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Regulus’ skin was like porcelain. The way bruises stuck on it for days and tight touches remained printed in pink for hours was one of the reasons why James loved it so much. Everyone tended to devote his grey, cold, empty eyes, but he knew better. They always lit up when his beautiful ears heard the right thing from the wrong person, red crawling his face upwards and making his mouth drop in a little surprise. Easy, they said the boy was.
They were wrong.
James would know. He had been trying desperately to grab the younger Black’s attention for weeks now, more than a month, in the shadows of Sirius’ absence. Barty and Evan had started drilling the image of Regulus into his brain without restraint, ever since they started this weird situationship they had with Peter, and every time they would encourage James and tell him that he needed to just find the right moment or thing to say. At first he had dismissed them, thinking they were only stepping in to cause drama and chaos to have fun. Then, he attended his first ever Slytherin party a month and three weeks ago, after a Quidditch match won by the snakes where the losers had been invited. Regulus had been flirted with by three different men, he had made out with every single one of them, twice going in and out of the dorm’s aisle with disarranged hair and a drunken, high-like look on his face. Sooner rather than later, James couldn’t stop thinking about the guy’s slim waist and shoulders, of his aristocratic nose and piercing look when he danced and moved his body sensually. It was a curse to think of him every time his best friend spoke, look him in the eye or simply exist near him.
“What is going on?”
Remus had found out rather quickly after he popped an accidental boner in the library just looking at Regulus study. He supposed the ferocity of his attitude had something to do with the worst kept secret of their friend group, regarding Remus’ fancy.
“I may or may not have a crush on Regulus Black.”
James had said.
“I may or may not have a crush on Sirius Black.”
Remus was pushed to say at the end of that same conversation. It brought them closer, but now the spontaneous situations in which they found themselves sometimes were even more awkward. They knew who was in each other’s minds. But the damage was already done, so their conversations started dragging for longer and longer, until even Sirius himself got unconsciously jealous.
“Will you do something about it?”
“I’ve tried to talk to him, but he cuts me off and walks away every time. If not he threatens to end my life.” He chuckled with a fond grin on his face, mind caught up in a star that was currently missing from the sky. “If anything it only helps the urge to snog him against the nearest wall, honestly. I sound mental but, I swear, he is so hot when he curses me.”
He had thought a bit of action with Regulus would get it out of his system. A couple of steamy kisses, maybe dancing with him for a night. He had even considered at some point straight up asking to get in the boy’s pants and get the sexual frustration over with. James had jerked off more times than he was proud of counting thinking of Regulus under his hands. But the younger was not receptive, and the Gryffindor’s plan to slowly break the urge out of him hadn’t seemed to have been a good one.
“Hello Reg.”
The library was almost empty today. It was Sunday.
“Piss off, Potter.”
“You look so pretty when you curse me, did you know that?”
Regulus didn’t even look at him before snapping.
“I will literally end your life.”
“If it’s with your bare hands, please do.”
Regulus gathered his books and left with quick steps. James wouldn’t see his grey eyes today.
Oh, it was so heavy on his shoulders. Those stupid complements had led to nothing but the showing of his own stupidity. He had hurt Regulus once; he would never forgive himself for doing so.
“Hey-... Reg?”
The figure of Regulus Black curled in the middle of the stairs wasn’t as unusual as the sound of soft coughs and sobs. It wasn’t too hard to notice the particular brightness of his eyes and cheeks with the light pouring in from the window beside him.
“Leave me alone, Potter.”
“What happened?”
“Piss off.”
"Not until you tell me why you are crying.”
Oh, James had had good intentions. His heart strings felt pulled at by each and every broken word coming out of those pink lips like shattered glass. He had only made things worse. “I want to help you, Regulus” hadn’t been the right thing to say.
“Oh, my saviour.” Regulus’ irony had always tasted sweet to James. Until now. “Tell me, what do you want from me, huh?”
“I-... I don’t- There is nothing that I want from you.”
“Then leave.”
“No.”
It hadn’t ended up good for him.
“So, what? Would you like me to run into your arms and cry telling you how nobody wants me if they can’s use me? Then let you into my bed and not hear from you again until the next party, when I’m drunk and all you want to do is kiss me.” His voice, previously cracked, was more than stable now. Strong, determined. The idea was already clear in his mind. “Is that what you want, James?”
All emotion was whipped from the pale face, slightly pinked from the effort of crying in silent for probably a long time. He took steady steps towards James, not stuttering for a second until they found themselves too close to each other. Regulus’ hands made way to his neck, their ice melting on his own hot skin and frizzling through his system, numbing his brain with a shock. Too many emotions. Too many thoughts. Too much, too much, too much. Too-
“Reg-, what...?”
