Détente by Seeker. PWP, NC17, no copyright infringement intended. Pairing of SB/LM, from an idea by Carol Snape for the HarryxLucius FQF.

The dinner conversation had long since degenerated into an argument.

Again.

"So says the man who actually WAS incarcerated for murder." The drawled response from the Defense against Dark Arts professor caused a titter to roll across the dinner table. An eyebrow went up as cold blue eyes stared down an aristocratic nose at him.

Sirius Black bristled. Had he been in his animagus form black hair would have been standing up on end all over his body. He bared his teeth in an expression even the kindest wouldn't call a smile and spat, "My point is, if we can employ former Death Eaters who, as far as WE know, haven't changed their views a whit, then there's no legitimate reason why supposedly Dark Creatures who've never hurt anyone can't be treated just like regular people!" God, he hated Lucius Malfoy.

Beside him, Remus dropped his head into his hand and sighed. This time it was about werewolves, but really, it was only an excuse, and Sirius felt vaguely guilty for using his best friend as a launching point for yet another fight with Malfoy. On the other hand, he was defending Remus' right to be there. Not that Remus asked him to. Since they'd both returned to Hogwarts after the War ended and Sirius had taken up the Muggle Studies position, Remus had settled into the late Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom perfectly. The students adored him, the house elves made fattening him up a pet project, and the rest of the faculty adopted him and did their best to spoil him rotten.

With the exception of the Slytherins, of course.

Snape tolerated him, though Sirius had a hunch there was more to it than that, from the way the greasy bastard stared after Moony when he thought nobody noticed. But Malfoy, who if there was any justice in the world should have had his arse tossed in Azkaban instead of coming out of the mess with Voldemort smelling like fucking roses, looked at Remus like he was something dirty Filch swept up off the floor.

It didn't seem to bother Remus at all, but then Remus had a high tolerance level for arseholes. It pissed Sirius off no end.

Much like the way Malfoy was smirking at him now. The thin lips opened to spill more venom, but before he could say a word, Dumbledore's rumbling voice stopped the argument in its tracks.

"Enough."

Malfoy's mouth closed and his smirk dimmed as he looked warily over at the Headmaster. Sirius felt his own smile brighten, but when he met Albus' solemn gaze, his mouth went dry. This could be unpleasant.

"It is time to seek détente," Dumbledore announced with finality. "Professor Malfoy, Professor Black. Your ongoing dissent is causing upset amongst the faculty," he glanced over at Remus and Snape, "and discord amongst the students."

He looked down across the great dining hall, but none of the students were in fact paying attention. Potter and the younger Malfoy were too busy snogging at the Combined Seventh Years' Table (instituted to promote unity after so many from all houses died in the final battle) to notice the antics of their elders. Dumbledore quickly swept on. "You will find a way to bridge the differences between you for the good of the school."

Sirius looked at Malfoy. Malfoy looked haughtily from Dumbledore to Sirius and back.

"Bridges, Headmaster?" he asked silkily. "Between species?" He smirked, and Snape echoed him. Sirius growled, only Remus' hand on his arm stopping him from launching himself down the table and ripping Malfoy's throat out.

Dumbledore stared over his glasses at Malfoy. Then he smiled.

Malfoy's smirk disappeared.

So did Malfoy.

A moment later, so did Sirius.

He's spent a lot of the last fifteen years in cold, dank, empty rooms with bars on the door and Dementors in the hall. So when Sirius landed on a warm, dry carpet next to a big, roomy bed, it wasn't the worst experience he'd had.

Until he realized he was (1) without his wand, (2) stripped down to his underclothes, and (3) sprawled next to Lucius Malfoy.

His spirits plummeted at the realization, and he gave in to his animal instincts. Not bothering with words, or warnings, or much of anything but a snarl, he rolled over atop Malfoy and punched his face in.

Well, he tried. Apparently Malfoy wasn't the soft spoiled ponce Sirius always kind of figured he was, because his reflexes were as good as if not better than Sirius' own. He bucked, kicked and kneed Sirius, then ducked under the punch and bit Sirius hard. He was probably aiming for the face, or the shoulder, but just like with his knee, he missed. The knee caught Sirius in the thigh instead of the balls, and the teeth latched on to his neck.

It wasn't Lucius' fault. He didn't know. It wasn't even Sirius' fault. Autonomic response kicked in. Bite a dog on the neck, and, well... it turns him on.

It was Dumbledore's fault.

No doubt he'd divested them of their clothing so neither could use the variety of weapons with which they routinely armed themselves. Imprisonment and war had left Sirius with a severe case of paranoia, and for all he knew Malfoy carried knives and garrotes on the off-chance he might find someone to torture for the fun of it.

So when a man who'd spend nearly half his life as a dog found himself lying on a rug with eleven stone of nearly naked, furiously squirming, nice-smelling, panting sweating man grinding away beneath him, and was then bitten by said man, things... happened.

