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Like The Greeks Do	By : DictionaryWrites Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3893 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and the characters therein belong to JK Rowling; I'm playing in the sandbox, as it were, whilst claiming no ownership and making no money.

Chapter List
- 1-Like The Greeks Do
- 1
It starts with a glance. Glances, as far as Sirius is concerned, can mean nothing at all or everything there is, and this glance is one of the latter.
He's wrestling with James in the courtyard, only wearing his thin, golden underrobe that plunges at the neck and shows off the hair growing on his chest; James is still fully dressed, but his hair is a mess and he's ruffled, and Sirius is winning. He laughs as he tackles the taller boy to the ground, doing his best to pin James' hips with his knees, but James headbutts him hard enough to wind him and sits on top of him.
"That's not fair!" Sirius yells as Remus and Peter laugh - Remus has put a Galleon on James to win, the traitorous werewolf, and Sirius is determined for Peter to win his money. "You're too fat to do this!"
"I'm not fat!" James argues, and then he chokes as Sirius smacks him in the throat and shoves him down again, pinning him with his knee against James' left thigh and his forearm on his throat. Their play is always rough, his and James - Remus sometimes complains they embrace the rough, animal tussling of the full moon too much in their human lives, but Sirius enjoys it. He enjoys his victory. "Fine! Fine, you win!"
"Ha!" Peter says, clapping his fat little hands together, and Remus groans as he flicks him the coin. Sirius stands up, raising his hands in victory and bowing to the different groups of students in the courtyard who'd been watching the impromptu wrestling match with mingled amusement and mild concern.
And then, the glance.
He's nestled amongst his fellow eagles, smaller than the rest of them: Dorian Keats is willowy and short, even shorter than Sirius himself despite being in the year above, and his gaze settles on Sirius. Sirius is well accustomed to attention - in fact, he constantly encourages it - but this is different. Keats' glance slides from Sirius' face to his bared chest, and then down lower, where the thin underpiece of his Hogwarts robes tangles around his thighs and bares less than the girls would like to enjoy.
It bares less than Dorian Keats would like to enjoy too.
It's not a lingering stare. No, that would be far too risky when such desires re so frowned upon, but Sirius is a boy who readily embraces his desires, whether they involve wrestling his good friend to the ground, or whether they involve offering to put his tongue to work if a prefect will offer him a lesser sentence.
(That had worked, too. He'd been quite proud.)
Dorian Keats looks away, turning back to conversation, but Sirius had seen his glance, and Sirius wants to explore its origins.
It starts with a glance, but it will end in satisfaction.
---
Sirius picks his time to strike with care: rarely does he deign to enjoy his fellow Hogwarts students, with their tendency to whisper and gossip and cry. His sexual adventures have been almost entirely refined to denizens of Hogsmeade or pretty girls in Muggle shops when he's buying cigarettes; Sirius enjoys women, and he enjoys men, but at Hogwarts the pickings are slim and come with too much associated dramatics.
Dorian Keats, however, will be in no position to recount his tale.
He's a relatively shy boy, Sirius is aware, and he's never actually spoken much to the seventh year Ravenclaw in all their time at school together: he knows that Keats has never dated any girls, and he knows that Keats has glanced at him, and he knows that he should like to make Keats scream his name.
What Sirius Black wants, he gets.
He sees Keats on the Marauder's Map in the evening time, where the Ravenclaw has decided to leave dinner early, and he pounces.
"Good evening," Sirius says, leaning on a wall in the empty corridor. He forces his body to measure its breathing: he'd sprinted from the Gryffindor common room down through two different passageways to reach the end of the corridor in time, intent picking just the right stone to lean against. With two torches either side of him, he's lit in romantic firelight while still maintaining an element of darkness and shadow, and it ensures he looks suitably sexy.
"Black," Keats says, with a small nod of his head. He hesitates, licking his lips. He has lips like a girl, Sirius thinks. Lily Evans wears Muggle lip gloss that makes her lips plump and shiny, but even without any helpful products Dorian has plump lips that seem made to be wrapped around a cock. His eyes are bright and blue and wide, his brown hair a thick, well-combed quiff at his head, and his eyelashes are long.
Even if Sirius didn't already appreciate men as well as women, he'd still pick Keats to play with.
