Author: Mosh Title: Hand Made Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
James's son was already sleepy when they had arrived at his parents' house. "I want you in bed by eight, Harry. No moaning at your Grandma to read you stories until nine like last time." The soft, warm bundle in James's arms squirmed to be let down. "Promise me." "'Kay, dad." He set Harry down. "Have you got Hedwig?" Harry nodded, brandishing a soft ball of fluff that vaguely resembled the shape of an owl. It had been a gift from Remus on his fourth birthday and he hardly ever parted with it. "Yep. She's not tired, though." James smiled. "I'll bet she's not." His mother walked into the living room with a plate, the warm smell of freshly baked chocolate biscuits wafting in from the open kitchen door. She smiled delightedly when Harry's stomach emitted a loud rumble, his small hands reaching for the largest biscuit on the plate. "Careful now, dear! They're very hot." "What do you say, Harry?" Harry guiltily glanced at the stern look on his father's face and quickly mumbled "Thank you." "Don't let him stay up too late, mum," James said. "He picks up bad habits really easily." "Don't I know it." James's mother gave him a dark look. "I wish you wouldn't let Sirius swear around him. It's not funny, James." "I know," said James, biting his lip. He could almost hear Harry's crystal light voice saying, innocently, "sodding, I hate peas," at dinner earlier that week. It had sent Sirius, Remus and him into fits of laughter, which had, of course, only encouraged Harry to say it more. "An' sodding, I hate carrots, too." "Can uncle Sirius come and pick me up on his motorbike tomorrow?" Harry asked around a mouthful of biscuit. "No, he can't." James ruffled his hair. "You're not big enough yet. I'll come for you at ten... uh, better make that eleven. Half-past eleven." "Please, promise me you won't get too drunk," James's mother said. She forced the plate of chocolate biscuits at him. "No thanks, Sirius is cooking me dinner. Don't want to ruin my appetite." He patted his stomach and it gave an agreeing rumble. "The last time Sirius cooked dinner here your father almost broke a tooth on a new potato." "Yeah, yeah," James said. "He's got better." "Oh?" His mother had that airy, prying tone and James braced himself for it. He knew what she was going to ask; she always did. "Has he found himself a nice young girl to-" "No, mum," James cut in quickly. "Shame, he needs someone to look after him. It's not right him all alone in that poky flat of his." I'm looking after him just fine, James thought. He glanced at Harry, but his son appeared completely uninterested in the conversation; he was diligently stuffing bits of biscuit into his toy owl's yellow beak. The worrying thing was that James's mum had a way of getting information out of people, and someone as young as Harry would be powerless in her clutches. All it would take was one carefully constructed question and James and Sirius would be caught. James had been through the whole 'uncle Sirius spends a lot of time at our house because he likes to help us out' conversation, but he knew that one day Harry would start to question where Sirius slept and why he wasn't allowed in James's room first thing in the mornings. "Right then, I'd better get going." He gave his mum a kiss on the cheek, then ruffled Harry's hair again. "You behave yourself, kido." "Yeah, I will," Harry muttered. As James left he heard Harry asking his mother if Hedwig could become a real owl one day, like Pinocchio.
* * * * * * * * * *
He let himself into the house and was met with the smell of roasting meat and sweet vegetables. Swiftly followed by Sirius's flashing smile. "Ah, the birthday boy." Sirius all but bounded down the hall to meet him, reminiscent of Padfoot, then forced James up against the front door. "Having a good day so far?" he asked with a little smirk. Before James could reply Sirius's mouth found his, and hands started to slide his jacket off his shoulders. Sirius pulled him closer and ground his hips. He was hard already. So much for dinner. When he was allowed to breathe again, James grinned. "It hasn't been too bad." Sirius raised an eyebrow and leaned in close. "Food's almost ready. Why don't you strip." It took a moment for that to register. "You what?" Sirius pulled back, releasing him. "Strip," he said simply. Then: "Not as in a strip show - although I wouldn't be opposed to the idea - I mean take off your clothes." "What about dinner? I thought you were cooking. It actually smells nice for once." "Oy, I resent your tone. Take off your sodding clothes, Prongs, we're still having dinner." "You want to eat in the nude?" Sirius smirked. "It's all part of your birthday surprise." He pulled his t-shirt up over his head and cast it onto the floor, his dark hair flopping around his forehead as it settled in that casual manner that James's hair could never pull off. "Come on." He drew his belt out of his trouser loops and swung the leather playfully at James, who by this time was too interested in watching Sirius's little display to react. Sirius tugged his trouser zip down, and as he slid them off James could see his cock