Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Cave Canem	By : Ricocheted-Rowdon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 44270 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns all the rights, I don't profit from this nor get any money of it. I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun for my warped entertainment.

Chapter List
- 1-Prelude
- 2-One
- 1
- 2
Cave Canem: Beware of the Dog

One

It had been four days since his return from Hogwarts, and already Harry didn't like his current condition…

Sure, Sirius hadn't treated him that differently compared to Harry's human-self – that is, aside from the long ear rubbing sessions and cuddles on the rug, the man treated him the same. They still sat together on the couch as Sirius read Motorcycle Monthly and ate meals together despite Harry's now being in a bowl located on the floor. But still, the only difference was that Sirius touched him a lot more by petting him softly and tended talked out loud. The older Animagus would have bouts of constant natter or guilty, thoughtful silences like he was torn between wanting to talk and wanting to remain awkwardly silent.

All that was okay for Harry…The calming touches, soothing silences and intriguing insight upon just listening to Sirius was okay. It was like having a much needed break of sorts. He could just bask in the older man's presence and really listen to Sirius' words while not have to worry about replying or reaction. If anything, Harry Potter could just simply be, and maybe it was that particular aspect of things that made being a dog more than okay for the young Saviour. But then, of course, that was until Harry began to recall his ever-growing list of what he didn't like about being trapped in the form of a scruffy-haired sheepdog.

Because he didn't like how the world and its people looked so much bigger. He didn't like not being able to speak and fully convey with how he felt. He didn't like how he was essentially naked with his bloody prick and bollocks on full-time show. He didn't like how the faintest noise in the house seemed to jerk him awake. Yet, out of it all, he most definitely didn't – no, he most definitely hated that he didn't have complete control of his new, furry body.

That, in itself, was beyond mortifying, distressing and downright annoying.

Still, no matter how much he internally screamed to stop or not to do that his body happily did as it wished. Like right now, as he settled down upon his single bed with his head atop his forepaws, he tried to focus his thoughts. He tried– he really, really tried – to ignore the urge to get up and stuff his nose into every corner of his bedroom or go investigate the every creak of floorboards or rustle of noise that gained his interest. It was difficult to fight such instincts, though. The constantly present selection of enticing scents, teasing sights and sounds made his attempts of thinking impossibly exhausting. There were just too many distractions and, over his past three attempts of mulling his new form over, he found his human thoughts dissolving and animal instincts taking over…which wasn't supposed to happen to Animagus'.

After all, an Animagus was supposed to think as a human does and stay in full control when in their animal form.

Or, at least that is what Harry could recall from Sirius' letter. The Black had had even gone so far to mention an example about the claims surrounding Rita Skeeter who used her beetle form to eavesdrop for articles. Plus, there had also been the battered-looking book Sirius had included in the little Animagus parcel Harry had received in Hogwarts – that particular book had explained how the mentally of human to Animagus shouldn't really change aside from how feelings were not as complex when in animal form.

But if those two facts happened to be the case, then why couldn't his human way of thinking tell him to stop?

And why was he currently in his room feeling embarrassed?

Certainly, Harry internally reasoned, being embarrassed was a complex emotion, something an animal shouldn't truly feel. Yes, animals held basic emotions – sadness, happiness/wonder, commonplace/courage, timidity and so on. But shame? No, animals had no shame, and if they did they certainly didn't show it, not when Harry could recall that one incident in Privet Drive when he caught two of Mrs. Figg's cats rutting in the front lawn for all prying eyes to see. Yet, here Harry was, trapped in his supposed Animagus form due to his good intentioned godfather handing him a botched potion, feeling all the shame of a human as his furry body's instinct dominated his actions.

A low, piteous whine escaped from him.

'All I did was piss a little on my favourite armchair,' Harry thought sulkily.

The incident had happened almost an hour ago in the sitting room and, yet again, happened to be another example of how instinct overruled his mind and controlled his actions. Still, Harry found himself remembering how Sirius' voice – louder than usual to his sensitive dog ears – had gained volume upon yelling when he cocked his leg on the armchair. Sirius hadn't been angry, though, not really. The older male just sounded so loud despite being comically panicky while tugging Harry towards the backdoor.

Wriggling a little on his bed, Harry still felt warm at the memory and tried to focus his mind on something else. He opted to glance around the bedroom which had become his since Sirius handed Grimmauld Place over to the Tonks' and bought the quaint cottage instead. The room hadn't changed at all since his last visit on Christmas, leaving the eighteen-year-old to feel more grounded as his eyes darted from the Quidditch posters to corkboard tacked up with a mismatch of Wizard and Muggle photographs. That is, until his eyes landed upon the full length mirror tucked in the far corner of his room, his sights immediately settling upon the mirrored reflection of a predominantly dark-coloured Border Collie sprawled upon light-blue bedspread.

Letting out a heavy, doggy-sounding sigh, Harry turned his furry head away from the mirror and peered out the night-darkened window. He was bored and unable to sleep – another thing he didn't like about his form. It seemed the slightest bump in the night – be it Sirius taking a routine piss at 3AM or a heavy gust of wind jingling the wind-chime outside –would gain his attention and keep him awake, leaving him only to sleep peacefully during the day when beside Sirius.

It was all rather frustrating, really, and coming back to the cottage wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be fun and relaxing and joyful. Harry had been excited pre-Animagus Draught, the idea of being around Sirius' fun – and borderline goofy at times – attitude and lax ways being the perfect atmosphere his war-scarred self truly needed as opposed to busying his mind with education. However, it seemed even that incentive of peace with his godfather wasn't going to happen, not until the potion wore off and he wasn't a dog anymore.

Besides, how would he go about a basic conversation when all he could do was bark?

It was madness, really, being unable to communicate. It was awkward, stressful and, as expected, it was lonely. But even that was silly in the teenager's dog-influenced mind, especially when he could recall many years of being locked away in his cupboard without a soul to talk to. But still, he felt lonely knowing Sirius was in his presence and he was unable to engage with talking. That wasn't to say that Harry didn't try to communicate the best he could, though. He'd bark and paw at things and, just the other day, he had resorted to nipping Sirius' muscled calf. The latter, of course, happened to be the most effective and, had Harry have been able to, he would've laughed at how Sirius had let out a yelp, looked at him with wide eyes before finally reaching down to muss up his scalp and ears.

Because that is what Harry wanted, to be petted and paid attention to, since he was incapable of talking.