In this particular incidence, what happened was Sirius threw back his head, thrust down with his pelvis, grabbed hold of Lucius with both hands and howled. Malfoy stiffened beneath him, stopping his struggles long enough to give Sirius a look of utter disbelief. There was probably contempt in there somewhere, too, but Sirius was too busy tearing Malfoy's clothes off to care. His own quickly followed.

Malfoy tried to fight. All right, he wrenched his arms out of Sirius' hold and wrapped his hands around Sirius' arse cheeks and held on tight, which in some circles might be considering putting up a fight. If one were a professional sex worker and the client asked for it. Of course, the way his legs opened and he yelled, "Shit, Black!" as he thrust his cock up against Sirius' own didn't support the self-defense theory much.

Almost as soon as it started it was over, with Sirius grunting and shoving and coming all over Malfoy's belly, and Malfoy bellowing like a bull and pushing up and coming all over Sirius' thigh. Bereft of energy, the ability to think, and in absolute denial, Sirius collapsed on top Malfoy and lay there, face buried in Malfoy's sweaty hair and body rubbing against Malfoy's sweaty body, both of which oddly enough still smelled nice.

"What... the fuck... was that?" Malfoy sounded strangled. Or maybe suffocated. After all, Sirius did outweigh him by a good twenty pounds, not to mention the three inch height difference. Sirius thought about it.

Had no idea how to answer it, so didn't say a word. Instead, he lay there, the bite on his neck stinging, the slick flesh under his hands shaking, and decided whatever the hell it had been, it was good and he wanted to do it again.

"ARE YOU INSANE?" shrieked Malfoy, making Sirius realize he'd said that last bit aloud.

"Probably," he admitted, "but mainly I'm horny. You know how long it's been since I've gotten laid? And the setter bitch in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron three years ago doesn't count."

A sound that might have been a snicker, or a whimper, rattled in Malfoy's chest. After a short silence, during which Sirius surreptitiously rubbed a little harder with his groin against Malfoy's, and sniffed as much as he could of that heady musky scent, Malfoy admitted grudgingly, "Recent years have not been conducive to physical intimacy on my part, either. Between Narcissa's headaches and Voldemort's... er, never mind." He sniffed. "Although I was never so desperate as to mate with a mutt in an alley!"

"How 'bout in a bed?" Sirius suggested wickedly.

Malfoy's mouth opened. Sirius stuck his tongue in it. Then grabbed Malfoy's jaw to keep him from biting it. Though that turned out not to be a problem, as Malfoy's tongue started fighting with his, so if Malfoy had bitten down he'd have bitten his own tongue off. Sirius was somewhat gratified by this turn of events. He and Malfoy had been mouthing off at each other for months, and since he didn't see that stopping any time soon, literal physical mouthing was a hell of a lot more fun.

He wasn't quite sure how they made it up off the floor, but they didn't make it all the way on the bed. Malfoy half-sat, half-sprawled on the edge, and Sirius took the opportunity to enthusiastically lick the long white thighs splayed before him. All the way up to the messy, sticky fine gold hair around the tense balls, and the slick, heated prick slapping against his face. He looked up the second time he was whacked in the cheek with the heavy meat, and saw Malfoy looking down at him, all heavy-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks and half-opened mouth. That was good.

What was not good was that Malfoy had his prick by the base and was smacking Sirius in the face with it. That couldn't go on. Besides the fact that it was messy, and irritating, and turning Sirius on a lot more than he wanted to admit. Taking the offense, he wrapped his hand over Malfoy's and pointed the waving cock at his mouth before it poked him in the eye. Then he swallowed it, all the way down to the root, with one gulp.

Now THAT had DEFINITELY been a girly scream. Sirius would have grinned, but his lips were stretched too far to move. So instead he swallowed. Repeatedly.

Malfoy was humping now, hands burrowed in Sirius' hair, legs trembling under Sirius' hands, and he was making a sound close enough to a caterwaul to make Sirius shiver. The dog in him rose up and growled, his throat rippling around Malfoy's prick, and that was all it took. Malfoy's voice crested, broke, and he snapped, shaking like a leaf as he exploded in Sirius' mouth.

Damn. Sirius couldn't believe it. The son of a bitch tasted as good as he smelled. He kept sucking until Malfoy's hands turned from clenching to trying to push him away, pained wheezes coming from the collapsed pile of goo on the bed that used to be a man. Sirius' own neglected cock was directing him, insistently, to get on with the show, and with a feral grin he did.

Shifting Malfoy's deadweight further up onto the mattress, Sirius followed him up, shuffling between the spread legs and hoisting Malfoy's ankles up over Sirius' shoulders. He dropped a light bite on the side of Malfoy's knee just to see him jump, then took hold of what could only be called a delectable arse and spread it wide open.

Given the strength of the orgasm that had ripped Malfoy apart moments before, Sirius met no resistance, verbal or muscular, as he prodded the relaxed arse with his cock. True, Malfoy made noises, but they weren't recognizable as words, and the tone was encouraging. At least Sirius thought it was. Of course, anything short of a wand pointed at his head would be considered encouragement, as far gone as he was by then.

