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He knew at this point that all that was left in the cavernous cavity that once housed his wildly beating heart was a blackened, shrivelled mass. Fitting, really, when you carried a name like his.
However, instead of lamenting about how the world had beaten him down, all he could think about was one single thought. A person. More specifically, his dead best friend.
He hoped that wherever his forever young, long gone twin flame was residing – the beyond or whatever - he would not judge him too harshly for where he was right now. That his once constant companion, now buried dead in the depths of a Muggle cemetery, would forgive him for this one moment of weakness. Absolve him of the guilt pressing down on his throat like a gag for letting something as trivial as a fleeting, almost gnawing fancy distract him from fulfilling the only thing he had ever taken seriously in his accused life.
He knew the moment they had placed the fragile bundle in his arms, the babe reaching out for him, he would do anything to keep that minuscule life reaching out for him, safe.
And he had tried to keep that vow. He really had. He had even gone out and sought a bloodthirsty vengeance. Anything to destroy those pervasive forces that wished and enacted the deepest of harms. And to what end? The rat had evaded him, landing him in a prison. And the authorities? They washed their hands and threw away the key, leaving him to rot in a stone prison, which eventually spread into a prison of his mind.
But he had never wavered. That promise had been the singular driving force which held all of the fraying nerves in his body together. It stopped him from losing his mind. Helped him resist the screaming from the other prisoners, the echoes of which bounced around the four walls of his cell and tried to enter his consciousness. But Sirius would never succumb to the lunacy around him, not when the promise reminded him that every grain of falling time sand that entered the bottom of the hourglass was wasted time.
Fucking hells, the godsdamned promise was what drove him to waste himself down to nothing all so that he could brave the blistering winds and unforgiving waves of the Baltic Sea.
Naturally, subsisting on the promise in Azkaban had been easy.
For the sake of the delicate sensibilities of the wider public, the Ministry had forced the Dementors into submission. The wraiths were mandated to don their billowing robes. A layer of protection that hid the depths of their half-life existence when out amongst people . In the prison walls, amongst the filth , however, the creatures were a law of their own. They floated around the periphery of any other creature, ripping out any emotion they sensed – root and all. Repeatedly. Until there was nothing left but the notion of compliance. Not even the maddest of the Dementors’ wards was heard from anymore.
In a landscape which sought to deprive you of any thought or instinct, it had been simple to hide behind the walls in his mind and cultivate one thought. Not a thought. A faint murmuring of a vow made in another life, where Azkaban was only a threat without any hope of realisation. And so, in the recesses of his mind, his existence had become singular. Everything around it, the pompous vivaciousness, the carefree laughter and the charm, which he had nefariously wielded to part whomever's legs he desired for the night had melted away. Torn apart at the rate of Fiendfyre eviscerating skin, sinew and all the rest one called human.
Azkaban had robbed him of feeling anything but now that kindling, as low of a whisper as it was (as far as fires go atleast), had returned with a vengeance. The impotence of the days filled with crashing waves, muted whimpers of pain from his fellow detainees and the unforgiving coldness were fading in his memory.
Even at the periphery of society, doggedly avoiding detection amongst wizarding and Muggle folk alike, the heat had begun to return. He knew what it was. The grim desperation seized him, his post-Azkaban libido roaring through him in the form of warming his bones, colouring his cheeks and hardening his cock as his mind became sex-crazed once more.
So that was how, he, a hounded fugitive, wanted posters in both moving and non-moving mediums plastered on every surface he could see, found himself in a dingy club in fucking Glasgow, of all places, on his least favourite day of the year: St Valentine’s Day.
For all that was beheld by the Light, he hoped James would forgive him. Because he was having a hard time forgiving himself, especially with his own unsatisfied desire taunting him. But dear Gods did Sirius need his cock stuck in something. Yesterday.
All around him were couples locked in some stage of coital entanglement. Young university students were passing tablets between themselves with their plundering tongues as they explored the caverns of each other's mouths. Forceful hands were manoeuvring their way over blouses and under skirts. Bulging plackets were grinding up against the plackets of masculine prey. Sirius’ heightened hearing could hear the thrumming of their veins. His keen sense of sight saw the sweat beading at their brows and hairlines.
He snaked through the crowd, stopping to grasp at any opportunity whenever his eyes locked onto another’s. However, despite any initial appraisal from any and all genders, they seemed to fade away in confusion before they quickly turned away. After the fourth wordless rejection, he began to doubt his proficiency with wandless glamours, fearful that the grotesque gargoyle he had morphed into during prison was visible for all to see. However, one cursory glance at the mirrors that lined the grimy establishment was enough to confirm that his glamours were not the problem. They never were, having had to perfect them to hide the injuries inflicted upon his person by his banshee of a mother. No, the problem was that he no longer knew how to be a human, how to return easy grins or force his eye into a wink instead of a twitch.
Following the movement of his latest failed conquest as she hurried away from him into the arms of a more lively participant, his eye caught on a solitary creature as if the swivelling light display had conspired to bring Sirius' focus to him.
Sirius raised his stolen cigarette to his lips, taking in the lone figure, leaning up against the bar.
He was a thing of beauty, of that Sirius was sure.
Sirius rarely found anyone that matched him in height but here he was, tall like the yew tree that birthed Sirius’ former wand, towering over all those who surreptitiously glanced his way, hoping to engage him. The being simply looked bored, looking to his side as if he were searching for something.
Sirius took the moment of distraction to let his eyes rake over the stranger’s form. Atop his head was sandy hair, silvery in parts as though age was trying and failing to nip at his heels. His face held the barest of markings, his essence shining through, like a bright moon on a cloudy night. His broad chest strained at a tight shirt from a bygone era and his arms were snuggly encased by even tighter sleeves. He looked strong not because he worked at it in the vanity of a Muggle aerobics class (if those were still in fashion in 1993) but because life had forced him to be that way.
