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Highly spin-off. Read for what it is, not what it might be...
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Alex heard footsteps hastening towards him. The sound of the boots was slightly softened... reminding him of the specially-designed SAS boots he'd been issed with once or twice. Soft enough to dampen sound and provide protection but tough enough to run over a board stuck full of nails.

That meant these were most likely professionals, and not just aliens with violent tendancies.

Shit.

Alex pressed his back to the wall and edged towards the corner, buckling his knees slightly to gather strength. At the last second, just as the tip of the first man's boot began to clear the edge before him, he struck.

One hand gripped the barrel of the assult rifle firmly, forcing it up and away from himself. His first glimpse of the men counted eight bodies, plus the one he was attacking - so he made sure the ninth man's body shielded his own. As his left hand continued to force the barrel skywards - he'd have only an instant to pull this off, before the larger opponent recovered from the suprise and forced it back down again - his right hand bit towards the arm supporting the weapon. It was a move he'd studied under Scorpia, but never had the opportunity to try out in the field.

It worked, though. With an audible cracking noise the man's arm dislocated at the elbow, the joint forced apart. Main grip thoroughly broken and weak with sudden pain and shock, the man didn't have a chance to resist as Alex's left hand forcefully ripped the gun from slack hands, shifted it into firing position - braced against the crook of his own elbow - and aimed it at the rest of the group.

As the man he'd assulted staggered backwards - only a bare handful of seconds had passed - Alex caught a glimpse of movement from the undamaged arm. Realising that the man was going for his handgun, Alex kicked out. He caught him on the knee, right next to the kneecap. It was a lucky shot, as the man had aready begun bending the other knee in order to drop under Alex's firing level.

Having his second knee kicked out from under him, however, sent him sprawling. Alex snatched the half-unholstered gun with his right hand, dropping to one knee in order to be able to press it into the base of the skull of the man on the ground and still be able to aim the assult rifle with his left.

He didn't know what he was going to do next, however... He'd acted on instinct, up till now. If the others made an aggresive move then he knew he'd open fire and deal with the consequences later. If they surrendered....

What would he do then? Lock them up somehow? Scorpia hadn't been a fan of non-lethal solutions to tense situations.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Someone roared.

Everybody froze. The man under his gun was breathing harshly in pain, but remained utterly still. The men before his rifle had instinctively ducked or dove to the side when he'd appeared, but he still had a good chance of hitting them all. The hallway wasn't wide, and with the gun not properly supported with both arms it was liable to jerk around quite a bit when fired.

The man who had issued the command took two steps forward. Alex centered the rifle on him, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest, his every sense sharp and almost surreal in it's awareness.

The man spoke, voice wary and tinged with disbelief.

"Cub?"

Alex blinked.

His eyes flicked from body to body, his hyper-awareness fading away to let reality slip back in. The bodies stopped being bodies and started being people. Four of whom he recognised.

He locked eyes with Wolf - the man who'd spoken.

"Shit..." He breathed, half in response to the situation and half in incredulous disbelief himself.

It was with a wry twist to his lips and a watchful look to the rest of the SAS men that he lowered the rifle and removed the gun - clicking the saftey on automatically.

"Wolf." He acknoledged back as he stepped up and away from the man on the ground - just in case the guy got any bright ideas to do with back-up guns or knives. As he did so, Wolf gestured quellingly to his comrades. The men lowered their own weapons - four of them clearly reluctant to and three of them with faces almost as astonished as Wolf's own.

"What are you doing here?" Both asked simultanously. Both frowned, Wolf more darkly than Alex.

"I wasn't informed that there was an agent in place." Wolf set out suspiciously. Alex half-shrugged.

"Yeah, they probably don't know. About half the jobs I've done for them were things I fell into unintentionally... and all of them were unofficial." He paused. "Uh... no offence, but.. Are you actually aware of what's going on in here?"

Wolf's frown darked into a scowl.

"Suspected terrorists instigating a.." He cut off as Alex shook his head almost immediately. The teen reversed his grip on the rifle, clicked it's saftey on too, then tossed it at Wolf. The man caught it in one hand.

"I don't have time, then." Alex explained simply. He turned slightly to the man who had pulled himself up by now and was cradling his arm. "Sorry." He apologised shortly, but with audible sincerity, before turning on his heel and heading back to the door-panel he'd been trying to open right before hearing them stampede towards him.

He heard a couple of voices behind him, as one man he didn't know hissd an incredulous "Agent?" to another and recieved a just-as-incredulous reply. Wolf's voice cut over them both, however.

"Cub!" The man's voice was hard and demanding. It was clearly not going to take being brushed off so easily. Unfortunately for it, Alex didn't have time to introduce them to their new sci-fi-ish reality.

"I can't tell you what's going on, Wolf, because you honestly wouldn't believe me." Alex turned slightly, looking at Wolf from over his shoulder. "MI6 has trouble believing me about every-day things like bombs and biological weapons so this.. is not something I should waste air on. I will tell you, though.. Everyone in this building except for your people, myselfe and my companion, are 100% enemy threats. Shoot first and ask questions later. I assure you, those questions will explain everything."

Alex kept walking, not stopping a second time when Wolf shouted after him again.

He rounded the corner and took the several steps down to the door.

The open door.

The open door which featured The Doctor leaning against the frame.

"Hi." The Doctor greeted at about half-cheerful as usual. He looked vaguely troubled by something. Had he seen the incident in the hallway? He knew the Doctor didn't like violence.. when it could be avoided. Would he be repulsed by him now? After a moment, Alex realised his eyes were locked onto the gun still held in his hand. Swallowing, he checked to make sure the saftey had remained on, then jammed it into the waistband of his jeans. He turned apprehensive eyes back up to The Doctor. The other man - the alien - was now studying his face just as intently as he had the gun, eyes still troubled.

"Friends of yours?" The Doctor asked, jerking his head back towards the audibly-arguing men. Alex nodded, then caught himself and shrugged, before hesitantly nodding again. The Doctor's lips twitched a little.

"Oh good. Well, we'd best be off, don't you think? Seeing as we only have about nine minutes left?"

Alex nodded and followed the Doctor back through he doorway, shutting it behind him just as footsteps rounded the corner. The Docter reached back and locked the door again with his sonic screwdriver. "Don't need that lot getting underfoot." He stated - apparently to nobody - then grabbed Alex by the arm and dragged him off into the labryinth passages.

"What is it.." Alex asked suspiciously, staring down at a bowl full of bright orange half-curled... things...

"Lunch." The doctor said cheerfully, taking the seat accross from Alex in the alien diner and digging in enthusiastically to his own meal.
"Edible lunch?" Alex checked, nowhere near gullible enough to just start munching. ...Was that a leg?
"Just pretend it's pasta." The Doctor advised with a grin, clearly enjoying the situation WAY too much. "Segmented pasta."

Alex gave him a flat glare.

"It's safe, I promise. Rose loved it..." The Doctor trailed off for a minute, eyes suddenly seeing something that wasn't there.. not anymore. He shook it off quickly, but the dark look of grief and loss that had flitted briefly over his face was chilling.
Alex picked up his spork-like object and did the bravest thing he'd done since signing up for MI6.

He took a bite.

"If I get sick later.." He warned.
The Doctor's lips twitched in amusement. "Don't talk with your mouth full." He instructed, mock-seriously.

Alex obligingly chewed and swallowed, trying not to think about what other plump, curled segmented creatures he could think of. Like worms and grubs and slater bugs.

He shuddered, imagination almost distracting him form the taste.

He paused, considering it. The Doctor watched him, chewing his own meal, with a knowing look on his face.

"Tastes like.. Macaroni Cheese.." He said at last, giving his still-revolting-looking meal an incredulous glance.

"Yep! Not bad for a small 12-legged insect from the Grichek region, hey?" He grinned as Alex threw a slightly-nauseous look at his lunch again.

"They're an evolutionary oddity" He continued cheerfully, around bites of food. "The one creature in the universe that isn't toxic to ANY species. ANYone can eat them and most species find them palatable. The Grivian homeworld is the only one in the Galaxy where the farmers are the Ruling Class."

Based in Ami's recent crossover world. Alex Rider, Dr Who. Fun, huh?

---------------------------------------------------

Alex slammed his shoulder into the door of the Tardis.

The Doctor, slumped over his shoulder and now utterly unconscious, started to slip to the floor.

Alex cursed and caught the man’s jacket, shooting a look back the way they’d come. No one in sight yet, but it was only a matter of time. He could hear the screaming of the mecha already.

Tugging the doctor closer, he shifted so that he could support the Time Lord’s weight and fish through his pockets at the same time.
Almost instantly, his frantically questing fingers found the key for the Tardis.


Finally, something going right...

Moving rapidly but with practiced focus, Alex rapidly unlocked the door and shoved his way in. Kicking the door shut behind him he staggered a few steps then half-lowered, half-dropped The Doctor to the ground.

The Doctor groaned, but didn’t wake.

"Shit." Alex half-snarled, half-whimpered.

They’d been so close! So close to stopping the virus, so close to saving all those kids...

Now all they had was a planet filled with corpses and over-run with invaders.

Oh, and their rather impressive array of injuries, of course. He, Alex had gotten off light – punctured leg, twisted arm and just generally battered... but The Doctor..

The Doctor’s breath was bubbling with what blood wasn’t flowing freely from a huge rip in his side.

The man was dying.

And Alex was panicked.

His eyes flickered up and around the room. Medical supplies. There had to be some, right? This was the TARDIS. It had everything. Including a three-storeyed wardrobe for christ’s sake.

There probably was. But he had no bloody clue on how to find it.

His eyes landed on the central column.

An instant later he was back on his feet and limping over to it. He landed heavily against the side, outstretched hands spreading both the Doctor’s blood and his own over the consol.

"TARDIS!" He yelled desperately. "The Doctor said you’re alive, that you can understand us. Please, help me get him away! Anywhere! Anywhen! Wherever he’ll be safe.."

His calf throbbed sharply, a moment of nerve weakness dropping the leg out from under him. He rested his forehead against the side of the consol.

"Please." He pleaded. "He needs help."

Under his skin, the TARDIS responded.

The consol began to shudder as the ship powered up, the familiar sound of its engine echoing loudly. The shuddering grew in intensity until Alex was shaken loose from the consol.

He realised, miraculious though it may be, that the TARDIS’s spontaneous attempt to help was - although miraculous - definately lacking a good ‘auto pilot’.

This ride was going to be much, much rougher than usual.

Alex crawled back to the Doctor. There was a lurch as the floor dropped out from under them and Alex only just managed to snag an arm around the Doctor’s chest as they fell.

The floor suddenly rose back up, slamming into them and sending them skidding towards the wall.

Alex snagged one of the tree-like protrusions on the way and locked an arm around it. He tucked his one working leg around the Doctor’s waist and held on for dear life. The TARDIS was shaking and lurching far too harshly for him to risk shifting his grip – even to help stem the Doctor’s bleeding – so he just tightnened his grips, shut his eyes tightly and focused all his attention on finding a safe place for the Doctor.

Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn’t.

And he wasn’t just thinking of the TARDIS.

There was an abrupt slamming sensation, heralding the end of their journey.

Alex breathed out.

"Thank you." He called out, no longer feeling remotely ridiculious for talking to a machine.

It was with great effort – his limbs couldn’t seem to stop shaking and his wounded leg was only grudgingly co-operative – that Alex hauled both himself and the Doctor up and staggered towards the door.

He should have looked at the monitor, to check the safety of the outside world first.. but he just didn’t have time. The Doctor didn’t have time.

He’d just have to trust the TARDIS.

Moments later the door was swinging softly shut behind him.

And Alex was surrounded by a mass of very unfriendly-looking warriors.
If he’d had the strength, he would have sighed.

Instead, he grit his teeth, ordered his legs to not let him down and stood grimly to accept whatever fate the TARDIS had delivered him to.

Looooong

-------------

That evening, Wolf came home to an empty flat.

He wasn't sure how he knew. Alex could have just been in his room doing homework. Sure, he was normally already zapping their microwaved dinners by now - knowing and expecting that Wolf would be home at the designated time - or possibly cooking something instead. But that didn't mean he had to be. Alex was a teenager, after all. Teenagers didn't tend to do well with scheduals.

But Alex wasn't a normal teenager.

For him... not being here, at this time, was unusual. It struck a chord of disharmony.

He enetered the flat carefully, not needing to see signs of trouble in order to be prepared for them.

Then he spotted the note on the table. It had been kept safe from drafts by the keys left on top of it.

Still moving silently, he picked it up and read it.

I'll be out for a while.

There's enough dinners left for the rest of the week. 

And, underneath the two lines, a small pen-drawn image.

A paw-print.

If he hadn't been so worried, he'd have chuckled.

'Out for a while' coupled with a reference to how many dinners were left..? From what he'd learnt of Alex, that was a subtle indication that he'd likely be gone for a few days. At least.

He frowned, put the note down and took another look around the strangely empty flat.

It was odd.. he'd never cared about coming home before. Just like he'd never cared about the cleaning or getting more food than his late-night trips to the Deli produced... His flat had just been the place he slept at the end of the day. The place he'd often leave for weeks at a time.

But he'd.. grown used to Alex being there. He'd gotten used to coming home to find lights on, dinner almost ready and a quietly humerous boy who kept on surprising him with his wit and wisdom.

He sighed and dumped the rest of his gear, before picking up the frozen dinner that had been left out for him and popping it into the microwave.

This, more than anything, drove home the simple fact that Alex wasn't some kid he'd taken in.

He was an Agent with MI6. He was a 15 year old government employee who was off risking his life for crown and country instead of doing his homework or trying not to do his homework.

And he, James, wasn't in any kind of position to do anything about it.

**************

Four days later, there was a knock at the door.

James turned down the volume, thew the remote at Dave and then left to open the door.

It was Cub.

He was dirty and dishevilled, his hair matted and his clothes scuffed and torn.

"Hey." The kid said quietly. He stood slouched, partly due to his youth and partly due to the exaustion painfully visible on his face. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets and one scuffed trainer slid over the ground as he shifted his weight.

"Uh. Can I come in?" The kid asked at length and Wolf realised with a start that he had in fact been blocking the doorway as he stared.

"Of course." He said, stepping aside. His sharp eyes picked up a definate limp in Alex's stride. He was also definately trying to hide it.

The kid was quiet, even moreso than usual. He walked down the hall with his head down and gaze focused only on the ground in front of him. As he passed the doorway to the loungeroom, there was a chorus of noise as the rest of the team spotted him.

"Cub!"
"Alex!"
"Hey! The Prodigal Son!"

Alex looked up, startled. The guys in the living room were hauling themselves up to greet him and Alex looked frankly ready to bolt.

"What happened?"
"Where'd you go?"
"You don't write, you don't call... I felt some serious lack of love, Cub."

James just stood back and watched as the rest of his team came and hung over Cub, being their usual boisterous and noisy selves. He noticed - as he was sure they did too - that Cub seemed to be shrinking in on himself rather than reciprocating.

"Hey, he just got in. Back off." He ordered gruffly. His team just grinned at him, the insubordinate yobs.

"Good to see you all in one piece, though." Fox told Alex, one hand moving to ruffle his hair. He snatched the hand back at the same moment that Alex flinched away from it.

"Ergh yuck." The man comented, looking at his hand then at Alex's hair. "Time for a shower, kiddo."
He got an elbow in the gut from Snake, along with a muttered rebuke that seemed to go along the lines of 'And I thought Neal was insensitive'.

Alex didn't even nod or - for that matter - raise his head to make eye contact.

"Yeah." The teen muttered. He turned slightly, looking towards him. Wolf jerked his head in reply, instinctively understanding that Alex was seeking permission to use the shower.

"Go ahead." He said. "Ignore these twats. As soon as they realise they're missing Manchester's crushing defeat in the last two minutes, they'll bugger off."

His words were met with a storm of denial and derision, although they did foot it back into the living room rather fast. Alex just stood there for a few moments, looking tired and begraggled. Then, he too turned to leave - albeit at a much slower pace.

"Alex." Wolf spoke, uncertain once again as to just how he was supposed to interact with the kid, but too stubborn to just let the issue lie.
"Are you alright?" His tone wasn't so much of the politely-querying nature, but more of the 'You'd better tell me or else' nature.

Alex just nodded.

"Fine. Tired. I'mna take a shower then go to bed. K?" He muttered, his back still to him. He also didn't wait for a reply, before continuing on.

Behind him, Wolf frowned even more darkly, before moving to the doorway of the loungeroom, where he stood until he heared Alex's door open - presumably the kid was collecting some clothes to change into - and then the bathroom door click shut and the shower start.

As he fully entered the living room, he was utterly unsurprised to see his team's equally serious eyes on him.

After a moment of silence, Snake spoke. "Sunday tomorrow. Mind if we camp here?"

Fox followed his lead, stretching out on the floor against the couch. "Yeah, I'm stuffed. And we were going to do something tomorrow anyway, right?"

Eagle grinned as Wolf rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He said. He paused on his way out as he remembered something.
"You know..." He said slowly. "The sports coach from Alex's school called this morning. Apparently Alex is first string for some match that's on tomrorrow.. he was calling to see if - what with the last few days of school that he's missed - he'd be coming or not."

The men traded amused and - in Eagle's case - devious looks.

