I guess he didn't believe me when I said it wasn't me. [ i mean, it is sally deep down, but not enough to keep from ripping him a dozen or two new assholes and leaving his carcass for her human self to find in the morning. ] Whatever, that's not even the point. [ but she actually doesn't remember the point, so she just lets out a plaintive whine-groan and rolls like a steamroller wheel over sirius so she's lying between him and the wall instead. ]
[Perhaps it's not the point, but it's still idiotic. And perhaps it's unfair, to think of it so black-and-white--after all, Sirius has had years to understand lycanthropy, to come to think of it in certain ways.
Then again: Merlin. He was never so stupid as this.
But he allows Sally her roll over him, and rolls after her, in classic big-spoon-little-spoon arrangement, with his chin sort of tucked against the top of her head.]
Let's not talk about him, then. Fuck him. D'you want to hear a joke?
[Good. Obligingly, he props himself up on his elbow, in preparation to tell the joke.]
Right. So this bloke walks into the pub and orders a double whisky. Bartender bangs 'em down, bloke drinks 'em and asks for another two, straight away, not even a flinch. He looks like total shit, just absolutely knackered and awful.
Bartender pours out, bloke drinks 'em down, and he's ready for another two, straightaway. Bartender thinks, Merlin, this one's drinking like he doesn't want to see tomorrow--so he pours out, but he asks: 'Here, mate, what's happened, you look bloody awful.'
'I am,' says the bloke, 'I'm more than. I just caught my wife in bed with my best mate.'
'Oh, that's hard,' says the bartender, full of sympathy, 'that's hard, mate. What did you say to her?'
'I told her to take herself out of my house, 'cos I never wanted to see her again, filthy cheating minger that she is.'
'That's good,' says the bartender, totally supportive, and proud, 'good for you. And what did you say to your best mate?'
[And since she's rolled over, he takes this prime opportunity to duck down and kiss her--just left of her mouth, mostly on the cheek--which is really what he was aiming for, in all honesty, but close proximity rendered his aim a little faulty.]
Couldn't possibly be because his best bud's a part-time dog. [ with her eyebrows raised a bit. but then her eyes slip closed to receive the kiss - and she miscalculated a little, it's aimed for her cheek instead of her lips, so whoops on that one. time to.... y'know, pretend that wasn't a thing.
or just lift up a little and catch his lips in a real kiss, which is apparently close enough i guess. ]
[Couldn't possibly, he nods along with that, and then she's switched the kiss to a proper kiss, right on the mouth--and Sirius goes right along with that, without question or protest.
Perhaps he shouldn't. Kissing a girl who's frustrated with her boyfriend, that's like cheating. That is cheating, there's no 'like' about it. But she's rightly frustrated with that boyfriend of hers, and then some, and he likes her, and how is he meant to say no? Especially if it gives her some kind of comfort, especially if it helps.
He touches his hand against her cheek, light, as he opens his mouth against the kiss--sort of rolled over her, now, following the joint pressure of their mouths.]
[ this isn't even really to comfort her. like, it doesn't make her feel any better about the stupid kennex mess or anything, it just... this is one of those things she only fails to do at least two or three times a week to spare john from that kind of hurt, and if he's gonna up and freaking defend the chick trying to out to the ship that sally's a friggin' werewolf, then fine. an eye for an eye, or whatever.
or maybe she just doesn't even care about an eye for an eye and wants to do shit like this with someone she's legit 0% upset with for once.
it's complicated. more complicated than she wants to even think about right now, so she just... doesn't think. instead, she disappears into the feeling of it. into lifting her own hand to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to rest on the bare skin of his side. ]
[The pressure of her hand--skin against skin, in both places where it presses down--it's not so light a touch, it's something very real and warm. It makes him lean that much more into the kiss--a twitch forward at first, almost involuntary--and then with more interest, and force, and intent, his fingers skimming from the light pressure at her cheek back into her hair.
And when he moves over her--that, too, is nearly involuntary, a response that he barely thinks of. Pressure against pressure; warmth against warmth. He fits himself to her easily as he continues kissing her, pleased at this development despite any misgivings that he ought to have, any second thoughts--there's no space for thoughts, not now.]
