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If he had to listen to even one more line of Desparado, Regulus could kiss his dream of playing in the NHL goodbye, because he was going to go downstairs, get his hands around his older brother’s throat and squeeze until he murdered him in cold, satisfying blood. He’d told his parents that living in the same house as Sirius was a bad idea—he’d said it over and over again like a broken record, not that anyone would listen to him.
“You used to be so close,” his mother had chastised him, “and we think it’ll be good for you to spend some time around people your own age who aren’t so… hockey oriented, dear.”
His father had sealed his fate by flatly refusing to keep shelling out for separate housing when he and Sirius were going to be in the same city for another year—if not longer. After an injury benched Regulus for a significant portion of last season, everyone besides him had pretty much given up all hope of him being drafted, and his father was just waiting for the day that Regulus accepted his fate, stopping striving to make it out of the Major Junior league, and focused on getting a business degree, or some equally dull and “incredibly practical” pursuit. Something that wasn’t hockey, or a degree in the Arts like Sirius was going for.
Now here he was, unable to get any shut eye on the night before the opening game of the new season because the house he shared with his brother, and his brother’s annoying friends, was in full blown party mode, with Rihanna blaring loudly through the floor and a thumping base that seemed to carry the sounds of hundreds of students packed into the place like sardines directly into his ears. Feet hoofed it up the stairs, the door to the bathroom at the end of the hall slamming hard enough to rattle the wall behind his bed, and Regulus pulled his pillow over his face and smothered a groan with it.
He was going to be fucked for tomorrow. He’d be dead on his skates, his team would lose their first game on their own turf, and Regulus would spend the rest of the season trying to claw his way out of the tank after such a miserable performance, his last chance at a professional career playing the sport he loved squandered thanks to a bunch of rowdy college students, and he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t afford a single bad game, let alone this one. After they beat the odds and came out of the pre-season scrimmages as one of the top teams to watch, his plays needed to be spotless and his games won in order to convince recruiters that he was back from his injury and better than ever—even if that wasn’t entirely true, he would make it so. He would do anything to make it so.
The sound of retching reached his ears and Regulus threw off his covers. If he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he might as well go back to the team’s gym, get another workout in, maybe exhaust himself enough to come back to the house and pass out for an hour or two despite the noise. Or maybe he’d just sleep in the locker room at the rink. A hard bench had to be better than — “Yo, Pads!” “Just a minute, man!” — this.
After shoving his legs into a pair of shorts and grabbing his gym bag, Regulus threw open the door to his room, only to slam straight into a wall—albeit a soft wall, the same height as him, with hands that caught his waist when he barrelled straight into it. Him.
“What the fuck, Sirius?” Regulus swore as he staggered back a step. His hip throbbed when he put too much of his weight down on it too fast, but he ignored it, focusing the full force of his glare on his brother.
Sirius was dressed for a good time, in a cropped grey tank top with a hemline that sank farther down his back than it did in the front, showing off a strip of flat belly, and black low-rise jeans atop converse that were (at one point) white, but were now a worn-in shade of dirty. He wore his signature leather cuffs on either of his wrists, and his hair was pulled up in a messy bun, fringe falling in tousled waves around his coal-lined eyes—eyes which scanned Regulus up and down before narrowing on his face.
“Where do you think you’re going, Reggie?”
Regulus stiffened. “To the gym.”
“Oh, no you’re not.”
“You’re not my keeper,” Regulus rolled his eyes, attempting to push past his brother, but Sirius, for all that he was light on his feet, stood his ground in the doorway. “Move.”
“No.”
“Then shut this party down and send everyone home so I can get some fucking sleep.”
“Also no.”
Regulus released a sound dangerously close to a growl, and Sirius laughed.
He was fucking laughing at him.
Regulus was going to punch him. He pictured it, too. Taking the swing, getting into it, finding some relief from all this tension building up inside of him. The shit he couldn’t let out on the ice, because he couldn’t afford to get hurt like that again.
What actually happened, though, was that Sirius gave him a light shove on the shoulder, said, “You need to learn to relax, Reggie. Isn’t that what the PT keeps telling you?”