"And, what'd you say?" Fox asked innocently. Wolf felt an answering grin tug at his lips.
"I told him he should be fine, but that I'd call him first thing in the morning if anything changed." He replied, shrugging slightly.

"So... I guess he'll be going, then?" Snake asked.

"If he's well enough." Wolf answered evenly. "And I suppose you lot want to go too, do you?"

The grins on their faces were answer enough.

"For moral support." Snake insisted. Eagle nodded. "We'd be remiss as teammates if we didn't." He claimed - remarkably with a straight face.

**************

 

(Next morning, after they're all up and waiting for an uncharacteristically-late-riser Alex)

 

"I'll get him!" Eagle volunteered, bounding over the Alex's closed door. He banged on it, loudly.

"Yoo-hooo! Alllleeeeex! Are you awake?" He called in a mockingly sing-song tone, knowing full well that if Alex hadn't been awake before he would be now.
Sure enough there was a muffled thud on the other side of the door, accompanied by a bout of swearing.

"You 'right?" He asked automatically, hand hovering over the door handle. There was a muttered reply - something he couldn't quite catch - then the door swung open and Alex stood before him.

The teen was rumpled with sleep, his over-large shirt slipping off one shoulder and his glaring eyes somewhat softened by the bleariness that follows being abruptly awakened from a deep sleep.

The hand that snapped up to shield his eyes from the bright morning light, however, was what really caught his attention.

"Shit." Eagle breathed, catching it in both of his own hands and holding it gingerly for a look. The skin of Alex's palm was stripped raw and blistered.

"It's just rope burn." The teenage said dismissively, trying to tug it away. Eagle look up sharply and scanned his face.

The kid wasn't trying to be tough or fishing for concern. He just looked... well, tired. And utterly unconcerned - at least, in regards to his hand. From the way he was eyeing his bed, it looked like he'd be willing to get violent if that's what it took to get back to it.

"Nasty rope burn." Eagle corrected, just shy of reprimanding. "Nasty metal rope burn, if I'm any judge. Why isn't this bandaged up?"

Alex shifted his gaze back to him. It was flat and chillingly dislocated.

"I ran out." The kid said mechanically, gesturing with his un-held hand to his wardrobe. "I'll get some later. You know. When I'm awake?"

Eagle grinned as a little of the Alex he knew stirred in the kid's eyes.

"So you're not awake now, huh?" He asked teasingly as he released his grip. Alex shook his head, one corner of his lips twitching.
"No." He deadpanned. "I'm asleep in bed right now. This conversation with you isn't happening. Goodnight."

He made to close the door again but Eagle was faster. A second later Alex had been lifted up and over his shoulder, the teen so startled that he didn't even begin to struggle until they were half way down the hall.

"Sorry Cub!" Eagle said cheerfully over the sound of Alex demanding to be put down. "Wolf's orders. We're all headed out, see, and my job was to drag you out of bed. You know what Wolf's like, I didn't want to get on his bad side."

"Oh yeah?" Alex growled from over his shoulder. "Well you're getting on my bad side now. Put me down before we hit the living room and I won't make your life miserable as only an MI6 agent can, got me?"

Eagle stopped and grinned broadly to himself before he pretended to consider it.

"Tell you what." He bargained. "I'll let you keep some dignity, if you let me patch that hand up for you. And whatever else you haven't taken care of. Deal?"

There was a mutinous silence.

"Oooorrr.." Eagle began warningly, moving again. "I could just carry you out in front of all the guys, in your PJs and unable to get off my shoulder...?"

Alex swore. At least, he assumed it was swearing. it wasn't in a language he recognised.

"Fine. Deal." Alex said grudgingly.

Beaming with victory, Eagle slid him to he ground. Alex scowled at him.

"The first aid kit's in the kitchen." He said shortly. "If Wolf says we can use it, bring it to my room. I'll be finished changing by then." that said, the teen turned and stalked back to his darkened bedroom.

Eagle stared after him thoughtfully.

'If Wolf says we can use it...?' He murmered to himself softly, questioningly. Even after two months now, there was still that weird distance between Wolf and Cub. To his credit, James was actively trying to reach out to the kid - much to the amusement of the rest of his unit - but despite Alex's quiet, polite, kind and laid-back personality.. it was nevertheless him that was still holding back. It was driving James up the wall, he knew..

But what was it? Lack of trust? Alex had apprently told Wolf to his face that he trusted him. And Alex rarely lied to them. Possibly because his status as a spy meant he had to lie to everyone else. Then what? Where was this instinctive distance coming from? Maybe Alex himself didn't even know...

Abruptly, the man shook himself. This was something to discuss with James later. For now, he had a teenager - who completely lacked the melodramatic 'pity me' sense of self-focus that most kids his age had - to look after.

Because he had no doubt that the kid sported more than a ripped-up hand.

********************

"Are you going to be 'right, playing with those hands?"

Eagle felt his lips twitch upwards at the gruff concern in Wolf's voice. It never failed to amuse him how his tougher-than-nails CO turned into such a softie around Cub.

Well. 'Soft' being relevant. He didn't swear at him, at least. Well, mostly. And hardly ever strongly, that he'd heared.

And he was so.. so awkward. It was painfully amusing to watch him feel his way out in the tentative, undefined relationship he and Cub had going. Cub himself didn't help of course.. the kid was a walking contradiction. Calm, poised and self-assured, he gave off the air of total self-sufficiency.. but he'd slip, sometimes. Little things which would suddenly alter your whole perception.

Not being able to reach the top cupboards. Homework. His seemingly entrenched belief that they didn't really want him around.

If it was confusing for him, on the outside, to see Cub go from MI6 Special Agent to soft-spoken teenager.. It must've been twice as bad for Wolf. Especially as he was pretty sure the act of being nice was almost physically painful for the other man.

And yet.. he was trying.

"It's fine, really. Football. You know."

And that was Cub. Just as awkward as Wolf, just as tentative in his interactions. Of course, he was allways a little more formal and distant when he was injured...
... And it bothered him that Cub had been injured enough - in the short time that he'd known him - for him to see and recognise that behavioural habit.

"So, who're you playing?" Snake threw in. The four of them were walking to the school grounds, it being both a good way to warm up for Cub and a discrete way to check his operational status prior to throwing him in the game. If he looked at all poorly by the time they got to school, Wolf'd pull him out of the day's match before it even began.

"St Michael's." Cub had certainly got the hang of succient answers. Briefly, he wondered if that had developed from promixity to the military or proximity to Wolf.

"They any good?" Snake continued the conversation genially. Alex shrugged, the movement looking a little stiff, though he showed no sign of pain.
"I don't know." He answerd quietly. "I play football because sport is required and it's... relaxing. I don't really pay attention to gossip or league standings. They.. they just don't... matter. You know?"

"You can't go in with that kind of attitude." A darkly rempramanding voice cut in. Eagle rolled his eyes. Sometimes Wolf was like the poster image for SAS values and behaviour.

Sickening.

Alex turned around, so that he was walking backwards, and quirked a smile at his guardian/commanding officer. "I'm only going because not going would cause even more speculation about me. It's bad enough being a drug runner or a gang member or whatever I am this week, without also getting a reputation as someone who lets the team down at important matches."

"So it is important then?" Fox queried. Alex just shrugged. "They think so." He answered diffidently

Further conversation was thwarted, when an excited young voice yelled out Alex's name. Alex turned around, noticing his teammates pull together almost unconciously.

The boy who called him was one Alex barely knew. A name sprang to mind - Josh - but little more than that. The other teen was dressed in his uniform and has his football shoes hung over his shoulder - tied by their laces.

"Hey, Alex!" The teen panted, as he came to walk alongside the other boy. "I didn't think you'd show up!" He glanced warily at the four-strong following.
"er.. who're they?" He whispered. Alex didn't know whether to wince or smile at how audible the boy's 'whisper' was.

"That's my new guardian, and his friends." He explained at a normal volume, his own tone suggesting it was completely normal that four older males - who barely knew him - werer coming to his school football match.

By the look Josh was giving him, however, he didn't concurr.

"They want to watch a match against St Michael's?" He asked dubiously. Alex shrugged, feeling a smile play over his lips.
"What can I say? They're very excitable." He explained with mock resignation. The affronted noise from behind him made him grin.

"We are not excitable!" Eagle voiced loudly, causing Josh to glance back. The other teen semeed a little wary of the men, possibly because two of them looked irritable, one looked outraged and the other faintly amused.

"No, that's very true, I suppose." Alex conceeded without turning around. "If they were excitable, they'd have found some thing to do on a Sunday morning, other than playing cheerleaders for a public-school football match." He finished with a mocking sigh. "I guess they just have no lives." He said, shaking his head sadly.

"Alright. That's it." Alex heard Eagle cry from behind him. He was prepared for the attack from behind and stepped smoothly out of the way.

What he was not prepared for, unfortunately, was the double-teaming of Snake and Fox right after. The two men grabbed him and shoved him against the wall - gently, but firmly - and twisted his arms up behind his back.

They weren't being rough, merely exerting the minimum force required, but Alex's arms had already been twisted pretty savagely over the last few days and he was unable to keep a grimace of pain from his face. And that aside.. it was unsettingly unwelcome to be held powerless again, but this time from his almost-friends.

"Get off me." He ground out, voice low with unintentional threat. He felt the grip on his arms loosen - probably in surprise at his overreaction to a little harmless horseplay - and twisted out of their hold. For one frightening moment he could feel his mind viewing them as enemies. He felt his fingers twitch, as his instincts tried to lash out and his concious mind slapped the notion firmly down.

Belatedly, he noticed his hands were tembling slightly. It was baffling.. he'd certainly not felt any true adrenline rush, so what was wrong with him?
He folded his arms across his chest, both to hide his hands from view and in embarresment at his reaction.

They probably think I'm a total wuss. He thought miserably. He almost opened his mouth to apologise, but even the idea of it made him edgy.
Instead, he just stepped quietly past his motionless teammates and back to Josh's side, walking forwards again as if nothing had happened.

Josh kept pace, shooting him strange looks. His team followed silently.

The walk to the oval was awkward, despite Josh's attempts at starting casual conversations, and Alex's impeccably polite, yet stilted answers.

------------------------------------

"I'm surprised they dropped him back, the way he is." Fox remarked, as the four men walked along the bleachers. "Bad enough they ignored standard proceedure and didn't pass him through medical before returning him, but to drop his required psychological consult too? What the hell are they playing at?"

Fox, a man normally as easy-going as one could find, was pale with anger.

"Why do you think he wasn't..?"
"How did you know they didn't put him through..?"

Snake and Eagle asked at the same time.

Fox shrugged and sat down. "I don't know really. A combination of things. First of all, I saw you grab the first aid kit, Neal. Therefore, logically, he required patching up this morning - something that shouldn't have happened if he'd been through medical."

Wolf sat down on Fox's other side and frowned at Eagle. "What was wrong with him?" He demanded. "Damned kid said he was fine last night."

Eagle sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm starting to think that kid would insist he was fine up to and unless his guts were spilling onto the floor. Even then, he'd be more concerned about the tripping hazard posed to others." He shrugged tiredly. "When I woke him up, I found his hands raw and blistered. When I coerced him into letting me fix them up, he told me he'd fallen down and a metal cable had been the only thing he'd been able to grab on to. It pulled free of one of it's supports and he basically abseiled down the rest of the building - apparently he was escaping at the time - letting the cord run through his bare hands and catching it when he needed to stop." He saw the shocked wince on his friend's faces. "Yeah." he agreed bitterly. "Cub did mention how it was 'annoyingly difficult' to keep his grip, what with all the blood making it slick.

Wolf's face was set, not with anger, but more dark irritation.

"I've got to work on that kid's ability to follow orders." He growled. "When I ask if he's alright, I don't want to be lied to. 'Fine' indeed. Next time he says that I'm going to damn well strip him down to make sure."

The other three burst out laughing.

"That may just creep him out irreperably, Jamie!" Matt laughed. "No amount of counselling would cure that!"

Wolf snorted, but his mood lifted a little. That didn't make him look any less terryfying, however, when he glowered at a small girl who'd been about to sit next to him. The girl - surely no older than 7 or 8 - screamed and fled back to her parents.

Ignoring both her and his friends' scolding grins, he turned his attention back to Eagle. "Anything else?" He asked. Eagle nodded, his grin slipping away.

"Yeah. Cub mentioned that he'd 'run out', when I asked him why he hadn't bandaged his hands already. I managed to get him to show me a little more, by threatening to go get you, but I'm not certain if that was everything or just what he was willing to admit to. His arms and chest were pretty cut up. He said that he'd gotten close and personal with several glass walls, one after the other, but refused to elaborate. Most of them had been disinfected and bandaged - the worst of them anyway. The rest, it looked like he just washed them, disinfected them, then dried them off and left 'em. Just from looking at them, though, you can tell the first aid was self-given. Here and there it was downright sloppy, although I can understand that it must've been hard to reach some areas around his back and shoulders. I had to pick out three slivers of glass that he'd missed."

Wolf nodded. "He was exausted last night." He said quietly. "If that was when he did it, then I'm amazed he stayed awake long enough to even try."

Snake, sitting the bleacher behind Fox, leaned forwards with a frown. "And we're letting him play football.. why?"

Wolf scowled. "Because I'm a bloody useless guardian." He grumbled. "As well as CO, apparently." He cast a speculative look down at the field, where the kids were aimlessly wandering around - some of them stretching but most of them just chatting. Cub was visible by the long-sleeved shirt he'd chosen to wear - most kids wore short sleeves, even in this reasonably chilly weather - due to all the running around they'd soon be doing. He was on one knee, checking one of his shin pads.

"Maybe we should just grab him and go home. Or to the hospital, or something." He said slowly, clearly uncertain which idea was best. It was unusual to see Wolf in any way uncertain of what to do, but then the guy did seem to second-guess himself a lot when it came to Cub.

A shrill whistle broke through the air and kids from both teams started streaming towards their starting positions.

"Or not." He finished.

The four men turned their attention to the match. If Cub faltered, they'd drag him to a hospital. If not, they'd do everyhing in their power to embarress the life out of him.


--------------

Rainy Day Revelations.

------------

Alex shut the door of Wolf's apartment behind him with a sigh. The sounds of the storm outside were greatly muffled in here, the rain sounding soothing instead of harsh and the thunder reassuringly muffled instead of skull-splitting.

Finally home.

He dropped his bag to the floor and was half-way through removing his jacket before the realisation stopped him.

Home.

This place.. felt like home.

The warmth from that feeling was countered with the realisation that he wouldn't have it for long. Soon enough he'd be back at Ian's place in Chelsea, and this would just be an interesting memory.

A sort of wistful 'what could have been'.

Thoroughly depressed now, as well as soaking wet from the bike ride home in the rain (Puddles plus grumpy drivers plus all-encompassing rain equalled no hope of staying dry-ish), Alex finished removing his jacket and his school jumper, then opened his bag and removed his school books. The outer edge of them were a little damp, but most of his notes seemed ok. Carrying his books in one arm, he left his soaked jacket and jumper in the hallway and moved to his bedroom. Once there, he rapidly exchanged his remaining damp clothes for some dry jeans and a tee-shirt, deposited his school books and carried his wet clothing out with him.

It only took a few minutes for him to set up the clothes-dryer in the small landry and drape his uniform over it. Thankfully it was the weekend tomorrow. His school bag he emptied entirely and hung upside down. He then grabbed an old towel waiting to be washed and cleaned up the water he'd tracked into the house.

After he'd finished, he considered doing his homework but dismissed the idea almost mmediately. He was too cold and too tired to think right now. Whoever thought that football and cricket practice in the rain built character had clearly had the idea when under cover and with a hot thermos of coffee at their side.

Actually, that wasn't a bad idea.

Yawning, Alex trudged into the kitchen and made himself a hot cup of coffee. The coffee was decaf - he'd bought it by habit - but it was warm and the smell was familiar.

He brought it into the living room, colapsed on the couch and flicked on the TV. There were windows on either side of the TV. He could see the rain lashing against them and the occasional flash of lightning in the sky. He placed his still-too-hot cuppa on the coffee table and lay full length on the couch, eyes slipping back to the TV.

Oh look. 'Days of our Lives'.

He'd placed the remote next to the coffee, but he was too tired and too comfy to reach for it.
It was not - he realised, as his eyes slipped shut - as though he'd be watching the show anyway..

An hour later, the front door clicked open. Alex, more deeply asleep than he had been for months, didn't hear it.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

Michael and James entered the flat. James went to put the kettle on whilst Michael went to knock on Alex's door. The two of them had decided that it wasn't fair that Alex kept cooking whenever anyone did any visiting, and some take out was in order.

On the way to the guest room, Michael noticed a flicker of light in the living room. Figuring the kid had just left the TV on, he went in to turn it off. James was in a good mood today.. not need to spoil it by having him lecture the kid on turning things off when he left the room...

Further thought on the matter was halted when he noticed the teenager in qestion fast asleep on the couch.

Alex was curled up, one arm folded under the cusion supporting his head whilst the other wrapped around his waist.

"Jamie." He whispered. His friend appeared at the doorway in an instant, his stance relaxing slightly as Michael grinned at him and beckoned him silently.

James walked over. As he reached the arm of the couch, Alex shifted in his sleep. With a barely-audible murmer, the kid curled up, turned over and stretched out again with a sigh.

