the_debt_of_time

she reminded him, threading her fingers through his hair and holding tight. "I chose you. I
love―" she began, but before she could say the words, Sirius crushed his lips against hers.
When he pulled away from the bruising kiss, his eyes were shut tight. "Don't say it.
Don't... Don't say it; not yet," he pleaded and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing
hot against her lips as he rolled his hips toward her again, needing the friction to ease the
throbbing discomfort. "Mia, if this is it, if... if we do this... I won't let go. I'm not strong
enough."
"I've already said―"
He cut her off. "No, Mia, I have never had a girlfriend before," he cautioned her,
trying to explain. "I am incredibly fucked up, and there's no doubt in my mind that I will
be a shit boyfriend. Because I honestly don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
"The scar on my ribs is from an old curse. The person who did it was punished, and
you don't need to know any more than that. I have another scar on my arm because I got
in the way of a Slytherin. And... and there's a large scar on my back because I splinched
myself."
Sirius swallowed, listening to the truth spill from her lips. He was not shocked to
learn she had been duelling Slytherins, but the splinching? That surprised him.
"Not even Remus has seen it," Mia whispered.
Something in the way she said the words triggered Sirius's primal instincts.
Something in the way he looked into her eyes made Mia terrified and excited all at
once.
All too quickly, he turned her around, pressing his firm chest hard against her back.
She felt his fingers slipping around her to slowly unbutton her cardigan. With the fabric
parted on either side of her breasts, Sirius pulled the cloth down over her back. He
delicately peeled the bra strap down and placed an open-mouth kiss to the healed track in
her flesh caused by her splinching.
Mia shivered at the contact, then moaned in pleasure when she heard him whisper
from behind her, "Mine."
Suddenly, he put his hands back on her hips and spun her again. Before she had a
chance to say another word, his tongue was in her mouth, and she was moaning at the
pleasurable invasion. He was not sweet or gentle, nor loving and passionate. He was rough,
and hard, and possessive in a way that burned hot.