And Regulus’ mouth snapped shut, because yeah, that was the advice that his physical therapist gave him during their weekly appointments—he was too tight, had too many knots, was holding all of his stress in the muscles he was trying to heal—but still, he didn’t see how he could possibly do any relaxing in this environment. It was like putting him in a jar with a thousand bees and shaking it while telling him to just find his zen.
“Yeah, you know I’m right.” Sirius grinned like he’d won something. Regulus used to light up inside when he made his brother grin like that. Used to do stupid shit like purposely miss an easy goal just to hear him whoop and holler in delight, never mind that hockey never meant half as much to Sirius as it did to him. They hadn’t played together in ages—hadn’t done anything together in ages. Regulus was too busy trying to take a defibrillator to his dying career before it even started, while Sirius was too busy “finding himself” or whatever the fuck he was doing.
Drinking. That’s what he was doing. His breath smelled like cheap beer when he hooked a finger into Regulus’ shirt collar and pulled him close by it, their noses almost touching, but he didn’t seem all that drunk. He was too steady. “We’re setting up for games in the rec room. You’re coming.”
Regulus shook his head. “I can’t—”
“You can and you are. As your older brother, I’m making the executive decision that you need to fucking chill, Reggie. Even Pros let loose every once in a while.”
“I’m not a pro. Not yet. And I have a game tomorrow.”
“I know. That’s why you need this,” Sirius reasoned. At Regulus’ disbelief, he tried a different approach, bargaining. “Please? One game, Reggie. And if you hate it, I’ll kick everyone out, and you can go to bed.”
“You’d do that?” Regulus eyed him suspiciously. Sirius released him and stepped back, nodding profusely. He looked so hopeful, and the prospect of a quiet house in half an hour or less did sound easier won than getting any shut-eye under the fluorescent rink lights, so Regulus dropped his bag to the floor with a sigh. “Fine. One game.”
***
“Never have I ever… gotten a blowjob.”
The circle of players gathered on couches and chairs around a little coffee table covered in red solo cups groaned in ear-splitting unison—Sirius amongst them.
“What the shit, Evans!”
Lily just shot him a smirk and leaned into her boyfriend’s side. James, Sirius’s best friend and a British twat with a kind smile but notoriously mean spirit, raised his cup in cheers and knocked back a shot. “Fair’s fair, boys. Drink up.”
This game was so cursed.
Regulus stared down at his second cup of what tasted like warm piss, trying to convince himself to just take a drink—it wasn’t like they had to go around sharing details, nobody would know that he was lying—but his gut twisted at the thought of it. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t, right? He should’ve stopped after the first round, when everybody was still getting warmed up and the admissions weren’t as juicy. Now his cheeks were hot, and his mouth was dry, and he could avoid further humiliation by just taking a drink, but what if somebody asked him about it?
Being put on the spot was never his strong suit—that’s why he kept his post-game interview answers short and to the point. Sometimes, when he was feeling brave, short and snarky, but he wasn’t feeling all that confident right about now.
Sirius gave him a helpful nudge when Regulus still hadn’t moved to take a drink, and Regulus’ eyes snapped up. Sirius’ brow furrowed as he looked between Regulus’ cup and his pained face, but before he could say anything, a series of howls filtered in like the laughing track to some of his worst nightmares.
“Little Black’s never had a blowy before?” James cackled.
Lily gave his chest a whack, but she was snorting too. “Don’t make fun of him. He’s sheltered.”
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So why aren’t you drinking?” James shot back.
Regulus wanted to die.
The teasing felt like it lasted a lifetime, wherein Regulus thought of a hundred different disgusting things he could put in James’ bed later as payback, but it was really only a minute or two before everyone was moving on. Everyone except Sirius, who kept staring at him like Regulus was one of his painting projects, off in a way he couldn’t work out.
“Hey… you’ve done other stuff though, right?”
A girl beside Lily went next, her admission falling on Regulus’ deaf ears. He tore his eyes from Sirius’ with a shrug. “Define… uh, other stuff.”