It was a side of Cub he hadn't seen before, to be sure.. but the goofy grin on Michael's face was frankly a little creepy.
Give a guy a wife and kids and suddenly he's Mister Kodak Moment.

"We'd better wake him for dinner." James murmered.
"Yeah." Michael agreed, stepping forwards and leaning down to shake the boy awake.

It occured to James, in that fleeting half-formed way that instincts make themselves known, that Michael probably shouldnt do that.

Too late, however.

The instant Michael's hand closed over his shoulder, Cub snapped awake. Before his eyes had even finished opening, an elbow was driven back and into Michael's stomach. Cub's feet kicked against the couch, sending the small body smashing into the percieved attacker and knocking them both to the ground. Wolf took a step forward to restrain his teammate, but froze as the teenaged body on the ground twisted smoothly and the afternoon light glinted off a knife that had appeared in one hand.

Then the moment passed.

The knife vanished and Alex was leaping to his feet, apologising profusely and extending a hand to help the other man up.
Michael didn't seem to have noticed the few seconds where Cub knelt ready to end his life, as he laughed and accepted the hand... He did look more than a little stunned, however.

Alex turned, spotted him, visibly flinched and then made a quick retreat.

Michael stared at the floor, rubbing his stomach lightly.

James just stared after Cub.

Just how many things did he not know about the kid? His Ward as well as a member of his team?

He frowned, determination making him look grimmer.

He'd find out. He'd make the effort.

Because Cub... Alex... was worth the effort.

The realisation threw him.

He shook his head. Deal with it later. Food now. Discussions later. They had a whole weekend coming up.. Desk job meant a weekend free, so maybe he and Alex and the guys could go do something.. or.. hell, maybe just him and Alex.

Something to think about, to be sure.

Just a short, speculative drabble for potential situation in upcoming AR fic of mine.


----

"Ok. Wait here." Alex murmered as the team got close enough to the entrance. There was a ridge of rocks before them and no way down to the entrance after that was anything but totaly visible.

"Cub.." Wolf started. Alex cut him off.

"Subtle, remember? Look.." He turned to the group and lowered himself to a crouch. "Over this ridge is a steep slope. That slope ends in a sheer wall. If we had the equipment and - more importantly - the time, we could try scaling down it. But the cameras would catch us, both on the walls or on the slope. I'm allowed to be here. You are not. Ergo, I'll head in alone."

From the looks on his teammate's faces, barely visible in the poor light, they didn't like his logic.

Well, too bad.

"Look Cub, I make the decisions for this team." Wolf reminded him sharply. Alex didn't give an inch.
"Yeah, and I'm the Agent in place. What you are doing, Wolf, is obstructing me in my duties. Which I'll be sure to report to whatever's left of MI6 when this all goes pear-shaped."

Wolf just scowled, though he clearly seemed to be trying to find a way around Cub's logic as opposed to just knocking it down.

"Look." Alex gave a little. "I know that the camera hub is all in one place. These guys spend most of their money on more violent trinkets, so the security system they have set up isn't as good as it could be. If I can knock down that hub, then the entire building would be blind."

He saw the others nodding. Whether approvingly or reluctantly, he couldn't tell.

"But look." He reminded them, almost desperately. "You've got to keep it quiet. And you've got to trust me. I know what I'm doing but I can't do that if you're going to try and get in my way or tell me to do it differently. Understand?"

They nodded again.

"What is it you need to do, Cub? We can at least help a little if we know what your plans are." Wolf said, quite reasonably considering the man's personality.

Alex glanced up at the sky. He could see dawn stretching around the edges.

"We don't have time, I'm sorry. Wait here. When the cameras are down, I'll come back and take care of the guard at the door. That'll be the only signal I can give you, so stay sharp."

With that, Alex rose and scrambled up over the hill, skidding down the sand on the other side and hurrying towards the door. Eagle, who had - by automatic habit - been silently voted the one to keep an eye on the joint, reported what he saw back down to the rest of the team.

Alex, in the mean-time, was almost sweating with fear. Had he been gone too long? Had they linked his dissapearance to the incident earlier? Depending on who'd drawn door duty this morning, he could be shot on sight or given an opportunity to explain before being shot.

Or... He thought, recognising a mop of distinctively long and unbrushed hair I might just have a chance at pulling this off.

Just a quick drabble. Alex and the guys out for a spot of lunch...

-----------


"Here we go.. One flat white, one black, one iced tea - here's the syrup - annnnd.." She placed Alex's order in front of him and gave him a cheery smile.

"One hot choclate for you, ducky."

Alex fought the blush trying to take him. "Ah... thank you, ma'am." He mumbled, eyes fixed on the glass so that he didn't have to see his team's faces.

The woman cooed. "Oh, such a sweetie. Would you like a biscuit? We've got chocolate chip..."

The worst part, Alex refelected, as his face heated and he saw Snake shaking with silent laughter next to him from the corner of his eye, was that the woman was so sincere.

She was just a nice lady, who liked him (and who was treating him a little younger than he was anyway, regardless of his whole status-amongst-his-comrades thing) and yet all he wanted to do was tell her to shove off.

He cleared his throat instead.

"Er.. no thank you ma'am. I'm fine."

He tilted his head up a little to offer her a strained - yet still polite - smile. The woman seemed to notice his blush for the first time - it'd be hard not to, his face was almost tomato red - and finally got a clue.

"Oh, righty ho, luv. You just enjoy your hot chocolate, then." And with that, she bustled off.

Alex took a deep, pained breath and lowered his face even further.

He could feel the hysterical tension in the air. Its a good thing they had all that SAS training, or else they'd be rolling on the floor by now. Especially Eagle.

Oh God....

He saw movement, as Eagle raised his cup of coffee to his lips.

Feeling a surge of pre-umptous vengence - for the ribbing he knew was to come and would most likely be spear-headded by Eagle - he waited until the man started sipping the scalding liquid.

"Hope you choke, you bastard." He muttered.

He gained some small satisfaction when Eagle promptly inhaled the mouthful he'd taken and started choking.

************************

About 20 minutes later

************************

"Alex! Hey!"

Alex glanced up from his hands. He and Fox had been engaged in a soccer match, using their complimentary tiny-teddies as balls and their fingers against the table as goal posts.

By now, of course, it had degenerated into a contest of cheating. So far, Alex was winning - despite a few new dirty tricks Fox had laid on him.

"Tom, hey." Alex greeted, the grin on his face fading to a welcoming smile. Tom smiled back, his natural expression melting slightly into one of shoddily-covered awe as he took in Alex's older companions.

Most of which, Alex was both amused and annoyed to note, had put on intimidating expressions as soon as Tom had run up to them.

"What's up?" Alex asked, when it appeared that Tom was content to just goggle at his team for awhile longer.

"Huh? Oh!" Tom snapped out of it. "I just saw you and came to sya 'hi' and did you want to join the rest of us?" He gestured over his shoulder. Standing ina group accross the road were a few friends from school - mostly the same ones Alex had gone to the movies with recently. They were eyeing Alex with speculative glee on their faces. No doubt convincing themselves that these were some drug dealers he was meeting with, or some other inane idea.

And as much as - he was surprised to realise - he didn't want to leave his current group of friends for his old ones.. damage control was nevertheless nessecary.

So he nodded, quirked a half-smile and pushed his cuppa away.

"Sounds great." He agreed.

Wolf - who was sitting next to him now - spoke up.

"No drinking, no women, no smoking, no drugs and be home by curfew." He barked, although Alex's recent familiarity with the man allowed him to see the teasing amusement behind the hard-ass front.

Alex stood up, 'accidentally' knocking against Wolf's side as he stood. "Sorry." He said contritely, as Wolf glared at him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty pound note.

"This is all I have on me." He said, tossing it onto the table and pushing his chair back in. "If you could leave the change on the table at home?" He finished questiongly. Wolf nodded agreeably.

"Thanks. Bye!" Alex directed the farewell to the rest of the guys, paired with a wave as he turned to cross the street with Tom. When he met up with those waiting, he unobtrusively hurried them along.

Five minutes later, he was well away when the waiter came to collect the group's payment. Wolf dutifully paid Alex's cuppa and scone from the 20-pound left on the table, then reached into his back pocket for the note he'd shoved there before leaving that morning.

It was gone.

A quick check of his other pockets showed them to also be empty.

He scowled at the change left on the table from 'Alex's money.

"Damned kid." he growled. His friends grinned as they caught on. Eagle laughed. "And he had the balls to ask for the change later!" He chuckled.

Snake also laughed, but choked it back as Wolf's black look settled on him.

"Hey, look on the bright side James." he suggested. "I'd say this is a good indication that he trusts you now.. right?"

It was raining again.

Every step sloshed water up to mid-calf, as sticky slurping Welsh mud sucked at his boots.
Wolf waded over to the rest of his unit as the ground crew behind him salvaged his parachute. It had only begun lightly sprinkling as he'd drifted down.. The closer he'd gotten to the land, however, the heavier the fall had become.

Now even the Drill Sergeant’s voice seemed muffled by the roar of vertical wetness.

Moving automatically, the four-man unit fell into formation - hoisted up their obligatory log - and marched back to base.

As they marched, Wolf’s thoughts cleared from the 'operation focus' they'd snapped into when faced with a plummet to the ground. The fact that his mind did behave so favorably under stress was a good thing. The true acid test, as it were. He knew now that he would not freeze up again, in any stressful situation.

Of course, that knowledge came hand-in-hand with the fact that he'd found this out after he'd been unceremoniously booted from the plane.

And he meant booted. Cub's kick - for it couldn't have been the pilot - had been heavy and hard.

Probably - he thought ruefully - a little over-due payback.

He had, however, no doubts as to the intention behind him. Despite everything he'd done to the kid over the past two weeks, the little brat hadn't shown the slightest hint of maliciousness or a desire to 'get even' in the sense of getting Wolf binned.

But not jumping? That would have gotten him binned. And Cub knew that.

And he'd made sure it didn't happen.

Wolf grimaced as he shifted the rough, heavy weight of the log over his shoulder.

Distasteful as it was, he owed the kid a 'thank you'. Maybe he'd even lay off him for a little while. Maybe.

Ah hell, he'd at least stop sabotaging him.

It took them three hours to get back. Fox had muttered something sour about the whole of Wales not being big enough to spend three hours crossing, but Wolf just kept on marching.

He wasn't going to get binned for complaining. Not now.

Not after that.

When they were finally dismissed for the evening meal, Wolf was startled not to see Cub waiting for them, dry and smug and fed.

Instead, their table was empty in the food-hall, the handful of other trainees speaking quietly or not at all at their own tables.

Cub had never missed a meal before. Even when he was so obviously exhausted that he looked like the living dead, the kid still made meal-times with them and made an effort to get some of the revolting slop down - knowing he'd need it later.

To his complete shock, he felt the faintest stir of concern in his gut.

Had something happened to him?

Spotting the drill sergeant passing by, he snapped to attention and requested an update on his missing team-mate's absence.

"Classified. Don't ask again." Was the brusque answer, the sergeant not even glancing at him as he passed.

Wolf blinked, and then turned back to his table. Eagle had nabbed him a tray of slop when getting his own, and he sat down before it with a blank expression.

"Where's he?" Snake mumbled curiously around his mouthful of food.

Wolf glanced up, surprised to see that each of his team-mates had been just as aware of Cub's unusual absence as he had been... They'd not even needed to mention it aloud, knowing Wolf would find out on behalf of them all...

For the first time he believed that they might just have a chance. The four of them apparently clicked psychologically already...

"Dunno. Classified." He answered shortly, shooting Eagle a thankful nod as he dug into his meal. He noted the faint frowns adorning his comrades' faces.

"Don't worry about it." He instructed shortly, after swallowing his mouthful. "Not our business. We’ll probably never see him again anyway."

Fox grunted. "Think they shot him?" He asked quietly, head down.

Wolf froze. They wouldn't... would they? He was just a kid. Why would they let him into the program if they were just going to...

"Doubt it." Eagle said easily. The other three men turned their gazes to him, not pausing in shoveling food into their mouths.
"Say what you want about him... but... you gotta admit... the kid kept up, didn't he? He didn't complain about anything. Not the treatment of the camp... or from us..."

Wolf felt a slight curl of guilt to go along with the concern over the kid's fate.

"I reckon that whatever reason he was here for... he achieved its purpose and has moved on. I wouldn't be surprised if we did see him again. Kid's tough." Eagle finished.

There was a general sense of agreement. Then meal-time was over and their grueling training begun again.

Wolf didn't think about Cub again.

Not until he found him unconscious in the Swiss Alps.

After that... he made it his business to keep abreast of the status of their unorthodox 'Fifth member'.

.

Christmas Drabble. Set within ILP universe.

-----------------------------------------

 

Christmas was, without a doubt, Alex's favourite time of year.

Not for the presents - as the only nephew of Ian Rider - a man who often wasn't around for christmas - and semi-charge of a housekeeper who had the two weeks off over Christmas didn't tend to result in a mass of gifts.

No, Alex Rider loved this time of year for much simpler things.

The snow. The lights. The way anticipation and gentle sounds filled the air, as normal city life noises were muted.

This was his first christmas since he'd started working for MI6. If he'd thought he'd enjoyed them before, it was nothing to the appreciation he had for it now.

Carrolers were strolling through the busy streets, last-minute shoppers were bustling around, mingling with romantic couples and families.
Everywhere he looked there were happy people, brightly decorated buildings and christmas lights twinkling in the evening darkness.

After another ten minutes or so, he sighed and stoood up - dusting off the light blanket of sleet he'd collected. It only took fifteen minutes to walk home, to Wolf's spartan flat. Several times he'd considered springing for a cheap little tinsel tree, or maybe some fairy lights to liven the place up, but each time the notion presented itself he decided against it.

He hadn't lived as long as he had by being stupid, after all.

Wistfully, he wished he could go over to Tom's. Unfortunately, his parents had whisked him off to France for christmas, as some kind of 'we're still your parents and we love you' apology gift. He had other friends, but none that he's feel comfortable intruding on.

Not today.

Christmas Eve had never been a time of pressents for him, but there'd always been decorations at home, Jack dancing around like an idiot to rock christmas carols and lots and lots of delicious food to eat. This year he had a surly SAS guardian who didn't like christmas, or him, or any form of the two of them together. He'd even left a note that morning instructing him not to bother with dinner.

Apparently, Wolf had plans tonight.

That didn't mean he, Alex, couldn't do something, of course. Wolf had a battered old video player. He could rent some movies, zap a microwaved dinner and... and..

He sighed. It sounded depressing even in his head.

He reached the door to Wolf's flat and opened it.

And stopped.

And blinked.

Four very muscular, very threateneing looking santas were standing in the hallway.

"Cub! There you are. Why didn't you bring your phone with you?" One of them snapped, striding forward. Alex barely restrained from gaping.

"Wolf?!" He cried, not even registering his voice's higher-pitched incredulity.

The santa glared at him. Behind the bushy white beard and the moustache that blended into it, Wolf's familiar eyes glinted darky.

"Oh my God.." Alex said weakly, his gaze flickering to the other santas. Sure enough, they were infact the rest of the team. He felt his lips twitching..

"Don't even think about it." Wolf snarled. "We're on covert security for the Queen tonight. She's dining somewhere a little more public than usual."

Alex bit his lip for a second, dropping his gaze, then raising his head with a perfectly neutral expression on his face.

"Ok." He managed, despite the hysteria bubbling up inside him. Wolf scowled, but continued.

"We won't be back tonight, but we will be tomorrow. I've wired the presents with C4, so don't even think of touching them."

Alex blinked, utterly blindsided. "Presents?" He repeated dumly. Fox - or at elast, he was pretty sure it was Fox - nodded cheerfully.
"Yeah, I wanted to raid your room so we could add yours to the pile, but Snake figured you may have certain gadgets we're not cleared to see and would be legally bound to shoot eachother for seeing. So. Yeah. We didn't."

"And, we've got to go. Have a good evening, Cub." Eagle ruffled his hair as he passed. Fox grinned and gave him a one-armed hug - Alex could feel the very un-santa-like kevlar vest under his padding - whilst Snake contented himself with an instruction to 'stay out of trouble'. Wolf paused on his way out and spoke lowly enough so that only ALex would hear him.

"There's a .44 Magnum in the bottom drawer of the hallway dresser." He said quietly. "Just in case. But keep the damn saftey on. If I come back and find you've shot yourself..." He trailed off threateningly and Alex had to exert every ounce of his well-practiced self-control not to laugh in the psuedo-Santa's face.

"Yes, Sir." He bit out, unable to say any more for fear of loosing control. Wolf eyed him strangely for a moment, then continued out.

It was only when all three locks had clicked shut that Alex broke down and howled with laughter.. He didn't care that the guys could most likely hear him out in the hall and would probably take it out on him later.. it was just too.. insane!

On the upside, he felt a lot better. Which reminded him... Presents?

He went and checked. Sure enough, a bent little tree had been ressurected and shoved in a corner of the sitting room. Presents were placed underneath it. Whilst tempted to check to see if Wolf really HAD wired it up with something, Alex had other things to take care of.

Frantic, last-minute christmas shopping for example.

-----------------------------------------------

Warning: Male/Male, Oral, Underaged. R (NC-17) rated.

Read at your own risk.

This file is set after the Cliché file #3. You should read that first.