It certainly was nice to have Sirius' long fingers combing the hair on his flanks or scrubbing playfully on his back. Such calming touches felt so comforting, loving and far, far better than his experience as a human when he hadn't really gained much physical affection save for brisk hugs from friends and awkward kisses with Ginny or Cho. Whatever the case, he pinned such feelings down to being his current, accidental form. After all, there was nothing healthy or normal about an eighteen-year-old who craved the constant contact with their godfather, was there? So, of course it was his domesticated, canine-self…It just had to be.

Even though, in all honesty, that was a weak excuse.

His urges to lave Sirius' skin with his tongue might've been a canine urge but the rest wasn't. He had already experienced similar thoughts revolving around his godfather before his accidental transformation. Although, Harry had to point out that his pre-Animagus thoughts hadn't been as peculiar with wanting to lick his godfather's face or roll onto his back and expose his belly. Still, the teenager had been suffering from an inner conflict about his feelings with the Black Heir since Voldemort's fall and his lack of returning to the awkward, slow-blooming relationship he had with Ginny before he broke up with her. After all, it had been Ron who had mentioned how, when at Hogwarts, Harry would continuously talk about Sirius like he was 'love sick' and Harry had responded angrily that the red-head was the one who was sick. Because, at the time, Harry had aggressively defended the fact he was just happy that Sirius was a free man and that the feelings he held for his – funny, charming, attractive – godfather was admiration and nothing more.

At least until after the Christmas hols…because that had been a time period which Harry began to wonder if his need to be within his godfather's presence was innocently platonic. But still, that small break in December had come and gone, and Harry remained – and, in his opinion, would forever remain –on the proverbial fence of what he felt about Sirius as a whole.

After all, there were many things Harry would risk, his life being one, but the risk of 'testing the waters' in regards to figure out how he felt about his godfather was not one of them. Sirius was the only family Harry had, the only one who gave Harry a home – a real home – and, most of all, there was a chance Sirius could end up hating him.

This thought process, however, only re-awakened the small pang in Harry's chest – embarrassing antics aside, be it the licking of feet or giddy weaving between his godfather's legs, he found himself wondering if maybe that pissing incident happened to be reason why Sirius had ushered him into his bedroom earlier than previous nights. Human logic, however, told him that wasn't the case. The smart, soothing part of his humanity informed him that – no, Sirius wasn't mad, he most likely thought an early night would be good for them both. Yet, this logic was brushed aside by pack mentality and his strangely needy attitude to remain in Sirius' constant presence. Maybe even more so when a good mixture of mild hurt and feeling sorry for himself clung to Harry's insides as he shifted about on his bed, restless and annoyed and… lonely.

Oh, he was so lonely, and he wanted nothing more than to see Sirius since he couldn't speak to said man.

Maybe Sirius would let him sleep in his room tonight?

Bounding off the mattress, Harry nearly went nose over tail as he awkwardly landed on the soft carpet, his eagerness to search out Sirius instantly making him clumsy. There was a high chance that the man was asleep right now which meant Harry could sleep on the end of his godfather's bed without the man knowing. With that task in mind, the canine wasted no time with slinking out his bedroom and heading in the direction of Sirius' most recent sent – the master bedroom.

Tail giving a lazy wag behind him, Harry wedged his muzzle between the half-open door and frame before nosing it fully open. He was greeted by the dim glow of a bedside lamp, his sharpened eyesight latching on the softly illuminated pale walls, medium-oak furniture and four-poster bed. However, this common sight of Sirius' bedroom and adjacent bathroom wasn't interesting in the slightest, not when Harry scampered further into the room that smelt – intense, exhilarating, mouth-watering –strongly of Sirius as whole.

It was a mixture of rich cinnamon, musky dry soil and the underlying bitter tang that reminded Harry of leather. Yet, when combined, it was Sirius' unique scent and Sirius smelt of security to Harry's improved nose. A security which Harry wanted to roll and cover himself with until the scent was all over him and buried deep within his fur and…

And Harry physically shook his head, appalled at his weird thoughts.

It seemed that, if he wasn't humiliating himself by cocking his leg on favourite furniture, he was internally embarrassing himself with his own thoughts. Nonetheless, Harry felt his ears lower at it all before trotting over the worn floorboards until he neared the plush, rectangular rug that outlined his godfather's impressively large bed. He sniffed at the wooden legs, the scent of oak being a pleasant cleanser to his Sirius-scent clogged nostrils as his ears picked up the faint whisper of movement and scratch of a quill on parchment. Ceasing in his snuffling, the collie eased his way around the end of the bed and closer to the sole occupant upon the dark purple bedspread, Sirius. Harry couldn't control the way his tail began to frantically wag at the sight of the man and, without a second thought, he pressed his cold, damp nose against the Sirius' nearest bare foot.

''Augh!''

The yelp that left Sirius' mouth and the spasm of limbs that followed was so amusing that Harry didn't even feel embarrassed over his uncontrollable need of feet-sniffing. Oh, how Harry wished he could laugh, especially with the way Sirius was looking at him with a shocked, wide-eyed expression. However, just as he settled with the closest thing he could do for a laugh – which happened to be a soft huff – his godfather batted him lightly on the nose with a batch of parchment the man had been previously scribbling upon.

''Bloody giving me a heart attack,'' the man grumbled with half-hearted annoyance.

Harry, on the other hand, could only immediately sneeze at the heavy scent of ink infiltrating his nose.

Sirius let out a snort of laughter, ''Bless you.''

Knowing he was forgiven for his canine-ego's obvious foot fetish, the teen-turned-dog let his eyes wander as Sirius went back to reclining against the pillows with his head resting on the headboard. Only Sirius, Harry realized, could remain half-naked and not even so much as bat an eyelid of self-consciousness. The man was only clad in a pair of slate-grey pyjama bottoms as he sat atop the bed sheets, his once Azkaban-emaciated torso on show and filled out with built up with a healthy amount of muscle and a smattering of crisp, black chest hair. Internally cringing, Harry felt his ears sink down at shame – he was eyeing up his godfather, and he really didn't want to stop.

Regardless, though, he didn't know how Sirius could do it.

He didn't know how Sirius could sit there in complete relaxation and be totally unfazed by other people's looks while Harry, on the other hand, always felt self-conscious when quickly stripping down. It wasn't that Sirius had anything to be physically ashamed of; the man had few scars and had physically turned-around after his time in Azkaban from a steady diet and exercise. But still, Harry always felt that extra bit awkward when catching glimpses of Sirius' improved form, especially when – in comparison –despite being eighteen the Potter remained as physically stunted as he had at fifteen.

