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Summary
"Twelve years without a decent meal. Twelve years without a proper bed. Twelve years without," He stopped himself, grinning crookedly before finishing, "human company."
"Do you want me to…" He cut himself off, cheeks burning, but Sirius' head snapped up, eyes suddenly alert despite the whiskey.
He wet his lips. "Help," he murmured, barely audible. "You said, twelve years without..."
His fingers flexed against the glass, knuckles pale before he tipped his head back against the chair. "Merlin, Harry," he said, voice rough. "If you’re offering, get over here and get on your knees."
Series
- Part 2 of filthy