The evening after…

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Sirry: The cliché files.

Case # 5

Part 1

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

 Harry hesiated, the knocked lightly on the door in front of him.

Should he be doing this? Was it too forward? What if Sirius turned him away?

The door opened. Sirius took one look at him and bit his lip. Hard.

Harry caught the snort that managed to escape, though. He rolled his eyes.

"If you’ll let me in and close the door, you can laugh all you want, Sirius." He half-promised, half-asked. Sirius obligingly stepped to the side so Harry could enter, closed the door behind his Godson, silenced it and then roared with laughter.

Harry stood calmly, dripping fluro purple goop onto the moldy old carpet, with an air of resigned patience.

"The twins?" Sirius managed to gasp out.

"Like you need to ask." Harry grumbled.

The twins had managed to nail him with a prototype prank they’d been concocting. They’d wedged the cauldron in between some support beams in order to hide it from their mother, and Harry had walked under it the instant it decided to fall.

In their defence, the twins had been genuinely alarmed and apologetic. They’d assured him that the concoction was a dud – though he should still wash it off asap – and had been more concerned over the cauldron making contact with his skull. He’d promised them that he’d seek out an adult to help him, one who wouldn’t report the incident to Molly.

Hence his arrival at Sirius’ room.

Sirius had calmed down by now, and was simply grinning at him.

"I don’t suppose I could beg a scourgify off you, could I?" Harry asked hopefully.

Sirius’ grin widened. "Ah, but Harry.. It’s after 9pm! You really should have taken care of this before Molly sealed the bathrooms up for the night." He teased.
"Of course, you know I would love to help you out regardless." He continued. "But I really don’t think magicking an experimental potion away is a good idea. You’re better off just taking a shower."

He waited a moment for Harry to realize that he was stuck with either asking Molly to make an exception for him due to his circumstances – thus inevitably bringing her wrath down upon the twins – or spending the night fuchsia and sticky.

"You can use my bathroom though, if you’d like." He offered, pleased when Harry’s face lit up with a thankful smile. Harry wasted no time legging it to the bathroom and Sirius thoughtfully summoned some clean clothes for the teen, directing them in after him.

For a few minutes, he just stood still and listened to the sound of running water. Harry had left the door partly open, and steam was curling out of the room.

Briefly, Sirius remembered the last time his Godson had used his bathroom. For a moment, he wanted to run in and make sure that Harry was really having a shower, and not doing something else.

Then he shook himself out of it. He trusted Harry. And even if he didn’t, he knew that the teen only behaved the way he did when he’d just woken up after a bad night, trapped in the kind of hell that only Voldemort could provide for him.

In fact, ever since Harry had woken up that morning – curled up next to his Godfather– the boy had been in a better mood than he had all Summer. He’d seemed calmer, happier, brighter… and certainly more relaxed.

A smirk – not quite suppressed – played over his lips.

He wondered how much of that had been his support, and how much had been the sex.

He knew he probably shouldn’t be feeling so comfortable with the fact that he’d spent part of last night having sex – or rather ‘making love’, as he was inclined to call it for the first time in his life – with his fifteen year old godson.

But he did feel comfortable. He certainly didn’t regret it. Harry had needed him, in more ways that one.. and Sirius had given Harry what he needed. End of story, to his mind.

….Actually, he was finding it quite difficult to refrain from doing it again.

He’d tried to keep his distance from Harry all day. When he saw Harry, he wanted to be close to him. To talk to him, hold him, kiss him… And that was not something the rest of the household needed to see.

Besides, Harry had some persistant friends and they’d made his job a little easier by monopolizing every moment of Harry’s free time all day.. be it cleaning or chatting, doing homework (Hermione) or playing chess (Ron).

But now Harry was alone with him. They could talk now, right? They certainly didn’t need to do anything but talk. After all, Harry was far to fragile to handle an over-horny Godfather propositioning him in the shower. But he would probably like the company…

Sirius realized he was standing in front of the door. Blinking, he leapt away. Scowling, he spun on his heel and stalked away again.

What was he thinking?! Sure, he wanted to spend time with Harry. Sure, he’d genuinely be happy to just sit on the floor and talk to the shower curtain. But just because he was so in love with Harry that even the idea of holding his hand under the table made him smile like a dopey idiot, didn’t mean Harry saw him as anything but his Godfather who offered the occasional physical support to go along with the emotional.

He sat down in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with a sigh. After a few seconds, he noticed his fingertips had taken to rapidly tapping against his kneecaps. Growling, he clenched them into fists.

"Uh… Sirius?"

Like a soldier snapping to attention, Sirius sprang up out of the chair and bounded over to the door. Barely remembering to stop before he barged through, he swallowed hard and answered.

"Uhm. I was wondering.. if I could talk to you?"

Sirius could hear how nervous Harry was to even ask, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning as ‘Internal Sirius’ did a little happy dance.

"Of course!" He answered. Whoops. Did that come out more eager than reassuring?

"Uh, should I come in? Or.. do you want me to stay here?" He remembered to ask. He didn’t need to hold his breath. Harry’s answer was almost instantaneous.

Sirius stepped into the steamy room and closed the door behind him. The anti-steam charms were only half-working, like most everything in the house. The result of which was a weird misty effect interspersed with small pockets of clear, cool air.

Harry was standing in the old fashioned bathtub-turned-shower. He’d closed the curtain, but only just enough to cover his body.

For a wild moment, Sirius wondered if Harry was subconsciously – or consciously – inviting his Godfather in.

Shaking off the thought, he closed the lid down on the toilet and sat on it.

"So, what’s up?" He opened, unable to keep his eyes off the thin material separating them.

Behind the curtain, Harry idly twisted a bar of soap between his fingers.

"I’ve been wondering.. why you haven’t been talking to me today." He said quietly. He could feel his face heat up with the embarresment of asking, but he wasn’t in Gryffindor for nothing.

Sirius seemed to be expecting his question.

"It’s nothing bad, Harry!" His Godfather assured quickly. "Believe me, it wasn’t easy. It’s just, every time I’ve seen you today, I’ve wanted to.. er…well." He cleared his throat.

"Fuck me?" Harry filled in helpfully. On the other side of the curtain, Sirius suddenly choked on air.

"No!" He yelped, scandalized.
"Well, actually, yes." He amended, upon further consideration.
"But not like that!" he cried a second later, back to panicking.

Despite himself, Harry laughed. On the other side of the curtain, Sirius relaxed a little. Taking a deep breath, the blue-eyed man attempted to clarify.

"I’ve just wanted to be with you, Harry. I wanted to sit on the couch with you, wrap my arms around you.. I wanted to be able to nuzzle your neck and make you laugh and play ‘footsie’ under the table with you…"

Harry smiled to himself, eyes softening. A lot of the tension that he’d begun to take on, as the day had gone by and he’d seen less and less of Sirius, left his shoulders.

"I was just afraid that if I did.. I wouldn’t be able to keep it.. well. Private. I’m not saying I would have proposed sex on the coffee table or anything-"

Harry snorted with laughter.

"-but I certainly wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off of you. I wouldn’t have been able to behave.. properly."

Harry’s positive feelings subsided.

"Sirius?" He asked softly. "Is what we did… wrong?"

Sirius raised his eyes to the ceiling and gave it serious thought.

"I don’t think it is." He answered, just as softly. "I really don’t. It’s not like we did it just for the hell of it. And.. we may be Godson and Godfather in name… but only on paper. The years we were meant to have as family were taken away from us."

There was only the sound of running water for a few moments.

"Then.. why can’t we tell anyone?" Harry eventually asked.

Sirius felt his lips twitch.

"Oh, there are times when I really want to, Har." He answered. "Like when I imagine Albus’ face…" He sniggered for a second, then sobered.

"But in the end… The main problem is your age. Not the only one, of course. The fact that I spent 12 years in Azkaban and probably aren’t a suitable partner for any person, let alone you, is another one. But right now, they’ll just see a 15-year-old boy in a relationship with an older man. Technically, what we did is illegal right now. Ten years from now, it won’t matter so much. You’ll be considered well and truly an adult and capable of making your own decisions. The age difference between us will suddenly seem like nothing, compared to the long lifespans wizards have. Dumbledore himself once dated a woman 30-something years younger than himself."

Harry turned to look where Sirius’ voice came from.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, his own concerns temporarily set aside. "When was that?"

Sirius shrugged. "Don’t really remember. I read it on a chocolate frog card, years ago. Hers, not Dumbledore’s. Point is, even 30 years wasn’t considered to be a big gap. Not when you’ve passed a certain point."

There was another moment of silence.

"Of course," Sirius continued "I’m not saying you have to keep it a secret. Just that it’s probably best for now. I know I’ll keep on loving you, but you’ll probably find someone new, sooner or later. There’s no need to sort through all the stress of us having a semi-public relationship right now, if you’re going to find someone who’s not an escaped convict later."

Sirius was startled by the shower curtain being ripped aside. He was absolutely shocked at the sheer, raw fury in his Godson’s eyes.

"Why don’t you think I love you, Sirius?" Harry bit out, as steam curled around his body and Sirius fought to keep his eyes above his collarbone.

Sirius gaped for a moment. "I.. I do think you love me.. it’s just.."

"It’s just what?!" Harry snapped. "That I don’t love you like you love me? That I can’t? Or won’t? Or is it that I just can’t feel real love? After all, I’m only a kid, right? All I’m allowed to feel are crushes? Or puppy-love?"

Sirius tried to answer, but found himself incapable of forming coherent words. Harry wasn’t finished.

"Let me tell you something, Sirius Black!" He hissed furiously, stepping out of the tub in order to lean over his sitting Godfather. "I grew up without feeling any love at all. Not for me, not from me. Because of that, I’m practically obsessed with analyzing every damn speck of it I can find. Everything I see, shared so easily in the Weasly family. Everything I feel, in Hermione’s nagging and Ron’s oh-so-awkward attempts at post-nightmare comforting words. Everything I hear, in my classmate’s silly little crushes and their ever-changing relationships… But most of all, I lie awake trying to logically break down what I feel for you. Because what I feel for you I have never felt before. It’s so god-damned strong that I’m bloody terrified that there’s no way you could possibly feel the same way about me!"

He drew a deep breath to continue, then abruptly cut himself off. Closing his eyes, he let his breath out slowly in an effort to calm himself down. Sirius watched, wide-eyed, as his Godson ruthlessly brought his emotions back under control.

"I love you, Sirius." Harry continued, much quieter. "I realize the words don’t seem like much, but they’re the only ones I have. I love you, and it hurts when you doubt that, or when you devalue it."

Emerald eyes opened, and Sirius met them with as much sincerety and remorse as he could.

"I’m sorry, Harry." He said, hands reaching for Harry’s. "I’m truly sorry. I won’t doubt you again. I promise. I love you."

Harry searched Sirius gaze, and then nodded. After a moment, a ghost of a smile flittered over his lips.

"Hard to take words of love seriously, when they come from a man sitting on the loo." He teased.

Sirius gave a shark-like grin and ran his eyes up and down his Godson’s still-wet body.

"I could say the same of a crazy naked man." He returned, grin widening as Harry became abruptly aware of the fact that yes – he was standing utterly starkers before his seated Godfather.

Disengaing his hands from Sirius’ with a rather unmanly squeak, the teen dove back into the heated spray of the shower and pulled the curtain across. Sirius laughed to himself, but didn’t persue the matter. He was still wary of how Harry might react to various sexual scenarios or remarks. After all, this whole thing had started because Harry had begged Sirius to give him some more positive memories to fight the horrible ones Voldemort had given him.

Even so, it was with a semi-mournful expression that he began to think of un-appealing images in order to counter the semi-stiffy that Harry’s naked debue had gifted him with.

"So Sirius.. what we did… It’s ok, because we love eachother, right?" Harry’s disembodied voice floated out from behind the curtain once more.

Sirius nodded firmly, even though Harry couldn’t see it. "Yep." He answered.

"So then.." He turned his head back to the shower curtain, wondering what Harry was hesitaing over.

"What we did.. is it only for after-nightmares?"

Sirius blinked.

He blinked again.

"Not… if you don’t want it to be.." He managed to get out of a suddenly-incredibly-dry throat. ‘Junior’, which had previously been resisting all efforts to calm down, abruptly hardened. Painfully so. He was still wearing his jeans.

"Oh." Harry said thoughtfully.
Sirius almost whimpered.

"So.. can we… uhm. Do you want to do it again? Now?"

Sirius barely managed to refrain from yelling ‘Yes please!’ and diving into the shower.

"Only if you want to, Harry." He got out, voice barely sounding strained at all.

There was a short silence, then a sudden chuckle.

Harry pulled the shower curtain aside again – rather more gently this time – and smiled. Half-teasing, half-shy.

"Come on, then." He invited

Apparition couldn’t possibly have gotten Sirius in there any faster.

 -----------------------------------------------

END PART 1.

You know? This entire thing was all written just for what’s going to happen in Part 2.

Hahahah… I’m such a dork.

Part TWO

….Ergh. Tired.

(Laughs) I can’t believe I wrote this at work. Hehehehhe.

Part ONE

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Sirry: The cliché files.

Case # 5

Part 2

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"…Do you want to do it again? Now?"

Sirius barely managed to refrain from yelling ‘Yes please!’ and diving into the shower.

"Only if you want to, Harry." He got out, voice barely sounding strained at all.

There was a short silence, then a sudden chuckle.

Harry pulled the shower curtain aside again – rather more gently this time – and smiled. Half-teasing, half-shy.

"Come on, then." He invited

Apparition couldn’t possibly have gotten Sirius in there any faster.

 

"Dinner’s in TEN MINUTES!"

Mrs Weasley’s magically amplified voice sounded throughout the house.

Sirius and Harry twitched – as nice as the woman was, hearing her strident voice in their current position wasn’t the greatest thing to happen to them that day.

Harry was the first to move. Sighing resignedly, he stepped past Sirius – brushing tantalisingly close, and not even seeming to realise it, the little bugger – and reached for the towel rack.

Sirius caught his hand. Harry blinked up at him,

In such close quarters, Harry’s eyesight was hardly fuzzy at all. Sirius’ intentions were easy to read.

"Sirius!" Harry gasped, half-shocked half-eager. "We only have ten minutes till dinner!"

Sirius just smirked as he pulled his barely-protesting Godson’s body flush against him.

"Plenty of time." He promised, voice deeper and richer than Harry had ever heard before. Despite himself, Harry felt his lips twitch.

"You say that like it’s a good thing." He remarked dryly, even as his face began to heat up.

Sirius grinned back at him.

"Plenty of time for a quickie in the shower." The older man amended, his grin widening as his words caused Harry’s blush to deepen.

Wow. From comfort to lewdness in under 10 seconds. If Harry wasn’t currently grinding against him, he’d have seriously reconsidered allowing this relationship to continue the way he’d promised.

That aside, Harry seemed a little shy to initiate anything more – even a kiss – so Sirius took one for the team and stepped up to the bat.
Ducking down, he captured his godson’s lips in a kiss – made all the more erotic by how wet and hot they were – and tapped the wall behind him with his wand at the same time.

The wall bulged slightly and then receded. Part of the wall curved inwards now, its mass jutting out to form a low shelf. It was onto this low shelf that he placed his startled Godson.

Harry wobbled slightly and placed his hands on Sirius’s shoulders to keep himself in place. The spray of the shower made everything slick and the shelf was quite narrow.

On the upside, he was now at eye-level with his Godfather.
His very wet, very attractive Godfather, who only last night had given him the most mind-blowing climax he’d ever had.

Surprisingly, that thought didn’t make him blush. Instead, he felt his heart rate pick up, along with his dick, as his body raced to get ready to do it again.

Dimly, he registered that Sirius was still wearing way more than he should be. Shouldn’t his Godfather at least loose the pants?

Perhaps the other man caught his gaze flicking down in confusion, or perhaps the man was just a mind reader. Either way, he just smiled secretively and pressed forwards to quiet Harry’s lips with his own.

Harry wrapped his arms around his Godfather, feeling the shower’s hot water beating down against his bare arms and Sirius’ back. As Sirius pressed closer still, he gladly wrapped his legs around the man too. Sirius was pressed up against him so tightly that he could feel the other man’s heartbeat against his chest and he could definitely feel Sirius’ excitement pressing towards him – despite it being rather unfairly confined in a pair of jeans.

Sirius ran both hands down Harry’s sides, making him shiver. After a moment, he broke away from Harry’s lips and began to lick and kiss down his Godson’s throat. Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes, practically purring. He leant back into the curve of the wall, hazy with pleasure even as a corner of his mind impatiently waited for Sirius to hurry up and get naked.

They only had ten minutes! Less than that by now!

Sirius seemed in no hurry, however, and Harry was enjoying his Godfather’s dedicated attention far too much to bring it up again.

He jerked slightly in surprise when Sirius’ lips and tongue found one of his nipples. For a moment, he just stared, then slowly, his eyes slid shut again and he relaxed back against the wall.

He’d heard – in that vague sense of knowledge-without-source – that nipples were supposed to be sensitive in sex.. ‘erogo zones’ or something. He’d also heard that some people were sensitive and others weren’t… until now, he’d believed that he was one of the un-sensitive ones.

But no longer. Now, he could not imagine anything more erotic, than the feel of soft lips and a rough, hot tongue brushing against them.. even the slight graze of teeth did nothing more than make him harder.

