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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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.

He's a grown man, a long way past being a boy, and he's had a lot of experience of this. It's something that he'd count himself as more than passable at, but, right then, all that he can do is stare. It's the look on Sirius' face as Granby rolls his hips and pushes his cock past his lips.

That look's enough to make him whimper.

The tremulous little sound is what draws Sirius away despite how badly he'd rather continue, cock sliding free of wet lips as he sits back, eyes still on Granby's face. "Don't come," he says, knees sore when he pushes himself to his feet again and licks back into Granby's mouth. It's a decision made, the most natural thing in the world in spite of it actually being nothing of the sort.

He sits on the bed, pale and lean, and meets Granby's mouth in the middle as he tugs him down by the wrist.

Don't come. He says it like it's so simple. Still, Granby does his best. He curls his fingers around his cock and squeezes, trying to find his centre. He leans into the kiss, knee hitting the bed between Sirius' thighs.

"I'd like to fuck you," he murmurs against Sirius' mouth. "Very much."

"Then do." The challenge is clear in those two words even if it's not obvious by the dark, sharp cast of Sirius' eyes. He doesn't know how else to go about this, can't give himself up to it so easily or possibly acknowledge that what was just put to him was a request instead of a demand.

It's the easiest thing in the world to sway in and cover Sirius' body with his own. He leans down to kiss him again, weight caught on one bent arm, and their cocks slide together. Granby rolls his hips, groaning at the friction.

"I'm assuming you have the necessary?" he says, when the kiss breaks, breathless.

Sirius arches up, lips parted as he follows after Granby's mouth. He hums briefly in confirmation but doesn't move to fetch yet, his attention falling instead to licking up the tendon on Granby's throat and scraping his teeth over the stubbled skin there.

The instinctive rock of his hips brings Sirius sharply back into focus, his breath stuttering against skin wet from his mouth, and he draws away enough to fling one skinny arm out off the mattress. There's a ragged half of a coconut shell kept just beneath the bed; from within he pulls up a handful of condoms and lubricant packets and drops them unceremoniously on the blanket.

There's a limit to how patient he's capable of being. He shifts, sliding his hand under Sirius' thigh and urging it upwards, fingers tucked into the bend of his leg.

"Hold that there," he murmurs and, on impulse, he turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Sirius' knee before he reaches for a packet. He glances down and groans softly. "And here." He drops the packet on Sirius' chest before he holds out his hand. "Help me out."

This was easier when he had two hands.

Flat on his back and knees in the air, Sirius stares a long moment, the pulse seeming to have grown louder in his ears. That affectionate little brush of lips to the inside of his knee, Granby's done it like it's nothing at all, when it's so much larger than that, so fundamentally foreign to the way Sirius expects this to happen.

So he stares, and then starts, belatedly grabbing for the packet cradled upon his thin chest to rip the foil open with his teeth. Tongue darting out across his bottom lip, he reaches between his thighs so that he can roll latex down Granby's flushed erection with practised fingers.