"I want to show you something," Sirius says, slowly strolling forwards and pushing open the door of an empty classroom, one that he knows is rarely used and that he can lock the door of. Keats watches him as he enters, and Sirius doesn't miss the slight shiver he sees on the other boy's body.
"I, uh- I should go back," Keats says haltingly, teetering on the edge between cowardice and hedonism. His voice is actually rather deep and resonant, despite his pretty little body, and it's a sad draw away from the rest of his features. It's no problem, though. Sirius is picky, not mad. "The others-"
"They won't miss you," Sirius murmurs, packing every intensity into the gaze he makes Keats meet. Keats licks his lips again. "Come on, Dorian. You'll never get an opportunity like me again." Keats coughs, awkwardly, but Sirius can see he does it to hide the way his throat abruptly dries out - he's sure the Ravenclaw can't believe his luck, with the most handsome boy at Hogwarts offering his time.
Keats steps inside, and Sirius locks the door.
"I'm, uh- I think you've got the wrong impression, I'm not a- that is to say, I don't like-" Sirius throws the other boy back against the door, revels in the power of it: Sirius is a short boy, shorter than Remus and James and even Peter, but Dorian Keats is even shorter. Sirius pins his wrists against the wood of the door, holding them tightly in each of his hands, and he lets his lips hover over Keats'.
The Ravenclaw whimpers. He actually whimpers! Oh, Sirius is going to enjoy himself tonight.
"Don't you like me, Dorian?" Sirius asks in a whisper, his voice low and husky - he tries to emulate the sexy, slightly hoarse voice that always makes the girls look twice in Remus' direction, but he can never quite mimic it. His voice is too rich for that. "Because I like you." He drops one of Dorian's wrists, reaching forwards and cupping the boy through the fabric of his robes - oh, and this is perfect. This is just icing on Sirius' cake. "Aren't you small?"
Keats bites his lip, doing his best to suppress a whine, and Sirius chuckles. "What are you going to do to me?"
"That depends," Sirius answers. "What do you want me to do to you?"
"Everything," Keats says breathily. "Everything." Sirius laughs outright, squeezing the small bulge he feels under the fabric of the robes.
"Oh, good," Sirius says, pleased. There had been the tiniest element of risk in this - the smallest chance that Keats would be a madman, and would for some reason turn Sirius' advances down. But now? Sirius' night of pleasure is quite laid out for him. "Take off your robes." Dorian jumps to obey. Sirius stands back, watching as he unlaces his robe front and drops both outerpiece and underpiece to the ground, and he pushes the older boy into the middle of the room, circling him slowly.
Keats is pale.
Actually, that's not true. Remus is pale. Peter is pasty, but pale.
Keats is positively luminescent.
Keats has nipples that are small and soft and pink, and there's barely any hair on his thin body: he's as white as alabaster, and his cock? Oh, his cock is the new wonder of Sirius' world.
Sirius has seen Greek statues of pretty boys with tiny cocks, and now he has a living version right in front of him: Keats' cock isn't even half Sirius' size, much smaller than Sirius' own and of those of the other Gryffindor boys, and Sirius will be able to fit it all in his mouth with ease.
"Will your arse wet itself for me, Dorian?" Sirius asks: Keats shivers again. There's gooseflesh all over his pale skin, and Sirius feels a deep satisfaction at the sight of it. "You already look like a girl. Is that a cock, or a clit?" He shifts forwards, slides his hand over Keats' smooth, hairless jaw and draws him into a kiss: Keats' lips are plump and warm against his own, and Sirius draws him in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of his fruity shampoo. "A man ever let you touch him, Keats?"
"No," the other boy whispers. "There aren't many- it's hard to find..." The obvious anxiety in the Ravenclaw's voice bores him, so Sirius slides his hands down to grip at his skinny hips, pressing into the flesh there. He just wants to enjoy himself, and by no means does he want to listen to this boy's worries pour out of his pretty mouth.
"I know, I know," Sirius murmurs in a faux-soothing voice. "Why don't you bend over the desk for me?" He sees the hesitation in Keats' face, and he backtracks: he can build up to deflowering his new conquest quite happily. Sirius isn't a patient man by any means, but he's certainly capable of employing strategy. He catches Keats in another kiss, regularly drawing away and forcing the older boy to follow his mouth for more. He can see that Keats is starved for attention from the way he leans into Sirius' body and quakes under Sirius' touch, and he feels all the more powerful for it - he murmurs a spell, spreading a Conjured blanket out on the floor behind the abandoned desk, and he coaxes the other boy to lie with him on the ground.