"Sirius.." He groaned. He didn’t think he could last long enough for the other man to even prep him, let alone get inside him.

Then again.. he was feeling so fucking horny right now that he didn’t have a problem with Sirius just shoving it in… there was no way it could feel bad right now…

What Sirius did, though, was wonderful and horrible at the same time.

He dropped his head right down to Harry’s straining prick and – holding it steady with his thumb and forefinger – very slowly and deliberately ran his tongue up the underside of it, from balls to tip.

Harry froze. His hearted thudded in his chest, painfully out of synch and spreading tendrils of ice through his veins. For a moment, all he could see was a tiny child bent over a pale, swollen dick as an equally pale and scaly hand forced the head down and up, over and over…

A strangled cry of grief and revulsion twisted its way out of his throat. Sirius was standing before him in an instant, concerned blue eyes locked worriedly onto his own wide, empty gaze. One of his hands steadied Harry at his hip, whilst the other brushed wet hair back from a suddenly-pale face.

"Harry?" He asked, rapidly becoming frightened. What the hell had he done?! One night of intercourse wasn’t enough of an introduction to the world of sex for Harry! Not after what had been done to him… Oh shit… oh shit.

He was an effing idiot. Harry had said himself, that he experienced it from Voldemort’s view… the snake-bastard would obviously have been on the receiving end of a blowjob before..

"Harry?" He whispered, leaning his forehead against his Godson’s. "I’m sorry, love. I didn’t think." For a instant, he thought to be glad that they were in the shower. Already the hot water was helping to leech the cold from Harry’s body.

"Harry?" His whispered again. "Look at me?"

Emerald eyes focussed on his own, almost straight away. They were dark again, and somehow fragile. He had to be careful.

"I don’t know what he did, Harry. Not exactly. But whatever it was.. it wasn’t the only way. What I did.. and what I want to do.. is from me to you. I want to make you feel good.. you’re not making me in any way. It’s something I do freely, because I want to. Because I love you. But, if you don’t want me to, you only need to say so, ok Harry? Because that’s ok too. I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do. Ok?"

After a moment, Harry nodded. Then he shook his head slightly and frowned.

"Sirius.. How can you..?" He stopped for a moment and shivered slightly. "How can you want to do that?" He continued quietly, eyes darting away. "It’s.. horrible. People, they either.. they choke or they cry.. the death eaters.. they petrify the jaw so the person can’t bite, and the people that can do it well enough to not be killed half-way through always throw up afterwards…

Sirius brushed his fingers over Harry’s lips, then tilted his head slightly to meet his eyes.

He smiled, slightly sadly.

"It can be uncomfortable, especially to someone who’s not used to it." He agreed easily. "In fact, it’s probably worse than that when the person you’re doing it with isn’t just accepting it, but is actively trying to… erm. Have sex with the person’s mouth. Add in the fact that these people you see aren’t doing it of their own free will.. then yes, the experience can be awful."

Sirius reached down and gently wrapped a warm hand around Harry’s only-slightly softened dick.

"But this, Harry, is different. I know what I’m doing. I’m a little out of practice, true.. but it’s like riding a bicycle." His lips twitched into a grin. "A pornographic bicycle. It won’t take me long to get the hang of it again… and most importantly, Harry." He paused for a moment, nailing Harry with a forceful look. "I’m doing this because I want to. Believe it or not, but once I get into it, I’ll enjoy it too. Not as much as you will, true.." The smirk Sirius gave him now was more arousing than even the hand that was slowly stroking him. "But there will be pleasure on my end. I promise."

Harry hesitated. Somehow.. this was worse than the sex last night. What they did then was reassuringly different from what he’d experienced with Voldemort. In many ways, it had been much, much better.

Inwardly, he sniggered at the thought of the Evil Dark Lord Voldemort demanding his terrified prisoners take him up the arse.

Outwardly, he bit his lip. Voldemort had been fond of this kind of thing. He had death eaters, prisoners and slaves all on hand to satisfy him whenever he wanted. He’d even given speeches to his ranks of death eaters whilst being sucked off by a terrified pureblood child sold by his parents for status in Voldemort’s army.

Could he really stand to look down and see Sirius’s head down there? Would he ever be able to see Sirius again and not think of it? Would he associate Sirius now, with the filth and taint of Voldemort?

"It will be ok, Harry." Sirius reassured softly. "Just remember that everything I do is of my own free will. I want you to feel good."

Harry nodded reluctantly. Admittedly, it was difficult to argue with the man, when he was still dreamily pumping his cock in his hand.

Sirius knelt down again and Harry drew a deep, strained breath. His hands hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do and he refused to put them on Sirius’ head.

"Hang onto my shoulders, Harry." Sirius instructed. "That way you can keep your balance and push me back if you want to. Ok?"

Harry nodded and did just that.

Still breathing slightly too quickly, he leant back against the wall again and tried to will the horrible images away from the inside of his eyelids.

He could feel Sirius’ lips against him, could feel Sirius’ rough tongue taking tiny, maddening licks. A sharp spike of fear hit him and he opened his eyes, wanting reassurance that it was Sirius, and not some poor person he’d have nightmares of for weeks afterwards.

It was Sirius.

It was Sirius who was holding his dick so gently.. as though it were a precious instrument that would break if handled too roughly. It was Sirius who’s slick wet hair was brushing his cock as that hot, rough tongue did hidden things to his balls. It was Sirius who glanced up for a moment and smiled warmly, reassuringly, lovingly up at him.

He let out a shuddering breath, sending most of his fear out with it, and relaxed.

He let himself trust Sirius and let himself feel.

All too soon, the man’s mouth was at the head of his penis, that tongue flickering over the very tip of it. Harry felt a high-pitched whine escape his throat, and glared at the man who had the audacity to smirk at him for it.

Then that smirking mouth closed around him, cautiously testing his width inside it and shifting to ease the process.

Harry froze, but for a different reason this time. Sirius mouth was so hot.. the tongue twitching under his cock was almost driving him insane and he only barely stopped himself from thrusting up into the sensation.

His patience was well-rewarded though, when – after a couple of moments – Sirius seemed to find his groove and began to take more and more of his Godson’s length into his mouth.

Harry’s breath began to come in little pants, as he felt his over-sensitised cock brush against the back of Sirius’ throat.

"God. Sirius." He cried, not even noticing the grip he had on his Godfather’s shoulders.

Sirius pulled back, agonisingly slowly, somehow managing to suck the entire length of Harry’s cock before he released it.

He glanced up at his Godson. Harry was shaking and his eyes were cloudy with arousal. His prick strained upwards and Sirius knew the teen wouldn’t take long to finish. Then again, since dinner must have started by now, it was probably just as well.

He leaned forwards for a lingering kiss, pleasantly surprised to find that Harry had no problem tonguing the man who’d just been doing intimate things with that very tongue.

"Let me drink it, Harry." He murmured as he pulled back. "Let me make you come and let me swallow every… last… drop…" The last three words were delivered in a throaty growl and Harry visibly shuddered. Judging by the way the boy leaned into his touch and the hungry edge to his answering kiss, he’d be willing to bet it was from desire and not fear, this time.

Good.

His left hand gripped Harry’s shaft again, whilst his right hand wandered up to touch one of Harry’s neglected nipples. The teen under him moaned.

The sound of it – of Harry – was so fucking erotic that he almost came himself, right there and then.

Forcing it to the back of his mind, Sirius descended on Harry once more. This time, however, his ministrations were swift and hard. As his mouth came up, tight and sucking, his left hand pumped the cock it held. He felt, more than heard, Harry’s panting cries of pleasure above him. The sounds themselves seemed wrenched from deep within the teenaged body. Distantly, Sirius wondered how long it would take him to coax those sounds out in full. Certainly more time than he had right now, anyway.

Feeling the cock in his mouth stiffen even more and hearing the cries above him take on a certain edge, Sirius pulled his lips back slightly.

To Harry, the sensation of teeth lightly trailing up his cock, as Sirius sucked him off, drove him right over the edge.

He came loudly, Sirius’ hot mouth wrapped around the tip of his dick as Sirius’ hand furiously pumped his shaft. The sight of Sirius swallowing his cum didn’t seem as abhorrent as he’d thought it would… From the way the man was licking – as if for the last few drops – Sirius hadn’t thought it too terrible either.

Suddenly feeling as though all his energy had left him, Harry slumped forwards.
Sirius stood up again and wrapped his arms around him, one hand stroking up and down his back.

Twisting, Harry leaned up for a kiss. Sirius turned his face aside and nuzzled instead.

Harry frowned. Freeing one arm from Sirius’ embrace, he reached up and slid his hand through his Godfather’s hair. Tugging lightly, he brought Sirius’ gaze back to him. Holding his gaze, Harry kissed his godfather. His tongue pushed against the older man’s lips, demanding entrance.

Sirius gave in. He watched through slitted eyes as his godson cautiously tasted himself inside his Godfather’s mouth. To his surprise, Harry didn’t pull away. After a few tentative moments, the younger male was kissing him as though nothing had happened.

Reluctantly, it was Sirius who disengaged.

"We have to get to dinner, Har." He breathed. "I’m amazed they haven’t sent search parties already."

Harry looked him, confusion clear in his eyes.

"But.. what about..?" His gaze flicked down to Sirius’ crotch, where the bulge of his erection was still clear to see.

Sirius grinned. "I guess I’ll just have to slouch in my chair." He joked.

Harry laughed.

"I’ve got a better idea." He said, smiling as Sirius turned off the water and then enthusiastically began to towel him dry.

"I’ll go down and have dinner and tell them you got in the shower after I’d finished. Then I’ll bring some food up for you." He smiled shyly. "Then maybe.."

Sirius raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"Maybe…?" He asked teasingly.

Harry smiled. Part shy, part seductive.

"Maybe.. you can finish what you started." He suggested.

Sirius blinked.

"You want to do that again?" He asked, more than a little surprised.

Harry chuckled.

"No, silly." He stepped right up to Sirius, careful not to touch his soaking wet clothes.

"I want you in me." He breathed, before stepping back, smiling brightly and leaving the room.

Sirius stared after him, then swallowed. Hard.

All of a sudden, not leaving the room seemed like a really good idea. No amount of slouching was going to hide this….

-------------------------------------------------------

Ahh.. I’m tired now.
Writing imaginary blowjobs is exhausting.

This is PART 1

You can find Part 2 HERE

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Sirry: The cliché files.

Case # 3
Part 1

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A metallic clattering noise woke him up.

It was faint, but faint noises were easy to catch, if you had ears of a dog.

A dog who had spent two years sleeping on edge, constantly listening for the sound of approaching danger.

Padfoot blinked awake almost instantly. It took him a moment to realize he was sleeping on a large bed, not on a forest floor, and that he was safe in Grimmauld Place.
He was just settling back down, when he heard a muffled sob.

It was close. It also had a strange echoing edge to it…
His head turned towards a door set into the wall. His room had its own bathroom attached, but there were also a few others scattered throughout the house. Who could be in there?

Oh. Molly.

Molly had recently sealed the main bathrooms shut, after her teenaged twin-terrors had repeatedly booby-trapped them. Adult wizards and witches – who could legally use magic – could easily pass through her wards. But the kids in the house had learnt that ‘bathtime’ now came before ‘bedtime’, no exceptions. In case of emergencies, she’d dug up a handful of chamber pots for them.

Come September 1st, he was willing to bet that the twins would be in for a world of pain. They may be talented pranksters, but Ginny & Hermione were furious females.

Right now, though, it looked like someone was using his bathroom instead of the chamber pots. Although slightly annoyed, he could understand. Especially if it was one of the girls.

He was just about to go back to sleep, when he remembered the sob.

This time he shifted back into human form, scrubbing at his face with both hands.
It was doubtful someone had picked his bathroom to go and have a little cry in, so that meant whoever using it was probably sick.

Crap.

Yawning slightly, he grabbed his wand and shuffled over to the door. Opening it (silently – the squeaking of its hinges had been silenced the first night he’d moved in) he was surprised to see the light was off.

He flicked it on and froze.

His fifteen year old Godson was sitting on his knees before the sink. His forehead rested against the side of the cold ceramic, he was clearly leaning against it for support. One hand gripped the edge of the sink weakly, but the other…

The other was resting in the sink itself, streaked with blood. The blood was coming from his arm, from a single long slash. The knife that did it was also in the sink.. it falling must have been the clatter that woke him.

“Harry.” His voice was strangled. He felt strangled.

Dark green eyes flicked up to him, tired and empty. Then Harry turned his face away, shame almost radiating off him.

Three steps took him to his side, then he was kneeling by his godson’s slender, shaking body. He wrapped his arms gently around him and held him close. Harry was so cold…

He was also speaking, constant apologies falling from his lips as tears fell from his eyes.

“Shhhhh… shhh… it’s ok. It’s ok.” He murmured back, rubbing one hand up and down Harry’s back, whilst the other gently held his head.

It was ok.

Sure, he was frantic with worry. Sure, the memory of finding Harry bleeding his life away in his own bathroom would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But he knew – absolutely – that everything was going to be ok. He would make it ok.

He pressed a kiss to Harry’s head, then loosened his grip. He shifted the half-conscious teen until he was leaning against his own chest – didn’t want him touching the freezing floor or wall – then reached for the wand he’d dropped.

He lifted it to point at Harry’s still-bleeding arm – and stopped.

His mind was blank.
He couldn’t remember the spell!

It was one he’d used a million times before, on his unconscious werewolf friend by the light of the pre-dawn after-mornings. Back then, it had been to help his friend along a little. Now, it was a matter of life-or-death and he couldn’t remember!

He shoved the wand into the waistband of his boxers and awkwardly removed his shirt. Tying it tightly around his godson’s arm, he shifted the boy slightly and then lifted him up. The sink – saturated in blood and shining crimson in the harsh bathroom light – caught his eye. He swallowed and forced his eyes away.

It wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

It only took a moment to lower Harry onto the bed, another to cover him with blankets, and then he turned to go. He needed to get Madam Pomfrey. Was she staying here tonight? There’d been an order meeting last night, had she left?

A hand was gripping his fingers. He stopped instantly. Harry was still conscious somehow. His eyes – which had previously been averted – were now looking at him with a desperate kind of plea. His mouth opened slightly, as though to speak, but then closed again. Harry hadn’t been raised to ask for what he needed, let alone wanted.

“I’ll be right back. I promise. I just need to get someone to fix your arm, ok?” Sirius whispered, as he sat on the edge of the bed and took Harry’s chilly hand in his own. “As soon as they’re done, I’ll send them away and stay right here. I promise.”

Harry shook his head. “M’fine. It’sok.”

Sirius sighed slightly. “Harry-” Harry shook his head sharply, then groaned weakly as he slumped backwards. Breathing deeply, he managed to keep his grip on consciousness. “It’ll be ‘k, Sirius.” Harry opened his eyes, but almost immediately shifted them away from Sirius’ worried blue ones. “It… always is..” He admitted softly.

Sirius hesitated. Harry tugged at the shirt bound tightly over his arm. Sirius moved to stop him, but before he could he noticed that the cut had indeed stopped bleeding. He paused, then nodded slowly.

“How?” He whispered. Harry’s lips twisted in a bitter smile, only slightly tinged with humor. “Magic.” He answered.

Sirius searched his face, but let the subject lie. He bit the inside of his cheek lightly, wondering if he shouldn’t go wake up Poppy anyway. That idea was shot to hell when Harry turned his gaze back to him. “Will… will you stay with me?”

Sirius nodded. “‘Course.” He answered, just as softly. He pulled up the blankets and slipped underneath, pulling Harry towards him. His Godson curled into his warmth, still shaking lightly.

Time passed, though he couldn’t guess how much. Harry stopped shaking, his chilled skin slowly warmed. He’d thought he was asleep, until his voice broke the silence.

“I didn’t… I’m not… y’know. I didn’t do it ‘cause..”

Sirius just stroked his hair, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“I get these dreams.” Harry blurted suddenly. “Of Voldemort. He just… they…” He swallowed, as his breathing picked up.

“They do things.” His voice was low, dark with awful experience. “Horrible things, Sirius. Worse than just the unforgivables… And what they do to the men and the women.. it’s nothing to what they do to the children… God…”

He was breathing much faster now. He sounded like he might throw up any second. Sirius felt his guts twist. How could he protect Harry from his nightmares?

“It’s not your fault.” He whispered firmly, moving a hand to stroke gently up his arm. Hopefully the tactile comfort would reach him better. Or at least, ground him in the here-and-now.

“I know.” Harry said brokenly. “I know, I know. But.. Sirius.. You don’t understand. When I have these dreams, I’m in his head. I.. I feel what he feels! I’m.. I’m doing what he.. what…”

He broke down, burying his face into Sirius’ chest to muffle the harsh sobs ripping through him. Sirius wrapped his arms around him tighter, pulling Harry as close to him as he could, then slung his leg over Harry’s.

Anyone walking in would probably have been appalled at the sight. The two looked much too intimate for a Godfather-Godson relationship… even though the pair hadn’t had that for over fourteen years.

It certainly never occurred to Sirius, that he might be getting too close.

There was only Harry, in his arms, desperately seeking something from him that he was only too willing to give. Security, comfort, affection.. Anything and everything he could give, he’d give gladly. He loved Harry.