Of course, if Harry had to truly look back, he had to admit that he had gained some more muscle than his scrawny, younger-self. Still, that lean muscle mass was nothing as impressive as Sirius' and, right now, right here, Harry couldn't help but compare himself to the man upon the bed. Those board shoulders, wiry chest hair and barely any scarring was far more striking than Harry's own human-form. For Harry wasn't as tall as most his age-mates or Sirius, his childhood at the Dursley's not only being emotionally damaging but physical in a sense that left with a stunted height and generally compact structure. Yet, height aside, the younger Gryffindor had narrow shoulders, numerous scars and sprinkling of downy hair that was barely noticeable – so it was no wonder why he felt so inferior when looking at his godfather, especially when the man held a confidence that could brighten those Azkaban haunted eyes…

Eyes, it appeared, which were currently staring at him pensively over a batch of papers.

Harry felt his tail tuck slightly between his legs at the unwavering stare from those stormy grey eyes. He barely resisted the physical urge to flop down onto the floor and crawl under the bed in an effort to hide. His canine instincts disliked how he was being eyeballed while his panicky human thoughts fretted over the fact that maybe Sirius had noticed Harry's blatant staring at his naked torso. Luckily though, after a few gut-churning beats of unblinking silence from his godfather, the Black let out a heavy, gust worthy sigh and seemed to come back to reality.

''You really should be sleeping,'' his godfather spoke uncharacteristically soft, almost like he felt lost.

Regrettably, the sheepdog realized what was happening – Sirius was having, what Harry could only label as, a 'moment'. It was a term he had coined since day one of having Sirius cup his furry face and question if he, Harry, was really present behind his dog-like exterior. But still, these dubbed 'moments' fell between the aforementioned fluctuation of Sirius being overly talkative and silently brooding. They consisted of guilt, sadness and bouts of physical clinginess on Sirius' part. Unintentionally, all this made Harry feel awful for not being able to verbally assure his godfather that, yes, Harry Potter was mentally amidst this muddle mess of canine instinct.

''Don't think I haven't noticed how much you sleep during the day,'' Sirius continued with grabbing Harry's attention.

A fond smile stretched across the older male's pale, guilt-tinged face as he, with his unoccupied hand, reached forward to rub at the collie's ear. Harry naturally leaned into Sirius' touch and remained torn between giddy pleasure at the comforting touch and guilty due to how it seemed Sirius' 'moments' were tripling as days went on. Not that Sirius' slow growing moods and wrong assumption was the worst part of it all.

No, the worst part had to be the fact that Harry felt relieved.

The Potter might've hated seeing his godfather's solemn, guilt-riddled 'moments' but he felt beyond relieved that Sirius was assuming that he was nothing more than a dumb-dog right now. After all, if Sirius thought Harry was nothing more than a dumb hound then it made the whole situation of animal instincts far less embarrassing. In addition, it wasn't like Harry could prove he was mentally there despite not being in full control, especially when he acted just like a skittishly, eager-to-please collie.

''Then again,'' Sirius amended, his smile dropping significantly, '' You are a dog. Some dogs – real dogs, not Animagi, can only sleep in company. So, maybe, I mean… ''

Visibly hunching at the misery in Sirius' voice, Harry began licking at the man's fingertips. Sirius sounded tired and hurt upon trailing off. In fact, the man looked like he had been told off by someone far worse than McGonagall and –

A repetitive patting sound cut off Harry's speculation.

The accidental Animagus blinked, his ears perking and eyes latching on Sirius' hand patting a free space upon the bed. The older Gryffindor, although looking sorry for himself and drained, had apparently shaken the 'moment' away.

''Heh, I'm rambling again, sorry,'' there was no amusement in Sirius' tone, but it certainly seemed lighter than the dull drone from a minute ago. ''In there or not, you're still Harry.''

Sirius' hand gave another pat the space beside him, his tone urging, ''C'mere, love.''

Front paws scrambling for purchase on the high bed, Harry didn't have to be told twice as he pulled himself up, his tail wagging furiously. Nonetheless, he excitedly wobbled his way across the mattress, his four legs carrying him over Sirius' splayed legs and selection of letters strewn upon the bed. The letters crinkled under his paws but, aside from a quick sniff and glance, they held no interest to him, not when he was far too pleased to flop down against Sirius' warm, half-naked side.

The older Animagus, however, shot him a crooked grin. ''That eager to get into my bed, hm?''

Internally cringing at his own scrambling actions, Harry didn't miss how Sirius' comment not only surprised him but also the Black himself. Not that it truly mattered, at least, not to Sirius. The older male just let out a faint snort, forever and completely shameless while Harry felt his chest flutter with nerves from the teasing – but so, so true – comment and unruly urges. But still, so far this keenness to be beside his godfather appeared to be the only similarity Harry had discovered between his uncontrollable canine actions and his human mind. However, despite this itch to be beside Sirius, this singular similarity of interests held a main difference of wills – for Harry, had he been in full control of his actions, wouldn't have dared indulged this need.

But it was okay because Sirius was smiling at him in spite of Harry's current position of nestling against the grey-eyed male's side. In fact, Sirius didn't just stop there and, although oblivious to his godson's turmoil, began to run his fingers through his fur like he knew this was what Harry needed. So, after a few wiggles of arrangement, Harry dropped his head on Sirius' silk-clad thigh and, unable to help himself, pressed his nose against the creamy skin of the man's hipbone. Harry inhaled sharply at the wondrous scent, his body boneless and mind blissful as Sirius' one- handed touches continued to dance against his fur and began to talk…

''Moony isn't happy,'' the Black confessed, and Harry tried to pay attention to the man's voice as opposed to those wondrous touches against his flank. ''I sent him a letter the other day about, you know –'' Sirius' free hand wafted a piece of text-filled parchment over Harry's head ''– this. He's not a happy chappy about you bein' stuck as dog, kiddo.''

'So that's why you're not asleep and look like someone's kicked your puppy,' Harry thought dazedly. 'Remus gave you a good telling off.'

''Not that I blame him,'' Sirius was quick to defend. ''Moony has every right to be angry; giving you that potion was stupid of me. But, well, I'm not exactly ecstatic at the results either and it's not like you're going to be this way forever, is it?''

Snuffling at his godfather's hip was the only reply Harry could give yet such a lack of verbal input didn't ebb the older man's talking, though. If anything, the younger couldn't help but wonder if Sirius' babbling could've been one of the quirks Azkaban had given him. Regardless, Harry half-listened to Sirius' mumblings about his back-and-forth correspondence with Remus via letters, going so far to mention that the werewolf was purposely 'telling him off' through writing as a way to avoid Sirius' argumentatively defensive ways from flaring up. Whatever the case, in the midst of Sirius toying with the soft fur behind Harry's ears, the Black informed him that Remus would be stopping by along with a few others for a pre-planned 'welcome back meal' which had already been suggested by Andromeda Tonks.

