Consequences Of The Heart.

Chapter 31: Lust!

Warning: Light smut

"What even is the point of this?" 

"Well, the Firewhisky and Buttereer was already bought so we thought, why not just have the afterparty anyway? I mean why let all this good alcohol go to waste, so here we are!" James went into a tipsy explanation of the party. The room was not particularly decorated but instead the lights were dimmed to accommodate for the thick and sweaty atmosphere and an inaccurate version of a disco ball had been conjured and was currently hanging loftily. There were random emitters of scarlet and gold themed light situated along the corners of the room. The vibrations emerging crawled under the skin and weaved themselves through the tiny hairs on my stiff arm leaving them hung in antici....pation. My feelings toward goosebumps were misinterpreted as appreciated but truth is, I hate them! You never know when or where they might strike or even why. They were useless. The bass thumped in synchronisation with my barely beating heart but alas, it wasn't enough motivation to participate in the pointless festivities. The sofas and armchairs alike were pushed against several different walls in the attempt of creating a free space. In any case, their attempts were proved successful, looking as there were Gryffindors going wild on the impromptu dance floor, slobbering over each other regardless of gender, sexual orientation, blood status and most importantly, hygiene. The coffee table was found at the immediate entrance of the portrait hole and held on top of it; several bottles of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer stood with hundreds of cups, most already half-filled with alcohol that was left unattended and was positively swarming with disease but others were tipped over and turned upside down, wetting the table dripping down onto the previously clean carpeted floor. The smell of ethanol clung tightly to the air, thick in the loud and partying ambiance, waiting to be disrupted by the swerving dance monkeys. 

I went up to the common rooms to deposit my school backpack, making sure all of my books and parchment were safe and didn't get wet. Then I returned to the dirty haven of sweet self expression. Lily had already stripped of her outer layer of robes and had continued her rather inappropriate movements in the heart of the small crowd.

I plopped myself down on a pushed loveseat with a sip of Butterbeer. It was the drink with the smallest percentage of alcohol and I couldn't bear being hungover and disrupting my peaceful weekend of eating. Just imagine not being able to eat chocolate for a whole day because of headaches: unimaginable. I crossed my legs against the plush cushions and slowly sipped my drink, silently watching the grinding and careless gyrating that made me want to puke. 

I set down the cup at the notion of feeling queasy, when Sirius came closer. "Aren't you going to drink something with a little more...punch?" He emphasized the last word in a hidden blanket of forcefulness. When the rest of the Marauders -and Lily- caught wind of Sirius' screams over the volume, they came rushing over. 

"Come on Mooonnyyy!!! Just a few cups!" James had pitched his similar opinion into the coaxing conversation. Lily too had stopped her intoxicated twirling to include herself willingly into the talk. Peter too had been drawn to the scene like a moth to three incredibly drunk flames. Their persuasion attempts were futile because alcohol had a dangerous effect on me and it was one that I do not want to revisit after the one REALLY bad night I had to endure. It was hell on Earth, one that even Merlin himself couldn't survive. So no, I could not take another night and that means no drinking, no matter how much Sirius begged, with his little pouting lips that made him look like a cute little puppy that wanted snacks but no matter what, I was not going to give in to my undying love for Sirius. Maybe.

But his silver eyes pushed together causing his eyeballs to swirl with the tiny sparkles like shimmering glitter and molten diamond and with his furrowed brows forced together in the most adorable crease. Below were his perfectly moulded, luscious lips that pressed together set in silicon sublimity. Merlin, this boy was going to be the death of me. He was my only weakness.

"Maybe just one." 

I was handed a new cup of cold Firewhiskey, the irony only occurring to me in hindsight. As I sipped the nostalgic familiarity, it burned down my throat at a menacing pace, leaving a spicy aftertaste with a few stingy undertones. I felt as each drop travelled through my body, warming my body and easing the goosebumps. I forgot it did that. I wanted more, because if there was one thing I hate more than hangovers, it's goosebumps, the cantankerous evils. 

With just a simple cups of Firewhisky, the room began to spin and the fluorescent swirls blinded the dull hues with colour. The boundaries of existence were pushed to its limits as the alcohol sweats rolled down each strand of my hair. What was left of my contorted brain twisted and turned inside my head to the deliberately distorted melody of The Hobgoblins. I had no idea what was going on, BUT I WAS LOVING IT! 

But then abruptly, I felt another body in addition to Lily come up close and began rubbing -what I desperately hoped was not their genitalia- all over me. I looked up, my damp hair flipping to the back of my neck only to catch sight of the stuff of nightmares: my ex-boyfriend. 

And then the lines of life were all blurred, except for a few future memories.

I remember being pulled back by soft hands, away from the intensity and disturbance and in the opposite direction to my inevitable destiny. I tripped over the bare cement edges, sloppily self-thrown on the side, still having a radiating stranger wrapped to my body, clinging to me like I was a drug. 

The next thing I remember is throwing someone down onto my four-poster bed, the dominance of the werewolf within me began to show and I wasted no time in making sure the only layers between us were the sheets of lust. 

Then, I remember running my fingers over the supple yet toned chest of my prey. I run my tongue down his heated abdomen and bit down aggressively on his hard and attractive nipples. He worked out. I shuddered at the sensation; it was only my second time and a conscience -or in the bare minimum, control over my actions- was the farthest thing on my mind. 

I remember his delicious moans as they vibrated through my willing skin.

I remember stretching out his hair, pulling it for dear life as I rocked my hips back and forth to the pre-conceived rhythms in my head.

I remember gently caressing his soft skin and kneading it all the same as I pounded mercilessly.

And finally, I remember laying in the very same bed, the drowsiness and exhaustion of the sin preparing to consume my being. My hand subconsciously rubbing through the sticky substance in abundance on my sweaty chest, pulling over my duvet.

And the rest is a lascivious history.

Word Count:- 1228

Love, Kale.