Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader (Fem!Reader)
Word Count: ~2200
Genre: Pure Romance, High Emotional Chemistry, The Art of Tango, Atmospheric Intimacy.
aestethic
Warnings: I guess just intense eye contact?(No plot,pure tango with sirius)
Summary: "Tango is our dance... Passionate, intense, like love... Like us."
Only the two of you were left, alone beneath the dim glow of candlelight, with a shattered sense of freedom.
Sirius impatiently undid the top buttons of his suffocating, pureblood jacket in a single swift motion. As he tossed it onto the edge of the sofa, it felt as though he had broken and cast away the invisible chains on his shoulders.
With his black, silken hair falling messily over his shoulders, he walked toward the antique, magically-operated gramophone in the corner of the room.
With a flick of his wand, it wasn’t the cold, distant waltz rhythms of castles that began to echo through the parlor walls, but a melody that was entirely daring, dark, rhythmic, and spine-tingling.
It was a tango. The fierce, passionate, and sensual rhythm of the streets that the aristocracy despised. As the rasping breath of the bandoneon filled the room, the violin strings stretched as if singing a lament.
Sirius slowly turned around. Those aristocratic, roguish gray eyes, always ready to set the world on fire, were fixed directly upon you.
While the hem of your night-black dress fluttered gently in the wind, Sirius closed the distance between you with heavy, confident strides, much like a predator.
When he stood before you, his signature scent—smelling of fresh leather, cigarette smoke, and the chill of a dungeon—was enough to captivate all your senses.
“You were so beautiful tonight..”Sirius whispered, his voice echoing muffled yet smooth amidst the sharp strikes of the violin.
He extended his hand toward you with inviting determination. The intense desire he couldn’t hide in his gray eyes rolled out in waves.
“Just tonight?” Your voice was just like him; a tone somewhere between silk and velvet, but with an unmistakable edge of mockery you couldn't quite hide behind your words.
The moment Sirius caught that velvety cadence, the mischievous grin on his face widened.
“May I have the honor of this dance, love?"
The moment you placed your hand between his long, veiny fingers, Sirius pulled you sharply against his torso without warning. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest collided with his broad, hard chest.
At that moment, your centers of gravity merged into a single point. Sirius placed his right hand just below your shoulder blade, right in the center of your back.
His wide palm pressed firmly through the fabric of your dress, as if absorbing the warmth of your skin. When he raised his left hand and locked his fingers with your right, your arms formed a rigid, unshakeable frame (abrazo) in the air.
The music deepened with the sharp bellows of the bandoneon. Sirius locked his eyes directly into yours..
Sirius took a decisive step backward with his left foot. Along with him, as if tied to him by an invisible string, you stepped forward with your right foot.
As your toes glided across the mahogany floor, the silk fabric of your dress rustled softly against your legs.
Sirius was in no rush; he spread the noble walk (caminata) of the tango across the parlor, bearing your weight against his chest with every step.
He took a sharp step to the side (salida). When your right foot locked just beside his left, Sirius bent his body to the right with millimetric curvature.
With this movement, your torso turned, guided by his chest. Your hips were close, while your upper bodies stretched slightly away with the intense pull between you.
The veins on Sirius’s arms, rolled up to his elbows in his black silk shirt, stood out like proof of the elegant yet unshakeable strength he applied.
The tempo of the music suddenly turned fierce; the violin strings began to weep with passion. Catching this shift in rhythm with perfect intuition, Sirius forced you into a rapid spin around him.
The moment you transferred your weight to your left foot, Sirius turned your torso slightly to the left, then to the right, with the palm on your back.
With this millimetric guidance, your toes began to trace a flawless figure-eight on the floor (ocho).
Your right foot, extending forward, brushed against the contours of his black trousers; then, your left foot traced a graceful arc backward.
With every ocho step, the silk fabric between your legs fluttered in the air, your shadows striking the mahogany floor merging into one another.
Sirius’s eyes never left yours for a single second; his gray pupils had darkened completely, reducing the entire universe in his mind down to your steps.
"Tango is our dance, Sirius..." you murmured. Your voice rose like a whisper amidst the instrumental outcry of the music.
You brought your head slightly closer to his shoulder, but you didn't break eye contact. "Passionate, intense, like love... Like us..."
When Sirius heard these words, he let out a muffled breath from the depths of his chest.
The usual rebellious, fierce expression on his features gave way to a deep, staggering admiration that only you could see.
“Like us” he repeated, his voice smooth and like velvet.
The rhythm reached its hardest hit at that exact second. Sirius placed his right foot behind your left with a sudden, sharp movement.
When your center of gravity faltered for a moment, his powerful hand on your waist supported you upward. As Sirius slid his knee slightly between your legs, you released your inner dancer.
Hooking your right leg around his strong hip, you threw a sharp hook (gancho) in the air. As your heel lightly struck the fabric of his trousers and pulled back, the same proud, passionate smile appeared on both of your lips at the perfection of the movement.
The music seemed to quiet down for a moment; slow, dramatic notes spilling from the piano keys scattered into the corners of the parlor.
Sirius used this deceleration like a death warrant. He slowly untangled his left hand from yours, but let his fingertips trace over your bare collarbone, climbing toward your neck.
His palm cupped your jaw, his thumb softly brushing the edge of your bottom lip.
With his right hand, he gripped your waist with such tight, possessive ambition that he pressed you completely flat against him. And then, with a single fluid motion, he bent you backward (dip).
As your back became parallel to the floor, the hem of your night-black dress spread across the mahogany floor like a noble river.
Your left leg remained straight and tense on the floor, while your right knee was slightly bent. Sirius leaned over you with all his stature.
His black, untamed hair fell into his face, his breaths hitting your skin from a distance warm enough to burn your lips.
At that moment, the only sounds in the room were the two of you catching your breath and the final, agonizing notes of the piano.
The silver gleam in Sirius’s gray eyes seemed to shimmer as it merged with the moonlight filtering through the windows. He was looking at you in such a way that, in that moment, it wasn't just your body bending, but all of his unshakeable Black pride.
It was a gaze that was protective yet ravenous, as if he were afraid of losing you, afraid of not being able to love you properly in this world.
For a second... or perhaps for a whole century, you remained just like that.
When Sirius saw the absolute surrender and love in your eyes, he put strength back into his hand on your waist.
Without allowing any shudder, as if defying gravity itself, he slowly, gracefully pulled you back up against his upright chest.
When your feet hit the floor, your chest crashed into his again, and you felt both of your hearts beating wildly, to the same savage rhythm.
The bandoneon opened its bellows one last time; the violins gathered to let out their final and highest shriek.
Sirius gripped your hand again and locked his fingers with yours.
This time, his steps were faster, more daring, and free, as if wanting to leave everything behind.
You glided from one end of the parlor to the other. Your turns were so synchronized, so seamless, that your giant shadows cast against the wall looked as though they belonged to a single body.
Sirius spun you quickly on your axis, your dress tracing one last large arc in the air, and with the final, most striking blow of the music, he pulled you tightly from behind, wrapping you so your back was flush against his chest.
He had wrapped both arms around your waist. Placing his hands over yours, he locked his fingers tight.
Both of you were breathless. Sirius buried his head into the warmest dip of your neck, right where your jugular pulsed.
As his nose lightly brushed your skin, you felt the deep, peaceful breath that tore from within him. As his lips hovered against your skin, he murmured in his muffled, smooth, velvet whisper:
"Passionate, intense... Just like you, love...”