Sirius’ cock twitched.
Sirius dimly thought the stranger, whose arms were crossed and his expression bored reminded him of someone. Of something he could never hope for again. A caress in a wrinkle of time. But before he could examine that too closely and rip his heart open for the millionth time, he buried it.
This was not the time to ponder what could have been, an Iliad that could have spanned years and continents, faced lives ruined and survived bloodshed.
This was about removing any distractions.
About wetting his wick and charging on forwards.
Just as he was about to make his way over, a Blondie track came on. And in an unprecedented move, amongst the chorus of cheers, the stranger rolled his eyes, his sparkling golden eyes, and pushed off his post to beeline for the door.
The music snob in Sirius should have been cheering but the desperate whine that formed in his throat indicated how desperate Sirius was in grasping onto the granules slipping between his fingers.
He had to move. Catch up with him.
However, he remained rooted to the floor. He saw the eyes that followed the golden god and the crowds that parted for him, all until one lanky cunt stopped right in front of him, drinks in hand. One drink intended for the being that had ensnared Sirius. Sirius and the deity frowned in unison while the drunk punter simpered at him, brandishing the offering. The gilded god raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk flitting across the corners of his mouth while the diatribe continued.
Sirius cursed himself as the offering was appraised and taken, the human embodiment of Eldorado downing the drink in one go. Then, before Sirius could admire the powerful volume of his throat, the golden bullion of a man downed the other drink.
Sirius Black was in love.
Falling in love was something that had happened to Sirius before. Many times, if his public pronouncements were to be believed. But only once in the truest sense. That took time. The product of pressure and time, like the rarest of gems. It snuck up on Sirius until he could deny it no longer and at the point of realisation, it escaped him under the shroud of secrecy, deception and seeded mistrust.
This. This was instantaneous.
Sirius shook his head. He needed whatever liquid gold that man would be willing to spill into him and he needed it now.
In the blink of an eye, the formidable tree of a man had pushed the doors open and Sirius was half-minded to face the Ministry Obliviation Squad by transforming into his Animagus form in front of several Muggle witnesses. Instead, he let reason guide him for the first time in his life and he rushed after what could only be a good decision.
“Octavius Altius” he murmured before pushing the door himself.
The stranger he had been pursuing was putting on a threadbare coat, entirely inappropriate for the Glasgow weather this late at night or fashionable for the early 90’s setting they found themselves in. A cigarette was dangling from his mouth, bobbing along as he slipped his arms through the worn sleeves one by one.
Sirius had never had a problem with speaking to any conquest in the past. Someone once told him he had a silver tongue to match his silver eyes. Except now, he found himself entirely confounded, wracking his brain for something to say.
It all felt wrong.
Suddenly his newly charmed vocal chords were anything but a disguise. It made him feel more exposed than ever. Like a clear pool anticipating a heavy boot to demolish it or a live nerve. There was no way he could formulate anything to say to this delightfully dismissive creature carved by the wand of Merlin himself.
“Got a light?” the man in front of him said in a gravelly voice.
Sirius squinted slightly as he rolled the tones of the words in his mind. He had anticipated it being gravelly but it felt too rough for the lithe creature before him. Almost as if he had employed an octave configuration charm of his own.
There was no hiding the slight twinge of a Welsh accent though.
Sirius had only ever known one Welsh voice intimately. A Welsh voice that had cheered, screamed and whispered the filthiest things known to wizardkind to him at one point. The thought of the one voice that could send him to boil and completely destroy him all at once made Sirius’ heart beat in alarm. His cock strained, reaching out for a semblance of that past.
But no, the inflexion felt off as though the accent had eroded over time. Or the man before him had deployed the same confundus Sirius had used on those Muggles to steal their drinks. No, it was literally impossible. There was no discernible reason as to why that voice would be anywhere near fucking Glasgow . It would do Sirius no good to pretend otherwise.
Besides, the shade of ashy blonde hair was all wrong. It was too dark, too grey, too wiry. The clothes were a bit more weathered than what he could recall. The eyes were a bit too golden, almost as though this man, too, was inherently magical and donning a disguise.
Sirius let his eyes drift back to meet the man’s once more and saw that he only looked amused at Sirius’ obvious turmoil.
The man finally grinned, which would have ordinarily sent another hatchet towards Sirius’ damaged heart these days buthe was too singularly focused at this present time.
Sirius smiled slowly in a way that he hoped was breathtaking.
“No, but I could use a cigarette,” he said coyly.
It was a line he had used on many a bird back in his time and the stranger huffed a laugh knowingly, as if he had heard it all before.
The stranger obliged him, stepping forward to place the cigarette from his own mouth into Sirius’ as though the pack in his hand had emptied in the time during their exchange. Sirius could feel the wetness on the paper as deeply as though the man had kissed him instead. He stuck his tongue out to meet the moisture, hoping to siphon the taste of the deity and sate the desire coursing through his veins. Oh, to be that cigarette.
Sirius’ mind blanked, his lips mere inches from the fingertips holding the cigarette to his own. Without a second thought - because what use was a brain when it could only concentrate on one impulse - Sirius raised his hand to the stranger's hand to accept the cigarette and whispered “ Inflamare”.
The stranger’s eyes widened minutely as the tongue of fire took hold of the end of the cigarette.
Shit. Sirius was rubbish at wandless Obliviations.
“So you’re a wizard then” the man whispered huskily, not moving his hand even when its official purpose had been served.
“In a sense. Barely meet the definition these days, though” Sirius whispered, his throat dry from the proximity.
The stranger huffed another laugh, leaving Sirius craving to hear that laugh in its full iteration.
“I saw you in there” Sirius continued, desperate to keep the conversation going.