''The Weasley's were invited to come over on Monday, too, but…'' Sirius' utterance trailed off, his shaggy head of hair dipping towards a particular red envelope atop the other opened letters from Remus. ''Well, I think Ron has already informed Molly about your Animagus mishap when returning home yesterday.''

'Not good,' the teen noted. The Weasley Matriarch and his godfather didn't see eye-to-eye, and that was putting it nicely. Molly was too controlling for Sirius' nature and Sirius was far, far too lax and immature for Molly's way of thinking. The pair, when put together, fought like cat and dog by firing a few snarky comments here and there until Molly or – the majority of the time– Sirius snapped.

''And I know a Howler when I see one,'' Sirius continued with a disdainful sniff, his grey eyes darkening at the crimson letter.

''I gained enough from my dear mum back during my Hogwarts years to know. I don't bloody care if it'll explode, I'll do what I did with my mum's: bury them. I won't have to bloody hear Molly's rant when its six feet underground. It's not like she knows how bad I feel already. You're my Harry and I fucked up and now your dog-brained and she'll act like she's got the bloody high ground like – ''

Harry purposely tuned out the rest of Sirius' rant.

Some part of the Potter wanted to laugh while the other wanted to defend the woman who treated him like her own son, but he couldn't do either. So, with a defeated huff, Harry just simply let his eyes droop as Sirius' words lost meaning and turned into background noise. Besides, even if he could talk, Harry couldn't find the will to do so…

'Cause Sirius was doing thing again with those dexterous fingers, and Harry felt his brain turn into mush.

It was like worries and irritation just oozed out of his ears when Sirius' lengthy fingers danced across his scalp and neck. The man was talented, Harry dazedly decided, his eyes hazing over and closing. He found his mind turning sluggish with Sirius' warm rumble becoming his lullaby and his hairy body pressed against his godfather. Yes, Harry loved this, he loved being so content and uncaring about what he was doing, especially when Sirius mistakenly assumed he was wholly a hound. He didn't have to worry, did he? He could nuzzle Sirius' warm, sleekly muscled thigh and the man would just think he was being a dumb dog and not some freaky teenager who wanted to leech to him.

It was marvellous and peaceful and addictive.

Nobody had ever touched him like this before…even Ginny, who he had dated briefly before the whole horcrux hunt thing, hadn't touched him so lovingly like this. They held hands, exchanged clumsy snogs and had awkward, fumbling hugs, but not this. Even with others, back when he had been his human-self, didn't really touch or hold him or long. An example of such things would be Mrs Weasley's bustling grazes as she patted his cheek, Ron's nanosecond-long hugs complete with a hard slap on the back and Hermione's gentle yet fleeting hand-squeezes – they were all rushed touches.

Well, not all of them, there was Remus and Sirius, of course. Those two figures in particular had always held on for that extra second longer when throwing at arm over his shoulders, rubbing his back, or – as Sirius often did –bone-crushing bear hugs. Yet, in spite of such, the lone Potter found that he always wanted more.

Maybe even more so from Sirius.

This was greedy, really, in the young man's mind to want such a thing. But Harry couldn't help how he felt; he couldn't help with what he craved for. He wasn't asking for smothering attention or anything, oh no, he just felt like he needed extended human contact which, in itself, was understandable given his emotionally abusive upbringing with the Dursley's. His Aunt and Uncle didn't dare touch him aside from yanking him harshly about or the odd slaps upside his head…and that's when Harry realized why he was surprisingly content with being trapped in his current Animagus form.

For he, Harry James Potter, was starved for touch and affection.

'And don't stop!' the sheepdog suddenly found himself alert, the lack of Sirius' gentle touches creating a horrid, empty feeling. 'Continue,' he insisted with an impatiently wriggle. ' Hey –' he pawed the thigh beneath his chin '– Now, please, Sirius. I want you to carry on doing that thing to my neck.'

Then, only when the familiar weight of Sirius' arm dropped onto his back and a calloused hand returned to its previous spot, did the dog find himself able to breathe easy, the ache in his chest dissipating. If Harry could he would've smiled when Sirius' hand returned to continue with previous ministrations of petting, but he couldn't, and instead he settled with letting out a snuffle of thanks. But still, just when the accidental Animagus was slipping into his mind-fuzzed state of contentment again, a light-hearted chuckle gained his attention. He blinked at the disturber of peace, Sirius, who was looking down at him with brightened eyes and a wide grin that made Harry's stomach flip and skin tingle.

''Shame you're not like this normally, Pup,'' Sirius spoke longingly despite his tone sounding strangely suggestive. ''I certainly could get used to having your human-self practically in my lap.''

Harry pricked one ear up at that particular comment, his mind sparking with a sliver of hope. However, whatever that hope was for, he didn't entirely know. He just felt content at the off-hand comment because Sirius wasn't bothered by a neediness of touch and affection that both his canine-side and human-mind craved. However, with a faint tail wag and quick lick of Sirius' hipbone, a wave of relief washed over him as his godfather ran a thumb back-and-forth against his furred cheek. It was such a rhythmic, calming motion that Harry couldn't resist closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

He didn't wake up once throughout the rest of the night.

Nevertheless, when Harry did wake many hours later, he felt far refreshed than he had in many days. Instinctively, he stretched out upon the rumpled bed sheets, a high-pitched yawn escaping his jaws as his ears and nose twitched simultaneously.

Even without opening his eyes Harry would've known that Sirius was no longer in bed with him especially when the lack of body heat, gentle touches and strong scent all hinted towards such. But still, that wasn't to say Sirius had abandoned him, and Harry found his sensitive ears picking up the faint tinkling of running water emitting from the slightly closed-over en suite bathroom.

Be it his half sleepy state or canine influenced ways, the Potter didn't even think twice about heading towards the half-open door. Besides, the need to be within Sirius' company upon waking appeared to be block out common sense and forethought that the thirty-nine-year-old was in the bathroom, and bathrooms where a location of privacy.

If anything, at this moment of time Harry was oblivious to such things, the scent of water and soap engulfed him before he even wormed his slim frame through the gap. However, upon entering the bathroom, the collie was startled to find how his claws clicked almost silently against the tile in comparison to the intensified sound of the shower's loud spray of water. Yet, regardless of such a roaring noise and air of humidity, Harry tip-tapped his clawed paws across the floor and closer to the plastic shower curtain, his ears picking up another quieter yet intriguing noise. He stalked close, unable to help himself as this particular noise sounded familiar to Harry's human mind – the sound of skin on skin and shallow breathing.

The noise of someone wanking, to be precise.

