Work Text:
“You’re drunk, Sirius,” Shakur warns, but she’s already so close to her that she can’t muster even half the heart to push her away. Her eyelashes are long, those steeled eyes are hooded, and Shakur has felt nothing if not cold for only God knows how long, her twitching tail betraying her stoicism.
“And if I am?” Sirius drawls, a lop-sided grin on her face. She’s holding on to an empty beer bottle in one hand and balancing herself on the backrest of the couch with the other. “You only like your girls sober, Shak, mm?”
Shakur grabs Sirius’s face, pulls her closer before scowling and pushing her away. “Put that bottle down before you hurt someone.”
“Whatever, mom ,” Sirius rolls her eyes, and then breaks out laughing at her own jest. Shakur considers that she does happen to be wine-drunk enough herself to feel that throaty laugh resonate somewhere in her chest. “And what about now?” Sirius is leaning closer to her again, biting her own lip and folding her ears half-back in an openly lustful display. Shakur can still see the patch of raw skin on her lip that’d been busted open not too long ago, and she wanted to gnaw it loose just so this rutting pit bull of a woman leaves her the fuck alone.
You’d be hard-pressed to call it a kiss — their mouths just crash together, teeth already out, each rummaging for something that they want. Shakur is well-aware of Sirius’s tactics, and she avoids getting locked with her for much longer than necessary. But whether it’s from drunken aim or Sirius being completely numb from intoxication, no matter how much she reaches for that lip, Sirius never recoils, even when Shakur is sure she tastes blood. “You tryna eat me, shark-teeth?” Sirius grumbles, her smile splitting her lip all the more, but not at all relenting.
“I’ll look like I did once I’m done with you,” Shakur wipes her mouth with the back of her palm and sure enough, there’s already a small bloodstain there.
“Who says you’ll be done with anything?” Sirius smirks and comes back in at Shakur full force, their teeth uncomfortably clacking together. Sirius is bigger than her, and Shakur barely has the strength to hold her off sober, all her usual agility completely depleted. Her plan to dismay her troublesome companion foiled, she can’t think quick enough to find some other way to weasel out of this, and soon enough she lets Sirius stay pressed against her for a little too long, and feels the all-too familiar weight of a calloused hand against her throat.
Sirius pulls herself away just to watch Shakur swallow — it’s a warning, a mutual understanding that Sirius better have this victory or she will kill her, and Shakur doesn’t trust either of them enough drunk to push that boundary. “You’re a bit passive today, you know,” Sirius sighs with some disappointment, letting her mouth rest around Shakur’s, but not quite doing anything at all. “You don’t want this all of a sudden, do you?”
“ Hah ,” Shakur chuckles dryly. “You want me to want you, huh? Want me to get down on my knees for you like a lover, hm? Beg for your embrace?” What she’ll never say is that her body is already begging. Wailing, practically, because Sirius’s hands are so, so warm and however predatory of an act she’s got in those violet eyes, she’s not making eye-contact anymore.
Sirius doesn’t answer. She kisses Shakur, an actual kiss, something softer, even offering her tongue, however much it may be beyond how long Shakur can actually hold her breath. Not letting up the pressure around her collarbone, Sirius then moves to graze her teeth along Shakur’s collarbone. “You bite me there and I change the locks,” Shakur hisses. She doesn’t like how soft Sirius is being, how instead of keeping her in place with a rough hand on her thigh, she has her hand around her hip, calloused fingertips tracing the contours. Shakur isn’t letting herself succumb to whatever it is this devolved into. She refuses.
Sirius lets her go, and for a second she thinks that she can take back an upper hand, but instead Sirius grabs her by the waist, and as if she weighs nothing, lays her down on the couch and buries her face in her stomach, biting through her shirt, but not hard. Not hard enough , Shakur seethes. She keeps repeating to herself that it’s just because that she’s a little tipsy, that she’s exhausted as it is, that she’s letting Sirius do this, letting her hike up her shirt to lap her tongue on the underside of her breast and pinch her skin there until she can already feel the familiar itch of a bruise. Sirius holds her like she’s made of glass and she hates it, gritting her teeth and not giving her the satisfaction of making even a single noise.
Sirius gets lower then, tracing her tongue over Shakur’s navel piercing, tugging at it just enough to make Shakur’s breath hitch, enough to feel just how warm her breath is, enough to make her shiver and miss the contact on her now-battered torso. “Don’t you dare,” Shakur groans, feeling Sirius bite down through the soft fabric of her sweatpants around her thigh. Shakur knows Sirius knows that she’s already shaking all over and she squeezes her eyes shut because she doesn’t want to know how Sirius is looking at her (and she knows that she is), and worst of all, she doesn’t want Sirius to know how she’d look at her.