Sirius scooted closer, the love seat already a little too small to fit both of them without squeezing in on top of each other. His knees were hooked over Regulus’ legs, keeping him trapped in place from the beginning of the game, when Regulus had baulked at it and Sirius had threatened to sit on him if he tried to leave before holding up his end of the deal, swearing, “C’est le fun!”
“Like, bases, Reggie,” he whispered fiercely. “First? Second? Third?”
Regulus was definitely not having fun. “I’m not an idiot,” he muttered, then paused to think about it. “I’ve… I don’t know. I’ve kissed people before.”
“You’ve kissed people.”
Sure he had.
A few times.
Once, kinda.
He was just… painfully shy, and not really a people person, and he’d rather spend his time focusing on the sport he was good at rather than struggling through the motions of sex with someone when he didn’t really see the appeal of it. At least, not with girls. He sometimes found himself drawn to a lean figure, a firm hand, a masculine jaw… but he was hockey-obsessed, so of course he noticed the male body. That didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with them. He wasn’t gay—Sirius had that area covered already. Going to all of Regulus’ games with his long legs on display, lips cherry red, sometimes even wearing his jersey, and being just effeminate enough for the deeply misogynistic world of athletes to objectify, making him a notoriously hot topic of locker room conversations. Not that Regulus was participating in those conversations. Or thinking about his brother’s oral skills. That would be…
“—right?”
Regulus startled out of his thoughts to find his brother staring at him intently, the two of them in their own little bubble as the game moved on around them. He’d plucked the cup out of Regulus’ hands and set it on the table without him even noticing.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Sirius’ frown deepened. “I said, you’ve done more than kissing, right? Handjobs? Frotting?”
All Regulus could do was shake his head lamely.
“You’re a hockey player,” Sirius deadpanned. “There’s… puck bunnies and shit.”
“I’m not interested.”
“In sex?” His face was so close that the heat coming off of his wet lips was sending tingles down Regulus’ spine with every word. “At all?”
Regulus’ eyes fell to his brother’s mouth. “I didn’t... say that..."
Sirius’ tongue darted out, nearly touching Regulus’ lips as he licked his own, and Regulus’ thighs clamped together of their own volition, shifting Sirius’ legs further up his lap. The outside of Sirius’ thigh brushed over his groin, and Regulus sucked in a gasp as it grazed the edge of his dick.
His very hard, very obviously hard dick.
Oh God, oh fuck.
Sirius’ gaze drifted down to the bulge in his sweats as he purposely repeated the small movement.
“Oh.”
Yep, the unforgiving bench in the locker room was sounding really good right about now.
He should’ve taken that drink. He should’ve never agreed to play this stupid game at all. He should’ve just ignored it (like he’d ignored it all the other times) when the opposition’s defenceman spat shit about his brother instead of running his own mouth back at him and winding up crushed against the boards with a labral tear that took him out indefinitely.
Quicker than he could think to make excuses for the erection he was sporting, Sirius was on his feet and pulling Regulus up with him, heading toward the stairs that led to the main level from the rec room.
“Oi, Padfoot! Where’re you two going?!” James called after them.
Sirius’ grip on Regulus’ hand tightened as he turned his chin over his shoulder and announced, “We’re going to get Reggie laid!”
Regulus was so dumbfounded that all he could do was follow as Sirius led them through the packed house, but instead of rounding up some poor girl for what was bound to be a bad time, considering Regulus’ erection flagged at the mere idea of it, they marched straight up to the second floor.
Sirius thrust him unceremoniously into his room and locked the door behind them, then went to sit on the end of his bed, taking off his shoes. Regulus did a full circle in place, glancing around the room and feeling lost. It was dark, lit only by strips of LED lights that bathed everything in a deep shade of red that teetered between creepy and… sexy. Sirius’ shelves were cluttered with things, and his walls were covered in movie and band posters from floor to ceiling, but his carpet was clear, unlike the way his room was always a tip when he lived at home, and his bed was made. There was a fur rug tucked underneath it, giving the otherwise standard double a luxurious feel.
It dawned on Regulus then that he hadn’t been in his brother’s room—not once since he moved in weeks ago.
“What’re we doing in here, Sirius?”
Sirius leaned back on his hands, his shirt riding up his ribs. Regulus tried not to look at all the skin it exposed.