But no, not just someone, it was the sound of his godfather jerking off behind that shower curtain. Yet, despite his mental misgivings, his animal side was enticed and held no qualms with scampering closer to the combined shower-bathtub to take a peek around the curtain. Even Harry, in all his mishmash of humanity verses animalistic tendencies, felt his stomach quiver with excitement when his eyes latched on Sirius' slippery naked form because that body looked so…so…

'Wow,'Harry thought, his tongue unknowingly lolling out from his jaws.

Because Sirius did look wow, at least he did to Harry. And he tipped his head back as far as it could go to stare at the human's flushed features, muscled body and waterlogged hair that fell above broad shoulders. In fact, as his green eyes raked Sirius from tip to toe, he felt his tail begin to pick up its pace with its wagging. But Harry couldn't help but stare at his godfather, not when he found himself entranced at the way Sirius was biting his lip as he stood with his back against the tiles, his large hands furiously pumping a soaped-up cock. It made Harry shiver, his eyes wide as the heady scent of arousal assailed his nose and left him frozen on the spot when something whispered softly at the back of his head. It was a pathetically weak voice: one of respect and morals…

A voice that told him to move and to stop staring at a man who had been his Dad's best friend.

Harry shook that tiny voice off, though, his furry body moving closer to the tub. He rested one forepaw upon the rim and plopped down on his backside while trying to catch every aspect of the body that clothes usually covered up. It was all so dizzying; his mind finding it hard to believe that such a healthy, toned body had once belonged to a grubby, skeletal Azkaban escapee. Still, after a few moments of mindless staring, Harry's canine-self felt restless and ready to explore the rest of the bathroom while Harry's conscious, human mind remained riveted at the show happening before him.

Yet, regardless of torn interest, the teen was ready to move for the sake of not being found out with spying when Sirius' hiss-worthy suck of air stilled any actions of moving. The distracting noise was welcome to Harry's dog-like ears, though. Particularly when it meant that he dragged his eyes from his godfather's closed eyelids in enough time to look downward and see Sirius come. It was a glorious sight, too:

One of tense stomach muscles, clenched thighs and a guttural noise as spurts of semen dribbled down those pale, pianist-like fingers.

Harry felt his spine tingle and ears perk up at the whole voyeur-like experience, his eyes unmoving from the older man's still-twitching, rosy member. He had walked in Ron and Neville masturbating one or twice, but Harry had ran out apologizing and red faced – unlike now. Now, regardless of his heavily dog-driven ways, he held no intentions of running away, not when his human-self was so transfixed. Then again, Harry had to note that those previous examples were with gangly teenagers and not an attractive, mature man who he harboured confusing admiration and hormonal thoughts about. And Harry could only squirm on the chilled bathroom tile, his body hot and fidgety as he eyed the sticky, pale fluid on Sirius' hands.

'Time to move away and out the bathroom now,' common sense chimed softly within Harry's ears. 'Sirius isn't going to keep his eyes shut any longer,' the words caressed Harry's lust-infused brain. 'This is wrong on so many levels and –'

And Harry hushed that thought, saliva pooling in his mouth.

Licking his chops, the teen-turned-hound remained engrossed with the naked sight of his godfather and the captivating sight of sticky release. Call it teenager curiosty or an addled, cainine urge, but Harry really, really wanted to lick and to taste that gooey substance off his godfather's hands and cock. However, as tempting as it was to throw himself forward and lap at the wilting member before the shower spray washed Sirius' seed away, something else caught Harry's attention. Although, this time, the distraction wasn't upon Sirius' manly form. Instead it was Harry's furry body itself which diverted his attention, because Harry felt it before realized it. That 'it' being the warmness, the tingling and the faint nip of the cool, bathroom air meeting an exposed area of flesh upon his form. For 'it' happened to be his slowly hardening prick, a prick that – upon peering down at his nether regions –was far different than the one he was used to being greeted with back when he had been human.

Oh, Harry wasn't stupid, it hadn't taken him four days to figure out the constantly on-show and softly furred sheath was his dick, he had been pissing and shitting in the back garden, after all. But still, to actually see his semi-hard canine equipment was something else. 'Cause the thing thrusting up from the thick fur further down his belly was his cock, and it was so foreignlooking.

It was so red and strangely pointed and wet that –

''Fuck!'' Sirius' breathless tone sounded higher-pitch and shocked as the collie in question jumped at the sudden noise.

Shaky and confused, Harry snapped his head up from shifting his eyes between his pointed-prick and Sirius' cock only to find wide, grey eyes staring down at him. Stiffening in his posture, the urge to flee overcame him but didn't happen, and the teenager internally gaped, his mouth dry with terror. What had he been doing? He didn't mean to, he needed to apologize! But he couldn't speak and he felt baffled as something large grasped at his scruff and he found himself with an eye full of panicky-looking Sirius while the man moved forward to shoo him away.

''Har-Harry–''' Sirius continued, voice startled yet deliciously hoarse, ''– get out. Out, out, out!''

Stepping into his bedroom with a towel wrapped secured around his hips, Sirius tried to remain calm and collected despite how his heart was still hammering in his chest.

Gone was the pleasant, lingering sensation of spending a night with having Harry – despite being a dog, it was still Harry – nestled beside him as well as this morning's relieving wank in the shower. Out of all the things to start off a presumed good day he had to add 'Perverted Pup' to his proverbial list, his usual loose-limbed satisfaction that he gained after an orgasm absent. Instead, Sirius felt tense and flushed as the memory of the sheepdog's – Harry's, his Harry's, his godson's – eyes staring at his erect cock seared into his mind. Nonetheless, the Black felt worn at it all as he pushed such a thought aside and told himself that Harrywas obviously not present in that fur-coated skull, hence the hound's invasion of privacy. Still, Sirius couldn't help but wonder if he would've reacted in the same frenzied state of panic he did a few moments ago if he had spotted Harry's human-self spying on him.

'I would've bloody dragged the little pervert in the shower with me, that's what,'Sirius mused with a snort.

Although, that little inappropriate fantasy would forever remain as such, a fantasy, and forever be locked away within his dirty mind. Sirius had long ago been suffering from such enticing thoughts for years now, but Harry had been too young, a mere child, and he had trampled such thoughts away. The boy always looked at him with wide-eyed wonder and beaming admiration that, at the time, Sirius's Azkaban-worn self had found Harry as a whole breath of fresh air that was tinged with enough familiarity to be comfortable. Even Remus, in all his knowledge of being his best friend, had spotted the way the then-Azkaban escapee eyed the scrawny Potter and went so far as to scold him. Yet, even when Harry became older – legal– and Remus became less protective more supportive; Sirius hadn't dared to indulge his feelings towards the boy. Hell, the Animagus had even gone so far to distance himself, his insecurities that his feelings would scare Harry away making him try and view Harry as James but…well, that effort failed.

