"That's my name, dollface." The bird's recognition wasn't surprising. It was his voice again– all soft and low and definitively not his. Not to mention the incredulous tone of voice she used on him. Like it was his fault her shirt was off or something. He hadn't done that. Even so, it was hard to pry his eyes off her breasts. Her movements made them bounce around and it was hard to look away from something as mesmerising as jiggly jugs.
A combination of things – the finger-wagging that diverted his eyes, which subsequently drew his attention to the messy crop of hair on the bird's head, the heavy weight on his chest, the tightness of his shirt, and then the demand for a dick – shook his sluggish brain awake.
"James? Bloody hell are you– am I–" Sirius's head jerked down to take a gander at himself. Unlike his chest, it was all flat down there. There was nothing to adjust.