One Step Ahead Part II | Sirius Black

Chapter 215

His smile curves like her scar, and his touch grows firmer. Slow, languid kisses that ease her thoughts of death and replace them with gratitude for life. Lower, he presses an open mouthed kiss to her collar bone, his words a whisper of love, "Lets get you cleaned up."

"Stay with me?"

It sounds smaller than she would like, a rare glimpse of something other than serene passiveness. Fear. Hurt. Mourning. Longing. 

"You think I'd pass up a free show?" She smiles at the way he scoffs, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her up from where she'd been sitting on the lid of the toilet. "Not bloody likely, Inferi. Not after a day like today."

Sirius Black can add charm to his new list of magical abilities. She wouldn't tell him, he would just argue she was wrong. His charm, his humor, it chases away the last of the smoke that lingers in her mind. Real magic. Magic she never had. 

"Let me see those eyes, Inferi."

She slowly opens her eyes to the world, to the grey. And Sirius smiles, whispering, "Atta girl."

Gwen smiles too, tired but real. A laugh escapes her at the low whistle he makes when her shirt comes off over her head, her cheeks flushing at how masculine he looks leaned up against the sink watching her strip out of her bra. He leans over to turn on the shower, and Gwen slowly pushes her trousers and knickers off in one go. She quietly murmurs a contraceptive charm when his back is turned, eager for a chance to feel good. She wanted to feel anything other than fear, sadness. She wanted to feel with him. 

He turns and peers down at her, a satisfied look on his face when she frees him of his shirt, pulls at his belt until it slides free from his hips. She smiles to herself, kneeling to push his jeans and briefs off. She pauses to kiss his hip, another laugh escaping her when he hurriedly hauls her to her feet, "Absolutely not, Whitlock. We'll be finished before we're even started."

Her laughter grows when hot water blinds her, her lips covered by soft smiling ones. Her body clings to his, luxuriating in the slickness of the taut skin stretched over his muscles. Sirius grunts, one hand leaving her to press up against the wall. 

"What'll you call me?" It comes out in a gasp, her mind as foggy as the bathroom is growing. Sirius is devouring her, sucking on the skin of her neck until the only mark she thinks about will be a bruise crafted by lips and teeth and tongue. Her hips rut into his, head leaning back against the cool wall of the shower. Sirius wraps her wet hair around his fist, desperate to be close. To hold, to touch, to taste. Her mouth falls open when he grind his hips against hers, hitting and teasing her where she needs him so badly she aches. 

"What do you mean?" His words are gruff, a husky mumble that teases her brain into a tailspin. She slides her hands lower, runs her tongue over his jaw just as her fingers close around his member. He's hot, heavy in her hand. So sexy that it hurts. The groan that leaves him is heart wrenchingly beautiful, his mouth returning to hers. Water slips between them, warming their skin and wetting their mouths. 

He tastes like safety, security. He can be strong for her for now, and she gladly shares the burden. Seeing him in the smoke filled village, seeing him unharmed. Seeing him frantic to find her. It had changed her, shifted around the pieces of her heart in a way that made her nervous and excited. In a way that had her second guessing her urges to fight, and focusing on the thoughts of what she may look like someday balancing a child with unruly dark hair and grey eyes on one hip. He made her think of more. Of swimming amongst dreams and constellations, in waters with stars that would decorate their bodies like the sweat that had beaded on their skin earlier. 

"When I'm not Whitlock anymore," Gwen whispers, a moan tearing from her throat when Sirius fingers trace a line down her stomach until he delves into her heat, curling two fingers shallowly inside of her. Her grip on him falters, and he grabs onto her wrist with his free hand, wrenching her arm up to his lips so he can press a kiss to the symbol that unifies them inked across her skin. She feels it, tingling in her scalp, curling her toes. His lips trace her tattoo and she struggles against his grip, fighting to place her palm over the very same symbol that graces his chest. He chuckles, forcing her arm up higher and pressing his chest against hers. Gwen cries out, eyes clenching shut when his fingers thrust deeper, his thumb stroking over the neediest part of her so slowly.

"Mon ange," He rasps in her ear, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Gwen circles her hips on his hand, the pleasure nearly painful. He pulls his fingers away, leaving her empty and whining for more. "Mon chaton, mon étoile. When you aren't Whitlock anymore..."

He trails off, and something far better than his fingers teases her opening. She fights his grip on her wrist, her hands flexing up above her head. She needed this. She needed it. And he knew. Merlin, he always knew exactly what to give her. Soft, sweet. Steamy, rough. Sirius Black gave her everything, mind, body and soul. And he celebrated her for taking, instead of making her feel selfish for it. 

He chuckles lowly at her, and she can only imagine what she looks like. She feels the flush on her chest, the strain of her limbs as she toes the line between need and climax. Her eyes open lazily, staring at his own half lidded gaze when he says, "I'll call you ma femme."

Her jaw slackens in a voiceless cry when Sirius thrusts hard into her, her breathing stuttering and vision blooming white. He groans loudly, the sound bringing her back down from the clouds of orgasm and rolling into her like waves. His mouth finds hers, sucking on her lower lip until it stings. His movements are shallow, slow thrusts that build up that delicious feeling in her lower abdomen. He whispers throatily, earning another soft cry from her burning lungs, "Ma femme. Tu me fais me sentir si bien. J'a hâte de te baiser à fond." [My wife. You make me feel so good. I cant wait to fuck you good.]

"Sirius," She gasps, his hands freeing her wrists in favor of grabbing her legs and hoisting them high up on his hips. She claws at his back, pulling him closer between her thighs and whimpering when he refuses to stroke harder into her. "Please,"

He chuckles breathily, eyes glassy with lust and Gwen arches into him, realizes that he needs this too, that drawing this out is chasing away his own thoughts of war and death. She slides her lips down his neck, glides her teeth over his shoulder and bites gently, playfully. Her hips rock up into his and he moans quietly in her ear, nearly pushing her over the edge again. Finally he drives into her, hard and fast and it feels so good, so perfect that she nearly weeps. 

"Again," He mutters huskily, "We're not stopping until you come again."

Her bones are like liquid fire, her hips stretching to fit him closer. She wants him closer, wants him hot and wild and rough. His fingers dimple the skin of her waist, and a part of her hopes it bruises too, like the love bites on her throat and chest. His fingers slip down to stroke her hard, pressing against her nerves until her limbs shake and her body twists in attempt to get further away and closer at the same time. His name spills from her lips in a jumbled mess when he drives her over the edge once again, squirming and shaking and pleading. It feels so good, it feels like heaven. His lips taste like tomorrow and the day after and years upon years where life will glow with love and happiness, like eyes that are grey and clear and full of emotions that poets don't even have words to describe. 

Sirius's shoulders shake and Gwen curls around him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as his thrusts grow slower and messier. He sighs, low and deep. His wet hair sticks to the side of her face and she clings to him harder, feels him more when he stills and releases with a whisper of her name. 

Their chests rise and fall together rapidly, the water cool against their steaming skin. Gwen smirks slightly against the curve of his shoulder, her eyes clenching shut when a laugh starts as a low rumble in his chest. 

"Inferi," He mutters, "My brilliant, mystery being. I think I'll keep you."

She leans back, strokes the ink from his eyes and savors the clear water sparkling on his eyelashes like stars. 

If things could just stay this way for a while, maybe there wouldn't be more hurt. 

"I'd like that."

{Jeez sirius is killing me. I didn't edit so...hopefully no super weird mistakes! Be sure to check out my new story if you like George Weasley!}