pushing up hard against his boxers. He licked his lips and stared. "As tempting as it is," Sirius said smugly, "I'm afraid I'm not the first course. I'm third." "Third?" "That's right. But if you don't get your clothes off soon, the first course'll be ruined." He stared pointedly. "Oh, right." As James pulled off his clothes and dropped them in the hallway, Sirius turned and made his way back into the kitchen, pushing down and kicking off his boxers on the way so James got a nice view of his naked arse as he walked. He issued a quick smirk over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room. James struggled to get out of his jeans. The kitchen was attached to a small dining area, which had an oval-shaped mahogany table in the centre. James was surprised to find the table already set with plates and cutlery, and in an ice bucket in the middle were six large bottles of beer. Sirius really was going all out. James's previous birthdays had usually consisted of being taken out to the pub, getting completely wankered, making half-arsed excuses to Remus and Peter about leaving early, and then fucking drunkenly, and very messily, on the stairs when they got back home. "What's got into you, Padfoot? You're acting a right little housewife." Sirius, in all his glorious nakedness, politely flipped his middle finger in James's direction and picked up his wand from the kitchen sideboard. He started to spell the food out of the oven, levitating the colander to strain the boiling vegetables above the sink as well. "Still wearing your undies, James. Get them off." James glanced down, thinking that this was the oddest dinner he'd ever had, and they hadn't even got to the eating part yet. Slowly, he slid his boxers down and stepped out of them. The warm waves of air from the open oven door bathed his legs pleasantly. "Okay, I'm as naked as the day I was born. Which, coincidently, is today. Heh." He grinned. "What now?" "Take a seat." James shrugged, turned, then stopped. "Oh, what-? Where'd this come from?" The table usually had four plain dining chairs set around it, but now they were joined by a fifth. It was very different; much lighter and softer looking than the sturdy mahogany of the rest. There was a hatched pattern at the back, and the seat and legs seemed to have some kind of writing carved on to them. He took a closer look and realised that yes, it was script, but not English or even Latin. "What's this?" "Ah," Sirius said behind him, followed by the clash of a tin pot hitting the sideboard. "That's your present. From me." "You got me a chair?" James reached out to run his fingers gently over the delicately etched carvings. "Thanks." "You don't have to sound so hard-done-by," said Sirius. "You get a nice meal, too, and maybe - if you're lucky - a hearty shag afterwards." "Mm." James ran his fingertips over the seat again. He liked the feel of the wood. It was like nothing he had touched before; it seemed almost too soft to be real wood, but it smelt fresh and spicy, like pine. Maybe it had been imported? "Where did you get this?" "Oh, you know," Sirius answered vaguely. He walked purposefully around the kitchen, not looking at James's face. Plates clacked and rattled together. Drawers opened and closed. "Almost read to serve up. Take a seat. That seat." James carefully sat down at the table in the strange new chair. He didn't know what compelled him to take it so easily; something about the light feel of it made him think he might break it if he sat down too heavily. Sirius brought two plates over, piled high with food. He set one down in front of James, and took the other to the opposite side of the table where he took his own seat. Cracking open two beers, he passed one across to James. The bottle was chilled in his fingers. Perfect. "Cheers," Sirius said, before he took a deep swig. "And Happy Birthday, Prongs." "Cheers," James agreed, raising his bottle in toast. "And thanks." They began to eat, and to James's surprise the food was exceptional. "You cheated somehow," he said after a while. "Got Remus to cook it, then you brought it here to heat it up, right?" "I'm hurt by your lack of faith in me," Sirius said with good humour. He looked down at his plate, glanced up at James quickly, then looked down again. A few moments later he repeated the gesture, his eyes sweeping James's face with a light frown, as if he were looking for something. "What?" James said. "You comfortable?" Sirius absently pushed his vegetables around his plate with his fork. "I'm stark naked for no apparent reason and I think I should get the boiler looked at soon - it's starting to get chilly in here. But apart from that, yeah, comfy." "Cool." Sirius's gaze returned to his plate. "Happy Birthday, Prongs," he muttered. It was so quiet James almost didn't catch it. He raised an eyebrow. "Thank you." Sirius was acting really odd now. He picked up his beer bottle, brought it to his lips, but before he took a drink he said: "Glad you're having a really happy birthday, Prongs." James put his knife and fork down. "All right, what's the joke?" Sirius swallowed and shook his head. "No joke. Just think it's good that you're having such a happy