The Hellhound

Ch. Nine

"Cut clean from the dream that night, let my mind reset."

-Hozier

                                                                               ***

Sirius knew he was dreaming as soon as he opened his eyes to sunlight through soft, gauzy-white curtains. It didn't hurt his eyes, and he was on a soft bed, but the biggest tip off was the blonde head resting on his chest.

But he'd take this over nightmares any day.

Tentatively, certain she would disappear as soon as he dared to move, he ran his fingers through the silky stands of her hair. She sighed softly, and his heart broke in two. It was ridiculous how such a little sound could affect him so intensely.

She made a little grumbling noise, then looked up and smiled. His breath caught in his throat. She was just as perfectly beautiful as she'd always been. He didn't blink when she raised up onto an elbow and leaned forward, kissing him.

Cinnamon and the scent of sun-baked grass played over his tongue. A flat memory of her complex taste at best, but more than he currently had. He buried his fingers in her hair, his other hand trailing down the curve of her back.

After a moment, she pulled away. She rested her arm on his chest, then her chin on her arm, looking at him. The sunlight made her winter-grey eyes luminous, almost silver. Softly, she whispered, "Morning."

"Hi," he whispered back, voice a little choked. 

She surprised him by turning her head to glare at the door for a second. When she came to a conclusion that seemed to satisfy her, she turned back to him. With a conspiratorial grin, she said, "We have probably three minutes."

He frowned, not sure what she meant by that, but then she was on top of him, her tongue sliding against his. His body reacted immediately, having missed her touch to the point that it was painful.

He clutched at her hips, kissing her back feverishly. She made a small, pleased sound when his fingers hooked into the waist of the sweats she was in. He sat up, hand on her shoulder to push her down to the mattress.

She gasped lightly, her back arching when he pushed the hem of her tank top up, exposing her smooth stomach. Galloway was fit, her body obviously trained by her combat-heavy lifestyle, but she was soft in all the right places. Control slipped away from him and he bent his head, licking and kissing down her stomach, wanting just to taste her, to remind himself of what she tasted like.

All his mind could conjure was a weak imitation, but at this point he didn't care. His mouth traveled lower and she murmured, "Sirius, we don't have the time."

He ignored her—sure that Logan or Caleb or whoever the hell they were supposed to meet now could wait—and bit gently at her hipbone. He wanted her so badly he couldn't stand it. He pressed a kiss into the sensitive skin of her lower stomach, and she sucked in a breath, the sound letting him know he was headed in the right direction. He kissed her again, a little lower, and she said, "Sirius!"

Her voice was so emphatic he had to look up. She raked a hand through her hair with a sigh, cheeks a little flushed, lips red. Slowly, she tugged her tank top back down, making him growl. With a smile, she pressed her palm against his mouth to quiet him, and said, "The kids will be awake any second."

Sirius muttered disparagingly against her palm, then his eyebrows drew together sharply as he stared at her. He blinked rapidly. She took her hand away from his mouth, and he sat up fully. "The who will be what now?"