[Probably this is a terrible idea, and not healthy for any of the involved parties. And yet here's Sirius, going with it. He tugs off of Sera's shirt, slips his hand back down and fits it over the swell and curve of one of her breasts, a grip that's just a little rough, just a little clumsier than he might otherwise be, without alcohol muddling things.
Not that muddled, still. He knows what he's doing, how to kiss and how to shift his hands, his weight. And they do seem to fit together better, this time--good enough that he's got one hand fumbling at the fastenings of her trousers before very long, breaking the kiss only to suck in a ragged little breath.]
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Not that muddled, still. He knows what he's doing, how to kiss and how to shift his hands, his weight. And they do seem to fit together better, this time--good enough that he's got one hand fumbling at the fastenings of her trousers before very long, breaking the kiss only to suck in a ragged little breath.]