Notably when every time he would watch or listen to the young man the differences became glaringly obvious. And, sadly enough, it didn't call come down to those green eyes. No, there was a huge difference in – not only personality –but physical appearance as well. Harry was slighter and smaller than James' tall, broad-shouldered self, a physical appearance which Harry had undoubtedly gained through a stunted childhood environment as opposed to inheriting. However, that wasn't to say Potter Junior was feminine or weak in appearance. Oh no, from what Sirius had innocently glimpsed and gathered over the years, Harry's thin body was only lightly muscled, but muscled enough to say he wasn't too girlish.

And Sirius found the eighteen-year-old a perfectly delectable spectacle.

Yet, like a fine piece of rare art, it appeared Harry would only ever be looked at and never touched. Besides, as lacking in experience and awkwardness Harry happened to be, Sirius had a feeling that the boy was most definitely straight.

So, Sirius Black, the self-acclaimed Lothario of men and women that had once ran amok in Hogwarts decided to designate himself to his hand as his lover. It was this action of wanking over a love-interest that made Sirius snigger, though. The whole thing made him feel like a randy teenager again. But still, those sly wanking sessions aside, Sirius didn't let his subdued intentions show, he always treated Harry the same with long, squeeze-worthy hugs and hair ruffles despite the boy's current legal age and single status. However, it appeared his godson's recent predicament of becoming a nosy, rambunctious dog meant that Sirius had to be careful with his hidden feelings and orientation, especially when he, as Padfoot, knew all too well about the range of hearing and smells dogs had.

Merlin help him if the scruffy sheepdog overheard something damaging.

'That is to say if he hasn't already,' anxiety chimed in Sirius' ear. 'Who knew how long he was watching you in the shower.'

An irritated sound left the back of his throat at such a thought, leaving Sirius paranoid and annoyed. He clenched his fists and charged over to his chest of drawers, his dampened body and hair leaving water droplets in his wake as he rifled for his usual nightly-attire of underwear. After grabbing a clean set of boxers, he yanked off his towel and began to scrub himself dry as a dreadful thought entered his mind:

What if he had presumed wrongly about Harry's behaviour being purely animal?

What if Harry did hold his human mind – like all fully trained Animagus' should –and had openly been staring at him?

'No, that's wishful thinking on my part,' Sirius shook his head at the thought and slipped on his underwear, his still-damp legs catching on the tight cotton. 'No way would Harry do that,' he mentally assured himself, 'he's dog-minded right now and just being a curious little bastard…'

A loud whine halted Sirius' inner dissection of spiralling events, and he stiffened, his eyes narrowing in the direction of his large, mahogany-framed double bed. The dark, purple-coloured bedspread remained empty of a hairy, upset-sounding Border Collie, though, and with a frown, the Black stepped towards his bed. He eyed his seemingly empty room and open doorway, his gut twisting uneasily as the hurt whine tugged at his heartstrings. In fact, the man was ready to switch into Padfoot, sniff out the younger dog and give him a sharp nip for previously disrupting his shower when the familiar sensation of a warm tongue ran up his shin and caught the stray droplets of water clinging to his wiry leg hair.

Stumbling back from the unexpected lick, Sirius wasted no time with dropping down onto his stomach to look under the bed.

''Harry,'' he called, half-amused, half-worried. ''Hey –''he reached forward, his fingers barely brushing the cold nose when the collie backed away, further under the bed. ''C'mere, kiddo.''

Solemn, apologetic green eyes met confused grey, and the Marauder felt lost.

'He looks kind of guilty for being canine-addled,'the particular thought popped into his mind out of nowhere.

Yet that small, niggling consideration caught Sirius off guard and comforted him at the same time. Because, for a dog, Harry was looking shamed with his curled up posture and guiltily lowered black ears. Most hounds would hide through fear of reprimand, not shame. Guilt and embarrassment were strictly human emotions, though, and Sirius could only blink at those intelligently sad green orbs. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn Harry was silently apologizing to him. However, he couldn't entirely focus on the pathetic looking hound, not when a realization slowly dawned: Harry was in that thick-furred head!

Or that is what Sirius found himself staring to assume.

After all, the Black Heir mused, McGonagall hadn't warned him of otherwise. She hadn't mentioned anything about Harry's condition meaning the teenager was without human mind. It had been wholly Sirius' judgement that Harry hadn't been mentally present due to the way his godson had been indulging in many animal-minded actions. Yet, in spite of the previous day's of having the dog lick and wiggle up against him combined with marking an armchair, the raw humanity behind those green eyes verified that Sirius original assumptions had been wrong.

Although, Sirius still doubted that Harry would've spied on him with a clear mind.

So, perhaps, Harry's human-mind was simply diluted or submerged amongst canine instinct and sensation. Sirius found this slow-brewing conclusion made an awful lot of sense when he recalled the early years in which he had been training with becoming Padfoot – the sights, the smells, the distractions, the…urges.Undoubtedly, Harry was experiencing such overwhelming sensations but due to the lack of Animagus training was unable to rein of control, and Sirius didn't know whether to hit the boy-turned-dog for destroying his moment of privacy or hug that furry body with relief.

Of course, it didn't take long to decide on the latter, and Sirius didn't fail to see how Harry was tucked so far under his large bed that he couldn't hug the slender-framed beast. So, after a small sigh, the Black tried another approach with coaxing the mildly skittish dog out.

''I'm not mad, you know,'' he explained with a twitching smile.

''I did go to Hogwarts, Harry,'' he continued, his eyes not missing the way those black ears flicked upward with interest. '' I did catch other boys having a sly wank in the showers. No big deal. We're both men, right?''

A fast swishing sound of Harry's tail brushing back and forth on the floor under the bed reached his ears as a reply.

''Although you're not much of a man right now,'' he amended in a teasing tone. ''But it still counts. And you're still a perverted little bugger.''

An affronted-sounding huff expelled from the collie.

''I'm joking,'' Sirius waved a dismissive hand, a crooked grin in place as he eased away from the bed. ''Now,'' he coaxed with a patience that only Harry could create. ''Come out from under there.''

Thankfully, the stubborn canine followed such a command, albeit somewhat bashfully by commando-crawling out from underneath the bed. Nonetheless, with his chest feeling suddenly lighter than it did since Harry's arrival, Sirius reached forward to brush the light sprinkling of dust off that had attached to the glossy black fur of Harry's coat. He earned an enthusiastic tail wag from Harry for such an action, and Sirius beamed, a half-sigh, half-chuckle leaving his lips before mussing the sheepdog's downy, half-cocked ears with both hands. The prospect that his dodgy potion hadn't scrambled the young Gryffindor's brain felt positively amazing right now, especially when all the guilt just seemed to melt away with each forgiving lick to his open, right palm…

'Wait –' Sirius flinched as if electrocuted '– what?'

