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.
Giving The Dog A Bone
Bill stayed up late. Getting drunk. On his own.
Surely in a household this large he should have been able to find a drinking companion. But Charlie was in Romania, Dad was in hospital and Percy was … Well, Percy was just gone.
He mentally worked his way down the family until he was left with the twins. They were a bit young, he shouldn't be encouraging them, but he was desperate. After supper, though, the twins scurried off to their room and stayed there. It looked like whatever it was they had been conspiring about over the summer was still going on.
So Bill introduced himself to a bottle of Firewhiskey and made such good friends with it that they ended up going back to his room together. When the world began spinning they lay down on the bed together to watch the ceiling tip and swoop.
On the other side of that ceiling …Bill thought. Don't think it! he warned himself.
Bill kissed the bottle goodnight. He'd had enough to anaesthetise a cow. There was no way the insomnia was coming for him this night.
He rolled his head into the pillow and was assaulted by the smell of the house. His prick tingled. He pushed it into the mattress, which only made things worse, so he shifted onto his back to stare at the ceiling again.
On the other side of that ceiling …he thought. Don't think it! On the other side of that ceiling …On the other side of that ceiling were the legs of Sirius' bed. And suspended between the legs of the bed were the springs. Lying over that was the mattress and on top of the mattress lay …Don't think it!
His mouth was dry and his stomach queasy. The rest of his body had failed to inform his erection that he was ill, though. The Firewhiskey had been a bad choice of friend. As quietly and steadily as he could manage, Bill made his way to the bathroom. He cast a Silencing Charm, stuck his head under the basin tap and sucked down as much water as he could take in. Then he made himself vomit before forcing his memory to come up with the Sobriety Charm.
He was a mess; the bathroom was a mess. He could have a shower. That would be asking for trouble. Best to avoid the shower. Except that he'd started thinking about it now. He cleaned up and climbed the stairs back to his room.
It must be the middle of the night now, with nothing to stop him from sleeping. He undressed and slipped under the blankets.
On the other side of that ceiling …
He grasped hold of his stiffening cock. It wouldn't do any good, though. For two months he'd tried to wank away the hollowness. It hadn't worked then and it wouldn't work now, when he was separated from the object of his need by just some plaster and joists and a few feet of air.
He was barely aware of leaving the bed before he was opening the door. The draught coming up the stairs hit his naked skin and he snatched on his dressing gown. If someone saw him, he could claim to be looking for a bathroom, or he could fake sleepwalking.
As stealthily as a big cat, he padded up one flight of stairs. At the click of the door being pushed to behind him, the mattress shifted. It was completely dark, but Bill sensed the air move. He took a step into the room.
Sirius' sculpted face flared briefly by wand-light, before Bill snatched the wand and threw it under the bed. He heard an inhalation as though Sirius were about to speak. Bill pressed his thumb to where he knew Sirius' mouth was, feeling the lips sink softly onto teeth. The rest of his hand curled and his fingers found the hollow of the cheek.
Bill shrugged off his dressing gown. He felt the breeze of breath on his wrist. With his free hand he pushed Sirius down onto the bed. He climbed onto him, the body warmth under his feeling like putting his own skin back on.
As he replaced his thumb with his mouth, Bill smoothed his hand up the crevice of Sirius' cheek and pushed it into his familiar hair. A tongue pushed urgently into his mouth before he had had a chance to form his lips to his lover's. Unmistakeable, slim, calloused hands rubbed over his back, shoulders, down to his buttocks. As a palm slid to fit the dimple of his arse cheek, ribs rose under him and stopped, before starting to move faster than before.
Buttons nipped at his flesh. He pushed between their bodies to undo them, caressing the chest as it was freed. His coordination deteriorated with every second, until he ended up ripping the fabric of the shirt.
Then four hands fumbled against each other to undo Sirius' fly, not helped by the uncontrolled bucking of both of their hips.
In the struggle, their mouths fell away from each other and they grunted into air. As they shoved the tight-fitting denim down his sweaty thighs, Sirius nudged his nose behind Bill's ear and nibbled along Bill's jaw in a rhythm that had been running, unheard, through his body for months.
Sirius' nails scrabbled at the muscles of Bill's thigh, hauling it up to stroke behind his knee, causing a judder in every nerve. Sirius moaned, his hot body pushing up against Bill's. He could feel the hard, sticky heat of the other man's erection push into his abdomen and the slick resistance of bone against his own. Jerkily they wriggled their groins into each other.
Blind in the darkness, Bill ran both his hands over his favourite shapes, reacquainting himself with home. A strangled noise pulsed into his neck, and Bill shoved both his hands into the shifting space between their pelvises. Without awareness of which was whose, he took a cock in each hand. Long nails dug into his side as Sirius steadied him. Then time lost meaning as he pistoned.
Life exploded, fire and ice wordlessly worked their way through his body and he tremored to stillness with screams and teeth pushing into his shoulder.
His breathing became slow and deep, inhaling the house, the linen and the comforting scents of the body beneath him: His resting place.