He hadn’t been sure of that, at times. Azkaban had stripped him of it during his imprisonment, and after that, the feeling came and went in bursts of startling power.. During the episodes, there was nothing else he felt that much certainty of. After they’d passed, however.. he’d begin to doubt.

It didn’t help, that it didn’t feel like a parent’s love. That seemed to have been removed permanently. The love he felt – when he felt it – was intense and without boundaries. Almost obsessive. He just wanted to be with Harry, to hear him speak, to talk to him, to see him.. to be with him.

Frankly, it’d had scared him. He’d worried that Azkaban had actually broken something.

But now, lying with Harry clinging to him so desperately, he felt it again.
It was a wonderful feeling, even with the hurt mixed in – the hurt for Harry.
And he knew. He could rationalize it all he wanted. He could make excuses till the end of days, but it wouldn’t change a damned thing.

He loved Harry. Completely, utterly. Exclusively. And even though nothing would – could – ever come of it… it didn’t stop him from feeling it.

“I love you Harry.” He told the boy, voice low and firm with utter conviction. “I’ll never stop loving you. You can always come to me, talk to me.. anything you need, whenever you need it. I promise. I will never turn you away, no matter what.”

He not only meant every word he said, but he also hoped it would help Harry open up to him a little more. He knew Harry would feel better if he could speak about what had happened… but more importantly, he wanted Harry to want to come to him first, should something like this happen again. He’d rather his sweet, gentle, beaten-yet-not-broken godson came to him, threw up on him, cried to him.. rather than in the bathroom, alone and cold and.. and bleeding…

He heard Harry catch his breath, make an effort to slow it down again. One of Harry’s slender arms snaked around his waist and pulled him even closer.

“It just… it’s sick, you know?” Harry choked out. “And when he does.. does that stuff… even though I’m him and he’s enjoying it… I feel so sick. And when I wake up, I remember his enjoyment.. and I feel so dirty… So filthy.

He sniffled, twisting his face away so he didn’t rub his damp nose against Sirius’ skin.
“That’s why I.. I do it. To get it out. I just need to get it all out, all the filth and the sickness and the.. the evil. It’s just one cut. I don’t enjoy it.. it hurts. But when it’s finished.. I feel better. Cleaner. My magic.. it always kicks in just in time. Even if I fall unconscious, it closes the cut. If you looked right now.. there wouldn’t even be a line left. So.. so it’s ok, y’know? You don’t need to worry… I won’t die or anything…”

Sirius shuffled down, until his head was even with Harry’s. The emotions clashing within his emerald eyes was almost painful to witness.

“The fact that you’re being hurt is worrying enough, Har. Not by yourself, but by Voldemort. That bastard is hurting you and I can’t stop him… I’d give anything to be able to. But please… please, if he hurts you again.. come to me? Even if you need to… to do it again, at least I’ll be there with you, ok? Maybe just my being there will help you feel better, if only a little?

Harry hesitated.

“Please, Harry? There’s not a lot I can do to help, but I want to do something. Anything. Even if it’s only holding you, afterwards.”

Harry glanced up at him, and odd look in his eyes.

“Anything?” He asked, voice tinged with something Sirius couldn’t quite identify.

“Anything.” Sirius answered, confused but not wavering in the slightest. He really would give anything.

Not moving his gaze, Harry shifted his hand downwards. He hesitated for a second, eyes searching Sirius’ widened ones for something, even as the odd look in his own never budged.

“Will you give me this?” He asked, so softly that Sirius almost didn’t hear him.

Swallowing hard, Sirius nevertheless answered him without hesitation.

“Yes, Harry. If it will help… I’ll give you that. Anything and everything.”

END PART 1

Please comment. Or, you know, go right to Part TWO

THIS IS PART 2!

Part 1


Warning: Male/Male. Underaged. R (NC-17) rated.

HPSB

Read at your own risk.

(Not just ‘cause it’s explicit. But also because it’s terribly written.)


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Sirry: The cliché files.

Case # 3

Part 2

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Harry exhaled sharply and dropped his eyes. “Really?” He asked, as though not quite believing his own ears. “I mean.. I know it’s not.. It’s not…”

He looked up again, desperation back in his eyes.

“It’s just.. he does it, you know? And I feel so stained by it. It’s all.. hate and suffering and lust and breaking…” He drew a shuddering breath, fighting back tears.

“I don’t want that to be all I know.” He whispered tightly. “So please… if you will.. Can you.. now?”

Sirius let out a slow breath and kissed Harry on the forehead, once more.

“Ok, Harry.” He whispered, eyes closed.
He then opened them and made sure to look his godson right in the eye.

“But if at any moment you feel uncomfortable, or want to slow down or stop, you just say so right away, ok?” Harry nodded, but Sirius stared him down, trying to gauge just how likely that was.

“I promise, Sirius.” Harry said softly, a few seconds later.

Sirius nodded. “Ok, then.” He began to move, then hesitated. To his chagrin, he could feel a slight blush beginning to stain his face.

“Do you want to.. uh. Well. How to say this? Would you like to be.. er..”

Harry gave him a shaky grin. “I’d prefer it if you were… uhm. In me. Please. He is always the one who… y’know...”

Sirius returned the smile and nodded. Taking a deep breath (and belatedly noticing his own hands had started shaking) he reached up a hand to trace gently along Harry’s jaw line.

He locked eyes with him, once more.

“I love you Harry.” He repeated. Harry smiled at him. It was small, but it was real.
“I know.” He whispered back. “I.. I love you too. That’s why.. I’m asking..”

Sirius nodded.

Then he leant down and kissed him.

The kisses were slow and gentle. Against his lips, his jaw, his eyes, his throat. All designed to ease the tension he could feel humming through Harry’s body.

The hand at his head slipped into his messy black hair and began lightly massaging his scalp, whilst the other moved down over Harry’s body, simply getting him used to the sensation of being touched.

After a few tense moments, Harry began to reciprocate. One hand tugged Sirius’ hair out of the loose ponytail it had been in, whilst the other gingerly explored his exposed skin. One of Sirius’ legs had slipped between his own, and was gently rubbing against him.

To his complete shock, he felt himself harden almost immediately. He breathed in, sharply. Sirius stopped moving, though he kept his face nuzzled against his neck.

“You ok?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Harry breathed. “This is just… weird. I’ve never even thought about this kind of thing before. With a guy, I mean. And now we’re…”

Sirius pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Remember, anytime..” He reminded him seriously.

Harry nodded jerkily and half-smiled. His own eyes flickered down to Sirius’s mouth for a moment, before he visibly steeled himself and leaned up for a proper kiss.

Sirius slipped a hand down to the crook of his neck and kissed back. A flick of his tongue opened Harry’s mouth to him, where he then proceeded to teach his Godson everything he could remember about kissing.

By the time he’d finished, they were both hard and panting for breath.

“So, what do you think?” He asked teasingly, shifting so his own hardness was rubbing against Harry’s.

“Better’n Cho.” Harry ground out, arching into the sensation. He watched as Sirius fumbled for his wand and cast a series of quick spells, the final one summoning a small jar to him. His Godfather quickly unscrewed the lid and took a tentative sniff of what was inside.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, semi-impatiently. His erection was aching for contact and it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to reach for it or rub up against Sirius.

“Some lube.” Sirius answered absently. “It’s been here since I last lived here years ago… Should still be good though, it’s wizard stuff.” He grinned down at him. “And I do mean ‘wizard’.” His grin faltered a little at the persistent look of incomprehension on Harry’s face.

“Here. I’ll show you..”

So saying, he carefully placed the still-opened jar down onto the bedside-table and started to properly de-clothe the teen underneath him.

Harry was wearing some more of the hideous hand-me-downs the Muggles seemed to favour. Draw-string pants and a button-up top that was missing a few buttons in the middle. Harry’s clothes had always been shapeless and ugly, though he’d never mentioned it. Whenever he’d opened his mouth to, his brain had latched onto the fact that he was the reason Harry had been clothed by magic-hating Muggles, and so he’d subsided into his usual kickback of guilt and shame.

But right here and now, his brain was a little distracted. And after loosing the pants and unbuttoning Harry’s shirt fully, it almost ceased functioning altogether.

He would be the first to admit that his Godson was small for his age. He’d been startlingly smaller than his friends the first time Sirius had laid eyes on him, and even though he’d managed to catch Hermione in height, Ron’s towering form often hid that fact and made him seem quite underdeveloped.

Stunted, even.

He’d overheard Mrs. Weasley gently assuring Harry that he was ‘just a late bloomer’ once, a day or so after he’d arrived and Ron had opened his typically big mouth and remarked on how Harry was taking his sweet time to hit puberty. (To Harry’s utter mortification).

But this.. this was not stunted or pre-pubescent at all.

Harry was short, yes, slender – certainly! But he was by no means under-developed. What body mass he had was very defined muscle. It wasn’t just a lack of fat accentuating it either, it was hard enough that the expression ‘washboard’ seemed appropriate.

Those muscles were tensing again now, as Sirius stared (or rather, drooled) blankly at him. He shook himself out of it and carried on. He felt suddenly nervous.

He himself was certainly not-unfit, though he was a lot leaner than he’d used to be. Azkaban had wasted his body, but two years of living on the run with relatively-accessible food (Eating out of a dumpster as a dog was way better than gruel as a human when he couldn’t really find a reason to eat at all) had helped him out too. He’d lost the mass he’d once had, but what he did have now was wiry and strong – if also gaunt and pale.

He didn’t know if it was good enough for Harry, though.. Especially when the mere sight of the teen naked was almost enough to make him slip over the edge.

He chanced a glance at him. Harry’s eyes were glinting with arousal, but were also shining with understanding. Silently, the teen reached again for his Godfather. Boldly, he ran his hands over the elder man’s body, not stopping when he came to his boxers. As soon as he began to tug them downwards, Sirius helped pull them off entirely.

Then they were both naked. Somehow, though…

It felt right.

“Ready?” Sirius quirked an eyebrow. Harry nodded. There was still darkness lurking in his eyes, but it was being subdued by the sheer trust he had for Sirius.

Sirius was going to make damn sure he deserved that trust.

He reached for the lube, coated his fingers in the slick stuff and then gently pressed one in.

He heard Harry make a startled noise.

“Sorry about the chill.” He breathed, deliberately over Harry’s twitching member. “It’ll warm up in a sec.”

“What… what is it?” Harry asked. Face hidden from view, Sirius frowned. Voldemort must’ve liked it dry. Liked giving it dry, anyway. Sick bastard probably thought blood was a good natural lubricator.

“It’s a special kind of liquid, really. It’ll help everything go smoother, so it feels nicer faster and hurts less than it needs to.” He answered calmly, as he steadily worked first one finger, and then a second.

Harry was deliciously tight, even on just his fingers. Just thinking about it was making his dick painfully hard, so he cast around for something to distract himself with.

Hey. It was right there. Why not?

Whilst the fingers of his left hand were busy preparing Harry, Sirius moved his right to grip Harry’s shaft. He almost groaned aloud, as Harry’s breathing spiked and sped up

“Easy Harry.” He half-begged. “We don’t want to finish before we’ve even started.”
Harry growled. “Easy for you to say.” He muttered. “You don’t have someone –ahh!”

Sirius grinned. He’d found Harry’s spot by accident, but hearing him cry out like that…

Concentrating, he felt for it again. Almost instantly, he was rewarded by another pleasure-filled cry. Figuring that Harry had relaxed as much as he was going to, he removed his fingers and spread the remainder of the liquid over himself.

After a moments’ contemplation, he reached up to the head of the bed and nabbed one of the decorative cushions. Since they were never used, they were quite firm – and therefore better for this kind of thing than pillows were.

He smiled at Harry’s flushed face and kissed him lightly, as he shifted the teen’s slender hips up and over the cushion.

“This’ll help.” He whispered, as he was temporarily distracted his Harry’s tasty lips.
As he leant forwards to deepen the kisses, he was rather abruptly reminded of their twin ‘junior’ members.

Smiling sheepishly, he drew back. In a moment, he had gently moved Harry’s legs and knelt ready between them. He glanced up one final time for permission, and was answered with a jerky nod.

He pushed in. Harry cried out, head thrown back. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to stop and wait for Harry to adjust. He was just so incredibly hot right now…

Harry gritted his teeth. From out of nowhere, his hands appeared on Sirius back, just at the edge of his ribs, and dug in. Emerald eyes – glinting again – snapped to his own.

“More.” The teen demanded. Sirius was only too happy to oblige. At first he moved slowly, cautiously, but a few half-snarled words from his panting partner had him pick up the pace.

In his youth, Sirius had been with quite a few people. Boys and girls alike. Most had been quite loud (more out of a desire to prove something, or from some misguided notion of how sex ought to go, rather than anything else) and the quiet ones seemed to favour muttering dirty words and orders to themselves or himself. Harry was nothing like any of them.

He was quiet, but it was an intense sort of silence, as though he was focusing all his pleasure internally, not willing to let even the smallest amount escape him. His panting breath was neither harsh nor soft, but managed to sound incredibly erotic.

Occasionally, as Sirius brushed against that special spot inside, he’d startle a sound out of him. Wanting to hear that sound more often, he began to shift slightly – without loosing rhythm – in an effort to find just the right angle.

He found it.

Harry began to cry out in time with each thrust, encouraging Sirius to drive harder and faster. He felt himself teeter dangerously on the edge, and bit his lip in an effort to hold back. It was important that Harry came first, that Harry’s pleasure came first.

Shifting his weight slightly, he reached one shaking hand to Harry’s straining prick and began to pump it.

Harry came, hard. A strangled cry – possibly Sirius’ own name was in there somewhere – ripped from his throat as he shuddered his way through the powerful climax.

The sensation of Harry clamping around him, the sight of him lying under him, was enough to smash Sirius’ self-restraint to pieces. He came only seconds after, buried to the hilt in his Godson.

He didn’t waste any time coming down. Immediately, he wrapped his warm arms around Harry and rolled the two of them over, ensuring the smaller male was lying on top – not trapped or smothered. Harry buried his face in Sirius’ chest and continued to shudder slightly. Sirius just hoped he was recovering from the climax, and not crying.

He gently stroked one hand from the top of Harry’s head, down to the small of his back and up again, offering as much tactile comfort and reassurance as he could. He could feel something trickling down his own back – which was quite sore where Harry had dug his bitten-off nails in. Hopefully, it was just sweat and not blood. He didn’t think Harry was quite ready to distinguish ‘kinky’ sex from ‘sadistic evil’ sex.

After a few minutes, when both their breathing had calmed down and Harry didn’t appear to be crying, he spoke.

“Are you ok?”

Harry nodded into his chest. One of his hands was idly tracing patterns – in his own cum – on Sirius’ stomach.

Ok. That was a good sign.

He felt his cock twitch slightly, inside Harry.

Ok. That was not such a good sign.

He’d just started to shift in preparation to remove himself, when Harry unexpectedly clenched the muscles down there.

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath and waited. He could feel ‘Junior’ down there stiffening by the second. Apparently he had a lot of missed years to catch up on.

Harry moved – quite gingerly – and pushed himself up to straddle Sirius.
His jet black hair was almost lying flat, stuck to his skin with sweat. His eerily green eyes peered out from behind it, a much lighter colour than they had been before.

There was still that disturbing glint in there though. Sirius was beginning to recognize it as desire.

“Again?” Harry suggested.

“Again.” Sirius agreed.



That night was the beginning

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END.

How were they enjoying kissing in the middle of the night, hours after they’d brushed their teeth?

Erm.

Magic. Yes. In times of great stress, and all that… : )

Feedback is appreciated, so long as it isn’t harsh and spiteful. This being the first ‘adult’ scene I’ve ever written, I know it’s not so good.. So constructive criticism only please.

Brotherly Love

(A title that is overused because it’s so damn good!)

Please be aware of the following:

This story is a fanfic OF the fanfic ‘Darkness Within’ by ff.n author ‘Kurinoone’.
This story is a one-shot SPIN-OFF! The pairing contained within this ficlet is not at all present in her original story.

You can find her story HERE

I reccomend you read her story first (If you haven't already) not only because it is really excellent but also because this ficlet may not make too much sense otherwise.

Warning: This ficlet contains both SLASH and INCEST. HPDP

...And I can't believe that I actually wrote it...


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Sunlight streamed into the large kitchen. The ancient, leafy trees planted outside broke the harsh rays into softer patterns, lending a gentle look to the room.

Though it was early in the morning, a young man was moving purposefully about. Dark-haired and lithe, the teen moved with a sense of power and control - even when he hesitated at times, or glanced surreptitiously around before vanishing various messes.

It was a fact: Being raised as the Dark Heir to an evil Dark Wizard with a God complex, was not conductive to learning basic cooking skills.

Harry was only just beginning to realise this. He hadn't thought it'd be too much of a problem. He had carefully studied his mother's movements over the past few weeks, watching carefully so as to not give away his intentions.

He'd been nervous about it.. He'd wanted to help his family, he'd wanted to do his part and - most importantly - wanted to not cause them to regret taking him in.

But the only memories he had of cooking, were hand-in-hand with his memories of torture and abuse from his par.. no, from the fake-parents.

He was no coward, though. Nervous as he was to possibly open the lid on that particular box of demons - especially as the family had already had to move once before, because he couldn't cope with his own memories - he was nevertheless determined to do what he deemed his 'fair share'. And he didn't think having his Mother waiting on him like a house-elf was fair.