Something like half a moan escapes Shakur as Sirius bites down around her pubic bone and the will it takes to not buck her hips and beg for more puts her on the verge of a cold sweat. “Only I get to do this to you,” Sirius purrs, pulling off Shakur’s pants. “ Only me.”
“Consider it a privilege,” Shakur snaps, curling her lip and for a moment her eyes fly open because Sirius’s hands are now around her thighs so she can hoist her legs over shoulders. “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your fucking face,” she demands, trying to mask the trembling of each syllable because by god, Sirius looks ready to devour her whole. With her legs around her shoulders, it looks something like a scene out of a hunting catalog, a hunter with his freshly-shot kill proudly aloft on his back, and Shakur twitches once, to regain some semblance of autonomy, but those leather-rough hands hold her steady.
“You look absolutely adorable,” Sirius breaks eye-contact to pinch the inside of Shakur’s thigh with her teeth, making the most obnoxious, hungry noises she can to leave yet another mark. Shakur’s back hurts for a multitude of reasons, including but not limited to being held aloft like this but her mind becomes increasingly overwhelmed by the gradual approach of Sirius’s lips further and further up her thigh. She doesn’t have any nasty remarks left in her, she’s coughing just to hide how much her own voice is erupting out of her, and then—
“Fu— uck ,” Shakur lets herself breathe for just a second, and it’s a mistake because Sirius only presses her tongue further in, and what comes next is a pathetic whimper that Shakur bites herself around her knuckles for. Now she knows Sirius thinks she’s won. And she has, but Shakur will bite through to her own bone before she even makes so much as a half-veiled request of her, so she just seethes through her nose, choking on her own breath, but won’t give Sirius any kind of landmark satisfaction.
And she doesn’t even have to. When she opens her eyes to blink away frustrated tears, she can see Sirius’s mahogany tail high like a flag and her ears half-pinned and twitching like an ecstatic moron. Shakur is sure that Sirius would get a kick out of this even if she were unconscious, but why she never squeezes her hands around her neck enough to leave a mark, she’ll never know. Her whole body already poised for any and all contact, Shakur can just as acutely hear the soft, satisfied grunts Sirius makes each time she takes a quick breath, and posits that this can’t be too far from what it’s like to be mauled by some wild, famished animal, and knowing there’s nowhere she can run (or maybe, even, wants to) she just digs her nails into the arm of her couch behind her and and braces herself against each persistent tide.
Shakur tries her best to resist the allure of the firm, sweet knot in her abdomen longing to be unraveled, but Sirius’s vigorous tempo doesn’t falter for even a beat, and doesn’t pay any mind to how Shakur crosses her ankles and squeezes her thighs around her head with all her might. Panting like the dumb dog that she is, Sirius drops Shakur unceremoniously to press her down firmer into the couch and kiss her, spit and Shakur still running down her chin, making the exchange even messier than ever, forcing Shakur to swallow her own undoing.
Sirius pauses, watching the string of spit stretch and break apart between them, and then scanning Shakur’s profile this way and that, her smile more drunk than it's ever been at the start. Shakur can tell that everything in Sirius’s one track mind is telling her to go for her throat, to let their whole rancid city know that she and only she could have her way with her whenever, however she pleases, and Shakur hardens her jaw, swallowing again with certain difficulty, hating herself for knowing that she lets her.
But just as Sirius has never snapped her neck, she doesn’t succumb to this possessive hunger either, she just sits up, wipes her mouth, and picks up Shakur’s pants from the floor and tosses them at her so hard that one of the draw strings hits Shakur right in the eye with a snap. She reaches for her discarded bottle of beer, clicks her tongue at it being just as empty as before, and gets up off the couch, a firm march straight for the door out.
Shakur sits in a daze, one hand covering her eye, and once again trying to blink away tears that she’s convinced herself are just from the projectile force. She glances at the opposite side of the couch, and sees that Sirius’s scuffed tobacco stench-soaked bomber jacket is still sprawled there, meaning that Sirius will be back sooner rather than later.
Shakur coughs, spitting on the floor to rid her mouth of the all-too tantalizing taste of herself and her . Squeezing one hand into a fist so firmly, she knows that underneath all the ink, her knuckles have turned whiter than her ghostly shut-in skin already is, trying to swallow that aching feeling in her throat that threatens to turn her reflexive tears into an unsightly sob.
Sirius will be back sooner rather than later. And she hates that it’s not for certain that she’ll mind.