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It’s a riveting thing, watching Sirius Black come undone in a dark room like this.
He’s lying under James on the bed, staring up at him with glazed, feverish eyes. Warm candlelight washes against his skin and accentuates the maroon flush swimming under his cheekbones, his breathing heavy and slowed, and oh, he’s never looked lovelier to James.
Sirius’ lips are shiny, swollen, mouth slightly parted, as if he’s on the verge of asking James for something – begging him for it. And James knows what he wants, of course he does. How could he not, when it’s the only thing Sirius has ever wanted from him? James has known about Sirius being in love with him for years now, and it feels like they’ve waited an entire lifetime for this moment.
“James,” Sirius pleads, his voice wet, desperate, so hopelessly unlike himself, “fuck, just –”
He stops, a ripple running through his whole body, as if it’s become too much for him to speak. James can’t help the sudden, startling thrum of arousal in his own gut – he could get drunk off it, seeing how much Sirius wants him. He loves being the only person in the world who’s allowed to witness Sirius in this rare, vulnerable state. Loves knowing that sometimes, when they’re alone, Sirius looks at him with with that dazzling, tender blade of devotion in his gaze – like he’d do anything, anything at all that James asks of him.
“James,” Sirius breathes again, close to sobbing from it, his hands scrabbling at the front of James’ robes and tugging him closer. “Please.”
It makes the blood beat hot and hungry in his veins – the sight of Sirius just lying there, trembling and ruined, before James has even touched him. Proud, haughty Sirius, unravelling so helplessly, so deliciously, just for him. Splayed on his back against the sheets, the longing written all over his face, waiting for James to reach out and close his fingers around it.
Waiting for him to take what’s always been his.