Dec12, Harry Potter, Sirius/Harry, "Coffee, Peppermint, and Smoke"
Title: Coffee, Peppermint, and Smoke Author: train_tracks Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Sirius/Harry (major UST) Rating: soft R Word Count: 570 Warnings: chan (15), but also AU, so...there you are. Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything, least of all anything having to do with Harry Potter. A/N: This is for adventdrabbles and prompt #12: flying reindeer. Uh, yeah. More like 'hot and sexy flying motorcycle'.
Sirius had told Harry he had a surprise for him, and so Harry had followed all his lengthy instructions and found the Muggle curling iron portkey just outside Hogsmeade, used it, and wound up clear out in Wiltshire in the middle of a field under the cloudy night sky. He'd worn warm clothes as Sirius had also instructed. And now he waited. It was Christmas Eve, and Harry was standing in the middle of nowhere waiting for the one man he called family.
It wasn't long before he heard it, the harsh rumbling, like thunder but meaner. Harry looked up and saw the headlight's beam parting the clouds and then the big black bike itself roaring out of the sky. Harry bit his lip, watching it -- watching Sirius' shape coalesce atop the bike – swallowing hard as his stomach decided it was time to knot up.
He landed and rode the rest of the distance toward Harry, dropping the kickstand, killing the powerful engine, and dismounting, one leather-clad leg up and over the bike's sleek back. He was smiling like a demon. Harry's whole body thrilled.
"Harry," Sirius breathed, and before Harry knew it, he was swept up in his godfather's arms, cold leather and warm man, Sirius' breath hard in his ear. "Missed you."
"Missed you, too," Harry answered. He was so pathetically hard.
Sirius pulled back. "Want a ride? I'm pretending I'm Father Christmas."
"Where's your sack of presents?"
Sirius brandished a bottomless bag and waggled his eyebrows.
"Seriously?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, but I'll need you to wand them down proper. Think you can handle that?"
Harry nodded. "Sure."
Sirius grabbed him up again, gripping tight. The leather was warmer now, the man practically hot.
"Sirius…" Harry said.
Harry's cock was throbbing against Sirius' leg, but his godfather seemed not to notice. Harry took a deep breath. "Happy Christmas," he said into his neck – his rough-skinned, spice-scented neck. Not for the first time, Harry thought about what it might be like to be kissed by Sirius. He supposed it would be lightyears different then kissing Cho, for instance. Would it be hard and overbearing? Would it be soft, Sirius' mustache tickling him? Would he taste like Firewhisky? Would it be over too fast? Would Harry come in his denims?
"Happy Christmas to you, too, Harry," Sirius said. He drew back an inch, just enough to be too close still, his mouth so near Harry could taste his words: "Fly with me." Coffee and peppermints and smoke.
Harry licked his lips, almost licking Sirius' in the process. Sirius shuddered against him.
But then he was backing away, taking Harry's hand, and he was mounting the bike, instructing Harry how to straddle it behind him, how to hold on tight.
"Ready?" Sirius asked over his shoulder.
Harry's chest was pressed firmly to Sirius' strong back. His arms wound round his godfather's middle, feeling every breath enter the man's body. His hands made fists in Sirius' leather. His cock – God, his near-painful hard-on – was nestled up against Sirius' tight arse, hot and cozy.
"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm more than ready."
Sirius kicked the bike to life. Harry thrilled to its steady, purring vibrations. And then they were flying, him and Sirius, up into the moon-bright clouds, out over England, sending surprise gifts down to Muggle children and young witches and wizards alike, the magic between them electric like the stars.