“It kills me that I can’t fix your hockey shit, you know…”
Bare feet flat on the floor. A hand skimmed down his chest.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
“But if there’s one thing I can do,” Sirius’ legs fell open slowly, “it’s make sure you don’t become some depressing thirty year-old virgin.”
The air in the room suddenly felt stifling. Was he dying? It felt like he was dying. Like he’d gotten his wish down there in the rec room, and he was hallucinating while somebody was working hard at chest compressions, cracking his ribs with the heels of their hands, that’s what that pounding in his ears was.
“I’m only nineteen,” he rasped. His whole life ahead of him, and for once—faced with death—he could picture something other than hockey and an early retirement to some secluded island where he’d live out the rest of his days, probably alone, but too exhausted and worn out from a fulfilling career to give a shit about what he might be missing. Except the vision of exactly what he’d be missing made his head spin.
Sirius naked, Sirius spreading his legs just like that, Sirius laying back and letting him…
“Nineteen is way too close to twenty to have never gotten your dick wet before, Reggie.”
His brother’s crass words hit a little too blunt to be an end-of-life dream, though, and it knocked some sense into Regulus. He took several steps back, his shoulders hitting the door. The locked door. Sirius watched him like an animal watched its food after capturing it and dragging it back to their cave, planning to play with it a bit before devouring it whole… and Regulus swallowed audibly, wondering why the fuck that turned him on. What was wrong with him?
“It’s okay. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’m gonna take care of that for you. Tonight.” Sirius cocked his head, flashing him what Regulus could only describe as sex eyes. Smouldering, silver rings as red as the room. “It won’t even be a hardship.”
“If it’s such a big deal, can’t you just… get one of your friends to do it or something?”
“You expect me to believe you’re gonna unbutton for anybody down there, ice princess?”
“I might,” Regulus snapped, flustered.
“Oh yeah?”
This was crazy. Sirius had lost his mind. Maybe Regulus had lost his mind, too, because he didn’t even attempt to run when Sirius rose from the bed and prowled right into his space. He seemed taller in here, crowding Regulus against the door, drawing their hips flush together.
“Like who?”
“S-Sirius?”
“Tell me who you’ll give it up to, Reggie,” he goaded. “I’ll go and get them.”
Regulus opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing even came to mind, no other names or faces but the one hovering way too close to his. Sirius’ smirk was so sharp he swore he felt it curve against his cheek.
“That’s what I thought,” his brother crooned, and the tips of Regulus’ ears burned as he started brushing soft, tingling kisses along his jaw. Each one made him more lightheaded than the last—he’d vibrate out of his skin if it weren’t for the wall of pressure that was his brother’s body holding him together. He never got nerves like this on the ice.
Regulus floundered a bit, not knowing what to do with his hands. Knowing exactly what he wanted to do with his hands. Where he wanted to put them. On Sirius’ narrow waist, underneath the scrap of fabric he called a shirt, deep in the dark ocean depths of his soft-looking hair. Everything about Sirius was surprisingly soft, and yet not. His skin, his approach, his kisses that were sliding down Regulus’ throat and driving him insane—the grip around his middle, holding him there. Gentle but… sure. Carefully treading the waters of what Regulus could take.
His brother smoothed a hand up his back and Regulus shivered, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.
Sirius was still kissing him, but between those kisses he mumbled, “You’re stiff as a board and it’s starting to hurt my feelings, Reggie.”
“Yeah, well. We’re brothers…”
“So? Our parents are cousins.” Sirius took his earlobe between his teeth and gave it a small tug that had blood rushing to his cock. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage or anything. It’s just sex.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Regulus cringed at himself. Really, could he be any worse at this? But Sirius didn’t seem put off by his lack of know-how, burying a chuckle against his neck.
“I know,” he laughed, and Regulus didn’t even think it was at him this time. “Do you want me to show you?”
This was a prime opportunity for Regulus to put an end to… whatever they were doing. To sweep it under the rug as a harmless encounter between brothers, good-natured, teasing, it just wasn’t that deep. Regulus was a virgin and Sirius was just giving him shit, seeing how far he could push him before he chickened out. A story to bring up and be in stitches over in a few years, maybe after Regulus wins the Stanley Cup, that’s all this would be.
