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“Can the Quidditch Captain spare some time for his girlfriend?”
James looks up from the various parchment littering the couch. Lily stares down, her potions kit swung at her waist. He loves all versions of Lily but he has a particular fondness for this one: her right after potions, hair a bit blown out and wavy from leaning inwards towards the steaming cauldron, a slight sheen to her skin, and a triumphant, irresistible smile on her lips.
He responds by theatrically pushing all of the scribbled quidditch plays off the couch and onto the ground in a cloud of parchment. Around them, various students look up to watch the gesture—averting their eyes when they realize that it’s not a scuffle, but just them. From the corner of his eye he can see where his mates have sequestered themselves to avoid his endless quidditch speak and Sirius lifts his hands in mock exasperation. So you will stop for her but not for US?
She slides down onto his lap with learned ease, ignoring the empty space on the couch beside him. He would have been happy with her legs dangling just over the side of him, but at his beckoning, she swings herself into a straddle with both thighs on either side of his—something she has gotten experienced at in unused classrooms in the past months.
It is forward—probably wildly inappropriate—but fuck does he love it.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” she hums, carding a hand softly through his hair.
“You saw me this morning.”
“Catching you bleary-eyed as you sleepwalk to your classes is hardly seeing you .”
He knows she is right. The full moon this month had been brutal—the cold air seemingly doing something to Moony’s nerves. Nights spent corralling a restless werewolf left little energy for much else once the morning came—and that was before considering the match approaching and homework piling up. It felt like in the past week the only time he had been able to see her was when she put in the effort—stealing herself to crawl in his bed at night just to wake up and find him already gone for practice.
He sighs, pulling her in close so she can rest her head on the crook of his neck.
“I’m so sorry Lils—really I am. How can I make it up to you?”
She hums again, pressing her lips against where his neck and collarbone intersect. The vibration shoots straight through him and his body reacts in turn. He might be busy—fucking knackered—but that doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten how hungry he is for her. He could be half dead and that part of him would never subside.
“You could let me help you relax a little.”
Another press of her lips, parted and hot against his neck. He can’t help himself, a low moan falls out, leaning his head back to give her more space to roam. At his feet, the abandoned parchment crinkles faintly, the noise distant and hollow as though heard through a long tunnel; the buzz of other students around them turning into a singular white noise that only heightens the feel of her against him.
“ Evans.”
He doesn’t need to say anything else because she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. She’s the expert at it—riling him up until the whole world falls away except for an acute sensation to have her. They are pathetic really—they shagged a day ago, maybe two days ago. They should be content with that right? Normal couples, regular sane ones that is, would be perfectly happy with those numbers. So why did they both always feel like every second passed not tangled together is fucking hell?
She pulls her head up just enough to slowly take his top lip between hers, moving like honey as her nails scratch at the nape of his neck. He goes limp underneath her, hands untucking the back of her uniform so he can press into bare skin.
Above his hammering heartbeat, he can hear her whisper a breathy fuck and she tilts her head upwards to give him access to the pale underside of her jaw. He sucks softly against her skin and her hips drag forward, teasing an already straining erection in his trousers.
“ Godric Lily.”
He knows they should calm down. They are Heads students…in the bloody common room with a quarter of the Gryffindor house for merlins’ sake, but another wave of her hips and all coherent thought spirals again.
“It’s a shame I had to sleep in my own dorm the past couple nights,” she murmurs, lips wet against his ear. Under her shirt, his hands traverse around to her front, shifting upwards to find her nipples pebbled and sensitive.
“I quite like how disheveled you look after full moon nights—your messy hair…rumpled clothes…it makes me so desperate for you I can hardly focus for the rest of the day.”
A foreign noise leaves his mouth, fingers pinching softly at her nipples, wishing he could just rip her blouse open, lean forward and take one in his mouth.
“I’m so pathetic. I don’t think there is a single day this week where I haven’t touched myself thinking about you. You always think you're the hungry one, Potter, but I’m just as addicted. I need you.”
A small, hot hand reaches under her shirt and takes hold of his hand. She guides it down against her ribcage and stomach before pulling it out of her shirt and towards their laps. Breath catching, he has just enough mental capacity to look down and watch both their hands disappear under the flare of her skirt and come in contact with the warm, soaked knickers at her center.
“I want you.” It comes out rushed, breathless. His urgency at a critical level. “Merlin fuck how are you this wet already? How are you this wet for me?”
Her hand doesn’t leave his, moving slowly so it drags against the sticky fabric and presses down into her folds. Her hips undulate forward but with a certain constraint that a more coherent James would recognize as stealth due to their current setting. He knows he should survey their surroundings, be more aware of who might be watching, but her hips grind into his hand and his eyes snap upwards, catching her head falling back in a gasp.
“Please, touch me. I’ll be quiet.”
It’s enough to make him come right then and there. The danger of it all—her writhing on top of him where anyone could see, the soft flush of her skin and the glassy stare of her eyes. How could he say no to anything she asks of him now? He can’t, it’s unfathomable.
Her hand leaves his against her slick center, but instead of emerging from her skirt, he feels the shuffled of her knickers and a pressure pushing past. He holds back every colorful word he wants to scream into the air as her eyes close from her own touch, her finger pumping inside herself once, twice, then reappearing over her skirt.
He doesn’t think twice. He moves his other hand quickly to catch hers and pulls it up to his mouth. Arching an eyebrow, he parts his lips and slips the fingers inside, tasting her sweet and tangy against his tongue.