His softened voice sounded eerie, like a whisper in a dream slowly tuning into the cruel reality on waking up alone again.
“Do you want to kiss me, James?”
His eyes stayed the same, a freezing irony compared to the heat of his half-opened mouth. James couldn’t help it, his hands unconsciously lifting to embrace curves he had never known before, looking into the hot source of that whisper.
Oh, but reality always comes crushing dreams down, doesn’t it?
Regulus’ body went completely still. His voice coming back to a strong accusation too soon.
"Yeah, everyone does. You’re no different after all.”
He couldn’t stop think about it for two days straight. How used Regulus seemed to feel. How dirty, guilty and disgusting James felt for having used the image of that same boy in his own fantasies merely hours before the incident. He hadn’t touched himself in weeks, ever since that moment really.
“Remus and Sirius went back to the dorm, so I wouldn’t advice doing the same for at least an hour.”
Peter and him were on the side lines of the crown withing the Ravenclaw common room. The distinct silhouette of a certain Slytherin boy moving through the improvised dancefloor to intense and loud music. James’ eyes never left him.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“You know, Sirius isn’t here...”
His focus turned to Peter for a second.
“You just said, yes.”
“Go for it, mate. Nothing to lose.”
He shook his head. It was a bad idea right now.
“Don’t know what you’re on about Wormtail, but I’m fine just where I am.”
“The Nile is a river in Egypt, James.”
And, sometimes, Peter’s nonsensical phrases were fun little teases, things that only they were smart enough to either decipher or understand. Usually having to do with the blonde’s particular style of joking or an inside knowledge only the Marauders knew. Today, James’ mind couldn’t prioritise deciphering that. There was someone ogling over Regulus through the crowd. A Ravenclaw, probably from sixth or seventh year, nameless little fuck to him. Regulus was pushing the guy back, frowning and swatting at him.
“Get off me, fucking freak.”
James’ patience had never been long lasting. His friends say its one of his biggest issues, and he usually agrees. Not today though. He told himself it was for a good cause, that Sirius would appreciate his best friend taking care of his little brother. He had never walked faster in his life.
-:-
“C’mon, pretty face. My friend says you have the best mouth of your year. Will you do me a little favour?”
“Fucking piss off.”
They guy was relentless, but Regulus wasn’t having the fucking day to mess with him. He didn’t hesitate to slap the brunette on the face after the second unrequested grab. However, his very nice slim physic had little to do in comparison to a bigger build like the seventh-year boy.
“Oh, I don’t care. You’re going to come with me, you little slut. I’ll have you pay for that.”
Despite jerking backwards, a pair of big hands surrounded his middle and pulled-...
“Get. The fuck. Off.”
The Ravenclaw looked at him, but not at him. He was looking to Regulus’ left and a bit up while taking a step back, his hands starting to raise in the air. The warmth covering his waist, the presence behind him, that stubborn voice that kept making undesired appearances in his dreams and unwanted thoughts. Yeah, that was James.
“Yeah, well. You’re fucking lucky your boyfriend came to save you, little bitch.”
“Oh you’ll regret that.”
And as fast as the hands settled on the curve of his ribs, they disappeared to fly towards the idiot in front of him. Senseless, half-drunk Ravenclaws were never fun, mostly eloquent pricks who thought too highly of themselves. The first hit doesn’t even land and the coward is already running.
“Are you okay?”
And.
Oh.
Oh, Regulus is angry.
It may have been the hateful, hurtful words he was told, similar to his own thoughts every morning after waking up in a strange bed. It could have something to do with the hands that chocked him from his waist, blocking the entrance of air through his nostrils and down his throat, lungs not getting the memo on how to fucking breath because James Dumbass Potter is less than 6 feet away from him. Perhaps the unsolicited touches he had received tonight had something to do with it. He couldn’t know, didn’t want to find out anyway, but Regulus was absolutely fuming on it.
His hands found the collar of Potter’s fancy shirt and dragged him all the way outside the common room.
