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The shorts are too short.
James had never even noticed it when he had been the one wearing them. They are just a pair of red gym shorts after all!
But they are short gym shorts. And James notices now, because he is not the one wearing them.
He hadn't even thought twice about it, when Sirius asked him to borrow something from his wardrobe. It is awfully hot today and while James' parents have gotten Sirius a bunch of his own clothes, they mainly covered the basics and James is always more than ready to share the contents of his closet.
Sirius picked the shorts.
He is now wearing the shorts.
The shorts, and a striped t-shirt that fits just tight enough that James can make out his chest muscles underneath (when did he get those?!). The thin fabric stretches across Sirius' shoulders, fits snugly around his toned arms.
But the shirt isn't the problem.
Okay, maybe the shirt is a problem, but James' real concern right now are the shorts!
Because they are very short (has he mentioned??) and reveal way too much of Sirius' perfect thighs.
They are just hanging out in James' room. The window is open, letting in the hot summer air and a much needed gentle breeze, the sounds of leaves, rustling in the wind, and the laughter of the neighbour's kids playing in the backyard. James is sitting on his desk chair, playing with his snitch, catching it just before it can escape. And he's not even looking at it.
He is looking at Sirius. Sirius in the shorts.
Sirius who is lounging on his bed, long, perfect, legs outstretched and crossed. Bare thighs pressed together, the fabric of the scandalous pants pushed up so far that James can almost make out the base of his ass.
Sirius is busy reading a book about advanced curses - intermittently tutting and shaking his head, before pulling out the pencil stuck behind his ear to scribble a, probably salt filled, annotation - and does not notice James.
Well, thank Merlin for advanced curses, because James cannot stop staring. Staring and imagining how it would feel to run his hands over Sirius' legs, his fingers lightly tangling in the black hair on them, pushing is fingertips under the hem of the pant legs until they hit Sirius' briefs.
Would he go further than that? Would he push his hands into Sirius' underwear from the side and press his hand to his warm cock? Or would he palm him through the fabric, hand trapped in the shorts.
He would not want to take off the shorts.
He wants Sirius in the shorts.
Maybe he could just vanish Sirius' underwear to gain better access. The pant legs of the shorts would be wide enough to move his hand freely to stroke Sirius' cock until he'd go hard. Until he wouldn't pay attention to his book anymore and only to James.
He could push the shorts to the side and free Sirius' aching erection. Run his hand up and down the shaft admiringly. Sirius dick surely was just as pretty as his face. James could run his thumb over the pink tip and spread the small drop of precum.
Sirius would grab his hair, tip his head back to make him look at him. They would make eyecontact. Say everything that needed to be said without uttering a single word. Like always.
Then James would dip down, close his lips around Sirius' length without ever breaking contact with those stunning grey eyes. Sirius would moan as James' tounge wraps around his dick - or would he? Would Sirius be loud? James could somehow not imagine.
So Sirius would gasp and tighten his grip on James' hair, then press his lips together to stop himself from making a sound.
But James would get him to make a sound. He wants to hear that moan again. That moan that Sirius never made.
He would bob his head with determination, savour the musky smell and taste - what does it taste like? James has no idea but he imagines it to be sweet. Sirius looks like he would taste sweet. And delicious.
Sirius would twitch underneath him, struggling for control that James is sure he can make him loose. He would dig his fingers into the firm flesh of Sirius' thighs - oh Merlin, those thighs! - and take him in deeper until he could swallow around him.
That's how you did it, right? At least that's what the women always did in the scandalous novels James had skimmed through in the truly forbidden section of the local library.
Either way Sirius would enjoy it, James is sure. His supressed pants would turn into supressed moans. James would look up to see how Sirius presses a hand onto his mouth, the other still in James' hair. Sirius would look gorgeous like that: cheeks flushed, silky hair slightly messed up, pupils wide, pleading eyes begging him to continue. And who is James to deny him.
So he would go back down on him, suck and slurp and stroke, and squeeze Sirius' ass cheeks through the shorts, push his fingers past the fabric so he could touch him properly. Firm glute in hand, James would keep going, noticing how terribly hard he was himself, starting to thrust into the mattress.
"Fuck, James," Sirius would curse, muffled behind his hand, almost like a whine - would Sirius whine? James wants him to. He wants to hear him fall apart under his touch.
So James would reach up and pull Sirius hand down from his mouth and pin it onto the bed. Sirius would struggle a bit but not really, probably too distracted by what James is doing to his cock. He would tip his head back, biting on his plump, kissable bottom lip, legs twitching, trying to keep his composure.
But James wouldn't let him. He would take him in even deeper, let the tip of Sirius' cock hit the back of his throat, hollow his cheeks and move his mouth up slowy. When he had nothing more than Sirius' leaking tip between his lips, he would let go of Sirius' ass and curl his fingers around the throbbing shaft instead.
Sirius would start moaning for him. So beautifully, so needy. His trapped hand would clutch around the sheets as James inches him closer and closer to his climax. When he comes, James would swallow it all, not pulling back, taking his load like Sirius deserved it.
He would look up to admire his work - Sirius would look stunning in his after glow. His shirt is pushed up a little, revealing his stomach and the fine line of hair leading down into the gym shorts. He would look down at James, overwhelmed and thankful, gently running his hand through James' messy curls.
"Didn't know you are so good at that," he would say and James would smirk.
"Finally something I am better at, than you."
Sirius would chuckle before his eyes would catch that mischievous glimmer that they always got, right before he had his best ideas.
"Let's see about that, shall we?"
James would swallow hard, suddenly becoming acutely aware of his own erection again.
Sirius would smile and pull him up, leaning James against the headboard next to him before running his hand over -
"Oi, fuck off! James, catch that bloody thing, will you!"
James is ripped out of his sultry fantasy with a start. He blinks and sees the snitch, no longer in his hand but vigorously fluttering around Sirius' head, getting entangled in his hair.
James jumps up and immediately regrets it, because oh boy are his pants tight all of a sudden. He rushes over to the bed, kneeling next to Sirius onto the mattress, trying to catch that bloody winged ball again.
He let it escape. He never does. He always has it under control!
It is all because of these damn shorts!
James finally wraps his hand around the snitch and roughly shoves it back into his pocket. When he turns to Sirius he finds him looking at him.
James suddenly notices that his crotch is level with Sirius' face. Sirius must have noticed that too because he is quirking an eyebrow.
Once again, James finds himself staring.
Because why is Sirius so pretty? The summer has scattered freckles across his nose and cheekbones, a stray strand of his black hair is moving gently in the breeze from the window. James reaches out to push it behind his ear.
Sirius' eyebrow lifts even further but James can see a small flush to his cheeks that hasn't been there before.
"Sorry, it got out," James says.
Sirius lowers his gaze down to where the snitch is bulging James' pants.
Or at least James hopes that Sirius thinks that's the snitch.
"Did you get distracted?," Sirius asks.
James swallows hard. He can practically feel Sirius' eyes on his dick.
"Maybe a little."
He should get up.
Sirius' hand wraps around James' leg, his fingers resting on the back of his thigh. He looks back up with a smile. His eyes have that mischievous glimmer that they always get, right before he has his best ideas.
"Do you need me to help you focus?"