“Yes.”
His brother pulled back to look him in the eye, his expression searching, and he really was so attractive, something Regulus had known for years and had feelings about that he hadn’t known how to contend with, either, so in lieu of learning, had thrown himself hard at the ice. Sometimes that first, powerful thrust into motion felt like a dead drop, and this felt the same, his stomach swooping out from under him as he finally pushed through.
“Show me.” Regulus added, “Please…”
Sirius nodded, more to himself than to Regulus, and reached to cup his face and draw his mouth into a kiss. It was chaste at first, Sirius’ lips sliding over his—sweet and lazy pulls like he’d been kissing at his neck—until Regulus relaxed into it. Then his thumb cut along his chin, adding pressure until Regulus’ lips parted around a sigh that he could hardly believe came from him for how slutty it sounded.
“Good,” Sirius said into the space between their mouths, “That’s so good. Open up for me.”
At the first sweep of Sirius’ tongue inside, Regulus’ hands flew to his brother’s hips and squeezed. With that point of contact came a rush. Sirius’ knee wedged between his legs, pinning him to the door, and their kisses deepened, turning hungry as Regulus followed Sirius’ lead. He was surprised by how naturally it came to him. How easy it was, how good it felt, how quickly it had him panting for breath after hot breath that he shared with his brother between lengthy open-mouthed explorations and forgetting everything else.
A giddy zing took over all of the places where self-consciousness had still been burning, and he gasped when Sirius canted his hips, their cocks rubbing together, both straining and achingly hard. Regulus pulled him tighter against him, seeking friction, and Sirius’ responding moan felt better than taking a shot that hit the bottom of the crossbar before going right down into the net.
He was still celebrating as Sirius pushed off of him and dropped to his knees. Regulus could hear the crowd cheering, except there wasn’t a crowd at all. It was just the two of them, the party world’s away now, and Sirius was dragging his sweats and underwear to his ankles, helping Regulus to awkwardly step out of his shoes before he could overthink it. And then Sirius was sitting back and reaching for him again—touching his fingertips to his shaft, which was standing straight out and hard as steel, wrapping his fist around it, thumb sliding up under his head as he gave it a slow stroke, as if testing the weight and length—and Regulus was blown apart by the fact that this was really happening.
His brother was, at the very least, going to blow him.
“Holy shit,” Regulus’ breath hissed through his teeth, palms slapping the door on either side of him. Sirius took his cock in hand without hesitation, holding it out to the side while he scraped his nose through the private crease where Regulus’ thigh met his pelvis.
“So smooth,” he murmured appreciatively. “You smell delicious down here, Reggie.”
More tender kisses chased a shiver up his side as Sirius mouthed over his quad to the freshly healed surgery scar raised up from his pale skin, eyelashes leaving a trail of wispy affection, so featherlight that it almost hurt worse than the initial injury. But Regulus didn’t shove him away, despite the urge to do so. He couldn’t do anything except watch past his heaving chest as Sirius kept moving back to it, then away, lips teasing the root of his cock until he was trembling, and there were beads of wetness forming at the tip. Sirius swiped them up like they were liquid gold and spread them around his head, making him whine.
“You’ve really never let anyone do this for you before.”
Regulus didn’t answer. Sirius knew as much from the game that got them into this mess—this mind-fuckingly brilliant mess—but he was an older brother first, and he seemed to really like driving home the fact that Regulus was completely inexperienced.
“No one’s ever put their mouth on you… tasted you…” He flattened his tongue and tapped Regulus’ cock over it, and Regulus jerked his head from side to side, suffering from anticipation so keen he was starting to sweat.
“Just you.”
That must’ve been the right thing to say. Sirius’ eyes lifted from underneath his fringe, blown out and looking nearly black in the low, sinful lighting they were bathed in. Regulus was spellbound by the way they darkened as Sirius finally wrapped his lips around his cock, taking it into his mouth.