“And you decided to follow me out?” the stranger queried, arching a single eyebrow knowingly. Sirius knew it was meant to be probing, however, all it did was send another jolt to his pulsing member.
“I appreciated the manner in which you handled that bloke in there,” Sirius said, finally remembering to take a drag.
As the nicotine hit his brain for the first time in a long time, Sirius let his eyes close, missing the way that the red circle cast a glow over the man.
“Well, he said he got me a drink. It's not my fault that I preferred his gin and tonic better” the stranger said evenly, as though staving off the need to laugh.
Sirius huffed a laugh in his place.
“What did you say your name was?” He chanced, letting his eyes drift back.
The stranger smirked again, casting his face back into full relief once more. His face had the faintest traces of scarring. Either the gashes had been minor in nature or this wizard was completely shite at glamours. It did not matter to Sirius, whose heart called for another marred visage.
Sirius could not blame him. He, himself, had transfigured his hollowed-out features fuller, his grey eyes to a shade less haunting and his hair into a shorter, coiffed hairstyle. He had not looked this "put together" since his first trip on the Hogwarts Express. If he thought a little harder about it, he’d say he looked like his brother Reggie. At least if Reggie, the sycophantic fool, had grown up and not got himself killed at the tender age of eighteen while simpering at the Dark Lord’sfeet.
“I didn’t,” the man said in his amused lilt.
That was good enough for Sirius.
“And where are you going, one with no name?” Sirius said, joining the game as he took another drag.
“I’m going home,” the stranger said matter-of-factly.
“Blondie did you in?” Sirius said, grinning.
“American New Wave has nothing to do with it, though Bronski Beat are better” he grinned back.
In another life, Sirius would have scowled but he was too enraptured by the lips that were pushing the wrong opinion out to play the role of a critic.
“And where, pray tell, is that?” Sirius chanced, as the hand that had been radiating heat directed straight to his cock withdrew.
“‘s where I live,” the stranger said tartly. Fortunately, Sirius had been taught that an all-too-quick “No” rarely ever meant “no” at a very young age. As an aside, in the face of all the rejection from his attempt at human interaction, this was practically making headway.
“Great” Sirius replied, the corners of his mouth stretching up in the broadest of grins.
“Huh?” The stranger said dumbly, confusion colouring his tone. Perhaps Goldmember had faced less worthy opponents in the past. Ones that fell at the first hurdle. What was evident was that he had never met as formidable a match as one Sirius Orion Black. His life had been all hurdles and he was not to give up what he imagined would be the first shag he had in close to 13 years.
No, it was time to throw the outcome he wanted into contention.
“Well…” Sirius began, assessing the cigarette instead of looking at Goldmember “I’ll come back with you if you like butI’m not promising anything. I’m a wizard of virtue after all”.
There was a flicker of something close to recognition before the wizard before him shook his head.
“So… when you use this approach ordinarily… do you find that it works for you?” the stranger asked, his eyes screwing up in scrutiny as his eyes raked over Sirius’ form.
For a moment, Sirius faltered with self-consciousness. Something he rarely felt as family-brand arrogance had been injected into him from the womb. Blacks were simply better they had emphasised. Even at the lowest point of his life, Azkaban, there was no room for shame. His eyes looked for what the stranger could be seeing. Perhaps confounding that Muggle and stealing his clothes earlier that night had been a mistake. Even if it meant he saw another prick outside his own for the first time in an inordinate amount of time.
Apparently, the discerning man in front of Sirius had no time to accommodate Sirius’ introspection because he pressed on with his wildly accurate analysis of Sirius’ character. Well, at least pre-Azkaban. It was not like he had many options between cloaked soul-sucking demons, Death Eaters (one of whom was his dastardly cousin) and poor sods who were better placed in the Janus Thickney Ward than in a correctional facility, especially one as brutal as Azkaban.
“Let me guess. It used to work for you” the golden man said, pausing to scrutinise Sirius “But it’s been a long time. In fact, you normally don’t approach anyone anymore. Am I right? The truth is you used to be the centre of the universe, the life of the party. You never deigned to approach anyone because they all came to you. But the war left you ravaged, a shell of a human. But now, you’re so desperate for the touch of another that you’re desperate. Enough to go out and seek it. Even desperate enough to settle on another shell of a human, if only just for the night”
Sirius was gobsmacked, the thorough analysis leaving his jaw slackened and his brows furrowing.
“Have we… have we met before?” he finally managed.
The stranger huffed a laugh and began walking to the Apparition Point once more.
“Maybe in another life” he called over his shoulder without looking back at him.
Huh? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go Sirius thought as his eyes followed the back of the stranger.
Once the man had reached the Point, he turned back, his golden eyes piercing through the night straight to Sirius’ core.
“Well, are you coming or not mate?” The stranger called, offering his arm to him.
Sirius did not need to think twice, dropping the cigarette as his long strides took less than a few seconds to reach him.
While Sirius had become accustomed to the tight quarters of his Azkaban cell, even gravitating towards diminutive alcoves and caves in his time on the run, there was still something unsettling about Apparition. He had not missed that constricting feeling as it clawed at him and stretched him out before spitting him back out.
He took a moment to adjust to the change of setting but what he saw enthralled him.
It was a flat in the truest sense of the word. Sure, it was larger than his cell but it was more compact than any other lodging he had lived in as a human. At least when he was one without a complicated legal situation. Adding to the tightness of the space was the fact that it was packed to the brim. All around him, tomes were stacked high, piles of parchment shoved in any free nook that could be found and the floor was littered with the draft musings of what was turning out to be a madman.
