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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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.

"You're damn right," says Granby, grinning, watching appreciatively as Sirius strips. For a moment, Granby just stands there, watching him, taking in his naked skin, his cock and the length of his thighs. Granby's been a long way from living like a monk, and there's been enough nights with enough men, but not often anyone as starkly beautiful as Sirius is, right then.

Granby unfastens his trousers and shoves them and his underwear down one handed, kicking his way out of them as he follows Sirius, keen not to leave too much air between them.

Sirius meets him in the middle, a hand splaying possessively against the back of Granby's neck as the other immediately drops between them to palm Granby's cock. Their mouths nearly touching, eyes dark and sharp, Sirius exhales a hot, tremulous breath between them and then presses his mouth to Granby's as he twists his wrist in one leisurely stroke.

It keeps shifting, the feeling of who's in charge, and Granby finds his head spinning in a way that's not at all unpleasant. His breath catches against Sirius' mouth. He whimpers, a tiny sound, his hips lifting to push through Sirius' fingers.

The bed is close enough that they could easily enough tumble into it from their present position, but Sirius has never cared much for waiting. His lips brush across Granby's, barely enough to be considered a kiss, and then he sinks to his knees, a smooth and surprisingly graceful slide down the other man's body, and takes Granby into his mouth down to the hilt.

It's been far too long since he's done this, and he briefly hums his pleasure, exhaling through his nose as he draws back and then pushes forward again.

For the briefest moment, he's disappointed as Sirius pulls away from him, but then there's the warm, wet heat of his mouth, the vibration as he hums and Granby's no stranger to this, but it's always a pleasure to find someone enthusiastic.

His fingers slip into Sirius' hair, cradling the shape of his skull as he rolls his hips experimentally.

Sirius' fingers pulse once against Granby's hip and he rolls his gaze up, other hand wrapped firm at the base of Granby's cock and stroking upwards when his mouth pulls back with lips drawn taut. He knows precisely how lewd he looks, eyes glassy and unrepentant as he draws his fingers away and lets himself be fucked in the mouth.

This is just about the only thing he's ever been much good for; he might as well revel in it.