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.