Oddly, it was exactly the type of home he had seen himself cultivating in the future. That is, once he was done with all the girls… and all the guys and ready to settle down with… him. Sirius would pile up all the records that had survived the Great Walburga purges and he would bring home all the books he had salvaged from second-hand shops. Sirius would buy more dragonleather boots than he ever needed and he would buy more exotic quills than he knew what to do with. Sirius would shove bottles of firewhiskey all around the place for the early mornings after raids and he would find yet another strain of tea he would want to try but never got around to. They would bicker. Merlin, would they bicker but they would laugh and fuck and laugh some more right after. The flat Sirius currently stood in housed the promise of all the sweet domesticity he secretly yearned for but readily denied himself in favour of carnal pursuits with insignificant others. Denied himself up until their so-called best friend ratted out the leader of their ragtag pack of misfits and fucked up Sirius’ life before it truly began.
Sirius was shaken out of his reverie by the other occupant of the room clearing his throat.
“It’s not much…” the stranger began.
“But it’s home” Sirius finished, turning his head to meet his companion’s eyes, almost immediately entranced with just how bright his eyes were in the amber lighting of the gas lamps sprinkled around the abode.
A whirlpool of molten gold .
“Drink?” the golden stranger said to him as if they were merely standing at a polite distance, far enough that their breaths were not intermingling.
And how sweet his breath was. Cloves. Probably from the cigarettes. Or maybe something inherent.
Snapping out of his hormone-driven haze, if only to stop his eyes rolling back into his head at the maddening scent, Sirius shook his head infinitesimally, coincidentally moving further into the commanding wizard’s space.
“Another smoke?” The stranger whispered again, softer than before as if he, too, was losing conviction.
Sirius shook his head again as he gained on the man, forcing him back and crowding around him. They were so impossibly close now, any perceived barriers separating them falling away.
Sirius took a moment to consider the man once more, taking more of him in. They were almost evenly matched in height. However, Sirius still had that slight edge on him, focusing the man’s eyes upwards. Sirius smirked at that. Azkaban may have taken his well-developed muscles but it could not shrink him in stature. At least, not physically.
“Ah, so it’s going to be like that?” The man whispered knowingly, repeating a line that Sirius had said to many a fine filly in his time, as their lips were a hair’s breadth from touching.
“It’s going to be like that,” Sirius said, the pretence dropping as his gaze absorbed the contents of the soft lips he had been aching to taste since the man had siphoned the two drinks in the club.
The plush lips parted, drawing Sirius in like a siren song. As the stranger’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, Sirius took his chance.
He crashed into him, their lips meeting in feverish abandon and as they danced around each other, teeth narrowly missing the other’s and tongues trying to cajole the other into submission. If appearing in this flat felt like coming home, this kiss was Sirius finding his life’s purpose: to be encased and overpowered by this man.
The deep longing for connection, to return to the only man he was ever capable of really knowing and truly lovingunlocked something in Sirius’ mind. Even though his brain was telling him he had never met the golden statute, Oscar Wilde’s Happy Prince, he felt it all resurface as if he had not needed to be chasing this exact feeling for 13 years.
Just as soon as their kiss deepened, their hands began working simultaneously, grabbing the strings of each other’s hair and fisting the clothes in an animalistic pursuit that called to their deepest desires. As they pawed at each other, Sirius could feel tinges of rage and sadness, all of the things that the other likely kept deep within the bowels of their being and could never say. That they would most certainly not say to each other because they were only strangers. Or because wizards were repressed, especially those who dabbled in more masculine entanglements. But even in their anonymity, forced or not, an understanding burned through the pretence of apartness, growing as they divested each other frantically of their clothes.
With the last of their underthings, Sirius took a moment to catch his breath and admire the formidable lover in front of him, which caused his breath to hitch once more.
Sirius knew that the years of living off worm-infested gruel and the occasional bruised apple had left him looking emaciated. The muscles he had formed through combat and even further in the past, Quidditch, were long gone, replaced by a prominent skeletal structure, which seemed to burst through his skin and crepitated while he walked. His posture was no longer proud but one of a shrunken man, aged well beyond the years he purported to be.
He had been living a half-life. A cursed life. And it showed.
By contrast, what made Sirius audibly gasp into the man’s mouth was their differences. The golden god’s clothes had certainly not done him any favours. The bagginess hid his figure away, leading a casual bystander to believe that all that was underneath the clothes was lankiness. However, in his unfiltered form, Sirius found (and sucked and licked) well-worn muscles. The grooves were not the result of anything mundane such as exercise or sport but through brutal battles. Asoldier whose fighting never stopped with the end of the war. Much like the rudimentary attempts to glamour the scars on his face, the man had attempted to hide the battle scars which littered his body, which Sirius thought was a shame, given how perfectly they cut up the thick trunk of his body.
But what stole Sirius’ breath was the golden shimmer that seemed to stick to the man's face continued in the sinew of his well-built body.
Gold.
That was his name.
No other name would fit.
Sirius made his way down Gold’s body, running the length of his tongue across his collarbone before nipping at the spot at the bottom of his neck that would make weaker men keen. Sirius stifled a giddy chuckle when he was rewarded with the deep rumble of a groan. As he laved his tongue on the spot he had just abused, Sirius could have sworn he heard a whine. Forcing himself not to think about the similarities between Gold and the former love of his life, Sirius smirked at the thought of his prodigious skill in satisfying a male lover being preserved before moving his way down to the man’schest.
Peppering kisses in the thatches of hair, Sirius took in the scent that was housed amongst the strands. It was like his ownpersonal Amortentia, clinging to Gold as if he had doused himself in the scent Sirius could not deny.