"Why me?" Dorian asks, and Sirius chuckles against the other boy's jaw as he leans down, dragging his lips over the moon-pale skin.
"Because you're pretty," Sirius murmurs, tonguing over the sensitive skin just above Keats' collarbone, and the other boy is almost entirely passive, lying on his back with his limbs spread: Sirius feels like he's had a meal laid out just for him, ready to be devoured. "You know about the Greeks, Dorian?"
"The Greeks?" Keats repeats, and then he whimpers: Sirius sucks a bruise hard into the skin, and Keats' hips buck, his fingers grasping at Sirius' robes and uselessly, loosely fisting themselves in the fabric. Sirius presses his thigh against Keats' cock, feeling the little thing slightly hard, and he laughs against Keats' neck before he bites. Keats cries out, but Sirius knows he's pegged the other boy right - Keats desperately arches up and into the pain of Sirius' teeth, and although Sirius hasn't drawn blood, he's sure Keats would let him.
Keats would let Sirius do anything, and Sirius loves it.
"The Greeks," Sirius agrees, dragging his tongue down the length of Keats' sternum and then blowing cool air over the wet skin."They liked boys like you, you know. Big, bearded men would just drop to their knees: pretty eyes, big lips, lovely long eyelashes..." Sirius flicks over one of Keats' nipples with his thumb, enjoying the way his lips part and his eyes close. "And a little cock, just like this."
Keats bites his lip, arching his hips into Sirius' thigh as he presses it against the smaller boy's crotch, and breathlessly asks, "You think it's small?"
"It's fucking tiny, Dorian," Sirius says, and an excited thrill runs through him when Keats shudders. The girls he's had had let him joke with them, joke and tease, but never had any of them got off on being debased by him, being insulted, and he finds he loves it. He leans down, caressing Keats' nipple with his tongue, and then he grazes suddenly over the pink nub with his teeth, enjoying the half-scream it draws out of the Ravenclaw's pretty throat. "Go on, Dorian," Sirius says sweetly, slowly sliding himself slower, between the other boys thighs. "Tell me what you want."
"You," Dorian says in the tiniest voice he can manage, and Sirius laughs. Who doesn't want him?
"More."
"You. Want you to put your tongue, um- there." Keats' cheeks are a pretty, dusky pink, and Sirius is going to borrow Peter's camera the next time he does this - he wants a hundred pictures of the other man moaning and crying around Sirius' fingers and his tongue and his cock, and he'll have them. Merlin, he'll paste them all over his walls.
"Where?" Sirius asks, feigning innocence. He mouths at the inside of Dorian's knee, and the Ravenclaw grits his teeth with a little, tickling noise, shaking his head.
"Higher." Sirius noses over the inside of Dorian's thigh, slowly, before slipping his tongue over the crease between his thigh and his pelvis, and Dorian's gasp is heady and loud. Dorian's pubic hair is a light dusting over his cock, and even the hair on his balls is thinly carpeted - Sirius shaves with an ivory-handled straight razor, and he wants to sneak Dorian into the Prefects' Bathroom with him, hold him with his legs spread and thick, white cream covering the small, enticing sac between his legs. Would he scream, Sirius wonders, if Sirius threatened to cut into them?
Between his legs, Sirius feels himself give an eager twitch.
"My- please, Sirius, my c-cock." It's only a little bigger than two inches, Sirius can see, and his balls look positively huge in comparison: Sirius settles his fingers behind the sack, playing over its front with his thumb, and he keeps his gaze on Dorian's face.
"Your c-cock?" Sirius mocks, and Dorian bites at his lip, nodding his head. Sirius chuckles, and then he dips his head, dipping lower and lower until he knows the Ravenclaw can feel his breath on the little length of his cock. It's just so small, Sirius thinks - Sirius had never had any plans to allow Dorian to enter him, but now he knows the idea is almost entirely off the tale. "You ever fucked anyone, Dorian?"
The Ravenclaw's fingers are squeezing at the fabric of the blanket underneath them, and he gives a little shake of his pretty head.