Tight, wet heat enveloped him entirely, and Regulus’ toes curled into the floor as he let out a breathless, “Oh—”
That was… damn. That was good. Better than good, Regulus was starting to understand what all the fuss was about, and he was so gobsmacked by it that his head fell back over his shoulders and a moan wrenched out of his throat. But the second his eyes slammed shut, Sirius took it all away again, and the cool air stung his damp flesh in a way that had him flushing from embarrassment—now, for some reason, and not when Sirius first touched him or even when he’d first put his mouth on him.
When he opened his eyes again, Sirius was staring up at him, waiting. His lips were still connected to his cock by strings of spit, and they already looked a little swollen. Regulus lifted a hand without thought and scrubbed across the top one with his thumb, exposing Sirius’ teeth. It came away wet, and he curiously dipped it back inside, further this time. Sirius let Regulus trace his gums and tug on the corner of his mouth before hollowing his cheeks around the digit. Regulus felt the suction pull at his soul through that smaller, lesser point of connection, and calisse, he wanted it badly, then. He wanted to put his dick back in there with a ferocity he hadn’t expected.
“Stop teasing,” his voice sounded strained.
“Put your hands on my head,” Sirius ordered, releasing his thumb. Regulus was all too happy to comply, threading his fingers through his brother’s silky locks for the first time since they were kids play-fighting, and neither of them could play fair. He didn’t think Sirius was playing fair now, giving him a taste of how good it could feel and then making him wait while he said things—dirty, filthy things that were changing all of Regulus’ preconceived ideas about himself and his sexuality at a fundamental level, and were bound to get him into trouble. “You have such a nice cock, Reggie. I think it’s even bigger than mine. I’m really gonna enjoy sucking you off… being the only one who’s ever had you like this… you’re all mine right now, aren’t you? And all you have to do is hold onto me and let me make you come, and then you’re gonna open me up and fuck this pretty cock up my ass, okay?”
Regulus felt himself throb in the return of Sirius’ grip around his shaft.
“Shouldn’t I… um… shouldn’t I wait to come until I’m fucking you?”
“You’ll last longer if you come in my mouth first.” Sirius’ smug grin was dazzling.
Regulus’ hips lurched off the door when Sirius took him back into his mouth, accidentally shoving his cock so deep that he felt his brother’s throat constrict around his tip as he gagged on it. The noise he made was—holy fucking hockey pucks, Regulus was never going to forget that noise. It was going to be starring in his jerk off fantasies for… well, forever. Still, he tried to be polite and withdraw right away, giving a garbled apology, but Sirius’ mouth followed his retreating cock, still slurping at him like he was starving for it. His hands slid over Regulus’ thighs to keep him in place as his head bobbed, and Regulus tried not to pull his hair too much, but it was all he could do not to squirm, and the few tugs he couldn’t help only caused Sirius to redouble his efforts, until Regulus was struggling not to twist away from the orgasm that was barrelling towards him.
Sirius’ eyes stayed on his face the whole time, like he wanted to see Regulus fall apart as much as he wanted to be the one making him—and he was, there was absolutely no pretending that Regulus was focusing on anything other than where his dick was disappearing past his brother’s stretched lips and into the hollow of his throat as his knees locked up, and he came so hard that he felt blindsided by the intensity of it. It was like getting thrown off his skates, thrilling and terrifying, totally out of his control, but without the painful smack he expected. Instead the come down was slow, with Sirius’ fingers stroking his scar and his other hand splayed over his tense stomach. The touch was scalding, even through his shirt, as everything became too sensitive.
Sirius let his softening cock slip free of his mouth, and then he surged to his feet and slammed their mouths together, swallowing Regulus’ grunt of surprise. His tongue plunged past Regulus’ open lips, still sticky, and Regulus tasted himself on it—faintly bitter, but not unpleasant. He didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate it at all. Regulus, anchored by his hands still in his brother’s hair, pressed their mouths together harder, emboldened enough by the way that Sirius swept his face up and moaned his approval to be greedy, and to fuck his tongue past his lips and take more.
Their kisses were messy, and somehow wilder than before. Regulus wasn’t sure if he was pushing forward or if Sirius was dragging them back, but suddenly they were at the foot of the bed, Regulus so focused on kissing him that he hadn’t noticed that Sirius was in the process of tearing off his clothes until he had to rip away to yank his shirt over his head.