He navigated his way to the nipple, taking the erect point into his mouth between his teeth. A sharp intake of breath underneath Sirius’ lips led him to suckle it instead, using his tongue and lips to smooth the delicious hurt he was enacting. With his other hand, he used his calloused fingers to pluck the other nipple to a point before beginning the process again. Gold shuddered, the vibrations of which tickled Sirius, leading to a shudder of his own. Finally, when Sirius had worked him into an undeniable frenzy, Gold grabbed him by the shoulders. Sirius stopped for a moment, worried that the man wanted him to stop and cast a cursory glance up at the man. He appeared to be gathering his wits. Instead of pulling him up, Gold pushed him down. Sirius’ eyes took in the perfect trail of hair until his line of sight was at Gold’s member.
Goldmember indeed.
It was standing to attention already, bobbing as if inviting Sirius to tongue the thick, green veins sticking out prominently as if coursing with the blood rushing down south. The virility easily would have impressed Sirius had it not been for the form, which commanded attention. Gold’s cock was long, well above the man’s belly button but it was also thick. A girth that could break a man, which left Sirius’ mouth watering at the prospect of touching it, being filled by it, in any orifice of Gold’s choosing. It carried that same gold shimmer. If Sirius had not been so much as told that the man was a wizard, he would have thought that Gold and all of his very impressive parts were the embodiment of magic itself.
Sirius licked his lips if only to stave off the saliva that was pooling in his mouth at the thought of meeting such perfection after so long.
He grasped the cock before shooting a questioning look up at the man who looked to be either having a conniption or was in the process of melting. Either way, Gold managed a nod as he swallowed. Sirius grinned, running his fist along thelength of it, relishing in how much it felt like velvet. The man groaned again, barely managing to hide the whine at being teased. Sirius did not mind. He wanted his lover vocal. To hear every sound that escaped him when his mental faculties failed him.
Casting one last glance up, he dived into the task, something that had been building since the first thing Gold had muttered at him that evening. It was an angry-looking thing, pulsing with need and Sirius relished in the fact that he would get to soothe it with his tongue. He took the tip into his mouth, running his tongue over the head and periodically resting the flat of it over the valley caused by the man’s throbbing urethra. He was met with a considerable bead of precum, which left Sirius’ tongue coated in a heavenly, almost-familiar taste that Sirius could not place but was desperate to name.
When the man dug his nails into his shoulder in warning, Sirius grinned wickedly before taking one of the meatiest paws he had ever felt on his person and placing it in his hair. Gold obliged easily as if this was a well-practised routine with the two. Having sorted out his not-so-secret hair-pulling kink, Sirius proceeded to steel himself for what was to come next. He relaxed his throat as he took more in, guiding the prick of his dreams past his teeth and down his throat. It was slow going as Sirius worked his way up and down, hollowing his cheeks as much as he could when his mouth was filled to the rafters with cock but Circe’s tits was it worth it.
Gold apparently thought so too, his half-lidded eyes closing more often than not as he grasped Sirius’ hair firmly at the roots. He had stopped trying to hide his visceral pleasure and began moaning wantonly with every pull of suction.
At one point, Gold began muttering, almost incoherently to the untrained – well, non-canine – ear.
“Don’t – don’t you…. Oh GODS… don’t you fucking stop” was the fallback yammering as Sirius used the flat on his tongue to run up the veiny underside.
Sirius managed to swallow the verifiable monster of a cock when he heard something that inspired terror, ice filling his veins as though he was surrounded by Dementors once more.
“Si – Siri – oh my – oh my god, Sirius!” Gold moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as he began to fuck Sirius’throat with gentle rocks of his hips.
Sirius stopped, wrenching himself off the task that had his own prick leaking like a tap.
“What – What did you just say?” He managed to whisper hoarsely, his vocal cords stretched and uncooperative.
Gold was in a haze of ecstasy, likely about to come at any second, and did not register what was going on until his eyes locked with Sirius’.
“What?” He breathed out as if he had not called Sirius by his name just moments before.
Sirius cleared his throat, hoping that he could manage more than a whisper this time “What did you say? What did you just call me?”.
Gold’s eyes widened as if he was coming back to himself.
“I- I said serious – seriously good” Gold babbled, his cheeks turning a furious fuchsia colour.
Sirius revelled in the colour he inspired in the man but he could not ignore the lone voice deep within his subconscious. Its hackles were raised, screaming at him to get out and run before the ruse was up. Before he could hightail out of there, manners be damned, Sirius looked at his reflection in the window behind Gold. There was that glorious arse. The one Sirius has been determined to plunder next. Looking beyond that, he did a quick scan of his features. His eyes were running and his mouth was drooling. His hair was mussed but the glamours had held in place. He still looked like Muggle Regulus. Distant enough to make Gold’s harried explanation plausible. Sirius was never more grateful for having paid attention in his Transfiguration and Charms lessons.
Sirius shook himself out of what was no doubt, an extremely long pause. He looked back up at the man who looked closer to abject horror than coming down his throat. He grinned at him mischievously.
“Turn around” he whispered, finally gaining command of his abused vocal cords.
Relief washed over Gold’s features as he turned around slowly, grasping the edge of the lounge before him and bending at the hips.
No, lover, the night is not over yet.
Gold’s arse was truly a state of affairs.
Plump and sitting high amongst a background of thighs that could suffocate a man in the right context, his cheeks were bisected by a prominent cleft that did little to stop the fleshy domes from drawing back together like those Muggle magnets he poured over. Sirius wanted to die there, tongue first.
“Scourgify” Sirius whispered, waving his hand right above where he imagined the puckering began. He felt Gold shiver, all too familiar with the prickling sensation that came with the spell in such an intimate area.
Sirius reached up and caressed the man’s hands. Gold’s head dropped forward as if he knew what was coming. Sirius was determined to make sure that his paramour of the night did not know what hit him. He was going to make Gold melt and plead, before plunging into him.
“Pull yourself apart” he whispered to the seam that housed all of his current fantasies “Or it’s a sticking charm. Your choice”
Gold’s left knee buckled slightly, forced under the weight of what was to come, which left Sirius grinning wolfishly. Gold must have felt the huff of air against his crease because he stood taller, steeling himself. After a long moment, he grasped those cheeks that went on for days, waiting for the wicked things Sirius was about to do with his tongue.