"Aw," Sirius says, tone dripping with insincere sympathy, "I'm sure someone would be able to feel it." Keats gasps, and Sirius dips, dancing over the little cock with his tongue, teasing at its little foreskin and laughing when it gives a cartoonish pulse. Sirius bows his head further, and he feels Dorian tense.
"What are you doing?" he asks hurriedly, and Sirius laughs.
"I promise you," Sirius murmurs, "This will feel much better than my tongue on your cock, Keats." He pushes the older boy's thighs apart, and then he lets his tongue press at the pink little entrance: there's barely any hair around his hole at all, and Sirius dances over the wrinkled skin, enjoying the way Keats wriggles and squirms under the attention. "Is this as small as the rest of you, Dorian?"
Dorian whines, pressing his face into the blanket and the side of his own arm, and Sirius presses his tongue deeper. He flicks it over the other boy's entrance, twirling it as best he can, and oh, Dorian is tight. His hole clenches desperately around Sirius' tongue, obviously doing its best to draw more of Sirius inside it. Not only is his face pretty and his cock a natural joke, but the boy's arse is greedy and desperately slutty.
The world is good to Sirius Black.
"I want to fuck this little hole, Dorian," Sirius murmurs, drawing back. His wand is in his hand at a second's thought, and he murmurs a quiet spell to drip lubricant over his fingers: the oil is slick and thick, and there's the slightest resistance as he presses a finger into the Ravenclaw. "I want to fuck it full, have it all night long - if I fucked you enough, kept you hidden in this classroom, I'm sure I could bloat your little belly fit to bursting." Dorian moans, cock giving the most pathetic little jerk Sirius has ever seen.
"Don't, don't, please-"
"Don't?" Sirius asks abruptly, his fingers going still, and he stares at the other boy with wide eyes, but then Dorian desperately shakes his head.
"No, no, do, keep going, sorry-"
"You okay, Keats?"
"Too much, but in a good way, don't stop, Sirius, please-" Ah. That's it, then: the humiliation. Keats' face is even redder than before, a flush gathering on his neck and the upper part of his chest, and Sirius laughs against his thigh as he slowly scissors his fingers. He feels Keats quiver underneath him, and he begins to shift his fingers inside the older boy, twisting them one way and then the other before he adds a third.
He supports himself with his left hand beside the other's hip, leaning over him as he moves his fingers, and he asks, "You want me to fuck you?" Keats whines. All the hesitation he'd displayed earlier has utterly melted away, just as Sirius had known it would: he nods his head hurriedly without saying another word, and Sirius' grin is savage.
Sirius pulls up his robes, not bothering to undress himself, and he shifts himself forwards, slicking himself up. His cock is hard and wet between his legs, utterly ready for this little treat, and he lines himself up.
With pretty girls, Sirius is gentle, going slow, but he doesn't want to go slow now. He slams himself forwards and enjoys the way it winds the other boy, and he begins to move his hips. Inside, Keats is wet and beautifully tight, slicked and ready just for Sirius, and Sirius feels a triumph in being the first inside this pretty little morsel of a man. Keats will never have a man like Sirius again, once he leaves Hogwarts, and Sirius does hope he realizes his luck.
Sirius shifts his body in slow, easy rolls, not actually drawing himself out of Keats' hole: he keeps himself pressed to the hilt, and Keats' eyes are closed so tightly Sirius wonders if he might just pop. Sirius grabs at Keats' wrist when he reaches down for his cock, and he laughs at the other boy when he whines a wordless complaint. "Oh, no, no, no, Dorian. You'll come on my cock, or you won't come at all."
"I can't," he whines in that sweet, deep voice of his, and Sirius grabs his other wrist, pinning them both just above Dorian's head. He begins to speed the movement of his hips by the slightest fraction, careful not to lean too far and let him enjoy the friction of Sirius' belly sliding against his cock, and he watches Keats' face. The pretty features are a mess of frustration and overwhelming bliss. Yes, Sirius will definitely borrow Peter's camera next time.
He begins to withdraw with each thrust, drawing back and then slamming forwards again; with Keats' knees bent and drawn up slightly, Sirius fits perfectly between his skinny thighs, and he does his best to grip Sirius with his legs, trying to hold him close. Sirius closes his eyes, letting himself bask in the pleasure of it, the hot, wet vice around his prick, the squirming, desperate form of Keats' slutty body beneath him, and the knowledge he has utter power over the situation.
