The Deadman's Name
A/N: Umm... I just re-read OotP and this kinda just popped into my head as I finished reading the story. Um, yeah... Have fun reading... *evil smirk* Oh yeah, there's SPOILERS for OotP... okay, only one SPOILER, but it's a big one...
Warnings: Yaoi, R (that means SEX), maybe a slight squick... my friend read this and went 'ew'...
Pairings: HP&(it's a surprise), HP&SB (mentioned)
"You were not the only person to lose something the night he died," said a soft voice by his ear.
He nodded. "I know," he said, shuddering as he felt hands traveling up his arms.
"But it took you so long to remember, so long to realize that you weren't the only one hurting..."
"I know," he repeated, leaning back into that tantalizing touch, yearning silently for more.
The lips from which the words tumbled, pressed against the side of his neck in a kiss. He tilted his head, allowing more access to the questing lips, denying them nothing.
"Do you miss this? Never mind, I know you do. Did he ever do this with you? Did you ever sit here with him as you sit here with me now? Did he ever kiss you or touch you the way I do?"
"Yes." Was his gasped response as the fingers had trailed over a sensitive spot on his side.
"Do you still want this? Do you still want me like this?"
"Yes," he repeated, his body arching, wanting more of that bitter sweet touch.
"Do you really want me take you," the voice asked again, lips brushing against his ear. "Do you really want me to do what he did?"
Hearing those words, his mind cleared, if ever so slightly. His traitorous body still ached for that torturous touch but was it right? Was it right to turn to someone else so soon after he'd lost the one person that mattered? Did it matter?
No...
Turning around, he pressed a kiss to those succulent lips. "Yes. Oh God, yes. Please?"
Before the last word had left his mouth, his lips were crushed under those lips. And those hands were running over his body again, slowly divesting him of the clothes he wore.
He opened his eyes as he was laid down on the floor, and watched as the other divested the remaining clothes. All rational thinking was lost as the feeling of skin on skin overloaded his brain. He felt himself being stretched and moaned in pleasure, bucking against the invading fingers, only to have them removed. His groan of disappointment was answered with a slight chuckle and a slick bluntness pushing where the fingers had left.
Hands were on his hips, stopping him from speeding up the process of being stretched and filled. He let out a moan of rapture at the pleasure-pain the slowness put him through.
"Please," he gasped, looking into the eyes of the other.
At first, he thought the other had not heard him. He opened his mouth to repeat his request, but gasped instead, which turned into a moan of pure pleasure as his body was filled with what he desired so much. He bucked against the other, seeking friction.
The other moved, almost pulling out, before thrusting back in.
He snapped his head back, his mouth open as the immense pleasure gripped his body and didn't let go, slowly driving him to the edge, as that secret spot was hit again and again, making him beg and cry for more, for less, for something, for nothing.
Lips trailed over skin, searing it with the swipe of a tongue or a brush of breath. Nails dug into flesh, as fingers trailed over muscles, creating a masterpiece to be rebuilt time and again.
There was a hand upon him, stroking in a counter point rhythm to the stroking taking place within. He was shoved roughly over the edge.
And as Harry Potter rode the waves and fell into the oblivion of bliss created by Remus Lupin, he still cried out Sirius Black's name.