Title: Breathe
Author: Hairy McLary
Category: Romance (slash)
Rating: T
Warning: Slash (Sirius Black/Cornelius Fudge). If you can't bear the idea of the two of them together, leave now, and take your basin with you (for being sick in).
Summary: Fudge loves Sirius!
Disclaimer: I wasn't J K Rowling last time I checked, although I might have changed. Excuse me a moment…
… nope! Not J K Rowling!
Azkaban. Oh my god, I hate this place. Azkaban.
I shudder ever so slightly, but the Minister of Magic has to keep up appearances for his subjects, even the criminal ones.
Even Sirius Black.
Yes, there he is, complete with pale, waxy skin, tangled and greasy hair and beard, cracked lips. Those lips look really rough for kissing…
Where did that thought come from? You come back here, you thought, until I give you a proper talking-to!
But the hair would need to be brushed before you could run your fingers through it…
Hey! Why would I want to run my fingers through the hair of the most dangerous and murderous criminal in Britain, maybe even the world?
Of course, the skin looks so smooth…
Now you stop right there. Nobody wants to go to bed with Sirius Black, especially not the Minister of Magic. Wait! Did I just say… go to bed?
So you don't want to?
No! Yes! I don't know…
"'Scuse me," he rasps, in an invitingly hoarse voice. Quite low, just perfect. "Are you finished with that paper? I miss doing the crosswords," he adds by way of an explanation.
Murderers like doing crosswords? Well, I suppose everyone needs a vice…
"Er… yeah… 'course…" I pull myself together long enough to hand Black the Daily Prophet through the bars. And our hands touch.
Choirs of angels burst into song and I tremble when my thoughts take a more intimate turn. I'm out of control! My erection is… well… erect… and the angels are singing songs of sex, instead of praise! Oh, no, that's just the dementors affecting me. Oops.
"Thanks," Black murmurs, and our eyes meet. Everything freezes and we are locked in a bubble of… what? Lust? Desire? Maybe… love? All in a few moments.
"Breathe," he whispers.
Our hands are still brushing against each other. I can't move. Merlin, Black, where did you learn to look so – attractive? I mean… wow.
Right, Fudge, pull yourself together. Breathe. Yes, your emotions are strong, but you need to be in control, at least until you get home.
Together…
No. It can't happen, so stop thinking about it.
Now, left foot forward, right foot, left, right, left, right, stop. Open the door, keep walking- NO! Don't look back! Oh, great, you've done it now. OK, turn around slowly and start walking. Left, right, left right, through the door…
He's escaped. Siriu- Black has escaped from Azkaban. Somehow I knew he would.
I'm scared, but at the same time I'm hopeful. In my absolute heart of hearts I hope that he might have broken out to see me, although what motive would a Death Eater have for seeing the Minister of Magic, other than to murder him?
And for some reason, the sensible half of me is terrified of finding Siri- Black in my room, but the other half is desperate to see him lying in my bed, waiting for me.
The sensible half wants to have nothing to do with Si- Black – oh, all right, then, Sirius – but the rest of me… well.
I want to hear Sirius whispering my name. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge… I love you…"
I want to see those rough lips shaping the words.
I want to touch those lips with mine, oh so much.
I want to wash that greasy hair, brush the tangles out of it, and run my fingers through it until it stands on end with static elketrenicity, or whatever the muggles call it.
I want to kiss that snowy white skin, and caress him ever so gently.
I want to see his sad grey eyed filled with lust and desire.
I want him to love me.
Erotic shadows coil and stretch on the walls as the candles gutter. Silhouettes of Sirius flicker across the walls. I can feel his arms in mine, feel his lips on mine, feel his breath mixing with mine.
I can smell his mint-and-roses smell.
I can see his eyes moistening and his hair tied back in a clumsy ponytail.
I can taste his tongue, taste it with my own.
I can hear his voice whispering my name over and over again. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, I love you, I love you, I love you. Cornelius Oswald Fudge…"
I can see the shadows writhing with my pleasurable movements.
"Minister, sir?" I glare at the house-elf causing the interruption. "Would sir like anything?"
"No. Go away."
The house-elf obediently disappears with a respectful crack.
Sirius… I love you…
Love the feeling of your lips, the feeling of your breath mixing with mine.
Love the smell of mints and roses
Love those grey, misty eyes, that hair tied out of the way.
Love the flavour of that tongue, the gentle warmth coming from your body
Love your voice sighing my name. "Cornelius Oswald Fudge, I love you, I love you, I love you…" or reminding me to breathe.
Love you enough to have you in my bed with me.
But I'm only wishing for the impossible…
AN: I'm sure you know what to do – read, review, no flames please, constructive criticism welcome, and I hope you enjoyed it. (sniggersniggersnigger)