birthday..." his eyes widened a fraction, then he added: "James." James was so confused he didn't realise straight away that his chair had begun to softly vibrate beneath him. "Wha- oh! Sirius?" Sirius looked triumphant. "I knew I should've set it to 'Prongs' instead of 'James'." "Set what-?" James stopped as the chair started to heat up. "What the bloody hell is it doing?" He went to get up. "No, stay put!" Sirius insisted. "It's okay. It's not going to hurt you." He pushed his half-empty plate away from him and picked up another beer, snapping the cap off on the edge of the table. "Here." He passed it across to James then took the fourth one out of the ice bucket for himself. The chair's vibration steadily slowed and dimmed, and James realised it was the thrum of a set spell kicking in. "The chair's charmed, right?" he said, realising. "Where did you get this, and what does it do?" "I made it," Sirius said simply. "You made this?" "Yup." "When? Where? How?" "I rented another garage from Mr Pearson, built the chair and carved the details myself." He looked proud. "I added charms as I went. They all work together on word activation." "Hence all the happy birthdays?" "Right. Nice, isn't it?" "Yeah," James said carefully. It was impressive, and to learn that Sirius had made it for him. Well. "But what do the charms actually do?" Just then, something short and blunt rose out of the seat beneath him. "What the?" The magic grew more intense, wisping around his skin, seeming to hold him to the chair. The thing poking him in the backside grew a bit longer. It was digging uncomfortably right there, and on natural impulse James tried to rise again. "Prongs, don't - look, trust me, okay? I wouldn't give you anything that could hurt you." Sirius wasn't laughing at James's panicked reaction, which caused James to stop, take a deep breath, and trust him. "Just let it do its thing. And try to relax, or it won't work properly." James wanted to ask what the hell this chair's 'thing' was, but he found he didn't need to. Something thin, hard, warm and wet pushed against his arse. "Oh. My, God." He squirmed. "Holy fuck, Padfoot!" James gripped the edge of the dining table, his ears beginning to flush with heat. The warm, wet something started to push up again, and he felt it breech his entrance, just by a small fraction. "Jesus Christ on a stick, what the-? Sirius!" The thing continued to explore, sinking deeper into James's arse. It felt like a thin, rigid piece of rubber, slicked with something as entry was smooth and only a little uncomfortable. "Brilliant, isn't it?" Sirius watched James's face avidly from across the small table. "Ha-oh! I don't know yet, I- Oh, holy hell, it's growing!" He was very gradually stretched as whatever it was now started feeling its way deeper and deeper into his body. Before it went any further, it stopped, drew out a little way, then slid back in, and James groaned. "Stop it, I don't like it." "You sure?" Sirius said, completely unfazed by this. "Sounds like you two are getting on okay to me." "God!" James let out a short, slightly hysterical laugh, as the thing started thrusting shallowly. "It's... fuck, it's fucking me! The fucking chair is fucking fucking me!" "I know!" Sirius grinned, downing the rest of his beer. "Anything feeling familiar yet?" "Gah, ah, oh!" Whatever had him impaled on the chair was growing again, thickening as it moved slowly in and out of his arse. "This is weird." "Give it a moment. Keep relaxed." "I don't have much bloody - ahh - choice." God, but that was really starting to feel good now the initial discomfort had worn off. James curled his hands around the edge of the table more comfortably and held on while the chair continued to stretch him, lubricating itself the whole time. Amazing. Terrifying. It felt wonderful. Soon James was groaning, the chair pushing the hard length right up inside him. "Ohh, Padfoot, you... fucking... genius." "Heh, what can I say? You're my best mate. You deserve the best." He'd been watching James avidly, a devious grin on his face. "Still not feeling any... déjà vu's, or anything? Nothing ringing any bells?" Come to think of it, it did feel particularly... familiar. James's eyes widened and he clutched the table harder. "Yours? You moulded it on yourself?" Sirius winked at him. "Nothing but the best for my best mate, like I said." He sniffed, unfolded his arms, and sat forward. "Though I have to say I'm getting a bit impatient over here. How're you doing?" James was hard as a rock. "This is the most brilliant thing you've ever done for me, Padfoot, but why the hell would I need a chair that can fuck me like this when you're here?" "Well, that's the thing," said Sirius, rising. He rounded the table. "It's for when I'm not here. Finite Incantatem." The chair slowed to a stop and carefully pulled out. The very thought in itself made James laugh again. "This is the craziest..." He pushed the chair back as he rose and Sirius was up against him in a moments, pulling his hips in close so their cocks brushed and rubbed together, both of them groaning their way into a long-awaited kiss. Best. Birthday. Ever. "Hang on, I have an idea," Sirius said, pulling back. He