Gut-clenching, Sirius blinked owlishly down towards the dog that was currently licking at his right hand with rough, frantic licks. He felt his mouth open a little from astonishment, his actions torn between disgust and something awkward yet warm because it was Harry.It was Harry who was indulging with the need to lap Sirius' shower-rinsed hands – that is, an uninhibited Harry. But it was still Harry who was tonguing his fingers and tasting his calloused palm…

A calloused palm which Sirius had, mere moments ago in the shower, spilled his release into.

That particular thought sent a shiver of thrill down the older Animagus' spine. He felt his face heat at the twisted pleasure he gained at knowing it was Harry, no matter how physically different or uncontrolled, who was engaging in such an intimate act with him. But still, it was inappropriate, Sirius knew this, and he reluctantly moved his hands out of licking-distance as unmentionable thoughts and dark ideas tickled the back of his mind. He swallowed thickly, ignoring Harry's forlorn gaze in favour of looking down at his saliva coated fingers as he tried to squash the inviolable urge to see if Harry wanted to taste another part of his body with that roughened, lengthy tongue.

Harry, however, chose that precise moment to whine and slap a paw upon Sirius' bare knee.

The action distracted Sirius' efforts to calm his racing, taboo-inflamed mind. Azkaban had obviously warped him for even thinking of such things to begin with. But still, he offered a tight-lipped smile towards the collie as he wiped his spit-slicked hand upon the bed sheets. Gods, he needed help, if he wasn't lusting after his godson he was suffering from a resurgence of unthinkable fantasies that involved the furry beast before him. Sirius could only lick his suddenly dry lips and let out a throat-clearing cough as his stare zeroed in on Harry's beautifully unchanged forest-green eyes.

Even as a dog those emerald orbs remained as stunning as ever.

Such eyes even looked so, so human , though, and Sirius felt like hitting himself. Forget his twisted perversions and poor assumptions, how could he had missed such a fact that Harry was behind those eyes? He felt incredibly stupid at the prospect he had spent the past four days treating Harry in an awkward mix of human and pet-like affections.

''I'm sorry for all this,'' Sirius blurted out.

A cold nose butted against his knee, and the Black pushed away the creeping moroseness that had been gathering since Harry's accident. Besides, from what he had gathered from his godson's display of human emotion via shameful guilt, Sirius felt a lot lighter and better. Harry had been so openly affectionate over the past short days of Sirius' wrong assumption, and this idea alone that Harry really was behind those beautiful, human eyes while nuzzling up to him on the floor or sofa made his heart speed up.

Although, this new information also brought forth many questions about the teenager's antics of entering the bathroom and…spying on him. Well, not that it was really spying. Not when, at the time, Sirius had blinked his eyes open to spot the scruffy sheepdog sitting so openly in the bathroom. You couldn't call that tactless, unhidden staring 'spying' even if you tried.

'What a contradicting mess,' the older male realized. 'Surely, if Harry was so canine influenced he would've lost interest at the sight of my wanking…'

Unless that moment of trance-like staring had been solely Harry's idea?

Warmth suddenly began to spread inside him over that conclusion – it swirled around his stomach, trailed towards his heart and lingered around his flaccid member. Wishful thinking or not, Sirius laced his fingers through the downy tufts of Harry's hair as he cupped the predominantly black-furred face with white definitions. He could really see it now within Harry's eyes, the humanity and selection of emotions.

Those eyes were addictive to look at, leaving Sirius to decipher the glimmer of shame at being caught, the confusion over everything and…and a twinkle need in the Potter's eyes. It was a need that instantly made the thirty-nine year old's eyes knowingly drift down the dog's furry frame until they landed on Harry's visible, ruby red hard-on.

'Oh,' Sirius felt his throat tighten at the sight. 'Is that for me?'he internally hoped.

Call it Sirius' burden of overconfidence, but the man couldn't help but presume that the peeking of raw-looking flesh might've been down to him. Even if Harry didn't really find him attractive, the sheer sight of watching someone wanking furiously in the shower would've turned on most hormonal teenagers regardless of sexual preference. But still, the reason that Harry had been watching him masturbating in the shower and was now sporting obvious arousal only made Sirius giddy and smug at the same time. In fact, just as Harry visibly shied under his grey gaze of staring at the hound's nether regions, Sirius could barely control how his face stretched into a wickedly teasing smile.

''It must be difficult not being able to answer back to all my babbling,'' Sirius began, his mouth parched and heart flickering, only to pause with anticipation. ''And – '' he carried on, his eyes darting between the peeking of red flesh and verdant-green eyes, '' – And not being able to do things you can usually do for yourself.''

Harry squirmed then and, had it not been for the steady grip Sirius had on the collie's face, he was certain Harry would've slipped away. Embarrassment and guilt were so clear in those green eyes, after all, and Sirius tried to smother his smile in favour of wrapping himself up with the happy knowledge that Harry was most definitely beneath all that fur. Besides, he could easily envision the endearing blush that tended to appear on Harry's human features when he teased or got caught staring by said boy. Despite all the years and attention, it seemed Harry would forever flush a range of pink to crimson whenever Sirius gave him undivided attention. Much like now, really.

Except Harry obviously couldn't blush in his form and blushing was currently replaced with flicked back ears and jittery squirming.

''Nothing to be ashamed of,'' Sirius insisted, words of persuasion spilling forth. ''You just need a – er – helping hand, don't you, love?''

In retrospect, the Black would've slapped himself upside head but this wasn't a recollection of past events, this was now. A now that held temptation and silence and curiosity that Sirius shoved any misgivings aside by enforcing the weak belief that he was only helping his godson and not taking advantage of a situation for his own, selfish desires. However, if said desires of wanting to touch Harry – no matter how physically different, the dog was still his Harry, he was certain now, – or what that glistening, red cock would feel like in his hand happened to clash with his aid of helping was utter coincidence.

''Here,'' Sirius didn't wait for any snuffles or licks of understanding in favour of shifting to the edge of the mattress and reaching down. Instead, he took the way Harry scooted back and how those hind legs fell open as permission of sorts.

''Just, let me – '' he mumbled softly and wasted no time bending in his seated position, ''– There. That's it. I know you're there, Harry, I'm just…helping.''

