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Really, if Slughorn didn’t want his gillyweed stash to be pilfered he should do a better job with the security of his cupboards. With how many times the Marauders had successfully
“borrowed”
from them for advanced and highly illegal potion experiments or parts for a prank, Sirius is rather disappointed with the man's efforts to keep them out. Perhaps he thought that since it was only a week into the school year he was safe from thieving students. Obviously he is incorrect, Sirius thinks as he shrugs the invisibility cloak off, leaving it lying in a heap at the edge of the dock.
Standing at the edge of Black Lake, he stares, trying to see through the depths of the inky water as dark as its name, but instead all he is greeted by is a mirroresque reflection of the multitude of stars above him. Shedding his trousers and shirt, he hesitates to leave his tight pants, but ultimately decides that he doesn’t fancy a walk back to the castle without them. Or explaining their absence to any nosy dormmates who happen to notice. The black fabric is added to the pile and he swallows the gillyweed down, grimacing at the bitter taste and slimy texture on his tongue.
It takes hardly any time for the effects to begin transforming his body, his hands and feet becoming webbed before lastly he starts to choke, unable to draw breath outside the water. Bracing himself for the cold water, he dives headfirst off the dock into the deep dark depths below. It must be thanks to the plant that it doesn’t feel cold at all, just a pleasant caress over his skin as he pushes deeper and deeper, revelling in the freedom the water grants him.
It doesn’t take long to find what he is looking for, which he should be grateful for, but also feels all the doubt, insecurity, and indecision that he wrestled with all summer long dredge itself up from the pit of his stomach. He hopes that at the very least he’ll come away from this with some sort of answer and won’t have to spend another night wondering and second-guessing every fleeting desire that passes behind his eyelids hidden inside the safety of crimson curtains with a hand fisted around his hard cock.
The giant squid approaches him with its usual curiosity, appendages reaching out to grab at him as it usually does when any student passes too close to the lake or dives in for a dare. Sirius wonders how often students throughout Hogwarts’ history have pilfered gillyweed and take a swim to visit the squid; he can’t possibly be the first.
His wandering thoughts are cut short as the cup on a tentacle makes suction on his nipple, creating a pleasant pressure that has Sirius opening his mouth and releasing a silent moan in a burst of bubbles floating toward the surface. The squid must interpret this as the encouragement Sirius means it to be, because its gentle stroking and curious playful touches become more insistent.
Ever the controlling bastard that he is, Sirius tries to remain the one in charge, but finds his usually steel resolve distracted and slipping away by the assault on his senses from so many places at once. In all of his fumblings in broom closets with girls he had needed to force himself to fake at least some sort of enjoyment or interest, and had decidedly given up all pretense when the last several times resulted in him being unable to even dredge up any amount of arousal and ended with him walking out before anything had even been able to occur.
As the tip of a tentacle toys with his lip, pulling his mouth gently open until he is chasing after the phallic appendage, desperate for it to be on his tongue, he still has enough blood in his brain to think
okay, yeah, this is different than with girls.
It doesn’t escape his sense of mutinous humour that the idea to go to the squid to explore the questions of his sexuality arose from an ancient and priceless woodblock print in his ancestral home. If only his pureblood, heteronormative, fanatical parents knew that their precious heir wanted to
be
the fisherman’s wife.
All further logical thought flees him though as two strong, thick tentacles wrap around his legs, pulling them wide and holding him tightly within their grasp as he sucks, licks, and moans around the one pumping in and out of his mouth.
He shivers with delight as a gentle ghosting touch caresses him from the head of his cock, down the bulging vein to circle his sensitive balls. Sirius is certain that he has never been so hard in his life, his hips automatically rocking into the touch, desperate for more. He reaches down to fist himself but before he can wrap his hand around his throbbing dick, his wrists are caught and pulled behind his back. He lets out a guttural whine, fighting the bonds on his arms and legs without any desire to break away from them.
The squid is caressing him all over and Sirius is overwhelmed while still needing
more.