It fell to the floor, and his jeans followed, leaving him in tight briefs that were bunched around his swollen erection, and Regulus was frozen, because the overwhelming amount of things he wanted to do was proliferating exponentially in his post-orgasm hunger for more, until Sirius grabbed him by the wrist and brought his hand to his erection, and he didn’t have to think anymore.
Regulus rubbed him over his underwear as Sirius went back to kissing him, his jaw, his throat, leaving a sting in each place his lips touched down. Marking him, Regulus realised. He’d be covered in hickeys tomorrow, with absolutely no way to hide it in the locker room. Maybe even on the ice. They were all over his neck; he was going to look like he’d been throttled by an overzealous pair of lips, and when he scored, the cameras would zoom in, and everyone would see. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset about it.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he groaned, shoving Sirius at the bed.
He flopped down gracelessly, cupping his own groin and giving it a squeeze.
“Only what you’ve been asking for, princess.”
“Fuck you.” Regulus reached over his shoulder and tore the shirt off his back.
“That’s the plan.” Sirius shimmied out of his underwear, eyeing his naked form hungrily. “Fuck, you’re fit.”
“‘Course I am. Hockey. You know.”
“Mm. There’s lube in the bedside table.”
“Condoms?”
“In there too.” Sirius coughed lightly. “I’m clean. If you… wanna go without.”
Regulus paused with his hand around the bottle of lube. “How do you know?”
“There’s tests, Reggie,” Sirius deadpanned.
“You’ve had one?” Regulus pried. “Recently?”
“Yes. Fucking hell. You think I’d risk your health if I hadn’t?”
No. Regulus knew he wouldn’t. Sirius had been around for all of his health anxiety after his injury, the constant worrying about something he couldn’t see taking a swipe at him while he was already down, even when Regulus had done his worst to try to chase him away. He wouldn’t risk them going bare if he thought there was even a small chance that he could give Regulus something, not after all of that.
Regulus left the condoms in the drawer, closing it with his hip.
“Just, uh, so we’re clear,” Sirius said, “anyone else says that shit to you without showing you their results, you double up. Triple, even.”
He still couldn’t see himself doing this with anyone else, but he nodded, coming to stand between his brother’s legs, which were half hanging off the bed. Sirius was still laying there, but he’d gotten a hand around his cock and was giving himself a few lazy strokes. Regulus hadn’t been in a place to really understand what Sirius meant earlier when he called his cock nice, but he got it now. Sirius’ cock was… more than nice. It was long, and Regulus wished the overhead lights were on so he could see if it was as flushed pink at the tip as it looked. He had pubic hair—trimmed neat, but still more than Regulus kept there on himself. It was the same dark shade as the mess of curls on Sirius’ head, and it looked a little matted down from sweat thanks to the heat that Regulus could feel radiating off of Sirius’ bare skin.
“How do you want me?” Sirius asked, watching Regulus watch him as he pumped his cock.
Regulus blinked through a hundred different positions at once, and only managed to say, “Uh…” before Sirius was flipping over onto his stomach and presenting his ass in a way that made his brain short circuit.
Fuck.
If his dick was more than nice, Sirius’ ass was winning the fucking Vezina Trophy, cheeks so round that Regulus couldn’t fathom a way past them until Sirius reached back and pulled them open.
One of Regulus’ knees hit the bed as he tossed the lube down and knocked his brother’s hands away, replacing them with his own and spreading him wide. It was Sirius’ turn to shiver as Regulus brushed two fingers curiously over his hole before moving them back up through his crease and around the supple globe of his cheek.
“Okay?” he rasped.
“Yes, definitely. You can touch me however you want, Reggie.”
Regulus stroked his hole again, and it winked at his touch, the tight rim spreading around the pressure of his first digit. “I’m gonna put my dick in here…” he whispered in awe.
Sirius made a wounded noise. “Yeah. Okay, so, it’s been sort’ve a while for me, so you’re gonna wanna put some lube on your fingers and go one at a time to stretch me before you—”
“How long?”
