. “He doesn’t even know my name.”

           

“Sirius. I... Are you asking me to leave Lily?” He isn’t sure what he’s going to do, if that’s the case.

           

“No. You love her.” He opens his mouth to protest, but finds Sirius’ hand on his lips. “Don’t deny it, you fool. I helped you get her, remember? Besides, she’s five months pregnant. You couldn’t possibly leave her. Even if you wanted to. Which you don’t.”

           

He grins sheepishly, caught out. “But I can’t not be with you. Not now. Sirius...we’ll...I...after the war...”

           

“After the war, James, we might be too dead. At the very least, we’ll be too old. I’ll be too involved with Lucius and you’ll still be too noble to break Lily’s heart. And we’ll both have far too much to lose.”

           

“But it can’t be too late for us.” He clutches at Sirius, feathering ardent kisses on his forehead, temple, cheek. “It can’t. I won’t let it.”

           

“Shh,” Sirius is petting him, he realises, and thinks it vaguely wrong that it isn’t the other way round. “James, don’t you see?” He strokes his tousled hair. “It has always been too late for us, love.”

           

“But... what about that slut?”

           

“He thinks I’m a Muggle by the name Simon Broderick. And even if anyone finds out about him, he’ll just be my ‘charming eccentricity’. You and I, on the other hand... James, you remember what Uncle Alphie faced. And he wasn’t even scion.”

           

“I don’t care,” he answers automatically, racking his brain for memories of what did happen to Alphard Black. He’d been five years old and his father had never approved of gossiping, so he doesn’t know what he’s just agreed to face.

           

Sirius smiles fondly. “Such a Gryffindor, Potter. Of course you care. They’ll call you awful names, wonder which sweet, innocent first-year was forced to be your Ganymede when you were Head-Boy, whether you were initiated into sodomy by Lucius, Frank or your dad. Oh, and after they get bored with this angle, they’ll start in on Lily, call her inadequate for not keeping you satisfied even while they call you a bastard for cheating on her.” He looks up, still checking the points off on his fingers. “They’d probably accuse you of incest with your baby, if it’s a boy. And that’s just what they did to him. They’ll probably notch it up a few levels for us.”

           

“I...,” he thinks of his wife, warm, loving, funny, and even with Sirius nestling in his shoulder, warm from their just-shared bed, feels a surge of protective affection. “The rest of it I could manage...but. I can’t do that to Lily. She doesn’t deserve it.” He glances at Sirius, whose eyes have clouded for all his brave nonchalance. “Sirius, I’m so sorry.” He tips up his chin in one long-fingered hand. “Forgive me?”

           

“Nothing to forgive, James,” he answers brusquely. “We’ve always been friends. Now we’re friends who’ve fucked. It needn’t change anything. You’ll go back to your wife, I to my whores and we’ll stay friends.”

           

 “So, this is it?” he asks, defeated. “A one-night stand?”

           

“Well,” Sirius forces a smile, “one-afternoon, really. And,” he cuts his eyes away, then looks back, “you’re welcome to come back for more.”

           

“Sirius.”

           

“Yeah?”

           

“I love you.”

           

“Why, Mr. Potter, I bet you say that to all the boys,” he simpers, batting long eyelashes. “Go home. Take care of your wife. Shoo.” He wads up the clothes and throws them at James.

           

“I meant it, you know,” he says later, after struggling into suddenly unfamiliar, uncomfortable clothes.

 

“Merlin, Prongs. You’re such a sap,” Sirius laughs, hand on the doorknob.

 

“I love you,” he insists, pushing Sirius against the door, holding him there pressed against his body, kissing pliant lips that part at his touch with all the ardour of the first kiss and all the desperation of the last.

 

“I know,” Sirius whispers, as he kisses away tears that fall from tightly closed grey eyes.