sunburned | (no subject)

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sirius

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The beach was still something of a novelty. He had, from time to time, been posted near to the sea but he'd never really had time to linger on the shore. Most recently, all they'd been trying to do was escape the sand, but now he had time to sit and to take it in. Today, he was sat in the sand with a sketchbook, drawing Iskierka from memory. Between his arm and the fairness of his skin, he hasn't dared to strip off his shirt, but it's light and it's loose and it'll do.

Now if only he could do something about the bridge of his nose.

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Even with all of his talk recently of needing a hobby, wandering remains Sirius' principle occupation. He enjoys the fresh air, the sounds of the jungle and the simple liberty of being able to go wherever he likes, even if that is nowhere in particular.

It took him some time to become comfortable with the sea again, but on an island as small as this one, it's rather difficult to avoid. He's still not gone back into it, regards it with a cautious and slightly bitter air, but he can't deny the innate beauty of the shoreline and so ends up out here too, despite himself.

Aimless as he is, it's almost instinctive the way his feet shift to direct him Granby's way one he's been spotted. Sirius smiles as his shadow slips across the other man's feet.

"Well, this isn't a party."

He finished the line that he was working on before he looked up, squinting a little in the sun as he grinned up at Sirius. He wouldn't deny that it was a pleasant surprise to see the other man; he was definitely pleasing to the eye.

"Perhaps the definition of 'party' has changed between my time and yours?"

"Now I'm wondering who you're giving too much credit to, me or yourself," Sirius replies with a considering cant of his head. "Or perhaps you have something planned you've just not informed me of yet?" He arches his eyebrows, curious and coy as a bird.

"Myself, always," said Granby, gaze level, eyebrows slightly raised. He let his sketchpad rest in the sand between his knees, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, if you've nothing else to do, you could spend so time and see what happens? Might be interesting to have a conversation while we can both hear ourselves think."

"Conversation?" Sirius echoes as he breaks out into a grin and accepts the invitation to stretch out long and languid on the sand. Propped on his elbows, he peers up at Granby. "Is that what they call it where you're from?"

Sirius stretched out like that and Granby felt at his liberty to look, eyes sliding down and back again before he composed his face into the pretense of innocence.

"I do not know what you mean," he said.

In an instant Sirius has sat back up again and leaned close into Granby's space, eyes downturned and focused on the other man's mouth, head tilted and noses nearly touching. A breeze blows in off the water and ruffles his hair across his forehead, dark strands catching on shorter brown.

"No?" he asks in a low rumble, his eyes flicking up to catch Granby's gaze.

He was in no way prepared for that - the sudden closeness, the heat of Sirius' breath against his lips, the scent of him. Granby had spent long enough being discreet that to suddenly be confronted with this in the open, in the light of day...

It was dizzying.

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he met Sirius' eyes.

"I might have a notion," he admitted, making no move to close the spare inches between them.

A mischievous smile sketches across Sirius' features, but after another moment's pause, he abruptly pops to his feet again.

"C'mon, then," he says, and begins a leisurely walk toward a tiny pathway jutting through the treeline, brushing off arse and elbows as he goes.

He was so clearly and obviously out of his depth. Which was quite a pleasant feeling, come to it. He pushed himself up out of the sand, awkward but finding his balance, soon enough, slinging his bag across his chest.

"And where is it we're going, then?" he asked, falling into step behind Sirius.

"My place," answers Sirius with a glance over one bony shoulder. He smiles. "Less sand." Convenient, too, since the Green Arrow Estates is just far enough inland to have easy access to the beach but still have a buffer between houses and shore.

If the prospect of having sex with anyone not his ex feels odd, he certainly doesn't show it, all cool confidence as he leads the way through the trees.

Granby wasn't about to complain. He was getting more and more used to this - this easy, out in the open way or doing things. Which didn't mean that it didn't feel somehow illicit. Like he was pushing his luck or somehow doing something that he shouldn't.

Which definitely had value.

The house is two stories, built around a large tree at the far end of the GAE's meticulously-landscaped central hub. About three weeks ago Sirius had entirely cleared out the top floor bedroom, had dismantled the bed frame and pulled it and the mattress downstairs to the smaller room next to the bathroom, and then rearranged the scant furniture in the parlour, too. Cassie had wanted a treehouse, and after she'd decided she wanted neither the house nor Sirius any longer, the entire place had still felt like her. After a point Sirius had to make a change if he wanted to continue living there, close to Harry.

"I think I've a little whiskey, if you want some," he says once he and Granby have mounted the porch and passed inside.

It was a very different sort of house than the hut that him and Laurence had made him. He looked around as he walked in, pulling his bag back over his head. He nodded, eyes still on Sirius, taking in the skinny frame.