The touches ghost over his nipples, his abdomen, the cleft of his buttocks, even the arches of his feet, but he is desperate to feel full, to finally know what it’s like - the filthy desires his mind conjures in the throes of his masturbatory passions, the only times he allows himself to admit even to himself that he wants a
cock
in his mouth, not a breast, that he wants to be held down by strong hands and
filled.
It’s as if it hears his thoughts, as the tip of a tentacle gently circles his hole. Eager, Sirius pushes back in an attempt to urge it on, but the squid is in no rush and continues to hardly brush his throbbing cock and stroke his clenching hole in slow tantalizing circles.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,
is echoing on a frantic repeat in Sirius’ mind as he tries to thrust back on the tentacle, but is tied too tightly at his arms and legs to be able to do so. Even as he whines around the appendage in his mouth, his tongue frantically circling it, he’s imaging giving pleasure to another and feels more compelled to do so than to seek the gratification of being satisfied himself.
Sirius wonders about the salty taste in his mouth and how much different it would taste if it were a man’s cock. From his own perverse curiosity, he has hesitantly licked his fingers clean of the little beads of precum, pumping his fingers in his mouth and laving his tongue over the digits, cleaning every bit of salty liquid he had gathered there, feeling filthy and wishing desperately it was someone else's precum he was devouring. The salt of the squid is different, but not so different that he isn’t able to close his eyes as it pumps into his mouth and pretend it’s a cock that is fucking his mouth, that the salt he tastes isn’t those little beads of precum, leaking from another man’s cock.
He’s so focused on sucking the tentacle that he doesn’t notice the one circle his greedy hole has stopped and is gently prying him open until it’s pushing past the first ring of muscles. His body’s natural instinct is to squeeze, to try and prevent it and press it out. The tentacle tracing his dick wraps solidly around it, giving Sirius a solid stroke to distract him and Sirius moans, throwing his head back and body relaxing so that the squid can press further into his hole. Rather than continue stroking him, the one around his dick stops and circles tight around the base of his cock and balls, cutting off his ability to ejaculate. Sirius whines pitifully and tries to rock away from the confines, already feeling an orgasm building deep in his gut, but he’s bound to tightly, unable to do more than moan desperately as his mouth and ass are fucked in alternating strokes.
Sirius has never felt so filthy in all his life, but unlike the feelings that usually fill him with doubt and disgust while he wanks, he feels nothing now but pure bliss, enjoyment, and arousal at this type of filthy. In his fumblings with girls he had left them with nausea rolling in his stomach and the urgent need to take a shower. He would dive into his homework pile with desperation until his thoughts were entirely focused on the subject and not on how he had felt with them. He finds none of that in himself now, merely a sense of rightness in being the one fucked, in imaging spending his life with a man who could hold him down with the same strength the squid can and fuck him into a mattress, against a wall, and tell him what a dirty filthy whore he is for their cock as they pound him.
Gasping, Sirius’s back arches as he goes rigid, caught off guard as his thoughts bring him to an orgasm that wracks his entire body even though he can’t release. His balls are tight and his skin feels like it’s on fire, and still the tentacles are fucking him through his orgasm with no sign of slowing down. As he relaxes again his body goes limp, eyes fluttering closed, all energy gone and desire to fight the grip on his arms and leg have fled from him. Lost in the heightened senses of his refractory, he feels as if covered in small fireworks, popping and sizzling everywhere he’s being touched.
His dick is still painfully hard, and when he feels another tentacle pressing at his hole his eyes fly open wide. Moaning in encouragement he tries to press back, the tight grip on his legs loosening enough to allow him to fuck back onto the new appendage, to impale himself desperately with the little time he knows he has left. The tentacles in his ass alternate their thrusts, one moving in as the other pulls out, and the result is a constant brushing against his prostate.
It’s too much, too much, so much.
