Part II
I was hunched over the gaping mouth of a trash can , reeking of urine and spoiled Chinese food, vomiting in the alley. I wanted to purge my memory, to vomit up the recollections, to spill them upon the sidewalk. I didn't remember what was making me so ill, the drink or Bambi. Bambi who was giddily burning through his skeletal body, a glutton for sex and shallow passion. He was starving for sustenance and love while he feasted, gorged, on other's sickly bodies, neglecting to take care of his own. I would have been used for a night, someone's flesh to take refuge in, a retreat from real life. I would have been a mouth to take him in, lick up the mess. A mouth to tear whimpers and screams from, sounds he would savor and relish like a desert. I would have been just a body to him, a body that became part of the hallucination, a body that delayed the inevitable return to reality.
And that thought made me sick.
I wanted Sirius. I needed him to firmly grasp my collar as I vomited, fondly mocking me. I needed him to be there when I woke up, arms still holding me tight, a sweet, chaste reminder of lust. I needed someone to hoard secrets for, someone to whisper delicious little intimacies to. I needed someone to cook breakfast for, someone who would eat, someone who would give a puckered grimace to a plate of eggs.
And suddenly he was there.
"You can not hold your liquor, mate," he said. The world reeled about me, a kaleidoscope wheeling around and around, the colors melding into a nauseating haze. Sirius' face slid into focus; he was gazing at me, vomit dribbling on to my coat, adoringly. "Do remember the time James and I got you plastered after finals sixth year?"
"How could I forget?" I groaned, lurching violently into Sirius' open arms. "I also remember that you weren't quite sober yourself."
Sirius smirked mischievously and righted me. Everything, the star flecked dome of the night sky, the graffiti blazoned walls of the grimy alley, the pavement below our feet, revolved and whirled around me. And this time it was not the alcohol that caused this mad jarring of the world. I faltered, pitching into Sirius once more, inhaling the the alluring, smoky, spicy scent that lingered on him. His breath, feverish on my forehead, was laced in the sweetly sour aroma of beer. The sensation of his slender yet strong arms cradling my slumped frame, one leg pressed tautly against my crotch was intoxicating. More intoxicating even than that electrically charged cocktail of seduction I had gulped with Bambi. A coil of throbbing lust was unraveling in the pit of my stomach, pleasurable this time rather than awkward. And this feeling was more dizzying, more addling than the jarring tiltings of this drunken world.
"That's the night James caught us," Sirius murmured, grinding his crotch against my erection. "That required some explaining, eh? 'Hello, mate. Yes, we have been fucking each other since fifth year. Funny that you should mention it... How insightful!' "
"Sirius?"
"Hmm?"
"Let's go home."
"Damn door," I muttered furiously, jamming the key into the lock, the cogs groaning and clicking reluctantly. We had attempted to apparate into our flat but had misjudged and appeared in the stairwell. There ought to be a law against apparating while drunk. We're lucky we didn't get splinched.
Sirius' arms were wound around me, his tongue whisking mischievously down my neck and his fingers with the buttons on my shirt. I whimpered; the anticipation was pleasantly maddening, the throbbing of my groin was wonderfully unbearable.
And I couldn't get the ruddy door to our flat open.
"Here," Sirius demanded insistently. "I want you here. Or at least let me unlock the door," he said, fingers meandering with agonizing slowness to the front pocket of my pants, removing my wand but not before letting his hand lavish at my groin for a few moments.
I gazed down the deserted corridor. The white doors were like a line of teeth bared in a sneer. I was afraid of who would emerge from those doors to see Sirius brandishing a wand. Or worse yes, Sirius and I pressed against the wall in a snarl of limbs. The neighbors were already wary of us, ushering their children into their flats and ogling dumbly, when we passed, Sirius' arm coiled around my waist, face pressed to my neck. They suspiciously eyed the owls that hovered by our window, rolls of parchment clasped in their beaks. One morning the ominous red envelope of a Howler from Sirius' mother was deposited on our windowsill. She wailed about shaming the Black family name by consorting with werewolves and I could have sworn the entire floor heard her shrieking.
"She doesn't know the half of it, my mum" Sirius had said, as the letter erupted into flames and spewed cinders about the room. "She doesn't know I'm fucking this werewolf," sprinkling my face with delicious kisses. I just hoped the landlord didn't demand an explanation as to exactly how the ceiling and floor of apartment 3B were speckled with burns.
Now, as Sirius prepared to open the door, I glared nervously at the door directly across from us. The peep hole winking deviously in the center.
"Old Miss Franken," I whispered.
"Yeah, but she's deaf. And mad. The woman hoards Q-tips" Sirius replied.
"But not blind. She sees everything. Don't you think it will seem a bit odd to her to see you casting a spell?"
Sirius nodded grimly, grimacing in recollection.
When we first moved into the flat we made a rather messy display in the corridor which she had watched, mouth a gaping-O of sick fascination. We saw her curious, greedy, envious eyes peering from behind her door, scuttled into our apartment, and bolted the door. She rang our doorbell that afternoon and I expected her to disapprove but she gave us a houseplant, a plate of brownies, and the knowledge that she thinks "queers are adorable!"
"Mad," Sirius said, glancing anxiously at her door.
I rammed against our door in frustration. Suddenly it gave way and we lurched across the threshold. It was dark and in our frantic fumblings, groping for a light switch and for each other, we toppled over an umbrella stand. The dull thrum of the stand colliding with the floor resonated, the low ringing suspended between us.
"Bloody hell."
In the faint, sickly light pouring from the corridor I could see Sirius sprawled on the floor. With an abrupt jolt he kicked the door which closed with a shuddering slam, plunging us into complete darkness. I found my head cradled in the smooth hollow of his bare stomach, lulled by the swelling and falling of his belly in time with his breath. Deftly I prodded my tongue into his navel. I savored the grating, strangled laughter that poured from his lips. My fingers sauntered downwards, slipping under his jeans, teasing and gliding over his flesh.
"No underwear? No boxers?" I murmured to his navel.
"I'm optimistic."
I undid the button of his jeans, drawing the zipper leisurely down, delighting in the way Sirius' hips buckled and his eyes widened in aroused anticipation. With languid strokes of my tongue I took him into my mouth, intoxicated with the sliding of his erect flesh under my lips and mouth. With a jagged cry or chuckle and a shudder of his limbs he soared to his climax, releasing into my eager mouth.
Barbs of feverish pleasure stung my crotch and as Sirius spiraled down from his climax I knew he could feel my erection pressing into him.
With a rough whisper of "Moony" and a clean pivot he kissed me firmly on the mouth. His lips wandered downward, languishing at my neck, nipples, and navel; ever territorial and fiercely devoted he was marking me, with the imprint of his teeth and bruises from his lips.
We were caught in the moment, suspended in the web of time, with his mouth hovering over my arousal and hands locked through mine.