Sirius knew there would be no clearer sign from the opaque man so as soon as he saw the puckered hole in all its glory, he jutted his chin forward, latching onto the puckered entrance.
The effect on his nerve endings must have been immediate because Gold’s entire person shook with the groan that erupted from him almost right away. The corners of Sirius’ lips curled smugly as he worked his way around the hole captivatingall of his attention. He continued in teasing circles, the tip of his tongue catching on the nerve-filled ridges as he went anywhere but in.
Finally, when the man’s vocalisations took on a whining quality, Sirius relented, breaching Gold for the first time. A sweet symphony burst forth from the man, stoking something deep within Sirius that he had not experienced for a long time. Longer than his stay in Azkaban even.
“Please” Gold muttered hoarsely, his vocal cords straining “P-Please, just do it”
It was almost time but he needed to work the man further, despite how much he was now begging. No matter how pretty he sounded.
Sirius shook his head within the cleft and wordlessly summoned oil at his fingertips, rubbing all the places his mouth had been. Gold’s head fell backwards, almost toppling both of them as he collapsed in need. It would not take long.
Finally, Sirius breached him again. Sirius’ fingers were long and thick, much more than his tongue could ever hope to be. As such, the tunnel was tight against him and he had to fight to get to his destination. When he finally reached the spongey tissue forming Gold’s prostate, he knew that his cock would thrive here, even if they had to go slow.
“Merlin’s – fucking – saggy – ballsack ” Gold bit out, gripping his cheeks until all of the affected skin turned white.
Time for another.
Eventually, it took three of Sirius’ fingers until he was reassured that the man could take him and at that point, the man was a puddle, sweating profusely, moaning wantonly.
Sirius’ gripped his leaking cock. It was furious with his own need, begging for attention. He had been struggling to form his own thoughts, let alone focus enough to express them.
“Are you ready for me, Moon-“ he began before he stopped in shock, unprepared for where his stream of consciousness had landed him. He could not think of him. Not now . Not ever again.
“What…” whispered Gold, obviously catching onto Sirius’ mistake.
Sirius got off his haunches, chastising himself wordlessly.
Get the fuck out of your own head man . Gold’s not Moony.
Sirius winced at even thinking of the name. He quickly prayed to every deity he could think of, magical and Muggle thathe could smooth this over.
“I said” Sirius began, clearing his throat “Are you ready, Mon Amour?”.
Yes. Mon Amour was safe. He had used that on all of his lovers, especially the anonymous male lovers he pretended he did not fancy.
“Yes,” Gold said gruffly with a shake of his head.
Sirius did not stop to think about whatever he had said that would have made the man in front of him freeze. Instead, he rested the tip of his weeping cock onto the glorious hole that had left his jaw and fingers sore from exertion.
“Right,” Sirius replied, breaching slowly as he sank in. Gold would need it.
Except Gold did not. The wizard took a practised breath in, adjusting to the length and girth almost immediately as Sirius bent him over the well-worn lounge further. Still, Sirius was a gentleman, despite his years as a decrepit creature in the darkest of places, so he let him adjust.
Almost immediately, the man tapped his hip, looking back at him with those mesmerising gold eyes.
“You can move,” he said sternly.
Sirius huffed a laugh.
“That’s not something I’ve heard often” Sirius said, a self-important smirk on his lips.
“And something tells me that you haven’t done this often enough with the right person” Gold said back, with a smirk. Almost as if he was not packed to the rafters with a sizeable cock.
Sirius was rocking back and forth lazily, hinting at hitting that gorgeously pliant prostate. However, as Gold’s eyes adopted a hardened edge and the man pushed back on him, Sirius knew a challenge when he saw one. He simplyanswered with a smirk of his own. If Gold did not want romance, to be caressed and pulled apart at the seams slowly, that was fine by Sirius. It was a shame though, because Sirius has been excited to admire how beautiful it would look – his cock disappearing into this specimen of a man.
Sirius picked up his pace. Still gentle by all reputable standards but quickly giving in to a pushing pace. Every stroke hit a spot that had Gold cracking his neck, furrowing his brows and muttering to himself. Sirius admired how responsive Goldwas, losing himself and his faculties with how deeply Sirius was going.
It was not like Sirius was any better. He gripped Gold with such a force, that he was sure that he would leave bruises that even the best of glamours could not remove completely. As he began to thrust erratically, he realised in the haze of his incoherent swearing and absolute bliss that his command of the right angle was slipping away from him. He slid his hands up, aided by the profuse sweat coming off the man and gripped him around the shoulder. Instead of hunching over like Gold had been forced to, he pulled Gold up so that his wide back was against Sirius’ front. If his physique had been in better form, they might have been evenly matched. No mind though, the warmth drove the chills from Sirius’ bones as he jabbed into him, melting away any lingering anxiety.
Finally, the heat he had been feeling in low whispers began to concentrate at the bottom of his spine, his balls retracting. Desperately, Sirius thought of gripping his cock to stave off the inevitable. That was until Gold reached his hand over to Sirius’ hip.
“Come in me. Breed me” Gold pleaded, his head resting back on Sirius’ shoulder.
Something lit up in Sirius. Something animalistic that he only experienced when he was in his Padfoot form. Instead of thoughts of how he would get his lover to the place he needed them to be, all of his thoughts went to a dormant side of his brain. He needed to dominate him. To claim him.