Unfortunately, what had seemed so simple before was turning out to be fraught with un-noticed difficulties! He felt like a fool, as he threw away yet another batch of eggs, because they had not hardened properly. His mother would just dump them in a pot of water and then wander away to do other things as they boiled. He'd mentally kept count and had devised a wait-time of approximately 3 minutes. When Lily took the eggs out after that, they were almost completely solid, but just runny enough to thrash in a pot with spices and butter to then place on toast for herself and James.

Harry had only managed to get 'liquefied' or 'rock solid'. It was frustrating and embarrassing, not to mention wasteful! He was steadily working his way through an entire carton of eggs and had a small pile of cold toast sitting to the side as well. Growling under his breath, he shook his head.
Why was it so damned difficult? How could he be so inept at such a simple thing?! Here he was, trying to do something good for his parents, but he would instead wind up costing them money and embarrassing himself in front of them!

"Way to go, Potter." He muttered to himself. "Fucking brilliant. If anyone needs a fuckin' killer, you're there! But can you do one fucking good thing for your family? Fuck no!"

Abruptly, he stopped what he was doing and took a step back. One hand pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, as if warding off a headache. The other clenched into a fist, both of frustration and self-recrimination.

Why was he getting so upset? It was just breakfast, not the end of the world. Hell, he knew his parents wouldn't be angry at him for wasting food.. probably, anyway. Was it just irritation that he couldn't do something? Especially something that had seemed so simplistic. Casting the ripple curse, now that was difficult. It took him an entire week of relentless practice to get it right.

But then.. that curse had been notoriously difficult. Bella - he felt the familiar twinge of mixed grief and pain and betrayal at the thought of her - had boasted to the other Death Eaters about how he had accomplished a spell that had taken her almost a month to get down.

”It’s just breakfast.” He whispered tightly, eyes clenched shut against both the ghosts of his past and the ever-increasing mess before him.

”Harry?”

Reflexively reaching for a knife he no longer carried (at least, inside the house. His parents didn’t need to know just how armed he was when he went outside.) Harry cursed softly as he belatedly recognised his younger brother’s voice and managed to turn his startled movement into a smoother prelude of turning around.

Damien stood just inside the kitchen way, a smile on his face hinting at one of his trademark idiotically-delighted grins that he – Harry – secretly cherished even as they infuriated him.

By the look on his face, Harry knew his brother knew full well he’d been reaching for a weapon. He also knew Damien wouldn’t say anything about it. Unlike his parents, Damien accepted Harry for who he was – both in the past and present.

”Uh, Harry? What.. are you doing?”

Harry sighed, straightening slightly in embarrassment, as his sibling walked over to him and stood staring at the kitchen bench.

”I was… trying.. to make breakfast.” He admitted stiffly. He expected his brother to laugh, to tease him – maybe even go running for their parents to share the laughter. Instead, Damien turned gentle, understanding eyes up to him and simply smiled.

”That’s nice of you.” He said at length, eyes glowing with admiration and affection. Despite himself, Harry felt his face heat slightly.
Looking away, he muttered something negative and vanished the latest failure with a flick of the wrist.

Damien watched his older brother quietly, feeling love for him swell within his chest. Not a moment went by when he didn’t admire Harry. He admired his poise, his fighting skill, his independence and self-assurance.. hell. He admired the sheer balls it took to do all the ludicrously dangerous and insane tasks his brother set himself. He especially admired his brother’s natural grasp of magic, his power and the unconscious ease of which he manipulated it. In many ways, Harry was everything he – Damien – wanted to be.

Then there were times like this, when Harry accidentally showed his failings, when his iron self-control slipped for just long enough for Damien to see the insecure teen within. He didn’t recoil, though. These moments never disappointed him. Instead, Damien felt they made him love his brother all the more. Especially at moments like this.

Harry probably had no idea how.. well, cute it was, that he was trying to make breakfast for everybody. Harry was just trying to do something nice, trying to express his feelings for his new family, but in a manner so serious and focused that he just wanted to hug him.

Hey. Why not?

Harry stiffened – as he always did – when Damien leant in for a hug, but almost immediately relaxed into it. Damien felt a moment of smug satisfaction – Mum and Dad still got stiff-armed or pushed away when they initiated an unexpected hug. But Harry never pushed him away.

Well, not right away, anyway.

Sure enough, although his brother had wrapped an arm around him in a return hug, all too soon the older teen was pushing his younger brother slightly away.

Damien obeyed the non-vocal request for space, as he always did. Unable to help himself, however, he threaded his right hand through Harry’s left. When Harry shot him a startled look, he just grinned sort-of-sheepishly and tightened his grip. So much had happened to them lately that he just wanted to hang onto his brother a little more. Was that a crime?

Harry didn’t seem to think so, because his eyes not only softened but then his own fingers actually curled around Damien’s own!

Damien felt an unexpected thrill of joy at the gesture. For Harry, that was like a five-minute monologue on everything he loved about his sibling. He wanted to go in for another hug – he wanted that closeness – but he knew Harry wouldn’t be quite so receptive if he pushed it.

”Sooo..” He cast around for a subject. “Why are all the toppings out?”

He just managed to muffle a grin as his brother threw a disgruntled look at the assortment of jams, spreads and butters.

”I was going to make pancakes.” Harry admitted, a little grumpily. “But I couldn’t get the batter right.. it was like dough. I kept adding milk, but then we ran out. So I tried adding water, but…”

He trailed off as Damien started laughing and glared at him. He tugged at the hand his sibling held, not hard enough to rip it away but firmly enough to express his irritation.

Damien bit back the laugh almost immediately, although he couldn’t quite wipe a grin from his face. His other hand shot up to close around Harry’s, effectively trapping it, and he ran his thumb gently over his brother’s knuckles.

”Sorry, Harry.” He apologised – still grinning, but no less sincere for it.
”If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t do any better." He added honestly. "The only reason I'd be down in the kitchen alone, would be to eat the lemon butter right out of the jar! And besides…” He hesitated, wondering whether Harry would be relived to know or not. Harry turned back at his hesitation, emerald eyes – darker and harder than his mother’s – fixed on him. He sighed. He could never lie to Harry, and especially not when his brother fixed him with that look that said he knew every thought in your head, so don’t even bother. He wondered if Harry had learnt that from Voldemort too…

”Besides, Mum got called to the Burrow late last night and’ll be gone till this afternoon.” He continued. “And you know Dad.. if it wasn’t for the smell of cooking food, he wouldn’t wake up till noon.”

A look of amusement flashed over Harry’s face.

”Like you’re any different.” The older teen remarked dryly. “Just what are you doing down here so early, anyway?”

The younger of the pair shrugged. He’d actually woken up early ‘cause he’d needed to go to the toilet. When walking back to his room, he’d peeked into Harry’s room only to find his brother missing. He’d hoped his brother hadn’t run off, but hadn’t really been worried, either. Not only could his brother look after himself, but he was smart, too. He wouldn’t risk his life just on a whim. Still…

He shrugged under his brother’s questioning gaze. “Was just looking for you.” He admitted blandly. One of Harry’s dark eyebrows rose. “You thought I’d run off?” He asked. Damien shook his head immediately. “No! No, I just.. well..”
He felt his face heat up abruptly, so he ducked his head. “I just.. like spending time with you, ‘s all.”

There was a moment of silence. Damien tensed, suddenly feeling embarrassed and irritated at himself. Why did he have to go and say something stupid like that? He glanced at their hands – still intertwined – and thought that maybe he should let go and go back to his room or something…

Then Harry moved closer to him for once, wrapped his strong arms around his younger brother’s slender frame and held him close.
Speechless with amazement, Damien nevertheless wasted no time in wrapping his own arms around his brother and pressing close to his chest.

As always, he felt himself swimming in the warmth/comfort sensations his brother seemed to generate. Even when the other boy was scaring the piss out of enemies three times his age he, Damien, could always feel this warm comfort exuding from his brother with only a glance. When they touched, it was much, much stronger.

Dimly, he wondered if it had something to do with the Lahyoo Jisteen Harry had given him. He felt the same sensations whenever he touched it.

There was a breath of cool air against his face and he realised Harry had pulled back slightly.. though he could feel a warm, solid arm still holding him firmly around the waist. Then a hand lifted his chin and Harry kissed him.

Time seemed to slow right down. Damien’s entire mind seemed to focus utterly on this one moment, this one experience.

Harry’s lips were warm and soft. They seemed to open just enough to close over Damien’s own lower lip. He could feel Harry’s warmth against his face, see slits of emerald peeking out from beneath thick lashes. He could feel his own heart beat, pounding away in his chest.

Then Harry drew away, and the cold left behind suddenly seemed awful.
What seemed like an eternity was – in reality – only a moment. For - a moment later - Harry’s lips were pressed against his own again, quick little almost-chaste kisses that slightly pulled at his own lips – not so much seeking entry as they were respectfully pointing out the fact that they’d quite like to.

Then Harry pulled away a bit more, eyes opening wider to gauge his little brother’s gobsmacked expression, his own expression locked away behind his every-day mask.

Damien tried to speak, swallowed, then tried again.

”Harry?” It came out a squeak. Damien saw a smile tug at the corner of his brother’s mouth for a moment. However, it was only a moment. Already, Damien could see his brother closing up, pulling away, shutting down.

Sod that!

Damien was a Gryffindor, from a line of Gryffindors. When it came to impulsive, probably-stupid behaviour, he was right up there on the front lines.
Besides…. He’d never seen Harry look so…

Less than a heartbeat later, he’d lunged up to kiss his brother back. The kiss was clumsy, inexperienced, but no less enthusiastic.

Harry stilled for an instant. Then, smiling slightly, he lifted a hand to the side of Damien’s face and flicked the boy’s lower lip with his tongue.

Damien drew back slightly, eyes confused. He had an idea of what Harry wanted, but he wasn’t sure.. and he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself…

Harry just smiled down at him, the look on his face softer than any other time Damien could recall. The hand at his face dropped down to his waist and Damien gasped as he was lifted – smoothly and easily – up and back until he was sitting on the kitchen table.

Harry – showing his instinctual ability to read his younger brother like a book – leaned in to place incredibly light kisses along the side of his neck, working up to the base of his jaw.

”Don’t worry.” The older teen murmured against his skin, the sensation surprisingly enjoyable. “I’ll show you.”

And just like that, Damien relaxed. He knew it would be fine. He knew that Harry wouldn’t be ashamed of him, or laugh at him or mock his lack of knowledge or experience. He knew Harry would teach him what to do, knew he would never make him feel stupid…

Not that he really had any clue of what they were doing, or were about to do. Uncharted territory loomed before him, only the fringes of which he’d ever even speculated about…

But Harry was with him, so he wasn’t scared.

In fact… right now, with Harry’s tongue tracing his ear and his so warm hands slipping under his clothing… he felt fantastic.

Unexpectedly, he felt himself stir down there.

Drawing a sharp breath, his eyes popped open.

He’d had the basic Talk given to him by his dad, years ago. He understood – very vaguely – that that particular part of him was used when making babies or having sex. But.. when his dad had told him about it, it had seemed to be something that was only involved with girls… Why was it reacting now?

He felt himself blushing a bright red, far worse than before.

He’d woken up with that all perked up before… His dad had said something about his body doing ‘test runs’ to make sure everything worked properly, that it was nothing to worry about. Was that what his body was doing now?

This was kinda the time he normally started to wake up in the morning. Oh GOD! Why did it have to happen here?! Now! When Harry was standing… so… close…

One of Harry's warm hands had slipped down, brushing aside the light fabric of his pyjama pants and curling into one of his butt cheeks. The pressure felt good, like a slow massage, but it only lasted for a moment before he felt his entire body be shifted towards the edge of the table. He wanted to ask why, but all he could think was that any second Harry was gonna notice 'that' and he'd be shocked or grossed out or maybe he'd laugh or..

or...

Or maybe he'd move so that he was pressed against him.

Damien managed a cry of shock and pleasure, as his brother (through firm use of his already-established strong arms) pressed his younger sibling against him, moving his own hips in such a way that left Damien with no doubt that Harry not only knew about his stiffened member, but also had one of his own.

"H...Harry.." He gasped, wanting so badly to push against his brother, to keep up the wonderful friction that was making him feel so good.

Harry pulled back again, a wickedly knowing smile on his face. Damien tried to scowl at him, but couldn't stop his lips from turning up into a smile. It was so good to see Harry so open, so real. Even if he was being mean.

Then hands were slipping off his pyjama shirt, a shirt he hadn't even noticed was being unbuttoned. Harry held his arm gently, as his other hand pushed lightly against his chest. Puzzled, but obedient, Damien leant backwards until he was lying on the polished wood of the kitchen table. His hips were still slightly over the edge and Harry tugged them even further out as he leant against and over his brother.

Damien watched, with a surreal sort of fascination, as Harry - cold, closed off, touch-me-and-loose-your-limbs Harry - oh-so-slowly traced his tongue up his chest, while at the same time pressing his hardness against Damien's in a slow, rhythmic manner.

Moaning at both the sight and the sensation, Damien wrapped his legs around Harry's waist and began pushing back, not really aware of what he was doing, but knowing that he wanted more.

One of Harry's hands drifted down to Damien's hip, where it pressed down - gently, but unyieldingly - in an unmistakable instruction to stop.

"Harry.." Damien heard the whining edge to his voice, but didn't care. It felt so good! Why was his brother allowed to do it, but he couldn't?

Harry lifted away from his chest, a thread of saliva connecting his body to Harry's tongue for a moment. Inexplicably, what would normally look gross, was suddenly incredibly appealing.

His eyes flicked up to Harry's. The soft, gentle look was still there, but it was edged by something sharper, something fierce and hungry and powerful.
He swallowed. Harry's gaze held him pinned against the table, as the older teen stopped rocking against him and began to slowly pull the younger teen's pyjama pants down.

Damien looked back. There was a line here; he knew it, even if he didn't know what that line was. He realised that Harry was asking permission for something, permission to cross that line? The hands paused, the line of his pyjamas just brushing the very edge of his penis.

There were a lot of things Damien didn't know. He didn't know what Harry was planning on doing, after removing the pyjamas totally. He didn't know why he felt like there was a line to cross, nor why he felt like Harry was asking permission.

He did know that if his dad walked in on them right now, he'd be so way beyond embarrassed, that he might as well just ask Harry to kill him and put him out of his misery. Despite himself, his gaze flickered to the doorway.

Harry caught the slightly-fearful look and, without even a sigh, eased the pyjamas back up.

"No!" Damien blurted. He blushed hotly right away, but held firm.
"I.. I want to.. to do this." He managed to get out.

This time, it was Harry who glanced at the doorway.

"Right here? Right now?" The older teen asked, not sounding concerned in the slightest, just checking facts.

Damien nodded. Harry nodded back, and then pulled the pants off without further ceremony.

Damien was slightly embarrassed at the way his penis sort of whipped back as soon as it released. It looked like it was slightly drunk, and he had to suddenly wrestle down a bout of hysterical laughter.

Then Harry wrapped one of his wonderfully warm hands around it, and nothing seemed remotely funny any more.

There was only the burning pleasure where skin met skin, the realisation that he was thrusting up into that incredible feeling, the all-consuming desire to have the feeling never end...

"Easy, Damy." Harry murmured, his trademark smirk playing on his lips. With a motion that Damien didn't quite catch, a knife suddenly leapt into Harry's hand and - just as quickly - was transfigured into something else. That something was suddenly pressed tightly around him, cold and hard, at the base of his penis.

When he turned startled eyes to his brother, Harry just smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. But this is your first time, and I want you to enjoy it. So we gotta make sure you don't finish too soon, right?"
Damien didn't understand what Harry was talking about, but he nodded anyway. He trusted his brother and loved him... But something needed to be done about his... well.. Before he went crazy!

Apparently a mind reader, his brother chuckled and leant in for another kiss. One of his hands began to slowly - agonisingly slowly - pump Damien's shaft, whilst the other gestured for something.

This time, when Harry ran his tongue over his lip, Damien opened his mouth to admit it.

Once again, the world narrowed down to the new sensation.

Warm. Wet. Harry.

Breathing suddenly seemed out of the question, as his brother's tongue pressed deeper into his mouth. Damien's own tongue flicked up to meet it and almost immediately, the boy recoiled.

"Egh, yuck!" He cried, then cringed under Harry's startled gaze. He began stuttering apologies, before realising that Harry was shaking. The shaking turned to laughter, which Harry muffled by burying his face into his younger brother's shoulder.

"Sorry Harry." He finally said, absolutely mortified.

Harry shook his head against his brother's shoulder, still shaking with laughter.
It took him a moment, but soon enough the older boy had himself mostly under control. When he raised his head, his eyes were still crinkled with amusement, but he didn't look like he was about to start rolling on the floor anymore.

"It's fine." He assured his brother, a hit of laughter in his voice. "It is kinda gross until you get used to it."

Reassured that Harry wasn't angry - or worse, hurt - by his tactless remark, Damien scrunched up his face.
"Get used to it?" He asked. "Why would anyone want to 'get used to it'?"

A grin flickered over Harry's lips.

"You'd be suprised." The boy replied.
Damien grudgingly nodded. "It's weird, though." He grumbled.

"Ok." The older teen answered agreably. "But aside from the weirdness, what did you think?"

