Confessions by Moonlight (in James Potter's Bed)

Note: A good-bye-and-we'll-miss-you ficlet to see off the amazing Snegurochka Lee as daily_deviant modthing :).

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"I didn't come because of this," Sirius pointed out.

He was reclining in James' arms, but there was still tension in his shoulders. Moonbeams peered in from a gap in the curtain, illuminating the sheen of sweat on Sirius' collarbone into silver. James leaned forward to lick away the salty film, then bit down.

Sirius moaned, arching his hips as if he hadn't just come - twice, James recalled rather smugly - in the past hour.

"No?" he asked, a tart note creeping into his voice.

"I left because my family are a shower of racist arseholes and murderers who hate me, not 'cause I'd rather shag a boy instead of a proper little pureblood girl."

James bared his teeth in the moonlight and reached around Sirius to tweak one peaked, dark nipple. Sirius whined and bucked, soft black hair sliding along James' cheek. Still, he refused to turn his head to look at James.

"But you did," James pointed out. "Come. Fuck a boy. And you were loud enough about it that it's a miracle my parents haven't shown up asking whether I was despoiling our new houseguest."

"Well, yes," Sirius muttered. "But then I would put out where Evans wouldn't, right?"

James grabbed a handful of hair. The pine needle scent of his parents' favourite shampoo filled his nostrils. He pulled, not gentle.

Sirius' blue eyes glowered when he was forced to look up at James; well, that or dislocate a neck muscle.

The bleakness James hated as much as the thought of Snivellus putting the moves on Evans was back on Sirius' face again. It often crept into tense moments, or lonely ones, but Sirius had never been bitter before. Not until he'd turned up at Godric's Hollow two nights ago, on his Cleansweep with his school trunk shrunken in his robe pocket, an owl from the Improper Use of Magic Office in hot pursuit.

James had never been more proud of his parents, who had settled the underage magic thing, readied the guest room and fed Sirius dinner, making him welcome without trying too hard. Despite the fact that, if the Ignoble and Tottering House of Black decided to kick up a fuss about abducting their heir, they had all connections and resources on their side.

After having followed his best friend through six years of pranks and mayhem, however, James just knew his best friend's lying habits and knew that Sirius had not washed his hands off his family as he'd claimed. More likely, he'd probably provoked his mad mother once too often, or flaunted his sexual preferences. The Blacks had kicked him out. No matter how much he tried to brush it off by poking fun and slinging insults at his family - or escaping into sex - James was aware of the hurt that was yawning right underneath Sirius' cheerful facade.

James gave the handful of hair in his fist another tug.

"I fucking love you, you stupid berk! And it makes no bloody difference whether you want to be my brother, or my fucktoy." The obscenity slid from his tongue, sweet and prickly like the caramellised pepper imps Honeydukes was selling at Christmas.

Sirius' eyes widened, then narrowed, but James felt the tiny shiver that ran through him, and watched gooseflesh rise on the pretty pale neck under his mouth. "You better fucking believe it!" he hissed.

He let go of Sirius' hair and his heart leapt at the half mocking, half adorable smirk that curved the corner of Sirius' mouth. The silly bugger rubbed his neck in an exaggerated fashion, then curled up against James' side.

"All right," Sirius mumbled, and his breath warmed James' nearby nipple in a way that made his cock twitch again, satisfied or not.

James grabbed his wand off the nightstand and spelled the curtains shut to keep out the pesky moonlight. He slung a possessive arm around Sirius' waist and pulled him closer before resting his chin on Sirius' stubborn, brilliant head. They were both sticky with sweat and worse, but James felt too lazy for a shower. Getting up would disrupt the fragile peace, and moreover he liked how Sirius smelled after sex, sharp and feral and unguarded. Sirius' breaths were regular against his chest, then became even more so, but James couldn't sense whether he was falling asleep or not. James rubbed a strand of Black hair between his thumb and index finger, closed his eyes, and smiled.

This was one of the two people James was going to keep, and fuck Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the narrow-minded morals of the 'wizard on the street'. Sirius had come to him, and sooner or later Evans would follow.

In the end, they all did.

~ finis ~