Title: Tomorrow We Can Drive Around This Town
Author: Kerry Ann
Pairing: Sirius/James
Rating: NC-17
Summary: PWP from a second person Sirius POV
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK 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.
Feedback: Feedback is like sex. Always satisfying when you get some, but its awkward when it sucks. I'm not partial to flames. Please keep them to a minimum.
Notes: First, this is a response fic to the Potter storycard that JKR wrote. Second, this was supposed to be just a PG13 drabble but then James got all handsy and it just went down (up?) hill from there. My idea is that it takes place between fifth and sixth year, and (obvs) just before the events of the storycard. Third, the title is a lyric from Gin Blossom's Hey Jealousy which, after the story card, has Sirius/James written all over it. And lastly, its PORN people so if that's not your cup of tea click away now. For everyone else – enjoy!
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It is hot out and the air conditioner is broken. The window is thrown open and the hint of a breeze is teasing you just beyond it. The street lamp outside has been broken for weeks now (you may or may not have had something to do with that) so that the only light filtering in is from the nearly full moon. Its positioning in the sky tonight is perfect in that its casting an almost ethereal glow on your lover's sweat drenched body.
He is lying next to you on the bed, unashamedly naked and beautiful, stretched out before you as his chest rises and falls with his deep even breathing. His dark locks are even more unruly than usual after what you just did to him and his hazel eyes are currently half-opened in some sort of post-coital daze. You know he is not asleep because you can feel his fingers trailing up and down your thigh, every now and then threatening to brush over your cock (which is still soft and sensitive from your most recent fuck) and you can't help but wonder at his constant need for you.
You know that in a few hours the alarm under the bed will go off and you'll have to sneak back into your own bedroom to offer the image to your guardians that you are not sleeping with their son. Admittedly, you doubt that they don't suspect already but its best to keep up appearances if you want to continue having nights like these when all is calm and he is available for the taking.
Presently, you gasp as the hand on your thigh moves suddenly to grip your cock, stroking it into swiftening hardness. You flick your eyes to your lover, who is no longer wearing an expression of sleepy bliss but one of mischievous lust.
"Prongs," you breathe, unconsciously pulling him closer to you. "I admire your insatiable desire, but you seem to have forgotten - we've only just had a particularly mind blowing fuck. Surely you're not ready to go again?"
"What's the matter, Padfoot," he whispers back, flicking his thumb over the head of your now erection. "Don't think you can keep up?"
You grunt slightly, the combination of his hand on your cock and his perfect skin pressed against yours is enough to make you lightheaded. "On the contrary," you reply, your voice in a husky murmur. "I just don't want to hurt you."
He snorts and slows the pace of his strokes to a stop. His eyes are locked on yours and an expression you can't name is dominating his features. "You could never hurt me."
Against your own volition, your heart skips a beat and in that moment you know it is impossible to resist.
You crawl atop him, hooking his knees over your shoulders while simultaneously searching for the long since discarded tub of lubricant. Your fingers close over it just as you feel him touch your hand. You look back to him and find that unnameable emotion behind his eyes.
"I don't need it," he whispers.
You arch an eyebrow at this bold statement. "That's ambitious of you. Shall I at least put on a condom?"
He shakes his head at this. "I want to feel you."
You gaze at him for a long moment, wondering what on earth goes on inside that pretty head of his, but you've never been able to deny a direct request. You heave a sigh and position yourself at his entrance, your cock ready for him once more. "You let me know immediately if it becomes too much, alright?"
All he does is nod and take a breath before you press the length of your erection into him without preamble.
His breath catches in his chest and he whimpers just slightly, but he never tells you to stop. You know its hurting him, but, god, he wants this and so you push all the way in, holding for just a moment before rocking back once more, all the while ignoring the stinging of your own skin inside him.
Your instincts are telling you to quicken the pace and hasten the release, but for the moment you are actually enjoying the slow sensuality of it all. With every tantalizingly drawn out thrust you can see the pain etched so clearly on his face that is certainly mirrored on your own, but you're almost glad that it hurts - it makes the experience that much more memorable.
"Sirius," he whispers and the use of your first name somehow strikes you as significant. James was never one to talk during sex; he said it ruined the experience. If he ever needed to address you, he called you by your nickname - as if he was trying to marry the adult things the two of you shared to the childishness of your friendship. But tonight he called you 'Sirius' and your name has never sounded sweeter on his lips.
His orgasm comes first, spilling onto his belly and chest. He is panting for want of breath and his face is red from the pain, but he doesn't ask you to stop - he wants you to finish, he always does. When it finally hits you, you are deep within him, and you can only ride it out and hope that you aren't screaming.
When you are finished he pulls you to his chest and holds you close, ignoring the sticky sweat and come that still clings to his skin. The two of you catch your breath together, taking in the other's recently fucked scent and forever committing it to memory. You don't know why, but the distinct impression that your relationship with your best friend is different now. More mature, more real.
Presently his hand is in your hair and his lips are at your ear. "Sirius," he whispers, and you get goosebumps when he says your name. "Lets go for a drive."