Sirius let go of his cock and chased the feeling his body was begging him to rush after. He grasped Gold’s trunk and fucked the ever-living shit out of him, thrusting upwards at a pace he did not know he had in him anymore. The burning sensation was back, spreading like Fiendfyre, uncontrollable and positively wild. As it ripped and roared, so did Sirius, who barely registered he was even making any sound as flashes of white filled his field of vision. Finally, with a deep yell, he thrust one last time, painting Gold’s insides with come that had been lying in wait for over a decade.
Gods, there was a lot of cum he thought absently as he let his head rest on the back of Gold’s neck.
After a moment, he stirred from his sated state, nuzzling the prickles of short hairs at the nape of Gold’s neck.
“Did you -?” He mumbled.
Gold chuckled, tightening on Sirius’ shrinking cock.
“Now it’s my turn,” Gold said clearly as if he had not been moaning like a highly paid whore just moments ago.
Sirius huffed a laugh of his own. It was not like he had never been topped. When one was surrounded by purebloods who insisted that they were most certainly not gay and therefore could not bottom on principle, one was not left with many choices. No matter that he had been one of those purebloods once upon a time. However, having grown to the height that he had, and having cultivated the menacing reputation he had, it had been a rare occasion indeed that he had been propositioned like this. Thinking back on it, even when throughout Sirius’ last real relationship with him, their lovemaking had been so exploratory and he had been so meek that Sirius had never even bothered to check whether he wanted to do anything but be dominated.
Gold had no such coyness, rounding on Sirius and pushing him into the lounge that he had been using as his personal pommel horse for the last Gods knew how long.
“I don’t think I have it in me for another,” Sirius said evasively, hoping to avoid the subject. Mainly because he thought his cock might die from overexposure but also because he was not sure how to operate in such an evenly-matched dynamic.
Gold raised his eyebrow archly, the corners of his lips lifting in amusement.
“I think you have another one or two left in you,” the man said, openly laughing when Sirius’ eyes widened to a comical level.
Gold grasped Sirius’ thighs before picking him up and carrying him over to a repurposed Architect’s table. Not letting go, the angle allowed Gold to place Sirius’ now shaking thighs onto Gold’s hips, leaving Sirius open for whatever the man had planned next.
Looking down, Sirius could see that the magnificent cock was still as angry as ever, on the precipice of bursting. However, the man looked completely in control. As though he had trained for this very moment for all the years Sirius had been away.
Gold placed two of his veiny, thick fingers in his mouth and sucked, which caused Sirius, in his discombobulated state, to roll his eyes back into his head. It was one thing that the man was insanely attractive while his perfect arse bounced at the force Sirius attacked him but to know that he could be his personal vacuum was enough to harden Sirius once more. His cock feebly protested. However, being an extension of him, it reluctantly swelled again, knowing the journey they were about to embark on would be worth it.
Gold lapped at his fingers before sucking again and with every pull of those cherubic lips, Sirius felt as though he was sucking on his soul. The anticipation building within him had the blood that was heading south screaming through his veins on the way down.
Finally, Gold put him out of his misery, placing the sopping wet fingers at the long-forgotten entrance. Sirius braced himself for the wandless, wordless burn of a scourgify but it appeared that the man simply did not give a fuck. He wanted to sample him in all his natural glory. Mortified, Sirius thanked Merlin and Morgana that he had applied cursory charms to scrub himself clean before he even walked into the abysmal club that night.
Teasing him just as he had been teased, Gold ran his fingers repeatedly along the rim, extending out to make sure that Sirius felt every sensation, which left Sirius moaning. At one point, he began begging to be filled, a complete contrast to his position mere minutes before.
Gold was fucking good . Sirius had to give him that.
By the time Sirius was all but weeping from want, Gold inserted a finger. There was a slight pinch, immediately eased by a rush of lubricant as the finger went deeper. Mercifully, he went slow, cautious as to how Sirius would react but not slow enough not to reach his prostate quickly. As soon as the pad of Gold’s forefinger stroked his prostate, Sirius yelped, which almost immediately turned into an extended moan.
And the moaning did not stop.
Not with the second finger.
Or when Gold stretched him by scissoring him.
Or the third finger to accommodate his girthy member, which was leaking down Sirius’ thigh to match the come coming out in rivulets out of Gold’s arse.
It was messy and a bit fucked and Sirius was fucking gagging to be filled before his dick went on permanent strike again. And he said as much as Gold’s cock bobbed at his thigh for the umpteenth time.
“Fuckinggggg helllll” Sirius moaned with his head thrown back “Fuck me. Please”.
Gold huffed a laugh.
“Well, when you beg so well” Gold said simply before thrusting the prick, which would occupy his thoughts til the end of time, into him without any further preamble.
“Fuck. You are so fucking tight” Gold gritted through his teeth as Sirius desperately tried to breathe through his nostrils.
“He-Yu-“ Sirius attempted to say as he felt Gold’s member thickening within him. He was chasing adjustment but it was always just out of reach as Gold pushed more of himself within the tight crevice.
Gold was looking pained, shaking with the need to move and despite the pain only starting to subside, Sirius nodded his assent. He was a glutton for punishment after all.
Gold blew out a breath, mercifully adjusting Sirius so that he was more comfortable in a deep-seated understanding of his needs. Sirius looked up at him with eyes he only then realised were wet, gratitude emanating out of his pores. He nodded at him once more, desperate for more, all that Gold could give him, really.
Gold began to move, drawing a simultaneous moan from both of them. They smiled at each other, Sirius suddenly grateful for the maturity of the union. Before Azkaban, his greatest fear had been ageing. He had been Peter Pan, terrified of growing up and facing what he imagined would be incontrovertible boredom, lost passion and depleted stamina. But this was different. It was knowledge and finesse that came with practice. Adjustment that came without a dissertation. It bloomed with roots taking hold instead of the buoyancy and inevitable floating in lack of surety – about oneself and of the other. It was all that he never knew he could hope for and a slight sadness gripped him that he never got to grow into this with his person .
