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Title: Make Out
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Warning: Secret relationship, age disparity, Harry is underage (approx. 15)
Pairing: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Harry sneaks down to the kitchen for a midnight rendezvous
AN: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hogwarts365 Prompt 342 - kitchen
Oh hey, look I'm alive.
The kitchen is silent, but not empty. Sirius sits at the table, a bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him. It’s barely been touched, and Harry breathes a soft sigh of relief. Sirius drinks too much, and as much as Harry can’t really blame him, it does make him uncomfortable. Sirius must have heard him. He looks up, eyes glinting, and Harry slips into the room. The stone floor is cold under his feet, driving away any thought that he might be asleep; dreaming or sleepwalking. He removes his father’s cloak and drapes it over one of the chairs, and he steals the bottle of Firewhiskey, setting it aside as he takes its place in front of his godfather.
His stomach twists. He knows he wasn’t imagining it: the looks at dinner, the hand on his lower back, the way Sirius breathes in the scent of his hair every time they hug, and the way he brushes his lips against Harry’s ear. He knows. But that doesn’t stop his heart from hammering against his ribs even as he reaches out.
He hasn’t kissed anyone before. He thinks Sirius can probably tell. But his godfather comes willingly into his arms, slides his hands up over Harry’s thighs and sighs his name between them like a prayer. Harry whines softly as Sirius’ tongue presses into his mouth. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sirius’ hair, tugging at the soft curls to try and pull him deeper. Sirius tastes of peat-smoke. He tastes of magic and addiction and impossible rightness.
Long fingers trace the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, cool against his skin. Sirius rubs circles over the jut of his hip, the soft skin of his belly; he scratches lightly at the dimples at the base of his spine, and he laughs into their kiss when Harry gasps in response. It’s a low, wicked noise that goes straight to Harry’s cock. By the time Sirius guides him off the table and onto his lap, he’s so hard it hurts. There’s a damp patch on the front of his pyjamas, and he groans loudly at the feeling of Sirius’ erection beneath him.
“Upstairs?” Sirius asks.
“Yes.”
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Warning: Secret relationship, age disparity, Harry is underage (approx. 15)
Pairing: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Harry sneaks down to the kitchen for a midnight rendezvous
AN: Written for
hogwarts365 Prompt 342 - kitchenThe kitchen is silent, but not empty. Sirius sits at the table, a bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him. It’s barely been touched, and Harry breathes a soft sigh of relief. Sirius drinks too much, and as much as Harry can’t really blame him, it does make him uncomfortable. Sirius must have heard him. He looks up, eyes glinting, and Harry slips into the room. The stone floor is cold under his feet, driving away any thought that he might be asleep; dreaming or sleepwalking. He removes his father’s cloak and drapes it over one of the chairs, and he steals the bottle of Firewhiskey, setting it aside as he takes its place in front of his godfather.
His stomach twists. He knows he wasn’t imagining it: the looks at dinner, the hand on his lower back, the way Sirius breathes in the scent of his hair every time they hug, and the way he brushes his lips against Harry’s ear. He knows. But that doesn’t stop his heart from hammering against his ribs even as he reaches out.
He hasn’t kissed anyone before. He thinks Sirius can probably tell. But his godfather comes willingly into his arms, slides his hands up over Harry’s thighs and sighs his name between them like a prayer. Harry whines softly as Sirius’ tongue presses into his mouth. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sirius’ hair, tugging at the soft curls to try and pull him deeper. Sirius tastes of peat-smoke. He tastes of magic and addiction and impossible rightness.
Long fingers trace the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, cool against his skin. Sirius rubs circles over the jut of his hip, the soft skin of his belly; he scratches lightly at the dimples at the base of his spine, and he laughs into their kiss when Harry gasps in response. It’s a low, wicked noise that goes straight to Harry’s cock. By the time Sirius guides him off the table and onto his lap, he’s so hard it hurts. There’s a damp patch on the front of his pyjamas, and he groans loudly at the feeling of Sirius’ erection beneath him.
“Upstairs?” Sirius asks.
“Yes.”
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Date: 2020-06-14 05:23 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2020-06-17 02:07 pm (UTC)From: