Chapter Text
Regulus was beat. After a solid night of teasing from James and a whole day of travel (flights delayed due to weather, the inevitable hours spent on the road in a sweaty hatchback with no air conditioning when they were finally cancelled) he and Sirius got home late in the evening, and stood in the kitchen eating microwave dinners in relative silence. He liked to think he was getting the lay of the land now, and he knew that the farther into the season they got, the less point there even was to returning home between races. Remus had engagements booked on top of car maintenance and test runs throughout the week, and Sirius was a vital part of his crew—even if the details of all that he did (everything from engine checks to being arm candy) were as all over the place as trying to keep track of a one-man circus.
Regulus got the distinct feeling that if it weren’t for him, his brother wouldn’t have been doing so much of the back and forth. At least they had a reason to be back this week. Sirius had to be here to sign for Remus’ new suit to be delivered, otherwise Regulus would’ve felt like a total jackass for making Sirius drive all this way just for him to… what? Sleep in his own bed? After everything that happened between him and his brother over the weekend, the prospect of spending the night alone felt disappointing at best, and definitely not worth the hassle.
Sirius dumped his fork into the sink with a clatter and a heavy yawn, stretching his arms over his head. “Okay, well—”
Regulus kept chewing.
“—I’m gonna go wash off the road stink. Unless you want to shower first?”
“You go,” he said around another bite, ignoring the way the last lump of food was stuck in his throat. He wanted to ask to join, but Sirius hadn’t offered, and Regulus felt painfully awkward now that they were home; unsure of where they stood or how to behave. Did things just… go back to normal when they weren’t on the road? Would fucking under their own roof feel a little too close to home for Sirius?
His brother shrugged and headed for the stairs, giving him no indication of how things would work. The kitchen felt colder once he was alone, lit only by a frosted glass dome overhead. Left with the emptiness of the bottom half of the house, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder (not for the first time) what the place was like before he moved in. Was it as warm and loud and alive as it had been when Remus and James were here last?
One thing was for sure; Sirius had dimmed his happiness to have him here. It made his stomach hurt to think about those first few months. Regulus hated it, but he also remembered with perfect clarity the way his old life had snapped apart like tree branches during a storm; he remembered the fear, the panic, and the utter and total relief it had been when Sirius walked into that holding room at the police station. He wasn’t even sure how they’d managed to find him—Regulus hadn’t had an address or a phone number, only the rasp of his estranged brother’s name when an officer with an overabundance of sympathy in her eyes had asked if he had any other family they could call—but they had, and Sirius had driven across the country for him then, too. Had carved out the walls of a house that wasn’t even his and made it safe for Regulus to hunker down and rebuild what their parents had so thoroughly broken. He didn’t know what he would have done if Sirius hadn’t come back for him, but the difference between then and now was night and day, he thought, and the distinction mattered. It mattered, damn it. He couldn’t stand being seen as a perpetual victim.
What if that was why Sirius had sex with him in the first place? Was he really just compensating for his absence in Regulus’ life before by filling every hole he could find? He fought so hard against this thing between them—made it seem again and again that he wasn’t interested until Regulus was getting stuffed by other people and still had space to want him. Sirius, who had seen him at his smallest, his ugliest, his worst, and dated men like Remus and James. Blue-blooded and born that way.
The thought pissed him off so much that Regulus threw his food away and marched upstairs, determined to confront his brother—to assure him that he didn’t have to stick his dick into him out of some misplaced guilt—but when the bathroom door opened and Sirius stepped out of it, all the words dried up on his tongue.
Sirius had a bath towel tied around his waist and another, smaller towel he was using to scrunch the water out of his hair. Water droplets were still running down his glistening chest, and his arm flexed with each squeeze of the cloth. They nearly ran into each other, and Regulus staggered back a step, breathless with the same want that’d snared him since they’d started living together again.
“Reg?” Sirius frowned at Regulus’ wide-eyed expression. He took a careful step towards him, free hand outstretched to brush his fingertips over his cheek. “Are you okay?”
The featherlight touch, full of concern, only fanned the flames of indignation that’d sent Regulus up here in the first place. They made his heart race, and his palms and underarms started to sweat. His face burned where Sirius was so tenderly petting him, and it was all too much and still not enough—kid gloves made of fiberglass. It hurt.
“Don’t touch me,” he gasped, knocking his brother’s hand away.
Sirius looked as taken aback by his outburst as Regulus felt, and something annoyingly small and fragile in Regulus’ chest snapped like a rubber band behind his ribs. Fuck. Fuck, why couldn’t he just be normal? Fuck. He surged forward suddenly, needing someone to blame for the pain, fists hitting his brother’s chest. Sirius dropped the towel he was holding, but he didn’t make any move to defend himself, only held his hands up and let Regulus thrash and whimper and wail at him. The non-reaction only made it worse; tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to stop himself or get it all out. It was just there inside of him, this horrible gut feeling that Sirius felt so fucking bad about what he’s been through that he’d let Regulus get away with murder at his expense, if only to somehow make up for it all.
He lashed out at Sirius because he didn’t know what else to do, and when that didn’t work, he went up on his toes and smashed their mouths together. Their teeth clacked and Sirius grunted, hands flying to Regulus’ hips. He squeezed as Regulus thrust his tongue unceremoniously into his mouth, trying to elicit something other than indifference or grace. Sirius’ lips parted for him automatically, and even that made him mad. Fuck. But he went for it, pressing his body into his brother’s, until Sirius shoved him away.
His shoulder clipped the wall behind him as stumbled backwards, but it was Sirius’ words that he winced at.
“Don’t do that.”
Regulus made a sound of dismay, hunching in on himself as all of the adrenaline flooded out of him on a wave of rejection. Oh, this was humiliating. Possibly worse than being a pity fuck. Of course, Sirius didn’t want him to kiss him. Didn’t want him. Not at home, and not after—whatever the fuck that was.
“You can’t kiss me like that and expect me not to touch you, Regulus. It’s not fair,” Sirius spit, sounding exasperated and pained. Regulus looked up through his damp lashes and watched Sirius wipe his mouth before gripping himself through the towel, the bulge there unmistakable.
Oh.
Oh.
His chest was bright red from Regulus’ fists, and his lips looked similarly abused. His hair hung in wild ringlets around his flushed cheeks, but it was his blown-out pupils that had Regulus frozen in place, heart hammering with what felt suspiciously like hope.
“You… want to touch me?”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” When he could tell from Regulus’ silence that he wasn’t having him on, Sirius stalked closer, until each heaving breath brought their chests together. “Baby, I would’ve had you sitting on my cock the whole way home if I thought I could get us here without crashing like that. Of course I want to touch you. But you just told me not to…”
“So what?” Regulus flung his hands out. “You’ll just do whatever I say? Because poor little Regulus needs coddling!”
“Coddling?”
“Yes!”
“I was respecting your boundaries, you little brat. But if you’d rather I stomp all over them—”
Regulus let out a surprised cry as Sirius bent at the knees, dragging his pants and underwear down in one swift motion before hefting him up into the air.
“What are you doing?!”
“I don’t know why you’re being like this,” Sirius growled, hoisting Regulus’ legs over his shoulders, lifting him up so high that he had to flatten his hands on the ceiling, “but I bet I can eat whatever this bad attitude is right out of your pussy, and then you’ll be sweet as a peach for me, won’t you Reggie?”
He didn’t give Regulus time to respond before diving straight in, and Regulus’ back arched through the air as wet heat closed over his clit, his brother’s tongue sweeping a clean slate between his lips. The suddenness of it felt like whiplash, but it turned out to be just what he needed. Heat swooped through him, and his fingers spasmed, one hand dropping to tangle in his brother’s hair. His insecurities fell to the wayside as Sirius made a meal out of him—enthusiastically, messily, loudly invading him with his tongue, teeth scraping, sounds of hunger rising up from between Regulus’ thighs, his knees squeezed together around Sirius’ nape.
“Oh fuck, fuck!”
His brother was so deceptively strong. He held Regulus aloft effortlessly, a barely-there sweat breaking out all over his back and only because of how much energy his mouth was expending to make Regulus gasp and whine and clench in pleasure. Regulus’ legs started to tremble immediately; hours in the car had left them feeling itchy and restless, but now the blood that had pooled there was rushing, and he didn’t feel cramped, even though he was literally being pinned against the wall. He only felt good, and wanted, and desirable, and he didn’t think Sirius was doing this just to make him feel better… he was eating him out like a man starved. Like he’d only been waiting for Regulus to give him a sign—a go ahead—a green light. He left no room for the circling thoughts that’d gotten him into this predicament in the first place.
Sirius’ tongue dipped lower, teasing the strip between his cunt and his ass, and Regulus felt a shivery ache bloom between his hips. His mouth moved over the sensitive juncture where his thigh and groin bent together, and their eyes met and gazes held as Sirius tongued across his labia, teasing the swollen surroundings of his hole before replacing his lips over his clit and sucking hard enough for Regulus to throw his head back, writhing against the hot pressure of his tongue pushing down on that hard little bundle of nerves until he felt the sweet smack of his orgasm crashing over him, taking him out of his body, hell, out of his stupid head entirely.
He slumped as the tremors left him. Sirius kept lapping at his entrance, nose buried above it, until Regulus was oversensitive and tugging on his hair, arms too weak now to do anything else. Sirius let him slide down the wall then, his legs perched around his waist, and Regulus nudged his towel off with his heel to feel Sirius’ erection sprang up between his cheeks, sliding through his fluids in a way that tingled and made Regulus whine his brother’s name like a plea.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’m here. I can’t wait to take you to bed.” Sirius captured his mouth in a series of agonizingly brief, wet kisses.
“So don’t,” Regulus gasped between them. Sirius was right—even his voice was softer now that his rough edges had been ravished. “Don’t wait.”
“Yeah?”
You can do whatever you want with me. It was on the tip of Regulus’ tongue to say it, but he didn’t need to.
“Right here in the middle of the hall? Dirty boy,” Sirius purred, kissing him again, pulling on his hips as he tried to wedge himself in blindly, and without stretching him first, besides with his tongue before. The sting was grounding, though. Regulus focused on it, on forcing his body to relax around the intrusion demanding entrance, to let Sirius in. By the time their stomachs were flush again, tears were flowing hot down his cheeks, and Sirius was kissing them away with grateful smacks of his lips.
“More,” Regulus begged, hugging his arms around his brother’s shoulders. “Please, Sirius, I can take it. Give me more.”
Sirius throbbed inside of him, burying a groan against his throat. “Just—hold your horses, Reggie. You’re squeezing me so tight.”
Warmth spread through his chest at his brother’s words. “I feel good?”
“Yes.” Sirius slung his hips, knocking the air from his lungs. “So good. Too good. I’m gonna come so fucking fast.”
He remembered Sirius saying it before; like a wall torn down in his mind, all of his brother’s heated looks, wandering hands, and the passionate way that he’d taken him in the motel came rushing back to him in glaring detail. Hiding his smile in Sirius’ hair, Regulus tightened his legs around his brother and tilted his lower half, rocking back and forth and working himself over his brother’s cock. A growl ripped out of Sirius’ throat, and Regulus dipped his head, mouthing at the spot where the sound seemed to originate below his jaw.
“You really like this?” he whispered, writhing gleefully. “Your own little brother riding you? Dying to come on your cock?”
“Shit. What does it feel like?” Sirius snapped, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. Regulus cried out, and Sirius did it again. His hand slid around, thumb rubbing circles above where he was speared through. “I can’t get enough of you. Your hot body. Your filthy mouth. Even when you’re pissing—me—off,” his thrusts quickened, and Regulus’ blood was buzzing beneath his touch, “you’re my little spitfire. Now that I’ve started fucking you, I don’t think I can fucking stop.”
“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Then say it,” Sirius demanded. “Say you’re mine.”
“Say you’re mine,” Regulus countered, digging his nails into Sirius’ nape and dragging his mouth over his brother’s. He tugged viciously on Sirius’ bottom lip, and Sirius bit him back hard enough to hurt.
“I’ll do you one better, brat. I’ll show you.”
Like a switch had been flipped, Sirius stopped holding back, steering him up the wall with powerful, pleasure-seeking thrusts that brushed the same sweet spot inside of him over and over again in time with the frantic thumbing of his clit, causing staticky jolts to wrack Regulus’ smaller frame and leaving him gasping, unable to do anything but hang on and take it.
The hand spread across his pelvis tightened to bruising—trusting that he wasn’t going to break—and Regulus made a strangled sound in response, body locking up as a second orgasm burned outwards from beneath the pressure. Regulus’ vision went spotty as his brother fucked him harder, making diamonds out of his rough touch.
“Oh, that’s it, Reggie. That’s it, come for me. Almost there. Almost…”
He felt the first wet kick of his brother’s orgasm inside of him, and then Sirius tore out to ruck his shirt up to his throat and shoot his load all over Regulus’ stomach and chest—making a mess of him inside and out, rubbing it in with the palm of his hand and smouldering eyes. It cooled quickly and made Regulus’ nipples pebble, goosebumps breaking out along his overheated skin.
“So responsive,” Sirius whispered, tracking the small bumps with his eyes. Regulus squirmed, and Sirius pinned him harder against the wall, trapping his wet cock between them and grasping his hand by his fingers, trailing kisses along the inside of his arm that made him whine. “Hold still, I’m not done with you yet.”
Regulus shivered and forced himself to melt into the affection. Sirius sucked a red mark into his wrist, and Regulus lifted his eyes to the pale ceiling while his brother moved on to his other arm, letting him come down softly, slowly, not all at once. Being babied didn’t feel so bad anymore—it felt good that Sirius wasn’t just ripping away and sending him off to bed. He hadn’t realised, before Sirius had left him in the kitchen, how awful it’d feel to be left alone like that. His limbs were loose and achy, but he was lighter, settled pleasantly, by the time Sirius was finished peppering him with kisses and set him on his feet.
“Better now?” he asked. “Not going to come at me with these twig arms again?”
Regulus bit his bottom lip and shook his head.
“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” When he didn’t respond right away, Sirius palmed one of his tits to the point of pain and brushed their mouths together. “Talk to me, baby…”
He wanted to. He did. He’d like nothing more than to spell out all of the spiralling thoughts that’d sent him into a frenzy—but he couldn’t make them come out, too sure that they’d come out all wrong, and Sirius would think he was ungrateful, or childish, or… shit. He bowed into his brother’s hand and tried desperately, but he just couldn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
Sirius sighed, knocking their foreheads together. “It’s been a long day. We’re both tired.”
“And sticky,” Regulus whispered, grateful that his brother didn’t press further, even though Regulus couldn’t have blamed him if he did.
“And that,” Sirius smirked, tugging at his nipple before resting his hands around Regulus’ ribs. “How ‘bout we shower and hit the sack?”
“Together?”
Leaning away, Sirius blinked at him like he couldn’t even believe he had to ask—further solidifying how silly Regulus felt about getting so worked up.
“Yeah, Reggie. If you’re good, maybe I’ll even make you come again all over my clean sheets.”
“Then they’d smell like sex,” Regulus frowned.
“Sounds perfect to me.”
Sirius buried his nose against his neck, snuffling like a search dog, until Regulus was a boneless fit of giggles in his arms, and then he swept him off his feet again and carried him into the steamy bathroom.
❯❯❯❯
Bristol Motor Speedway was dropped smack dab in the middle of beautiful, ‘America at its best’ Tennessee; it was surrounded by the Appalachian mountain range, a part of an urban area that sliced through the ancient land like veins pulsing with life. There were campgrounds around every bend, one of which they’d be calling home for the long weekend before moving on to Virginia. There was no separate lot for the haulers—instead the paddock was the bull’s eye of the race track, with their tent at the service lane only a short walk away, meaning there were over twenty-thousand eager eyes pointed their way as Regulus stood fussing over the racing suit he’d meticulously customised.
He was extremely happy with how it turned out. The body was a navy blue that brought out the warmth in Remus’ sun-tanned skin, with his signature yellow Wrangler logo stamped across the chest to match his car. The collar was peeled open, revealing a snatch of dark hair cropping up from Remus’ chest, but it could be zipped to the throat when it came time to race, and several sponsorship patches littered the front and arms, but not so many that it limited his mobility.
“It’s not too tight here?” Regulus worried, prodding the seam that circled Remus’ shoulder.
“It’s perfect.” Remus patted his cheek gently. “You did good, kid. Fits like a glove.” Regulus flushed heavily at the praise—and from the memory of that morning that floated to the surface: Remus groaning that same phrase as he buried his cock so deep down Regulus’ throat that he could still feel the path it’d taken all these hours later.
Regulus gave a clipped nod and stood back to take stock of his work. It was a massive upgrade from the eyesore that his last suit was, and he’d relayed the manufacturers stats to Barty over the phone to make sure that it was up to par safety-wise—though he’d kept that measure to himself. There was nothing more to be done for it. Only, “It’s too bad you have to lose the same week you premiere this snazzy new suit.”
Remus gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” Regulus said matter-of-factly, “I need you to lose. Barty promised we’d go to the dinosaur park if he wins, soooo.”
The older man shook his head, a handsome grin breaking out and brightening his face. “Well, what if I promise to take you when I win?”
Regulus scrunched his nose. “You can’t take me. It’ll look weird. Like you’re my dad or something. Besides, it’s not just for me, Barty wants to see the dinosaurs too.”
“You think I don’t like dinosaurs?”
“I think you’re old enough to be one…” Regulus muttered, busying himself with folding up the garment bag he’d brought the suit in.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” Regulus bounced away from the net of Remus’ arms, thrown out to catch him. He turned and scampered into the trailer to avoid being caught, but not before he heard Remus laughing good-naturedly about needing to wash his mouth out with—well, Regulus missed the ending of that sentence, but he really hoped it ended with ‘a big fat cock’ and not ‘a big fat bar of soap’.
He was saved from finding out by the boom of the speakers overhead, warning drivers that it was nearly time for the last round of warm ups before the race was set to begin.
❯❯❯❯
Remus did not lose.
The Valleydale Meats 500 turned out to be the third race in a row that Remus won, an official streak, and Barty was (understandably) upset about it; it had been another close call, as seemed to be the season’s theme. Regulus sat next to his friend on a pair of folding chairs while he waited for Remus to finish giving his post-race interviews. Evan had disappeared somewhere out of sight, and James and Sirius were flanking Remus while reporters yelled over themselves for the chance to be answered, so it was just the two of them off to the side, Regulus stiffly patting Barty’s slumped shoulders, attempting to console him…
“At least you weren’t last.”
He wasn’t very good at it.
“Second’s not that bad, right? And there’s, what? Twenty-something races left? Plenty of time to turn things around.”
Barty stared at him like he had a screw loose, and Regulus snapped his mouth shut. He knew, maybe better than anyone else except for Evan, how much Barty felt like he had to prove. He felt each loss like a whole season’s worth, heard the word loser in his ear to the tune of his father’s voice—the internal pressure was what made him a fierce competitor, but it also made him his own worst critic. Regulus suddenly felt like a very bad friend for clinging to Remus’ side so intensely while Barty drowned on the other end of the paddock each week. Shit, but he didn’t know how to bridge the gap, or if he even could without losing someone.
Heavy boots on the pavement met his ears seconds before a larger than life shadow fell over the two of them, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Ready to go?” Remus’ jaw worked as he looked between the two of them.
Regulus wavered, leaning into his friend. “Can Barty come too?”
“Come where?” Barty pouted. It was disheartening to see him so beat down.
“The campground where we’re staying. Just to hang out. Please, Remus?” Through the glare of the late afternoon sun over Remus’ broad shoulder, Regulus pleaded with his eyes for the older man to give even an inch to the man he’d already overtaken with seconds to spare and metaphorically smacked into the pavement.
“It’s cool, princess. I don’t think—” Barty started to say, just as Remus relented.
“You should come,” he said begrudgingly. “There’ll be music, food, a fire…”
“It’s a party?” Barty visibly perked up.
Remus’ tongue squeaked against his teeth. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Where at?”
“Shadrock.”
“That by the drive-in theatre?”
Remus nodded, reluctantly giving directions to their lot. At the prospect of annoying Remus all night with his presence, Barty’s eyes looked bright for the first time since he’d crossed under that checkered flag, and when he stood, there was a bounce to his step that, if possible, seemed to aggravate Remus even further. Still, he didn’t rescind his offer—maybe because Regulus swayed into his space and hugged him tightly around the middle, feeling so grateful that he would’ve dropped to his knees right there if he wouldn’t have gotten arrested for it.
“That was nice of you,” he said once Barty was out of ear shot.
“I know. Come on now,” Remus drawled, cupping the back of Regulus’ neck and steering him toward the exit. “The rest of the party are waitin’ on us.”
❯❯❯❯
The campground was packed, but James’ camper was tucked into a corner at the very far end, well-enough away from the other campers to provide them a modicum of privacy. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of the meat sizzling on the grill, suspended by a tripod over the flames of a well-packed fire pit, the incessant chirping of crickets mingling with the low-buzzing chatter in Regulus’ ears. He held his hands close to the heat waves coming off of the grill, thankful for the lemon scented candles all around their lot that helped to keep the bugs away, and the promise of a warm bed with four walls around him tonight, even if it was a mattress that pulled out from a couch.
“Comfy camping,” James had called it, grinning from ear to ear as he’d shown Regulus the inside of the double-wide mobile home earlier. He manned the grill now, flipping burgers and steaks back and forth to feed their small gathering—a few of their crew were standing around with their partners or friends, drinks in hand, and Sirius and Remus were sitting across from each other at a wooden bench, playing with a deck of cards and a pegged board. Barty had taken a camping chair for himself, close enough to the table to make comments about their moves, and Evan was on the other side of the fire pit, reclining on the steps to the camper, his elbows resting on the stair level with his chest in a way that made him look like he was lording over them all, even from the ground.
There were no scantily dressed girls or clout chasers or paps, and the radio was playing, but low enough that it wouldn’t disturb their neighbours. Regulus had on a pair of sweats and a pink hoodie to keep warm as the sun sank below the trees and the air cooled. He’d worried that inviting Barty—and subsequently, Evan—was just asking for trouble, but so far, everyone had been surprisingly amiable. There were subtle signs of tension—when Barty’s jabs were too pointed, or James turned his glare on Evan, who gave back as good as he got—but nobody had started fighting outright, and Regulus had to take his wins where he could.
“This one’s yours, Remus,” James called out, hanging Regulus a paper plate with a steak on it.
“Dress it up for me, will ya kid? I’m about to win here.”
Barty was peering over Sirius’ arm at his cards, and he snorted. “No chance.”
Remus levelled him with a look. “I count my cards first. And besides… I’m on a roll, remember?”
“He could still peg to the finish before you count. If he’s smart about it.”
The two of them bickered around his brother, but Regulus didn’t hear a word of it, staring at the icebox full of condiments. “It’s a steak,” he blurted eventually. Everyone turned to stare at him, and Regulus cringed internally. He looked at Sirius sheepishly when he said, “A steak's a steak, right? It doesn’t need… all that.”
His brother’s face twisted up. To Remus, he explained, “Our father used to say that. He had a lot of… black and white ideas of things. You know how it is.”
Remus put his cards face down, and Regulus regretted not just grabbing something and pouring it on the plate. He hadn’t specified—it probably didn’t even matter what he chose. He brought the plate to him and set it down when the older man crooked his finger. Barty’s eyes were glued on Remus as the man hiked a knee over the bench, straddling the end of it and pulling Regulus to stand between his knees.
“I know you’re not preaching anything that piece of shit said to me like it’s law.”
“Sorry…”
“No, you don’t be. Sirius had some stupid ideas in him at first too, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Sirius gave a stilted nod, and Remus went on, “Now, you listen to me—there’s nothing wrong with adding a little flavor to something. It only makes it better, doesn’t take away from what it is. So go on and make it pretty for me, however you want, and we can share. You must be starving by now.”
Regulus felt… weirdly liberated as he made the short walk back to the cooler and plucked a bottle of steak sauce out of the ice. He almost stopped there, but then he grabbed ketchup and Worcestershire sauce, too. Remus seemed proud when he returned to the table with multiple things to try, and Regulus perched on his lap while Remus cut the steak around him. He fed Regulus the first bite, doused in A1, and Regulus moaned when it melted in his mouth. He really was hungry—he’d been too anxious about this mix of people to eat before.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Regulus whispered, just for him. He relaxed against Remus’ chest, and they shared bites as Remus won his round against Sirius.
“Damn.” His brother got up from his spot after he lost, coming around to mutter, “You cheat,” before dropping a kiss on the top of Regulus’ head. Remus laughed, a bold and hearty sound right in his ear, and swatted at Sirius’ ass as he turned to join James at the fire pit.
Barty took the place Sirius had abandoned across the table from them. “What do you say, Lupin? Best out of three?” he asked, gathering up the cards and giving the deck an overhand shuffle. He seemed more himself now, like he’d finally managed to shake off the funk from earlier.
“You know how to play?”
“I saw what Sirius was doin’... so I just won’t do that,” Barty smirked.
“Alright, then. If you think you can handle another loss today,” Remus mused, resetting the board. “You deal first. Since I’m being so nice today,” he added that last part with a chuck of Regulus’ chin.
Barty snorted. He counted out their hands, then set the deck on the end of the peg board, rapping his knuckles against it.
“Go on and cut the deck for me,” Remus whispered against Regulus’ ear. His facial hair tickled, and Regulus squirmed a little as he chose a place at random to split the deck in half.
Barty flipped up the top card of the lower packet and beamed. “His heels,” he grinned, laying the starter jack down once Regulus replaced his half of the cards on the pile, and moving one of his red pegs two spaces from the starter line.
“Fuck me sideways,” Remus huffed, giving Regulus a squeeze. “Aren’t you supposed to be lucky?”
Regulus leaned back and turned his head, bringing their noses close. “You haven’t fucked me since this morning… I think I might be all tapped out on luck.”
“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?” Remus’ fingers dug into his ribs, and Regulus squealed and nearly knocked over the board with his thrashing. Remus tucked him back into his lap once he was through torturing him, seeming content to play with Regulus sitting there, so Regulus settled back to watch, spreading his legs around Remus’ thick thighs and occasionally moving his blue pegs for him.
The first match was slow, almost lazy, like both of them were clinging to their unbothered facades, but Regulus could tell they were each counting the ever-loving-fuck out of their hands, trying to maximize each set to the fullest. It was interesting—they were both stubborn as bulls, and Regulus expected them to go head to head more violently. Instead, the way Remus grunted when Barty won the first round was almost… impressed.
By the end of the third game, Barty had won twice, but he’d had a horrible string of hands between those wins where Remus got so far ahead of him that his one finish counted for two, so they were tied, and the heat was officially on. The fourth game started, and the two of them went neck and neck for points the whole way, the deals no longer swaying in either of their favors.
“Looks like you’ve met your match, Lupin,” Evan called. Regulus wasn’t even sure how he could keep track from over there—neither Barty or Remus were talking loudly, it was fully dark now, and Regulus felt like he was trapped in the middle of a very dangerous bubble as each of their pegs passed the skunk line, one right after the other.
Another round passed, and Remus went rigid; Regulus heard his breath hitch in his throat. He didn’t understand what was happening until he felt it—the table cloth shifting, and Barty’s sock-covered foot sliding up the inside of Remus’ leg. Regulus shot him a horrified look. What was he thinking? Barty’s responding smirk wasn’t aimed at him at all, but at Remus, lit by the flickering fire that made it look suspiciously like there was heat in his eyes.
Remus slapped a card down with a wooden shift in his seat, but he didn’t say a word about the foot that pressed against his inner thigh. Regulus subtly glanced around, but nobody was paying the three of them any mind—except maybe Evan, but he was bathed in shadows, and it was hard to tell how much he could actually see. If James or Sirius were listening in, they didn’t show it, faced the other way entirely.
“Careful,” Remus warned when his friend’s foot shifted higher. Arousal pooled low in Regulus’ belly—not because of Barty’s teasing, but because of the barely-concealed threat of violence in the rumble of Remus’ voice when he added, “You touch him, you’re gonna stand to lose more than a game of cards.”
Him?
Him?
It wasn’t Regulus that Barty was aiming to feel up with the flat of his foot. Not by a long shot. He was practically perched on his friend’s shin as Barty’s toes delved past him entirely, searching out the hard length making itself known against his lower back. Hard—Remus was hard, and he hadn’t been before. Of that, Regulus was sure.
“You don’t mind, do you, princess?” Barty taunted, taking his turn and pegging two points for a pair.
Remus swore. “Don’t answer that. He’s just trying to goad me.” He sounded angry, but not… not outraged. Not like Regulus thought he would be. “It’s not going to work.”
“Sure, buddy.”
“I’m not your buddy. Count your damn cards.”
Barty’s foot found its mark and pressed in. His leg flexed between Regulus’ thighs, and Remus muffled a pained sound in his hair, the arm slung around him tightening—dragging him up his lap—trapping Barty’s foot between them. It was wedged right up against Remus’ cock as Barty’s cards got him only a few spaces away from the finish.
“Your move. Unless you want to fold early?” Barty’s voice was saccharine when he leaned forward and added, “Nobody here would judge you for bending over.”
Remus’ voice was thick and gravelly as he said, “If anyone’s bendin’ over, it’s you.”
His cards hit the table, and Barty stared at them for a long moment before he sat back with a whistle, his foot falling away. “Well, shit,” he gave a dejected laugh, and it was like somebody had cut his strings as he tugged his boot back on.
“What just happened?” Regulus asked, feeling lost as he attempted to count Remus’ points in his head.
“He won. Sixteen points brings him right to the last hole. That’s a good poker face you got there, Lupin. I really thought I had you.” Barty planted his hands on the table and rose to his feet. He sounded… resigned. “It’s probably about time I get outta your way.”
Remus said nothing, and Regulus’ heart dropped into his stomach. “No, wait—” he complained, squirming out of Remus’ arms. “You don’t have to go!”
“Yeah, I do. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“You love overstaying. You could play for the best out of six! Would you just hang on a minute, please.”
Barty strolled past his outstretched hand like he didn’t even hear him. Regulus looked around for back up, but it was clear from the stillness of the camp that nobody else was going to stop him, so he stumbled after Barty himself, trying to bribe him into staying with beer, more food, mudding after midnight like idiots, but nothing stuck.
“It’s all good sweets. This was fun. We should do it again sometime,” Barty forced a smile, ruffling his hair.
Evan caught up to them then, clapping Regulus on the shoulder as they watched Barty climb into the driver’s seat of his truck, ignition rumbling to life moments later.
“Don’t stress, babe. You know he hates losing.”
“Yeah, but—”
“He’ll be fine,” Evan promised, tugging him into a rare hug before getting into the passenger side.
Barty’s tires picked up gravel as he reversed out of the grass. Regulus sent them both a wave, mildly relieved when his friend blew him a kiss back—tonight wasn’t a total loss, then. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d gotten to hang out like that, even if it didn’t end in quite the ceasefire he’d hoped for. Or one at all. Actually, okay, the close proximity might have just made things worse. He stood there for a while after Barty’s tail lights disappeared around the bend in the makeshift road, wondering how it’d gone so wrong so fast. It felt like the nature of things lately; like his life was turning into a sprint on a pre-existing injury, or with an already burnt-out exhaust. Something was bound to go horribly, horribly wrong, wasn’t it?
When he got back, he was surprised to see that the rest of their company had cleared out too. James and Sirius were lounging alone around the fire in folding chairs, roasting marshmallows on metal skewers.
“‘Mellow for your thoughts?” Sirius offered the blackened blob on the end of his stick, but Regulus shook his head.
“Where’s Remus?”
“He went for a walk to cool off,” James smirked, turning his marshmallow round and round in an errant flame. “Seems the game got him a little worked up.”