“Okay! I’m sorry, look-“
“No, you listen to me right now because that was the most stupid, senseless and idiotic thing to do.” He would make sure the Gryffindor wouldn’t get anywhere closer to him for the rest of their lives. “You had no right! And if you think for a second that this makes me think of you as anything else than a fucking hypocrite, boy aren’t you bloody wrong!” His voice came out strict and raised, not giving a toss on who would hear him or what would be said about it the next morning during breakfast and supper. James would absolutely regret doing what he had. “So fucking carve it into your thick skull that I will never let you touch me, I will strangle you and fucking break your neck if you try anything like that again.” His frenzy pulled him nearer to the older, finger pointing and hitting the steady chest, eventually remaining there to let his feet raise on his tiptoes just to equal their heights. It didn’t do much, James was still taller than him, and he was looking at him with those bright, big, brown eyes of his that made his knees feel weirdly week. “So fucking stay away from me. I don’t want to see you ever again. I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”
Regulus never noticed the lack of air until he took a final breath in, and he never noticed the lack of space until he let it out directly into James’ breached mouth. Their noses practically touched, field of view completely reduced to the river of chocolate of his irises and the bottomless pit of care that glowed in the centre. There wasn’t anything else there, and Regulus could only hate James more for it. For how it wasn’t his to take, to enjoy. For how nobody actually wanted him in the way he wanted James to want him.
He had tried so hard to find feelings somewhere else. At the beginning, when nobody would notice him, he had tried to find the spark on someone else’s heart. When he didn’t find anything, he jumped to their beds, and soon it was the only activity that helped him take his mind completely off the childish only love of his short life. Or, so, he told himself, because in every different bed he did find something, or more so the absence of it. In each pair of hands that explored his body he found the lack of those he actually wanted, with every touch the butterflies in stomach perished one by one, until there was none left. In every kiss, he missed the lips he had only known through the bliss of heated dreams. Through the memory of those, he prepared to miss the one thing he craved the most too. Actual love was so rare to find now, Regulus didn’t want to acknowledge its existence only in fear of losing it before even owning it first.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
The word came out vile, intoxicated by his necessity to puke out the everything he kept holding onto like a lifeline.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Why would you care?”
“Because I care about you. Did he hurt you?” He insisted. “Touch you at all?”
It was blatant, spat on his face without a reason to not do so. James had never been a good liar, perhaps it was why his truths were so sublime and obvious. It turned an old knot at the bottom of Regulus’ stomach. His head reproducing it on replay.
Because I care about you.
James cared about him.
Because I care about you.
James wasn’t touching him. James wasn’t looking at him like he was a piece of meat to devour. Regulus was wearing his most fitted shirt and pants because he had known James would go to the party too. James’ eyes didn’t leave his for a moment.
Did he hurt you? Because I care about you.
Regulus had tried dancing with other men to catch his attention, and James was worried one of those men had touched him.
James wasn’t touching him.
But Regulus was touching him, a previous poking finger now settling as a palm on his chest. He felt so good against his cold skin, James was always warm.
I care about you.
Yeah, Regulus wanted to cry himself asleep in this man’s arms. He wanted to jump him, crack James open and hide inside. He was so cold in this outfit, he wanted to be warm and shielded from the breeze of the corridor. James would shield him because he cared about Regulus.
Did he hurt you?
Yeah, Regulus wanted to feel safe again, like in those dreams where he let the man embrace him to sleep, only to wake up with sinking loneliness in his chest. The older was never there in the morning; it was always somebody else. They were never the same. They weren’t James.
Now he might actually cry.
“Why?”
And maybe he was being greedy, wanting to hear it out loud one more time before tearing it apart and walking away like always. Although, perhaps tonight he wouldn’t be able to. He just wanted to hear it again, just once.
“Because you are important to me.” He felt the urge to run away slowly dimming inside him, like a candle suddenly lacking oxygen to keep bursting its flame. It would be put out by the wet in his eyes anyways. “I care for you. And I’m sorry for not doing that before, it was stupid and you were right. I promise I won’t do anything like that every aga-“
Regulus raised his hand to lock it behind James’ neck, pulling him in in a matter of seconds, and-
There it was.
Hi. Hello. You’re here, finally.
It was more than the touch of lips moving against each other. More than the trickle of skin under his hands. A trail of something Regulus could only describe as delight caressed his spine and the bottom of his stomach, pooling inside his mouth in the form of saliva, eager to be shared with how intensely it hit him. He kissed James like his life depended on it, like they were sharing their last breath underwater instead of stealing it from the other. Like James could touch him and he wouldn’t need air at all. But he still needed air, and James wasn’t touching him.
Why the fuck was James not touching him?
“Reg-”
“Fucking-” Touch me, please. Put your hands on me. Anywhere, everywhere, please touch me.
In his breathlessness, Regulus sneaked his arms around James’ neck and pulled him down with force, only to jump (literally) with the opportunity to hug his legs around the older. James hands apparently got the memo because they were soon adhered to his waist and hips.
Oh, it felt so good. It was better than his dreams, and those already left him feeling wrecked every time. But this? God, James’ hands were divine, holding him like he’d never let go. Yeah, Regulus prayed he never would.