"I wouldn't say no," he said. "And my thanks."

Sirius ducks into the kitchen and manages to find two relatively-clean cups, which are just about the only dishware in the entire place except for the big jar he uses to carry coffee back from the Compound. There's just enough whiskey in the bottom of the bottle for about a finger each, and Sirius carries the two cups back out into the parlour and passes one off to Granby.

"I'm thinking saying bottoms up would seem a bit crass just now, but, well…" He salutes Granby with his glass and knocks it back.

Granby wasn't sure what was funnier - the fact that the joke was very definitely Aviator humour or the thought of Laurence's reaction to it. He laughed, rolling his eyes as he knocked back his own drink.

"Crass wouldn't be out of place," I'd say, he said, stepping closer, cup still in his hand.

Without pretense, Sirius takes the cup from Granby's hand, drops both on the nearby table and then closes the remaining distance between them. His kiss is immediate and undeniable, skinny hips rocking forward as he licks his way into Granby's mouth, tasting of island-made whiskey and cigarettes.

It was a good kiss, a kiss that could not help but make intention obvious and Granby leaned into it without hesitation, hand coming up to slide against Sirius' cheek, fingertips into his hair. His own tongue pressed forward, body reacting instantly to the press of Sirius' against him.

Something clicks into place, whether it be in Sirius' gut or subconscious, a primal switch flipped after years neglected, and when he pulls back, lips parted as a string of saliva snaps between their mouths, his eyes have gone dark and predatory, slate gray like the sky before a storm.

His t-shirt is pulled off and discarded in one smooth motion, chest skiny and pale beneath, hip bones jutting from the top of low-slung blue jeans. Fingertips find Granby's waistband and slide inside just enough to jerk him forward before moving to unfasten his belt.

He'd done this enough, been in this position often enough before, that he could recognise that look in Sirius' eyes. It was familiar enough to send a shiver straight down his spine and he went easily enough when Sirius pulled him forward by his waistband.

Buttons have proved problematic since he lost his hand, so he was wearing a t-shirt and it pulled up easily enough with five fingers knotted in the hem, quickly discarded and forgotten.

He stepped in, hand against Sirius' bare skin, nail grazing his nipple.

Sirius has always liked Granby, right from that first moment he spotted him. The time wasn't taken to examine why, but it seldom is with these things, fueled as Sirius is by impulse and emotion. There's a familiarity in the solid build of the man, though, and when Sirius pauses in pulling open trousers to slide long, slender fingers across torso and hips, it hits him a little harder than he'd anticipated.

It's been a very long while since he's hand anyone quite like this.

"The bedroom, I think," he murmurs, fingertips lingering on warm skin before he retreats, all saunter as he crosses to the open doorway, his unmade bed beyond.

He hadn't often done this in a bedroom, truth be told. Before the island, he hadn't always had the opportunity. The brush of Sirius' fingers against his bare skin is enough to make his breath catch. He bites his lip against a nod and there was barely a breath before he followed, trousers sagging low on his hips.

Once they were through the door, he reached out, fingers curling around Sirius' hip to pull him back against his chest, pressed against him from shoulder to knees.

It's such a small thing, the way Granby pulls Sirius back against him, yet it looms large enough that for a moment Sirius feels scattered and unmanned, emotion tight in his throat and legs unsteady. The motion isn't designed to get at any one specific part of him, not cock nor mouth nor tongue, but rather to pull in all of him, that smooth, intimate rocking of their bodies together, and Sirius Black, who began this seduction and expected it to happen by rote, doesn't know what the fuck to do with that.

Just a moment ago, he'd been the one in charge here.

His head lolls instinctively back against the solid slope of Granby's shoulder, but he's not settled there more than a moment before something in him balks, violently, and he's broken away again to turn and surge forward, crushing their mouths together instead.

He feels it, that moment when Sirius relaxed against him, head against his shoulder, and then, suddenly, he was back in his arms, mouth pressed against him and Granby kisses him hard, tongue pressing forward into his mouth, hand against Sirius hip, nail's pressed against his skin.

"Bed," he mrumurs, mouth still against Sirius'. "If you please."

Sirius hisses low at the scrape of fingernails against his skin and drags teeth against Granby's bottom lip in retaliation. As far as the bed's concerned, he does please, but that doesn't mean he intends to go easy. There's not much about Sirius that is.

"Pushy," he says, a hot murmur against stubbled skin as he finds the line of Granby's throat with teeth and tongue. The red welt he's left is already fading even as he draws away seconds later, stepping backwards toward the bed as he shimmies well-worn blue jeans over skinny hips.