pressed his palm against James's chest and, forcing him back down on the chair, he straddled James's lap. "Wait - it won't hold us both." "Yes it will," said Sirius. "Get me ready." He leaned forward and held the back of the chair at either side of James's shoulders. James realised what he had in mind and quickly stroked down Sirius's thigh, running his hand back towards his arse. He stopped. "Hang on, we need lube-" "Already thought of that," said Sirius. "Let's just say I wasn't just preparing dinner before you came home." "Oh, nice," James muttered. He teased Sirius open with the pads of his fingers, as he had done so many times before. Though this time was different, more exciting; the anticipation and arousal mixed with the beer was making him feel drunker than he probably was. Sirius's expression softened and he pushed down on James's fingers. "Enough." He issued James a wicked smirk, rose up on his feet, then started to lower himself onto James's cock, murmuring: "Happy Birthday, James." The chair, already warmed up, responded immediately, pushing into James smoothly. "Oh, bloody hell." Sirius slid all the way down his length and kissed him hungrily, moaning in agreement. He really was a genius, even if his ideas were a little out there at times. James could do little other than sit there, holding Sirius's hips tightly in his hands, and letting both Sirius and the chair set their own pace. His head fell back and eyes slid shut, cursing as the chair... dildo... chair... thrust faster into him, and Sirius rose up, drawing him closer to release. He could feel Sirius's cock dragging against his stomach and reached for it, stroking in an uncoordinated rhythm, absently aware that he could feel the same hard length in two places at once. He let out a half-laugh in wonder. "Good?" Sirius breathed. "Hell yeah." Sirius slipped James's glasses off his nose and tossed them onto the table. James's vision blurred, and the loss of sight made the sensations against and inside his body intensify, burning him. He refocused for a second as Sirius's flushed face swam into view, resting his sweating forehead on James's shoulder, mouthing at it briefly, moaning into James's ear. Teeth latched down on James's neck and he bucked his hips up in response, causing the heat inside him to press hard, perfectly, there, and his cock to plunge deep into Sirius. He couldn't decipher every noise Sirius made but a lot of it sounded like "... fuck, Prongs, oh, God..." He found himself making stifled noises too, and then threw stupid caution to the wind and made them louder, the house empty but for them and the fucking awesome chair - thrust, thrust, thrust - no inquisitive son to have to keep the noise down for. Sirius kept pounding down on him as he came, and his purpling cock spurted hard against James's stomach, chest, neck. He jerked silently, biting down on James's neck hard, moving, moving as he gasped and his head fell against James's shoulder so only his lower body rose up and fell, rose up and fell. One word that might've been his name, whispered like an obscenity, and James's thighs clenched, the dildo paused, shoved, and he rocked up into Sirius, swearing and moaning and holding on with his fingertips pinched around Sirius's hipbones, pulling him down for countless heartbeats. And breathe. They sat quietly, pressed together with the wet clinging heat of Sirius's come spreading between them, chests grazing together with every intake of breath. Sirius buried his face in the curve of James's moist neck with a long sigh, and James rested his chin on Sirius's shoulder with an answering one. Thin trails of sweat quietly ran down their skin to stain the light wooden chair. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck eleven with a deep, comforting drone. "I'm starting to ache," Sirius finally said, shifting on his lap. "Me too," James agreed. "My legs've gone numb." The chair gave a feeble creak beneath them, chiming in as well as if to say 'you ache?' "I need a shower." "Sounds like a plan." "Finite Incantatem. Again." The remains of their dinner was left on the dining room table, cooling gently in the chill kitchen air.
* * * * * * * * * *
Sirius slid into the sheets next to James, muttered a quick "Nox!", and let out a thoroughly satisfied sigh. His hair was still wet from their shower, tendrils of it falling against James's neck. James ached pleasantly, about ready to fall asleep. Then he thought of something. "Hey, Padfoot?" "Mm?" came the groggy voice from beside him. "What about Harry? With the chair." "Now that's an image I could've done without." "Sirius!" "Sorry, I know what you mean. Oh God, though I just hurt my own brain." He rested his head against James's shoulder and puffed out a long breath. "Don't worry about it - I won't mind if you hide the chair away somewhere so the little nipper doesn't decide to play with it. Not like he'd be able to guess the password." "Never put anything past Harry," said James. "Hm. The shed. Yeah, I'll put it in the soon to be heavily-padlocked shed." "Never done it in a shed before," said Sirius, sleepily. "Shut it, Padfoot." ~Fin~ |
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