A thrust, a couple short jabs, and another little push, and Sirius found himself seated all the way to the balls in Malfoy's hot tight arse. Unbelievable as it was, it was unbelievably good, and while he wanted to revel in the moment, his prick was telling him otherwise. He pulled out a fraction, very slowly, feeling the burn as the muscle around him gave, loving it. Then Malfoy's hands scrabbled up from the linens to pass behind his own legs and latch on to Sirius' hips, pulling him forward with surprising strength, and Sirius had to move.

In, going with Malfoy's desperate tug. Out, just a bit, then all the way back in. Shove against Malfoy, wriggle a little to make them both gasp, then rock out and in and out and in with sharp thrusts that felt like heaven, if heaven was illegal and immoral and too good to be true.

Sirius forced his eyes to stay open and stared down at Malfoy, who was staring back up at him. Malfoy looked sinfully good, hair all over the place, eyes glazed, tongue licking over his bottom lip again and again. Sirius kept watching him, and kept fucking him, and finally leaned down and kissed him.

Malfoy bit him again, on the lip this time. Sirius liked it as much as the first one. His hands slid down to wrap around Malfoy's waist, supporting his back, loving the feel of the body jolt as Sirius pumped into him. Malfoy took it, humping up against him as much as he could with the limited movement allowed under Sirius' weight.

Against his belly, Sirius felt Malfoy's trapped prick come back to life, lengthening against him, rubbing against his skin. Malfoy must have liked that, too, because his fingers clamped down on Sirius' hips hard enough to leave bruises, and he stopped biting Sirius' lip long enough to breathe, "oh, fuck, yes," into Sirius' mouth before he came.

The vise rippling around his cock nearly turned Sirius inside out. Unable to stop, he pistoned into the cramping arse, knees sliding a little on the come dripping down between Malfoy's legs to smear on the sheet, thick fluid dripping down around his balls to add the last little bit of lubrication to Sirius' pounding. The final lick of heat added to the spasms milking his prick were too much, and Sirius returned the favor, screaming into Malfoy's mouth as he came a second time, flooding Malfoy's arse and adding to the mess in the bedding they both then collapsed into.

It was a little longer this time before the huffing breaths beneath him turned into whining wordless pleas for air. Sirius snuffled happily against Malfoy's hair, then slowly, since every bone in his body had melted, slid off to lie beside him. From the aborted movements Malfoy made to shift away before stilling, he was obviously as wiped out as Sirius was.

"So," Sirius gasped when he could breathe again. "You think Albus will consider this détente?"

Malfoy made that weird noise again, halfway between a snicker and a moan, and eventually answered, "It's a beginning." Then he didn't say anything else.

After awhile, Sirius got enough strength back to roll up onto one elbow. He looked down at Malfoy and had to grin. Malfoy lay flat on his back, arms and legs akimbo, mouth open, eyes closed, come leaking out his arse, reddened, spent cock flopped against his belly, snoring softly, with a blissfully contented look on his face. Sirius decided they needed to do this again. Often. It was the only way they would keep from killing one another.

Right at the moment, though, he was sticky, sweaty, and smelly. Malfoy was equally as sticky and sweaty, if not more so, but the bastard still smelled good. Sirius shook his head.

Maybe it was something in the genes. Whatever it was, Sirius didn't have it, and he wanted a shower. Badly.

Rolling out of bed, not disturbing Malfoy's slumber in the least, he picked up a robe from a hook on the wall and shrugged into it, grimacing as it stuck on the splashes of come and sweat all over his skin. Now that the heat of the moment was past, he actually recognized where they were. Malfoy's bedroom. Dumbledore must have known how this would go.

Pervy know-it-all. Dirty old man. Merlin bless him.

Still grinning, Sirius staggered out of the room, always up for a bit of snooping, particularly if it led to a bath. Across a small sitting area, clogged with books and cauldrons and jars of things he wouldn't recognize even if he had been alert, he found another door and opened it, wandering in. Halfway into the room his brain caught up with what his eyes were looking at and he stopped so fast he nearly tripped over his feet.

It was a second bedroom, as large as Malfoy's, only with fewer books and more jars. Clothing lay scattered across the floor, and on the bed atop the rumpled covers crouched two bodies. One was tall and thin, draped across the back of another that was short and hairy. The pale body stopped thrusting into the sturdier one, on all fours beneath it, and the shaggy brown head raised in protest before freezing in shock. Bright brown and furious black eyes stared at Sirius from two identically appalled faces.

"Uh, Remus?" Sirius asked, sounding as dumbstruck as they looked. The brown eyes closed as Remus blushed. Everywhere. The black eyes narrowed.

"Why are you wearing Lucius' robe?" Snape asked.

Sirius didn't bother to reply, since his tongue was tied in knots, his brain was sludge, and his cock had sprung to attention. He could always bathe later. He was just going to go back where he'd come from, crawl in bed with Malfoy... and hide. Or wake him up and take care of his, er, renewed interest in détente.

Further explanations of Slytherin/Griffindor diplomacy aside from their own could wait.

END