Regulus flushed and wrapped his arms around his middle. They couldn’t know—could they? They hadn’t been looking. Had Remus already told them what Barty had been doing with his foot under the table? Should he tell them?
“I’m… gonna go look for him.”
“Don’t go too far,” Sirius said, frowning off in the middle distance.
“I’ll stay on the loop.” Regulus snagged a flashlight from one of the cup holders and followed the access road in the direction of the main gate. He figured he’d have a better chance of catching up to Remus if he went the opposite way and met him somewhere in the middle than trying to race after him in the dark.
It was late enough that most of the camp seemed to have turned in for the night. A few firepits still held cinders, the leftovers of their evening burns, but most sites were dark. Regulus pointed his flashlight at his feet as he walked for a while, ears straining for another set of footsteps. He reached the other side of the campground before he heard a pair of hushed voices coming from around the public bathhouse up ahead. Something about the voices sounded familiar, and he realised why when he spotted Barty’s truck parked out front. Regulus rushed forward, assuming he’d find Evan and Barty around the corner. He stopped short when he spotted Remus standing underneath a buzzing security light, a fistful of Barty’s shirt in his hand.
Barty shoved at Remus’ chest, and Remus shoved him back twice as hard before crowding him against the brick wall. Regulus took a step towards them, ready to break up a fight, when he noticed the way Barty’s ankle hooked around the back of Remus’ calf, tugging him closer. Remus’ hand slid up to Barty’s throat and squeezed, and Barty’s teeth were bloody when he smiled. His hips rolled, and the high pitched noise Regulus heard must have come from him, because both men’s heads whipped his way.
“Kid—this isn’t what it looks like.”
But Remus’ mouth was streaked with the same red as Barty’s teeth.
“Holy shit,” Regulus whispered. “Did you two—were you…”
“We were just working things out,” Barty explained breezily. “And we’re done now. No hard feelings… right, big guy?”
Remus snarled and tore away from him like he’d been burned, spitting off to the side. He angled his body out of the light, but there really was no hiding a cock like his when it was full, and Regulus couldn’t help the hysteric laugh that bubbled out of him. He slapped his hand over his mouth to cover it, but he was still laughing when Remus marched over, took him by the arm and steered him away from the building.
Regulus struggled to keep up with Remus’ long legs in the dark, and while unhinged giggles were still rattling in his chest.
“Stop—walking so—fast—I can’t—breathe.”
Remus stopped in his tracks, only to heave Regulus up over one shoulder. Regulus’ shriek earned them several disgruntled words from the camper they were passing, but Remus kept on, boots thumping on the grass as he chose to cut through an empty campsite.
“Let me go. Why are you running away? What was that?” Regulus wriggled and shoved until he finally managed to slide down Remus’ chest. He thought he’d gotten free until Remus angled his weight, trapping him against the base of a tall tree.
“I’m not running away. I just can’t get back to the camper fast enough. I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours.”
“Why? So I can’t tell the guys what I just saw?”
Remus huffed. “You don’t know what you saw. He provoked me.”
“I know. I was at that table too, remember?”
“Not—fuck.” Remus hung his head, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“Are you… into him?”
“I want to leave him in the dust,” Remus muttered.
“That’s not a no.”
“It sure as hell ain’t a yes either, smart ass.”
Regulus reached up, gently smoothing out the snarl on his face. Remus was too good for the way it contorted his features. But his fingers came away with flakes of dried blood on them, and he made a sad sound.
“You didn’t hit him, did you?”
Remus reared back. “What? No.”
“I’m just asking,” Regulus shrugged. Barty would kill him if he heard what he was about to say, but he needed Remus to understand. “His dad hit him. A lot. So… just don’t do that, whatever you do, okay?”
A haunted look crossed Remus’ eyes. “I’m not doing anything with him. The little prick just doesn’t know when to stop pushing.”
“He never has. You should ask James and my brother about how annoying he was to them in high school.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve heard.” Remus took a step away, and Regulus straightened up as the older man tugged a hanky square out of his back pocket and wiped his face with it. “Let’s get you back,” he said, “Your brother will be worried.”
Regulus fell into step beside Remus as they headed towards their site. Their arms brushed, and Regulus didn’t let himself overthink the urge to take the older man’s hand, slotting their fingers together. Remus tensed slightly, and then relaxed, giving his hand a squeeze. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”
Turning his chin away to hide his smile, Regulus squeezed his hand back. “I hope you still think that after I spill the beans about you making out with the enemy.”
Remus groaned. “There was no making out.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There wasn’t. It was one—”
“So you did kiss him?”
“He—I—get back here!” Remus’ voice boomed from behind him as Regulus took off laughing.