Damien considered it.

It was like having you inside me.. was what he wanted to say, but that sounded even weirder.

"It was nice." He settled for instead.

Harry nodded, then held up a jar. Damien blinked. Harry gave a small half-smile. "Want to try a different taste?"
The jar was full of Lemon Butter, Damien's favourite spread - the kind he'd been known to sneak down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to eat straight from the jar.

He nodded, eagerly.

With the barest flicker of magic, Harry banished the lid of the jar and dipped in a finger of the stuff. He started to hand the glob of butter over to Damien, then blinked when his brother grabbed his hand with both of his own, and promptly stuck Harry's whole finger into his mouth.

Harry drew a sharp breath, feeling his dick stirring as well, as his brother innocently, unheedingly, sucked his finger from knuckle to tip, then slipped it out and eagerly lapped up any drips that remained. The sight of his brother's nimble tongue licking his finger up and down to get every last scrap of taste tested every last ounce of his own quite-substantial self control.

Swallowing hard, he took a slow, shaky breath and gently pulled his hand away.

"Don't swallow all that." He reminded, his voice tight with sudden desire.

Damien nodded, his tongue clearly now moving the stuff around inside his own mouth. He leaned up eagerly into the next kiss, apparently genuinely welcoming it.

Indeed, their second open-mouthed kiss was much better.

Everything tasted of lemons, of yummy, delicious, creamy lemons. It was wonderful, not only because everything was coated in his favourite flavour in the world, but also because now he could focus fully on the wet intrusion that was Harry.

Harry's hand was threaded through his hair, cradling the back of his head and protecting it from the hard wood table, even as it angled him to better receive his brother's exploratory tongue. The tongue seemed to be everywhere, a thick, talented mass that stroked the roof of his mouth and pressed against his own tongue in a manner so sure and confident, that Damien realised for the first time just how experienced Harry must be at this.

Though he was a little sad that Harry had obviously kissed other people - people who probably were much better at it than he was - he was also kinda glad for it. If Harry hadn't known what to do either, they may have both recoiled at the initial sensation and even now would be putting clothes back on and trying to pretend it never happened...

Trying to shake those kinds of thoughts from his head, Damien tried his hand at it. He pushed up against Harry’s tongue, clumsily feeling his way along it. Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, although the tongue remained firm, before it gingerly twisted itself around Damien's own. Harry seemed to realise what Damien was doing, and let him get on with it.

Damien, for his part, was noticing that most of the lemon butter was gone by now and - not quite brave enough to venture into his brother's mouth without it - pulled back briefly to convey his request.

Harry brought the jar closer, but hesitated for a moment as he decided whether or not to remove his other hand from Damien's hair, or to just awkwardly scoop some out with the hand that was holding the jar. Damien solved the dilemma for him, by scooping out a generous amount and holding it up to Harry's lips.

"Swallow." He instructed, even as he remembered that the point of this was for Harry to *not* swallow. Not yet, anyway. He was surprised when Harry hesitated, his brother's dark emerald eyes locking with his own. After a moment, however, his brother - still not moving his gaze in any way - leaned down and opened his mouth, taking Damien's first two fingers completely into his mouth, until his lips closed over his knuckles.

Damien froze. The intensity of Harry's gaze was making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He felt flushed and confused because of it. This was another moment where he felt like his body knew something he didn't, where he recognised that there was an undercurrent of something here that he just couldn't seem to grasp.

He held his breath as Harry tightened his lips and very slowly sucked the stuff off his fingers. Damien opened his mouth - to breath or to speak, he didn't know which - but Harry had already lowered his head again, tongue flicking out and sliding between the two fingers to get the residue there.

Then, fingers fully clean, the teen took his fingers into his mouth again.

Now Damien knew it. Harry was saying something.. showing him something.. Hell, even Damien's penis knew it.. with every second that passed, it got harder and harder, the ring around it becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Breathless, Damien stared wide-eyed as Harry's tongue rubbed the undersides of his fingers, the teen's eerie stare still focused on him, before - slowly - the fingers were released from their hot, wet prison.

Damien gulped. Harry glanced down the length of their bodies, then back up to his brother's incredulous face.

This time it was a full-blown trademark-evil-smirk that graced the older teen’s face.

"I've got an idea." Harry purred.

Damien could only pant, as his lungs suddenly demanded the air he'd been too shocked to give them earlier. He had a sudden, wild image of Harry doing.. that.. to his aching penis.

Oh God.

Again, displaying a creepy ability to know exactly what was running through his brother's head, Harry's grin went up an evil notch.

Trying to distract himself from it, both hoping and fearing that it was exactly what his brother was about to do, he focused on the fact that he was totally naked, whilst his brother hadn't shed so much as a shoe.

"How come you're still wearing clothes?" He asked, partly out of awkwardness and partly out of genuine petulance.

Harry gave him a spine-tingling grin.

"'Cause otherwise, I'll be cold." He answered teasingly. Damien frowned, his body tensing as Harry knelt on the floor before his rear end.

He suddenly felt quite ridiculous.

"What about me?" He asked, trying to mask his embarrassment with indignation. Harry didn't answer, but instead ran his tongue all the way up the underside of his penis, from balls to tip. Damien threw his head back with a strangled cry, as nerves he didn't even know he had flashed and screamed with pleasure.

"Do you feel cold?" Harry asked innocently, but in a tone that practically paraded the smirk he knew would be on his brother's face.

Damien growled.

He really, really wanted Harry to do that again.

Harry seemed to have other ideas, however. The jar of Lemon Butter suddenly shot from its position on the table to the elder boy’s outstretched hand, whilst Harry's other hand brushed the crack between Damien's butt cheeks and pressed lightly.

He felt a tingle of magic shoot through him, in a place he’d never really been aware of before. Before he could ask what Harry had just done, he heard a muttered spell and the inside of that place suddenly turned cool and slick. The shock was enough to silence him for a few more seconds, which was more than enough time for Harry to gently press apart his cheeks and...

and slip his tongue inside.

Damien arched off the table, mostly shocked and a little excited.

"Harry!" He cried, not sure if he was asking his brother to stop, or begging him to do it again.

One of Harry's hands slipped up to lay flat against his stomach, pressing down firmly. The other remained, holding apart flesh as the older teen licked around, over and in the younger teen's hole. Damien writhed at the sensation, finding it increasingly pleasurable. His first instinct was to clamp down all the muscles down there, but Harry's deceptively gentle grip was proving once again to be remarkably strong, as he both held Damien down and kept him open.

Eventually, though, when Damien's short moans had grown needy, Harry stood up and flicked a finger at the lemon-flavoured substance again. Damien couldn't see what wandless magic his brother was doing, but then, he wasn't capable of a whole lot of coherent thought right now.

Harry leant over his brother again and Damien distantly registered something slick and hard pressing lightly against the same hole that Harry had just been licking as eagerly as if it were a lolly.

"Damy.." Harry half moaned-half breathed, his tongue once again flickering out and onto his brother's flesh. This time, the rough muscle caught and toyed with one of Damien's nipples. The younger boy curled into the sensation immediately, one arm wrapping around Harry's back whilst the other buried itself into his brother's hair.

"Harry." Damien gasped, unconsciously pushing himself towards his brother.

Harry took that as permission. A second later, Damien's eyes snapped open as something large pushed its way inside of him.
He made a noise, something that sounded like shock and pain mixed together.

Harry instantly stopped. Damien's muscles had clamped tightly around him, but only the head of his dick had actually penetrated.

"Damy?" He asked, softly and cautiously. He wanted nothing more than to let go and pound into his brother, hear his cries turn into howls of pleasure. It had been a while since he'd last had sex, and he'd never never had it with someone he loved. Before now, it had been a way to express affection with people who weren't his family.. With the Muggle friends he briefly made with every stint as 'Alex'. Occasionally, it had simply been stress relief.

But none of them compared to what he was experiencing now, with his clueless little brother. Damy, with his idiotic smile and constant, stubborn love. Damy with his acceptance, his desire to be close, his understanding of Harry's silences and the sharper aspects of his personality.

He'd never felt as good as this before, but above and beyond it all.. was the desire for his brother to enjoy it as much as he was. And beyond even that.. the desire to protect his brother. To keep him safe and loved and comforted. No matter how much he wanted to continue, knowing that Damien would scream for more later, he nevertheless got ready to pull out, to abort the whole damn thing just so that his brother was happy.

”Harry…” Damien moaned – moaned – under him. The hand that supported Harry’s weight against the table, curled into a fist. He would keep control.. even if it killed him, dammit!

”You want me to stop?” Harry managed to get out, his voice almost guttural. Damien visibly shivered at the sound of it.

”N-no.” His brother gasped, much to Harry’s surprise. “It’s just… it feels good, Harry… but it kinda hurts too. Can we just do this much?”

Harry’s face twisted as a multitude of different emotions smashed though him. Steadying himself, he forced most of them back and came up with a plan.

”Sure Damy.” He agreed, a devious light flickering to life in his eyes. “But if you want some more, you just let me know..”

Privately, Damien couldn’t imagine having any more of Harry’s hot, throbbing – his face blushed bright red at the thought – member inside him. There was no way it could possibly fit!

The image of their father walking in on them flashed across his mind. He had just enough time to feel a thrill of apprehension and dread, before Harry once again took his penis in hand and began to lazily trail his fingertips up and down.

”Nrrgh!” Damien threw his head back, his fingers pawing helplessly at the wood underneath him. His mind was totally blank, save for the absolute focus on the pleasure his brother was giving him. Though Harry’s hand never ceased its motion, the older teen pulled back a little – just enough for his own penis to slip out.

Damien made another incoherent sound. That had felt so good. There had been another moment of almost-pain as his muscles had been slightly stretched by the thickest part of the head again, but now that he felt the absence of that thickness, he wanted it back again. Badly.

Harry gave it to him. Smoothly, the teen pushed in – just a little, just enough for the ring of muscles to contract around the slightly narrower part of his penis, just behind the head. He waited a brief moment, teeth biting his own lip as he strained to keep his control, before pulling out once more.

He repeated this action for a few minutes, listening to Damy’s mewls of pleasure and feeling the body under him gradually relax. When Damy’s hips began to arch up in time to meet him, his sweet hole welcoming the intrusion, Harry pressed in again with a little more strength.

Damien’s eyes flew open as he felt Harry impale himself deeper, his thickness stretching him painfully. Harry himself had stopped moving, except for his hand which gripped a little firmer now and stroked instead of teased.

Damien closed his eyes again and took several deep breaths. He knew Harry was watching him, waiting to see if it was too much. Grimly, he tried to force his muscles to loosen up a little. It ached, having Harry inside him, but at the same time the feeling of being full was so…

..hot..

”S..slowly..” He begged, when the worst of the pain had dulled. Harry obliged. This time, however, the older boy didn’t pull back more than a centimetre or so, before pushing slowly in again. Damien was glad for it. He didn’t think he could take the long thrust Harry would need to get back in…

"God.. Harry.."

Harry was leaning over him again, his dark hair - slightly longer than Damien's own - brushing against his collarbone as he moved slowly back and forth.
Squirming with pleasure and pain, Damien lifted his hands to grip his brother's upper arms. His short nails bit into the muscled limbs, his grip harsh and needy.

Harry didn't seem to mind. A low moan wrenched its way from his throat and he pushed a little harder.
Damien breathed in sharply as his brother went deeper. His own penis throbbed strongly, rock-hard and desperate for release.

"Harry. Just.. just do what you need to, ok?" Damien asked breathlessly, drowning in sensations. "Just - please... I can't take this. I need to... I need..."

Harry bent down even further and brushed his lips against Damien's throat.

"I know." He murmured. "But it'll hurt..."

"Fuck it." The younger brother hissed, drawing a startled look from his brother. Hazel eyes glared up into wide green ones.
"It hurts, but.. it feels so good. Harry, please!"

Emerald eyes darkened rapidly, the hunger back and stronger than ever.

Without another word, Harry forced himself all the way into his brother. Damien yelled out, the sound muffled just in time by Harry's hand. Even though the older teen was now leaning on his elbow, it didn't seem to slow him down. He pulled out, until only the head of his dick was still contained, before slamming back in.

Over and over, the dark-haired boy pounded into him, one hand erratically pumping his brother's still-restrained penis whilst the other covered his brother's mouth. A couple of fingers had slipped into Damien's open, gasping mouth and his younger brother's teeth were now clenched over them hard enough to draw blood.

He may have been in pain, but the sharp keening noises struggling to escape his brother's throat were indicative of a far more intense pleasure. Every thrust inside him earned a sharp cry, the sound of them so erotic that Harry lost himself in the moment and let himself go.
The slight scent of lemons tickled his senses as he thrust in and out of his brother. Sweat beaded on his skin, some dripping down to mix with Damien's own wet heat.

Damien was so hot, so tight... so fucking good..

Realising that he was going to cum any second, he dropped the magic on the makeshift cock ring.

He almost died from sheer overload.

The instant the restraint was removed, Damien came hard. Screaming with his teeth tearing into Harry's fingers, the younger teen somehow clamped even harder around his brother's thick shaft. Caught off-guard, Harry pressed his forehead into his brother's chest, teeth gritted against his own animalistic cries. Both boys shuddered violently, as their bodies climaxed together.

Damien's white seed sprayed over his brother's abs and chest as Harry emptied his own cum deep inside him.

For a few moments, both boys just shook softly, locked in erotic embrace. Then, moving carefully, Harry pulled out and cleaned himself with a wave of his hand. It took him a moment to disengage his brother's death-grip on his upper arms, but soon enough he was tucking himself in and doing up his jeans.

He took a moment to watch Damien.

The younger teen was lying limp on the table, hips hanging over the edge - having lost Harry's support. His chest moved quickly, but shallowly. His head was thrown back, mouth slightly open and his eyes were closed. Blood - Harry's blood - slightly stained his lips.
His eyes tracked down the body he'd just enjoyed more than any other in his short experience. A few droplets of Damien's own cum was splattered on his belly, his penis was lying limp once more and..

Harry's mouth twitched slightly.

A trickle of Harry's own cum was leaking from his brother's hole, mixed slightly with what was left of the lemon butter.

Harry's eyes flickered back up to Damien's face, as affection and love for his brother surged anew.

"C'mon Damy." He said quietly, his hands already moving to lift his exhausted brother's body into a sitting position.
Damien's head lolled onto Harry's shoulder, the boy seemingly almost asleep.
Harry chuckled. Summoning his wand to his hand, the elder brother quickly cleaned his brother up and re-dressed him. The table got a quick scourgify as well - just in case. As an afterthought, he glanced down and cast another one at the floor.

That sorted, the teen lifted his brother from the table and placed him gently into a kitchen chair. Damien stirred at the move and groaned.

"Sore?" Harry asked sympathetically. Damien nodded sleepily.
"My legs hurt too." he mumbled, slouching forwards to rest his head on his folded arms. "I don't think I can walk back upstairs... seriously.."

Harry laughed softly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll carry you." He returned softly. His only answer was a sleepy smile and an intelligible mumble. Chuckling, the older teen turned his attention back to breakfast. Maybe he should just stick with cereal..?

Twenty minutes later, when James Potter stumbled into the room, both boys were eating breakfast - although Damien's state of consciousness was debatable, just like father's.

James greeted his sons with a semi-coherent mutter and settled in to his Lucky Charms. (Wizarding Lucky Charms really were lucky.)
After a few minutes, he raised his head and eyeballed something on the table.

"Damien? Have you been eating the lemon butter again? It's almost half gone!"

Damien choked on his Snitch Snaps, his face rapidly darkening in colour. James just looked at him, confused at the reaction.

"Actually, we both were." His elder son answered.
"Damien.. introduced me to it." Harry continued placidly. Emerald eyes shot a look at his blushing younger brother.
"It was... incredibly good." The teen continued, lips twitching into a half-smile as he returned his gaze to his own breakfast of semi-burnt toast.

Spread on that toast, James noted, was a hefty amount of Lemon Butter.

Oh. Well, that explained it, then. He'd have to remember to let Lily know that they'd need to bulk buy the stuff for a while. It looked like the two had been eating it from the jar - probably had, knowing his younger son - but he was too tired to scold them.
Besides, it was cute that the two had found a shared taste in food.

After a few more minutes, he realised that he'd been staring at several marks on his elder son's upper arms. They looked like just-forming bruises.

"Harry? What happened to your arms?" He finally articulated. Harry paused with his piece of toast half-way to his mouth.

"Oh," Damien put in, smirking at his brother for some reason. "I had to fight him for it. Like Harry said, the stuff is... incredibly good."

This time it was his elder son who went a little red.

James looked between the two and shrugged. It was too early to play 'figure out my weirdo sons'. He was just happy that they were getting on so well.

As their father's head dropped back to hang precariously over his cereal, Damien and Harry locked gazes. Both sets of eyes were burning.

Slowly, Harry slipped his tongue out and licked a bit of lemon butter off of his toast. Damien blushed, but raised his eyebrows challengingly. Lifting his hand, he leant on his open palm and surreptitiously slipped his first finger into his mouth. He made sure to do what Harry had done earlier, and sucked slowly as he removed the digit from his mouth.

Harry swallowed.

Damien beamed.

Harry smiled.

Love you, Damy.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

It wasn't until I was manually going through this to add the italics that I realised just how many I'd used. Damn.