He opened his mouth a bit more, letting the Gryffindor in without restraint and attacking back. There was this trick he was told he did with his tongue by many, and he never realised it wasn’t something commonly done. He was very aware of it when he turned his tongue around James’ and sucked.
A groan was his only warning before his back hit the stone wall, and the grip on his body intensified. His hands made way north until they found soft brown curls, hanging onto them as he angled his face to reach deeper within the kiss. He let James devour him, then, body going pliant and loosing all thought behind his closed eyes. When he felt like floating, dizzy around his dark vision, he felt James pull away just enough to set their foreheads together.
“Reg, love... You don’t have to-”
Love.
Ruin me, please ruin me.
“Shut up” He was breathless, but he pulled the boy in and covered James’ lips with his once more. The idea hadn’t settled in his mind that he could do this now. Just kiss him, at will. It made Regulus pant again for a different reason. “Just-... Merlin. Just promise me you’ll stay.”
He opened his eyes through the fear of destroying the blissful feeling. What he found was a very, very wrecked James. His eyes were dopey, almost lost like there was nothing beyond Regulus right now. Regulus’ lungs decided to stop working once again, but this time he could really care. If he needed air, he could just breath it out of James’ mouth.
“You’d have to bewitch me to leave.”
The world around him had started spinning, and the raven couldn’t tell when it had started, didn’t care for when it’d stop.
“I- I mean it.” Words were hard at the moment, Regulus discovered. “James, please.”
He did plan on begging tonight. He also hadn’t planned throwing himself onto James Potter.
“I mean it too, love.”
“Room. Room, now.”
It was unbearable. He had his favourite hands on him, his favourite mouth on his, James called him pretty names and managed to revive all those butterflies with one sentence. It was torture, Regulus wanted to love him in the only way he knew to, and he wanted it now.
He leaned forward again, managing to catch his lips as the other leaned back. No, James wasn’t going anywhere. His pale hand grabbed the brown strands and pushed the older forward, snogging the life out of him. He let the weigh of his body fall harder on the other’s body, pushing the small of James’ lower back with his heels. It was upsetting when James resisted his mouth, more so when he resisted his body, further so when Regulus had to think and listen while the Gryffindor’s bulge constantly graced his ass.
“Wait, Reg. Baby, listen to me.”
He whimpered. James Potter would kill him with words.
“You can’t call me that and not expect me to want to fuck you right here.”
“I know but-”
He ducked his head to escape another kiss, choosing to settle in Regulus’ neck. It was a good idea until the motherfucker decided to bite down on his shoulder. His whole body shook, a small moan ripped from him and pulsations started concentrating down south where he just needed fucking attention.
“Jamie... Please, please. Just- please.”
“Okay that was not a good idea. Please breath.” He didn’t emerge from the dotted neck, but the biting did stop. Regulus wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed. “Regulus, breath, c’mon.”
He tried, and it was more difficult then breathing should be. It felt laborious and unnatural when everything he wanted to do was kiss James. That and other things that would also leave him breathless. But he managed to concentrate enough to think a little less fuzzily, slowly and awkwardly dropping from the strong but tired arms that held him. James kept his hands around him, but his head now rested on his temple with closed eyes and a heavy breath.
“I promised just now I wouldn’t leave you, but I also said I wouldn’t use you. And I don’t plan on doing either tonight.”
The irrational little voice in his mind was convinced the older didn’t like him back, telling him awful things about his past and how he was too used to be good enough for James. Thankfully, Regulus tended to excellency when it came to manage those thoughts. James just kissed him like it would be the last time, his hands covered his body still, and he was no longer cold from his outfit. Still, he wouldn’t smile at the statement.
“What do want to do?”
Now, it was the younger’s turn to settle on James’ neck and breath in more peacefully, thoughts going from an insatiable race to a stop.
It took James a little to respond, choosing an answer carefully. “Cuddle?”
He seemed hopeful, voice sort of airy and high pitched.
“Are you scared of breaking me Potter?”
He chuckled while asking, although deep down he was afraid of being shred to dust from the few pieces that were still left of him. The Gryffindor shook his head, pulling him into a tighter hug as he kissed the crown of his head.
“Wanna do things right. For you.”
Regulus wouldn’t say it because knowing how pathetic he was in his own mind was punishment enough, but he really wanted to cry.
James wanted him.
James didn’t want to use him.
James wanted to cuddle him, no pleasure and no pain. Just peace.
“Okay...” It was barely more than a whisper, but he knew James heard. “Can you carry me?”
He saw glistening brown eyes and a blinding smile, and a small crack inside him was pieced back together.
“Come here, you.”