Her eyes clamp shut and she leans into him, rocking all the way forward to rest her forehead against his.
“ Fucking christ, James.”
He doesn’t need a hand against her to know she is already close—her lips are parted and breathy like they get when she is edging on a release, her eyes absolutely pleading.
“ Godric, I want to be inside you—I want to use my mouth to make you scream. Give me a second, and we can go upstairs and I swear I’ll do that Lils. Just a moment–”
“ No.”
Her hips crash against his hand again—it's not a question but a demand.
“We can do that later, but touch me first. Fuck, I’m so close already. Please, baby .”
Her thighs press into his sides at the use of the pet name, taunting him to continue. It’s a dirty trick on her part—she knows how much he loves when she calls him that, knows that when she uses it, it means she’s fucking desperate.
His fingers curl around the shred of fabric and slide easily into her. Her center feels like hot oil and it takes little effort to work in and out. He’s thankful for it, his hand only needing to move in slight increments to reach the little knot of nerves inside her–a motion he hopes looks at least vaguely unsuspecting to an outsider.
On top of him, she leans on his chest as though sleeping. He wraps his other arm around her waist, holding her to him while his other continues to pump between them, hidden from view by the press of her body. Under her breath, she bites back moans—noises that if in any other setting she would have screamed into the air like affirmations.
“Right there baby. I’m close—right on the edge— fuck James fuck.”
His hand twitches upwards, curling right into the place he knows will break her. She snaps away from him, pulling herself up with wild eyes. Grabbing at both sides of his head with her hands she slots his mouth open to catch the moan that he knows all too well as the sound of her climax. Her fingers massage through his hair, enticing him to keep moving, pulling her through orgasm.
Only until she pulls his head back does he realize he had closed his eyes. Despite coming seconds ago, she is already moving again, breathing heavily against his cheek and body craning forward so her hand can reach down and grab at his belt.
“That was fucking incredible.” Her hand fumbles with the belt, getting it undone with a tug. “
“Let me show you. Let me feel you inside me.” Another tug. Her walls constrict around the fingers still inside her, already ready for a second go…
“I think we could do it—it would only take a few adjustments and I could–”
“Well–isn’t this cozy.”
A new voice cuts through her plan, breaking the heavy mental fog that had descended on him since the moment she sat down. His eyes snap open, neck moving slowly to find what he already knows is waiting.
Sirius leans his body across the armrest on the other side of the couch, head propped up on his hands with an expression so smug it looks downright lethal.
“Am I interrupting something?” He purrs, his grin growing wider. James watches his eyes flick from Lily’s flushed face to his undone belt back up to him, an eyebrow arched to say you’re never living this down. Not ever.
Lily pushes away, locking her arms straight against his shoulders in an almost comical gesture, but James keeps holding her against him, hoping that by doing so Sirius can’t see everything going on between them, saving at least some embarrassment.
“I would like to go on record saying I was more than willing to let you two fuck each other’s brains out in front of unsuspecting impressionable minds…but prissy prefect over there–” Sirius juts a thumb behind him towards a frowning Remus and blushing Peter, “--seems to think it is unwise for the Head students to disturb the younger members of the student body.”
Lily leans forward, pressing her forehead into his chest with a moan, making Sirius’ smile only grow more triumphant.
“Don’t hex the messenger,” Sirius tuts, “I’ve done my duty as a civil servant and lackey to more conservative minds. By the way…Prongs, where’s your hand?”
“Please piss off,” James seethes through his teeth. Against his chest, Lily mouths various muggle swears into his shirt.
With a flash of his teeth, Sirius picks himself up and lopes away, his shoulders holding a mirth that can only come from amusement at others’ expense. Afraid to look, James steals a glance at Remus who had begun shaking his head. Fucking unbelievable.
“We are the worst,” Lily whines into his shirt, hands balling up into the fabric. “They should revoke our Heads’ titles.”
“Absolutely worth it,” James snorts. Lily pulls her head up, giving him a discerning glare.
“This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t left me the past couple days to—”
James rears back, incredulous. “My fault? Lily, you climbed on my lap and started…y’know wiggling . What is a bloke supposed to do? Take that lying down?”
She frowns, considers it, then collapses back into his chest.
“Fuck, ok—so I’m the worst. You were just the… the accessory.”
“An accessory, eh?”
He gets up so fast she has to wrap her legs around him to hold on, lest she fall back onto the floor. He picks her up, cradling her and moving quick—behind them, at least a dozen sets of eyes stare in shock.
She has half the mind to ask him what the fuck he is doing, making even more of a scene than they already have, but she doesn’t need to. Against her, he is still hard, unbearably so–and he slopes his way towards the boys’ staircase like his life depends on it.
“Not that I’m not absolutely chuffed to be your little toy, Evans. But I seem to recall a mention of some reciprocation.”
He bounds up the steps, meanwhile, his hand has already found its way under her skirt, clawing at the band of her knickers.
“I hope you don’t mind but I’d like a little privacy though,” he says as he kicks open the door to the dorm. With a quick flick, he silences and locks the room.
“Call me modest—a traditionalist if you will– but I much prefer you completely unrestrained..” he throws her on the bed and in a second has slotted himself between her legs, arms wrapped around her thighs and lips kissing upwards. She steals herself a loud, guttural moan when his lips make contact with her center, tongue already passing through his earlier work.
“--and for fuck’s sake, as loud as you want.”