salacious | sirius black

i n h e r i t a n c e

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

a/n: reader discretion hightly advised...

odessa xavier

I've been sleeping so poorly for the past few days. Only because of one person. It's early in the morning and from time to time I still slip into a sleepy slumber, although my mind doesn't seem able to quit racing.

Did he really mean what he said yesterday ...you'd pull up your skirt for anyone...even for a fucking Death Eater..., his words kept reflecting in my head, or was it in regard of being upset? No, he wasn't upset. He was in lather. Raging. He knows how to hit right where it hurts with his words, leaving a snarky comment.

And that was the most confusing. I don't understand him. I've known him for plenty of years already, and until now I haven't gotten a single peek into his other self.

Until now.

Who would've thought there would be a thin line between all of this. I was used to his funny persona, he was always good to me and he respected me. Even so he's acting vicious. Like I don't mean anything to him.

Sometimes I can't decide if I feel like I want to slap him or fuck him right then and there. How fucking frustrainting that is among other things.

It torments me. Makes me question my wants and desires. But when I ask myself, what is it that I actually want, who is it that I want — I'm clueless.

Suddenly someone's pounding on the door. If it's some wasted asshole again, who'd mistaken my dorm with his own after getting fuddled on last night's celebrations, I'm going to fucking loose it.

"Go away!" I shouted, regardless who it might be.

There's nothing but silence in the next few seconds, so I consider to get back to drowning in my thoughts, but a click of the door handle disrupts it.

"I said," I keep grunting as I lift the covers off me, "go awa-"

With the sight of him I go speechless.

Sirius quietly closes the door behind him and takes few steps forward in the room. Then stands there, all handsome and irresistible, challengeing the upper door frame with how tall he is. He's wearing nothing but his grey pajama sweats, his chilesed v-line is showing above the hem of his pants.

His eyes gaze me deeply from head to toe and I realize I'm not wearing any pants, only an oversized t-shirt and underwear beneath it. Despise the morning coldness of the room, I'm suddenly all heated up.

"Reason why you're here?" I said with rudeness in my voice, folding my arms. He ignores my question, inches further so we're about a foot apart.

"I assumed we have some unfinnished bussines." He proceeded even closer, now his finger was tracing on my cheek gently and his gaze kept twitching from my eyes down to my lips.

"So you assumed?" I scoffed. "Mhmm," he agreed incoherently, unfolding my arms from my chest with his free hand. Again I was letting him do what he wanted with my body. Whatever nerves are connected to my extremities, they didn't want to stop him.

I felt vulnerable to him now — without a barrior — and I nervously bite my lip.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask?" He spoke in a low voice while our noses were touching. Each of us breathing deeply as we're getting closer.

Was I that easy to read?

The thing is there actually is — my mind overflows with questions I'd like to know his answers to. Starting with why he's acting the way he is, ending with-