[ as he shifts, so does she until they've fit together like pieces of a borderline-inappropriate puzzle. no - like cogs, maybe. like they've done this a million times when it's really only been a dozen or two.
when his fingers comb back through her hair, she catches his bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, but then his fingers catch a snag and it gives a tug and it doesn't quite occur to her that the tug wasn't deliberate. her head drops back a little, offering access to her neck and the top of her chest, though sally does at least have the presence of mind to offer the side of her neck without the lovely bite-scars. ]
it's hard to write about sally's throat and not write about thinking about biting it just fyi
[And--easy, quickly, so natural a move it's nearly like instinct--Sirius ducks down to fit his mouth to her throat, to press a kiss there--and then another, tracing along some invisible line. His lip tingles a little where her teeth had just been, and he nearly thinks of going back and getting more of that, loathe to leave that little bite.
But no: this is good too, warm--warm when he presses his other hand against her chest, not so much a grip as a splay, pressure, as his kissing dips a little lower, warm breath a ghost against damp spots each time he lifts up to shift his kisses down.]
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Then again: Merlin. He was never so stupid as this.
But he allows Sally her roll over him, and rolls after her, in classic big-spoon-little-spoon arrangement, with his chin sort of tucked against the top of her head.]
Let's not talk about him, then. Fuck him. D'you want to hear a joke?
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Right. So this bloke walks into the pub and orders a double whisky. Bartender bangs 'em down, bloke drinks 'em and asks for another two, straight away, not even a flinch. He looks like total shit, just absolutely knackered and awful.
Bartender pours out, bloke drinks 'em down, and he's ready for another two, straightaway. Bartender thinks, Merlin, this one's drinking like he doesn't want to see tomorrow--so he pours out, but he asks: 'Here, mate, what's happened, you look bloody awful.'
'I am,' says the bloke, 'I'm more than. I just caught my wife in bed with my best mate.'
'Oh, that's hard,' says the bartender, full of sympathy, 'that's hard, mate. What did you say to her?'
'I told her to take herself out of my house, 'cos I never wanted to see her again, filthy cheating minger that she is.'
'That's good,' says the bartender, totally supportive, and proud, 'good for you. And what did you say to your best mate?'
'I said, BAD DOG!'
[Ehh? Ehhhhh?]
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[And since she's rolled over, he takes this prime opportunity to duck down and kiss her--just left of her mouth, mostly on the cheek--which is really what he was aiming for, in all honesty, but close proximity rendered his aim a little faulty.]
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or just lift up a little and catch his lips in a real kiss, which is apparently close enough i guess. ]
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Perhaps he shouldn't. Kissing a girl who's frustrated with her boyfriend, that's like cheating. That is cheating, there's no 'like' about it. But she's rightly frustrated with that boyfriend of hers, and then some, and he likes her, and how is he meant to say no? Especially if it gives her some kind of comfort, especially if it helps.
He touches his hand against her cheek, light, as he opens his mouth against the kiss--sort of rolled over her, now, following the joint pressure of their mouths.]
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or maybe she just doesn't even care about an eye for an eye and wants to do shit like this with someone she's legit 0% upset with for once.
it's complicated. more complicated than she wants to even think about right now, so she just... doesn't think. instead, she disappears into the feeling of it. into lifting her own hand to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to rest on the bare skin of his side. ]
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And when he moves over her--that, too, is nearly involuntary, a response that he barely thinks of. Pressure against pressure; warmth against warmth. He fits himself to her easily as he continues kissing her, pleased at this development despite any misgivings that he ought to have, any second thoughts--there's no space for thoughts, not now.]
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when his fingers comb back through her hair, she catches his bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, but then his fingers catch a snag and it gives a tug and it doesn't quite occur to her that the tug wasn't deliberate. her head drops back a little, offering access to her neck and the top of her chest, though sally does at least have the presence of mind to offer the side of her neck without the lovely bite-scars. ]
it's hard to write about sally's throat and not write about thinking about biting it just fyi
But no: this is good too, warm--warm when he presses his other hand against her chest, not so much a grip as a splay, pressure, as his kissing dips a little lower, warm breath a ghost against damp spots each time he lifts up to shift his kisses down.]