Sirius doesn't wish to chase his orgasm, not yet wanting to rush to the edge, so he moves himself with a comfortable, measured pace, but he can feel Keats tensing further and further with each moment of his forestalled rapture.
"You're a little slut, aren't you, darling?" Sirius asks to break the warm, heady silence between them, and he knows he's distracted the other boy swiftly from his untouched cock. "Merlin, imagine what your fellow eagles would say if they heard about this - desperate little Dorian Keats, slipping into a classroom and letting Sirius Black have his way with him. Especially if I told them how small your cock is."
Keats whines, pressing his head into the floor and arching his back, but with Sirius pinning him he can't get too far. "I'm not a slut, I've only- just you-"
"Just me?" Sirius laughs. "Oh, you don't think it's really like that, do you?" Sirius leans, his hair brushing over Dorian's soft cheeks as he murmurs in his ear, "If you have me, Keats, you have us all. It's just me for now, but tomorrow night you'll have us passing you back and forth, James, Remus, Peter and I..." It's utter nonsense, but it makes Keats writhe underneath him, just the thought of it, and Sirius laughs at him. "We won't let you come either, pretty boy. Just fuck you 'til you beg."
"Please," Keats says, begs, and Sirius tweaks and thumbs over his nipples as he speeds himself up: he's more and more desperate as each second ticks by, and as Sirius quickens the thrusts of his hips, Keats' eyes close tighter and his moans get louder. "Please, please, Sirius-"
"Oh, no, no, I'm going to fuck you until you cry." It's an empty threat, but to Sirius' utter surprise and delight, the boy beneath him lets out a sob, and Sirius' cock has never been harder than it is at this moment, buried in Dorian Keats' pretty, pert little backside. Sirius watches hungrily as Keats' Adam's Apple bobs in his throat, watches the tears cling to his long, lovely eyelashes, and he fucks himself forwards all the faster.
Dorian comes untouched, crying and whining and choking on his own little sobs, and Sirius kisses him hard as he chases his own orgasm, pressing himself deep inside the other boy. Wetness clings to Sirius' own cheeks as he releases Keats' wrists, tangling his hands in the other boy's hair, and Dorian hiccoughs quietly.
Sirius stands back, withdrawing a handkerchief and clucking amused, faux-concerned noises at the other boy as he wipes the tears from his cheeks: Merlin, he wants a picture of that too. Keats on his knees, lips wrapped around Sirius' cock, tears on his cheek - yes, Sirius would like that framed on his wall, thank you very much.
"That was good," Sirius murmurs as Dorian shivers, and he Summons the other boy's clothes, helping him dress. He lets his fingers linger on Dorian's arms and legs and hips, and when Dorian initiates a kiss between them Sirius lets him, leaning down and into it. Dorian kisses him like he might die without Sirius' mouth on his, and Sirius loves it, feels the sweet, perfect power of another boy hanging off his every word and thought and breath.
"Let's do it again," Keats says, doing his best to sound sultry even as he sniffles. Sirius laughs at him, patting his jaw.
"Sure, Keats," Sirius says, and he leaves before he can try and initiate some sort of cuddle, slipping from the room and heading up to the Gryffindor common room. Peter and Remus are nowhere in sight, but James is sprawled on his bed, and he arches his eyebrow at Sirius.
"What?" Sirius demands, and James waves the Marauder's Map. Sirius chuckles. Sirius' indignities are between him and James, and although Sirius knows the other Pureblood has no trouble with Sirius' enjoying another man's touch now and then, it's not a secret he's shared with Peter and Remus - at times, they just don't understand the subtleties of upper class culture, and this is one hedonistic degradation he shan't be sharing with them.
"Was he good?" James asks: his fascination is, eternally, concentrated on Lily Evans, but even as he doesn't appreciate men or even other girls, he appreciates Sirius' well-discerning taste.
"Oh, yes. He cried." James laughs, clapping his hands together, and Sirius drops onto his bed, grinning. "I'll have him again, I tell you."
"Like the Greeks do?" James asks, referring to Sirius' beautifully shot historical pornography, and Sirius grins. He'll be happy to draw the Ravenclaw into their own private photoshoots, but for the time being he's content to enjoy his memories of the evening, and share the salacious tale of his exploits.
"Like the Greeks do."
- 1
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Like The Greeks Do