Title: Daily Prayer
Author:
ceredwensirius
Written For:
grangerblack100
Challenge: Sacrosanct
Rating: R
Warnings Mixing sex with religious symbolism
Pairings: Hermione/Sirius
Word Count: 164
Summary: Sirius awakens slowly, the young witch in bed beside him is, as always, what he reaches for first.
Author's Note: Inspired by the writing of the wonderful
satinvalkyrie wherever she may be.
Drizzling through breaks in heavy, crimson fabric, sunlight dapples playfully against the shadows in a daily game of hide and seek. Sirius awakens slowly, the young witch in bed beside him is, as always, what he reaches for first. Laughing, dancing, loving her way into his heart, she too chases out the shadows like a goddess of light and life and as her faithful supplicant, he offers his morning prayer in her temple garden. Every worshipful touch of hand and mouth over fevered feminine flesh proclaims that this is sacrosanct, this her, this coming apart and coming undone, all for him, always for him. He is her pagan priest, thrusting with the push and pull and pulse of life, finding his absolution between her thighs, buried in her sanctuary, his holy asylum. Here is where he finds himself, in her hard clenching blazing hot truth, rocking pathetically against her as she tears the release from his body, her name a prayer on his lips.
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Written For:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
Challenge: Sacrosanct
Rating: R
Warnings Mixing sex with religious symbolism
Pairings: Hermione/Sirius
Word Count: 164
Summary: Sirius awakens slowly, the young witch in bed beside him is, as always, what he reaches for first.
Author's Note: Inspired by the writing of the wonderful
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Drizzling through breaks in heavy, crimson fabric, sunlight dapples playfully against the shadows in a daily game of hide and seek. Sirius awakens slowly, the young witch in bed beside him is, as always, what he reaches for first. Laughing, dancing, loving her way into his heart, she too chases out the shadows like a goddess of light and life and as her faithful supplicant, he offers his morning prayer in her temple garden. Every worshipful touch of hand and mouth over fevered feminine flesh proclaims that this is sacrosanct, this her, this coming apart and coming undone, all for him, always for him. He is her pagan priest, thrusting with the push and pull and pulse of life, finding his absolution between her thighs, buried in her sanctuary, his holy asylum. Here is where he finds himself, in her hard clenching blazing hot truth, rocking pathetically against her as she tears the release from his body, her name a prayer on his lips.
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~Megan
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~Megan
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Well, I'll be honest and say I'm a big fan of the little of her work that I've found. I'm honored that you like mine so well.
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