With a sharp inhale, Sirius found that his awkward angle of bent posture and extended hands allowed him to see Harry's eyes widen as he finally brushed his fingers against the tip of scorching, red flesh, softly furred sheath and full bollocks. There was no fear present in those eyes, though, and this only spurred the older male on with gaining a more secure hold of the slightly protruding penis. Smirking, Sirius used his left hand to smooth and stroke the seated canine's flank in a calming manner as his right arm remained between Harry's forelegs; the same arm's hand gave a singular, encouraging squeeze to the semi-erect member.

''Better?'' Sirius' knew that his tone was light and questioning, just like he knew that he wouldn't be receiving a reply.

But it was fine, completely fine, because despite the confusion and worry evident there was a hopeful expectancy that shone in Harry's intelligent, soulful eyes. Sirius bit the inside of his cheek, his left hand's fingers weaving into the silky tangles of hair while his right continued gentle ministrations of clasping, unclasping and rubbing the young dog's member into full arousal.

It felt so wrong yet so right to be finally touching Harry in such an intimate manner, regardless of it being a slender, canine prick as opposed to Harry's real thing. Nonetheless, it didn't make the event less thrilling, especially when the idea that he was happily stimulating his godson didn't add guilt into the whole situation. If anything, the connection and title simply added more excitement for the Black who, in his dark fantasies, used this title to his full advantage over the past years as a form of wank fodder.

After all, there was always something more exhilarating about the forbidden to Sirius Orion Black.

Hence here he was, jerking off a dog which also happened to be his godson, and he didn't know what to blame this mindset on. It could be labelled 'Black Madness' from years of inbreeding, Sick Perversion from his lonesome time trapped in Azkaban, or, a natural mix of holding odd kinks and a Marauder-like attitude of going against the norm. Yet, whatever the case or cause, Sirius didn't entirely care, not when he was absorbed in the way Harry's hips were twitching forward in his hold.

The action of having those furry hips snap forward against his hand was wonderful in many, many ways for Sirius. Not only did the movement verify that the sheepdog was enjoying this false act of 'helping', but it also eased the pang in his chest. He had been faintly concerned that Harry couldn't verbally tell him to back off, but still, Sirius reasoned to himself that Harry could nip, bark or bite if he really didn't like it.

However, such niggling frets appeared to have been just as foolish as his presumption that Harry was dumbly dog-brained to begin with, and Sirius shifted forward to brush his nose between the small, jagged path of white between Harry's eyes. He placed a quick selection of pecks against the zig-zag and bolt-like patch of shaped fur higher up on the fuzzy brow, his own previously tended erection officially waking up from its content slumber.

Forgetting about how heavy his dick was beginning to feel between his boxer-clad thighs, he focused on the desperate green eyes as he continued with his fondling. He was still somewhat amazed by how Harry's thin, canine prick fitted so perfectly in his hand that he couldn't help but zone out in blissful wonder…Was this really happening or was it another dirty dream? Was this really his Harry? Was he really holding all five wonderfully slick inches of garishly red cock in his hand?

A high, keening noise mingled with soft, impatient-sounding grunts emitted from the collie's whiskered snout.

The sound cut-off Sirius' dazed thoughts and answered all those questions with an obvious 'yes' when Harry's damp nose assaulted his cheek. ''Be a little patient, kiddo,'' the older scolded half-heartedly, his hand tightening around the firm, swelling base of Harry's doggy prick. ''You…You should be grateful I'm doing this.''

''I didn't have anyone to help me when I was Padfoot,'' Sirius prattled out a confession. ''Sure, unlike you, I could change back – '' he spoke breathlessly '' – But still, y'know, it's not the same. Wish Prongs or Moony helped back then, but they…they're not like me.''

Harry was practically fucking his hand now…the collie had managed to mount his arm by hunching over his fist and latching to his bicep with scrabbling forepaws. The sight pain of those scratchy claws against his arm only made Sirius groan and, in a obscure mix of dismay and delight, brought him into the reality that his tongue had became loose with information due to his mind and body being too focused with sensation. He had always tended to be verbal during sex, be it – in his years at Hogwarts – sprouting dirty talk to the Ravenclaw female he had been ploughing into or talking nonsensically when – pre-Azkaban –fingering that male, one-night stand on Brighton beach. But this was certainly the first time in which such personal confessions spilled forth during a sexual encounter and, well, it was fitting really because –

'' – S'first time I've done this, too,'' Sirius' mental note slipped into the verbal realm. ''Always wondered,'' he breathed, ''Always wondered what it would feel like doing stuff when I was Padfoot.''

Because the Black had, he had always wondered if it felt different to fuck someone when a dog or what it would be like to be fucked by a dog, or what that strange, red prick would be like against his hand or…the list of endless.

''Does it feel good, Harry?'' the man questioned into the dog's ear. ''I hope it does, I mean, you're – '' he paused to shift a little to try and get a peek of the cock within his hand ''– you're gettin' so big, especially, here.''

To prove his point Sirius grazed his fingers against the bulbous swell of tissue by the base of the sheepdog's cock. That thickening mass was undoubtedly the dubbed 'knot' or 'bulbus glandis' which Sirius had read once in passing when exploring his Animagus' anatomy. Fascinated at it all, he snaked his left hand to join his right to accommodate the quickened pace of Harry's vigorous movements while keeping his eyes trained upon the blood-coloured cock that held faint blue, spidery veins. Still, after regardless of this admiration, he eventually earned a half-yip, half-whimper from Harry as the dog's hips stilled and a familiar gush of tell-tale semen spurted into his palm.

''There we go,'' he sing-songed with sticky hands and extremely tented boxer-briefs. ''What a good boy,'' Sirius continued while inwardly denying how alike he sounded like his cousin, Bellatrix, right now with how he was crooning. ''Very good with letting me help you,'' he babbled with his lips pressed against the top of Harry's head.

''So good, should give you a nickname, '' he chattered randomly while brushing another kiss to the furry temple. ''You need a nickname, Harry. A lovely nickname…''

Not that thinking up nicknames happened to be the main subject swimming in Sirius' mind right now, not when he was finding it was difficult to keep up the pretense that he had been simply helping his godson after his breathless rambles and his current state of having his cock straining for freedom. But it didn't matter, at least, not to Sirius. Harry had come and had obviously enjoyed the act, especially with the way he was currently lapping at the underside of the older Animagus' neck instead of skittering away. Oh, Sirius might've been horny as hell right now, but how could he care when Harry was acting so eager and lovingly after such an event?

Besides, if he couldn't touch Harry's irresistible human-self, then he'd at least gain his fill with his beloved godson's furry, alter-ego who held fewer qualms with being so openly affectionate.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Cave Canem