James regarded Sirius' handsome face as though he were deep in thought; "You'd do it if I asked," he said, it was plain fact rather than a question. Sirius with his shirt off, both hands over James' thighs; his eyes darted across James' face. "Yes," he said breathlessly, hopefully; James frowned. "You know how to do it, don't you?"

"Yes," Sirius said again, the awareness unspoken between them that while Sirius was extremely well-practiced, he'd always dreamt of doing it to James.

"You any good?"

"Come off it, Prongs, do you really need to ask?"

That was: James didn't need to have personal experience or to have heard any gossip in order to know everything about his best mate; Sirius had told him everything personally. James was aware that Sirius was good even if he, James, had never tried it; his hand came in Sirius' soft hair and he stroked it out of his eyes. "Is it really as good as everyone says?" he asked.

"It's brilliant," there came the reply; "What me to then?"

Sounds of students chatting outside; a bird called in the distance.

"Yeah," James said; "go on."

Sirius regarded James with pure adoration; he rose gradually to his feet, his hand slid to James' face and he leaned in to kiss him deeply. This was a gift, he knew, and he wanted James to recognize the depth of his gratitude; his lips were both insistent and delicate, without pulling away he brought his hands to James' belt. A low clinking sound, an intake of breath while James leaned down to see what he was doing; he helped Sirius to undo the belt, then the fly.

They'd seen each other naked plenty of times, since boyhood they had compared and contrasted just about every bit of their anatomy, and sometime in adolescence Sirius had plainly offered to James what he'd be willing to do if James had fancied it; Padfoot, James had replied. You know I like witches, don't you?

What of it? Sirius had chuckled; I like witches too.

James watched Sirius' face while he glanced down at his open fly, while his aristocratic fingers reached gracefully for the elastic of his briefs; Sirius' long, dark eyelashes, his silky hair in its feathery fall. James had been terribly possessive of him for years, long before he'd ever let him try anything; it was with visible reverence that Sirius reached beneath James' trousers and got one hand on his cock, James gave a soft gasp, and Sirius loved him. They observed each other in the dim light of the room while Sirius stroked him slowly, for several moments James' eyes darted across Sirius' face, but he didn't seem bothered; "Funny, innit?" James asked. "Somehow I'm annoyed that you've done this to other blokes."

"Are you?" Sirius' entire face came alight, like he'd been bestowed with the highest sort of praise.

"And loads of other blokes at that."

"Not that many," Sirius lied, but keeping anything from James was useless— and what was more, he'd never intended to do so. It was just that, in this moment, what once was a matter of pride had felt suddenly cheapening.

"You gonna do it then?"

Something in Sirius' expression had faltered; "Yes," he said. He had wanted to kiss James very much, but understood what was being asked of him— and after offering it to James for so long far was it from him to stall now. James watched the dim light shimmer in his hair while Sirius bent forth, without further ado Sirius lapped at the tip of his member and took it in his mouth— and, Merlin, it was, hands down, the greatest thing that James had ever felt. The sound that issued from him had made it all worthwhile to Sirius, who now had resolved himself to make James remember exactly how good at this he was.

"Blimey, Padfoot," James whispered, Sirius didn't need to ask whether he'd liked it because it was clear that he had; his response had been terribly flattering. After this Sirius continued to take him in his mouth until he'd got him in all the way, and allowed the tip to slide against the back of his throat a few times before proceeding to take the member out again; he'd got him completely slicked, then he began to stroke him slowly while sliding him in and out of his mouth at the same time, something with which he'd clearly had plenty of practice.

James had succumbed to him utterly; he could barely hold himself up on the desk, and had tried with unsteady fingers to brush back Sirius' hair so that he could see. It was ridiculously good. It was brilliant, James wondered what he'd been doing his whole life when he could have been doing this— and Sirius had at him with unrestrained hunger. Hot rivulets of fluid glittered down the length of James' cock and over the long digits of Sirius' hand, but neither of them cared how messy they'd got.

Sirius wouldn't have stopped even if James had asked him to, he had wanted this for so long, so achingly; he had dreamt of it, had touched himself thinking of it, had told James how much he had wanted to do it to him. There had been mutual jokes between them, about how James knew that Sirius wanted to do it to him. Jokes that weren't really jokes.

"Bollocks," James murmured while he stared down incredulously; "You like doing that, don't you?"

He reached and tilted Sirius' face toward him by the mandible, saw his eyes flutter from under his hair, one hand utterly wet on his member; his lips red with exertion, millimeters from the tip, streamlets of fluid glistening from his mouth to James' cock. James regarded him with a frown; "Blimey, Pads," he said. "When did you get so dirty?"

Sirius was somehow helpless while James pulled him up for a deep, thorough kiss, he felt the fluid slick down to his chin, hot and messy between them; "For you," he said. "I like doing that for you."

To be continued…