HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Hunting With Hounds

After Sirius got his mother's portrait back under cover the silence was intense. He stood still, waiting for the sound of running water which did not come. Of course. The lad had backed out. It was a ruse to escape. How could something that lovely possibly be true? Good things didn't happen to Sirius any more.

He had to stop being mad in front of people. They didn't like it. And then they had to run away and maybe they'd promise something, get his hopes up, humour the lunatic, to make good that escape.

But perhaps …

No point in not even looking in the bathroom. All senses alert, Sirius climbed his parents' stairs.

The door was open. As his eye-line rose above the level of the landing, he saw shoes on the threshold. He froze, unable to believe his luck. Then came the sound he'd been expecting: the steady gush of water. When he moved again every muscle was taut.

With soft steps he crossed the landing, feeling like he did when Snuffles hunted rabbits. He advanced carefully, quietly, smoothly, to avoid spooking his prey. His prey? He was only going to watch.

Light poured in through the window, bouncing off the mirror and the marble and all of it seemed to land on the long, sculpted, lightly freckled bare back of the man standing still in the centre of the room. His thighs were thick with muscle. His fore-arms were toffee brown, the upper arms paler. His body hair was such a light, golden ginger that it was barely discernable. In the sunlight it created an aura outlining his shape. His arse was … covered up. Well, never mind.

The tiled floor cooled his bare feet as Sirius moved left to stand in front of the mirror. He said nothing, not knowing what to say, afraid that anything as unexpected, undeserved, desired, as this moment, could easily be lost with a wrong word. As was often the case with the rabbits, his quarry was also still and silent. Sirius held position. He could do that for hours if he needed to.

Bill moved first. He raised his hands to his head. The skin was young and his arms displayed the co-ordinated grace of a Quidditch player. The freed hair spread down to his shoulders, as red and glossy as a pepper. Bill leaned forward, causing his tight buttocks to brush against the grey marl cotton covering them. Sirius leaned back against the mirror, forcing his over-heated torso against the glass. Why couldn't there be perfection? Why didn't he take everything off? Then Bill straightened up and stepped into the water.

As the liquid hit him, Bill gasped. Sirius closed his eyes as his imagination supplied a dozen ways in which he could force that sound from Bill's lips. His erection strained against the fabric of his jeans. He clenched his hands on the gilt frame, trying to anchor himself to the wall.

Sirius concentrated on the smell of soap until he could safely open his eyes again. Sunlight played with the droplets spraying out from Bill's almost naked body. Water ran down him and bounced of him, dripped from the hem of his underpants, splashed into the bath. His flawless skin had puckered under it. There was no steam.

Sirius could hear Bill's breathing slowing, deepening. His own grated: too fast, too rough. Bill adjusted the temperature lever. At the slowed-down pace of a dream he turned round.

They made eye contact. The air in the space between them solidified. Sirius tried to take control of the feelings sweeping through him, kept his hands connected to the mirror, but his shoulders pulled his body forward, forcing him in the same direction as his cock was pointing.

Watching wasn't enough, Sirius' every nerve-ending sang with the need to touch and taste. He pushed his tongue onto the roof of his mouth to keep it contained. He had to close his eyes again. On the back of his lids was a vision of Bill completely naked. Sirius needed to see that. He swallowed and then pushed the word "Please" past the constriction in his throat.

He pushed open his eyelids. His target was immobile again, droplets fell the length of his nose. Sirius swept his gaze down Bill's chest, tracing the path of darkening hair leading into the place he wanted to see the most.

"Please," Sirius hissed again.

This time the soaked fabric was peeled slowly away from Bill's hips. Sirius never saw it fall, his vision narrowed to one area of bare flesh. His focus was pulled towards Bill's prick. The flesh grew under his gaze. He tracked in to stare at the red, rounded head. He had covered half the distance between them before he realised that it was not just his eyes that were honing in. He had let go of the mirror frame and walked without any awareness of having done so.

With a huge effort of will, he stopped moving. He closed his mouth again, clamping the teeth to each other. There was no way he could stop the panting, though. The rough denim was unbearable against the end of his swollen penis. His hand moved over to rub the bulge. He heard himself groan like a school boy.

Bill was watching him, his own hand fluttering with indecision. His eyes glittered, unblinking. He was fully erect now, the engorged flesh bobbing under the water pressure. He pressed his hovering hand onto the white skin at the top of his thigh. His fingernails dug in.

Sirius exhaled forcefully. He unbuttoned with difficulty and unzipped carefully to release his cock into his hand. Bill growled and gripped his own shaft, his arm pumping up and down in time with Sirius'.

Sirius could imagine how different it would feel if the hot flesh in his hand was the other man's. The skin on the back of his hand suddenly crawled with an understanding of how Bill's hot cum would splash over it.

"Your clothes," Bill was grunting and Sirius realized that he was standing at the edge of the bath tub, preparing to climb into it. He shoved his jeans down as Bill ripped off his shirt, losing the two remaining buttons on it. And then Sirius surged forward into the water. The temperature of it slowed him. It was barely tepid. He reached round Bill to turn the lever to warm, brushing against cold skin.

There was a moment when they stared into each others eyes and panted. Then they were pressing their wet bodies together, holding each other's cocks and giving in to the temptation of rhythmic movement.