He’s so full, he’s sure that he’s going to burst, that he’ll tear apart completely, but it feels too good for him to even care. His legs are pulled further apart, holding him akimbo so as to fuck him even deeper than before. Sirius’ eyes roll back and he can’t even suck the tentacle in his mouth anymore - his jaw simply hanging open loosely as it plunders him.
If he weren’t underwater, Sirius is sure that he would be crying. As it is he thinks that there is an unending string of noises leaving his mouth, but he doesn’t have the ability to stop it, to focus and even know what it is he’s saying or moaning or what is happening to him besides
he feels so full.
Just when he thinks he can’t take anymore, that he really is going to die from overload, the tentacle around the base of his cock loosens. Feeling like sparks rushes back into his throbbing dick and Sirius feels like a rocket about to explode in every direction, lighting up the ink black water. His muscles are contracting, everything centring and hardening into a single ball in his pelvis. His balls tighten and eyes are rolled back as the tentacle strokes him in a tight, slippery grip. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, about to dive off head first, holding his breath and every part of him rigid.
It takes hardly two pulls before Sirius is gasping, hips thrusting forward erratically, pulling against the bonds holding him in place and cumming harder than he thought possible. His vision goes black, speckled with brilliant electric blue dots. The sounds of the shifting water dies away and he hears nothing at all, all that he’s aware of is the
hot, hot
rush coursing through him as he rides the high. He’s still thrusting erratically, but his pace slowing, when his hearing returns in the form of his own blood rushing in his ears and his frantic heart beat, pounding a frenzied
thrum, thrum, thrum
in his chest.
The tentacles withdraw from him and he’s aware that it had started to become painful in his post-orgasm downfall, but still he’s left feeling empty as the squid pulls away. Sirius is panting and exhausted, his arms and legs struggling to move and tread water to keep him from sinking like a rock to the bottom of the lake now that the squid is no longer holding him aloft. For its part, it trails the tip of a tentacle down Sirius’ chest, almost tenderly, if it were capable of such things, and then turns and dives into the unseen inky depths below in a swirl of fluid motion.
Sirius treads for a few seconds more, trying to regain his bearings, but slowly he becomes aware of the fact that it’s becoming more difficult to draw oxygen. The effects of the gillyweed are wearing off. He summons the last of his energy for the very dredges of his being and pushes hard toward the surface, nearly there when he stops being able to draw breaths and is forced to hold it until he breaks through into the night air.
Pulling himself up onto the dock, he sits shivering despite the warm night air, water running in rivulets from his body, wincing at the pain of sitting. He hangs his head, still panting and his body feeling like an exposed wire from some Muggle electronic. If he had known that an orgasm could feel that good and stay with him this long, he would have stolen gillyweed a long time ago, he thinks. Reaching for his wand, he casts a quick drying spell before pulling on his clothes and slipping beneath the invisibility cloak.
He’s nearly back to Gryffindor tower without running into anyone, when he sees a Prefect making rounds up ahead of him. They stop and Sirius freezes, thinking he’s been heard. They tilt their head back, almost as if
scenting
, but it still isn’t until they turn around that Sirius realises it’s
Remus
and that’s probably exactly what he was doing. Amber eyes glint in the low burning candlelight, brighter for the proximity to the fast approaching full moon. He scans the hall not seeing anything, but his brow is still furled.
“Sirius?” he whispers.
Pulling the cloak from his head, Sirius walks up to stand right in front of him. His smile is easy and perhaps a little blissed out, which could explain why Remus is giving him such a funny look. “‘lo Moony.”
Remus sniffs again. “Why do you smell like… ocean and sex?”
Rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, Sirius discovers that even this doesn’t leave him feeling ashamed. Instead he’s just amused and a bit repentant due to the questioning looks Remus is shooting him, because he knows he’s been more than a bit of an ass since returning from summer hols. At least now he finally has his answer and no longer feels like he’s carrying a thousand pound weight on his chest. He indicates the way ahead of them, back to the tower, and Remus acquiesces easily. “Perhaps a story for another time. Shall we?”