A particularly hard thrust right at Sirius’ prostate drew him out of the deluge and he revelled in the feeling of it. He genuinely began to enjoy himself because Merlin Alive , Gold really knew what he was doing.
Sirius began to meet him pound for pound, their skin clashing against one another as Gold drew Sirius' leg to his shoulder, reaching even deeper within him. Sirius might have thought that he was done for the night but this cock was convincing him otherwise.
Just as Sirius’ mind began to scramble, dark spots littering his vision in a euphoric haze, Gold grabbed Sirius’ staff, running his wand-calloused hand down the length of it. Running smooth strokes in time with his earth-shattering pace lower down, Sirius’ breathing began to splutter. He was choking on air as if he was choking on Gold’s cock all over again.
“Ple-Please” Sirius managed, his cock leaking as his hands gripped the edge of the table beneath him. Any more and both he and the wood would be hacked apart.
Nodding, Gold moved his other hand from Sirius’ thigh to the table behind Sirius’ head for support. He began to hammer down in earnest, his body rigid with the chase of his own release. Finally, as Sirius’ abused prostate was hit for - wellSirius had lost count – the dark spots began to white out once more. Shaking, the all too familiar feeling of burning seized Sirius’ lower spine. However, unlike the other conquests where it simply erupted at the end of his cock, the burn washed over him in waves, which continued long after he came with a yelp.
Gold followed him soon after, brutally punching through the waves as he came with a shout of his own, finally concluding a build-up that had begun in a desolate parking lot in downtown Glasgow. He slumped over Sirius, bending him at the knees as his sweaty forehead settled at Sirius’ collarbone. Even as his dick shrunk within Sirius, the two did not move, Sirius gathering him to prolong the moment.
Sirius prepared himself for the inevitable awkwardness of making an excuse to leave. His glamours would last but he could not afford to see the daylight. Not when the weight of his situation pressed down on him without abandon.
Gold had other ideas. Pulling out with a groan, he scooped Sirius’ lithe form up and carried him over to the bed across the room. Using one arm, he ripped the patchwork duvet halfway and placed Sirius down reverently before sidling up next to him.
For a while, they stared up at the ceiling. Sirius’ mind raced with what had just happened. It was mind-blowing sex to be sure but it felt more significant. A homecoming. To himself, as a human being. Or possibly more than that. He could not ponder on it more as sleep claimed him.
It was the most solid sleep that Sirius had since the Wizarding War had started, near-constant paranoia often making it impossible to settle down in human form.
He was roused awake by a muscled arm banded around his middle and a well-chiselled inferno at his back. Barely able to open his eyes, he could feel the early morning sun filtering through the window as it beamed down on his face. Instead of facing it and the stark situation he found himself in, he burrowed his arse further into the hard length that was attempting to find entrance through his sore cleft.
“ R emy ” he mumbled contentedly without thinking. Just as his mind caught up with his mouth, he felt Gold freeze. With realisation dawning on him, he noted the violent reactions from each of them to his mortifying error.
Eyes now wide awake and no sign of them returning to their natural, half-lidded state, he turned slowly to chance a glance at his companion of sorts. He took in Gold’s pale countenance and the fact that his eyes were wide open eyes. Though the man was attempting to school his expression into a lazy grin, Sirius noticed that it seemed too forceful for the casual air he was projecting.
Sirius frowned, casting his gaze down before clearing his throat, steeling himself to look back up at the man once more.
“Well, I better be going,” he said, trying to keep his longing from his tone.
“You- You don’t have to,” said Gold gently, moving to brush his hand through Sirius' hair but thinking better of it “I don’thave to go back yet. I have the weekend off”
“No" Sirius insisted before softening his tone "I have somewhere I need to be myself”
He stretched before throwing the duvet off himself, already mourning the warmth he might never see again.
No, finally killing Peter would be worth living out his days in Azkaban.
Despite his mind drifting back, Sirius did not miss how Gold catalogued his form and felt a wave of embarrassment. If only this magnificent man could have seen him in his glory days. Turning towards the balance of the room, he wordlessly summoned his clothes, which rushed towards him fervently. Gold continued to watch him as he hurriedly buttoned his shirt while dancing into his pants.
“If you’re sure” Gold whispered, his melancholy shining through.
Sirius smiled down at him, stepping forward to take Gold’s face into his palm reassuringly.
“I have to be, for both of us,” he said in a small voice before pulling away to slip into his boots.
Gold said nothing, pulling a cigarette from his pack on the side table and lighting one. With the crackle of the first pull, he leaned back against the headboard, surveying Sirius.
Sirius should have walked away at this point, retaining their anonymity and leaving Gold behind. He would have his soreness and the memories to remind him for years to come. However, something pushed him to lock eyes with him once more. They were less golden now, as the magic trickled away.
“I never got your name...” Sirius trailed off, hand now on the edge of the bed.
Gold paused as if he had never been asked the question before. He scrambled for an answer before his calm demeanour washed over him once more.
“Romy,” he said resolutely, even though they both knew it was a lie “Romulus”.
Sirius laughed at the irony. He had now collected the set.
Gold – er, Romy, raised an eyebrow.
“Something funny?” He said archly.
“Nothing at all” Sirius said through his laughter “Just thinking of Rome”.
Romy blanched at that. Maybe no one had made the connection between his name and the founders of Rome or their origins, suckling at the teet of a She-Wolf. Sirius gave him a small smile and made his way to the door. Just as he reached the handle, he heard Romy call out.
“What’s yours- I mean, what’s your name?”
Sirius turned back, smiling mischievously.
“Canopus” he said “It’s the second brightest star in the sky after –“
“Sirius” Romy completed, connecting too many dots for Sirius’ liking.
With that, Sirius turned the handle and stepped into the unknown. He had a rat to exterminate.