If only...
If only I could bring them back.
If only I had trusted him.
If only I hadn't been so arrogant.
If only I could tell them.
Sirius played this game sometimes, the endless litany of "if onlys." He used it to fight off time, wrapping the game about him like a favourite cloak, his only protection from the incessant sandstorm of the passing days. Each night he would run through the lists, stretching the thin thread of his imagination just a bit farther, to add one more wish to his cache, one more day to his sanity. Imagination exhausted, he would snatch an "if only" at random and let it grow. He had passed countless nights this way, building castles of air and anguish, memories and longing, reliving the past and trying to make it all turn out okay, even if just in his head.
But tonight, Sirius was selfish. The Dementors had been particularly draining, sucking the light, dreams, and "if onlys" out of him until he was too exhausted to even think of saving the world or righting the wrongs of the past. Tonight, there was just one "if only" left, one he had jealously guarded, but had never allowed himself to explore.
If only James were here...
Just for tonight. That's all Sirius wanted, sometimes it seemed as if it was all he had ever wanted. But tonight, the longing was unbearable.
If only James were here, he thought, we would stand here, staring, eyes remembering each curve, each angle, each silken fall of hair that our hearts had never needed to remember. Then James would run a hand through his startlingly soft, endearingly mess hair and laugh his golden, velvet bell of a laugh (God, how I loved that laugh), and the darkness would flee. Shadows never lingered around James; he was always our golden boy, my golden boy. With the sudden light, the years would dissolve, and all would be as it had been.
We would move, unconsciously, closer and closer. Then, toe to toe, lashed fluttering shut, not needing to see, our lips would meet. Gently at first, just tentative nibbles of remembrance and lust, then fiercer, more hungrily, out mouths eager to end this seven year fast. He would trace my lower lip with the tip of his tongue and I would moan, quietly, lips faintly parted. Smooth as silk, he would slide into my mouth, that talented tongue of his dancing, sending spiraling ecstasy rushing through my veins.
Then, was though released from a spell, I would move, tangling my hands in his hair and finally closing the breath between our bodies. From there it would be all quiet remembrances, caresses, and languid licks.
My mind would go mercifully blank, my vision empty except for him. Somehow, clothes would slide off 'til we were clothes only in Jamie's golden light.
Tendernesses past, I would clasp the heavy manacles of my cell around James's wrists and drink in the sight of his chained, golden flesh. This time, the exploration would be harsh, a conquistador learning ever inch of the land that was his, his, his. Mine, mine, mine.
I would delve with my tongue into every crevasse, bite every curve, and finally, finally, I would enter, enter into the golden land I had missed so for seven years. Our bodies would writhe, rise and fall in perfect harmony: we had always danced to the beat of the same song. The tempo would build, and, with a rushing crescendo and golden crash of light, both sets of legs would falter, the cursed, blessed chains the only things holding our conjoined limbs upright.
And then the light would fade.
Sirius found himself awake, chained to the walls, and alone.
The time for "if onlys" had passed...
In the corner, a soft golden light shone, laughed, flickered, and went out.
"James," breathed Sirius.
If only I could bring them back.
If only I had trusted him.
If only I hadn't been so arrogant.
If only I could tell them.
Sirius played this game sometimes, the endless litany of "if onlys." He used it to fight off time, wrapping the game about him like a favourite cloak, his only protection from the incessant sandstorm of the passing days. Each night he would run through the lists, stretching the thin thread of his imagination just a bit farther, to add one more wish to his cache, one more day to his sanity. Imagination exhausted, he would snatch an "if only" at random and let it grow. He had passed countless nights this way, building castles of air and anguish, memories and longing, reliving the past and trying to make it all turn out okay, even if just in his head.
But tonight, Sirius was selfish. The Dementors had been particularly draining, sucking the light, dreams, and "if onlys" out of him until he was too exhausted to even think of saving the world or righting the wrongs of the past. Tonight, there was just one "if only" left, one he had jealously guarded, but had never allowed himself to explore.
If only James were here...
Just for tonight. That's all Sirius wanted, sometimes it seemed as if it was all he had ever wanted. But tonight, the longing was unbearable.
If only James were here, he thought, we would stand here, staring, eyes remembering each curve, each angle, each silken fall of hair that our hearts had never needed to remember. Then James would run a hand through his startlingly soft, endearingly mess hair and laugh his golden, velvet bell of a laugh (God, how I loved that laugh), and the darkness would flee. Shadows never lingered around James; he was always our golden boy, my golden boy. With the sudden light, the years would dissolve, and all would be as it had been.
We would move, unconsciously, closer and closer. Then, toe to toe, lashed fluttering shut, not needing to see, our lips would meet. Gently at first, just tentative nibbles of remembrance and lust, then fiercer, more hungrily, out mouths eager to end this seven year fast. He would trace my lower lip with the tip of his tongue and I would moan, quietly, lips faintly parted. Smooth as silk, he would slide into my mouth, that talented tongue of his dancing, sending spiraling ecstasy rushing through my veins.
Then, was though released from a spell, I would move, tangling my hands in his hair and finally closing the breath between our bodies. From there it would be all quiet remembrances, caresses, and languid licks.
My mind would go mercifully blank, my vision empty except for him. Somehow, clothes would slide off 'til we were clothes only in Jamie's golden light.
Tendernesses past, I would clasp the heavy manacles of my cell around James's wrists and drink in the sight of his chained, golden flesh. This time, the exploration would be harsh, a conquistador learning ever inch of the land that was his, his, his. Mine, mine, mine.
I would delve with my tongue into every crevasse, bite every curve, and finally, finally, I would enter, enter into the golden land I had missed so for seven years. Our bodies would writhe, rise and fall in perfect harmony: we had always danced to the beat of the same song. The tempo would build, and, with a rushing crescendo and golden crash of light, both sets of legs would falter, the cursed, blessed chains the only things holding our conjoined limbs upright.
And then the light would fade.
Sirius found himself awake, chained to the walls, and alone.
The time for "if onlys" had passed...
In the corner, a soft golden light shone, laughed, flickered, and went out.
"James," breathed Sirius.