Sirius tensed. “Huh?”
“How long has it been for you?”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and when Sirius finally answered, his voice was whisper-thin. “Months, okay? Since before your accident. Anyway—Reg?!”
His body jerked forward when Regulus’ mouth descended on his hole.
“Jesus—Christ. Okay. That works too,” Sirius gasped, clutching fistfuls of the sheets as Regulus went at his ass with all of the newfound kissing skills in his arsenal. He threw himself headfirst into the feast, and admittedly, it was sloppy—his cheeks and chin were wet with spit by the time he’d laved at his rim enough to soften it for the tip of his tongue to slip inside—but it didn’t seem to matter to Sirius, who thrust himself back eagerly against his open mouth.
He tasted like warm skin and not much else, but Regulus was quickly getting addicted to the body-flavour of his brother on his tongue. He grabbed his upper thighs and shoved them farther apart, bracing his chest on the bed and forcing himself to breathe rhythmically through his nose while he tongued deeper into his hole, licking inside until Sirius was chanting, “Fingers, Reg, gimme a finger, fuck.”
Regulus lifted his head to spit at the little star (with no idea where that came from, probably porn) and rub the wetness around, coating his finger before pressing in to the first knuckle.
Sirius hissed.
“More?”
“Yeah. Slow.”
Regulus took his time alternating between his spit-soaked fingers and his mouth to spread Sirius open before adding any lube to the mix, unable to stop putting his tongue and teeth all over him once he’d started. When his fingers were buried, he’d lick around them, lightly nibbling at the sensitive skin just to hear Sirius whimper or whine again. His chest was so tight it felt like he was going to explode from pride—he was the one pulling those noises out of Sirius. Him. He was hard again in no time—honestly, never went fully soft—and somewhere between two fingers and two fingers scissoring apart, Sirius pushed a hand underneath himself and thrust against it and the bed, keening more desperate instructions at him.
“Deeper.”
“Go deeper Reggie, please.”
“Oh, crook your fingers right there, that’s my—fuuuuuuck, yes. Yessss.”
Regulus knew the basics of anal sex, he wasn’t completely useless, but his bout of bravado in slobbering skills aside, he liked Sirius talking him through it. It was easier to shut his brain off and follow his older brother’s lead—learning the right plays to get him ready for the eventual pass of Regulus’ hard cock through the slick passage hugging his fingers. This way they could shine together.
It was possible that Regulus was a little too focused on making Sirius glow, because before his protests even reached his ears, Sirius was scrambling up the bed to get away from him.
“Wait, wait,” he panted. “Stop.”
Regulus’ lube covered hand hovered lamely in the air above where Sirius’ body just was. He stared between it and his brother before dropping it to the mattress. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Wrong?!” Sirius’ startled laugh confused him.
“Um…”
His brother turned over, a hand strangling his erection. “I was gonna come if you kept doing that.”
“Ah.” Regulus squeezed his thighs together. “Isn’t that… Don't you want to?”
“Not until you’re inside me. I want you to feel it.” Sirius paused and then asked, in a softer tone, “Do you think you’re ready?”
No.
No, he wasn’t ready—not for this to be over. And the thing was, Regulus was pretty sure despite already being an orgasm down that he wouldn’t last very long. Sirius’ hole had been so tight and hot around his fingers, and now that he wasn’t doing anything with them, his hands were sort’ve trembling. He had to make his dick fit in the smallest place he’d ever tried to push it into before, in his brother, and somehow manage to not come instantly, and the prospect was overwhelming. Maybe he should wear a condom.
Sirius must’ve seen the dread on his face, because he sat up more fully and reached for him. “Hey… we don’t have to,” he said, cupping Regulus’ cheeks in his hands, “if you really don’t want—”
“I want to,” Regulus gasped, knocking their foreheads together. “I… with you, I want to. It’s not that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I’m worried I won’t be able to… make it good for you.”
“Oh, Reggie…” Sirius slanted their lips together with a sigh, and Regulus melted into the kiss, this one as tender as the first, but less hurried. It wasn’t leading anywhere, and it lasted long enough that his worries had already faded to the background by the time Sirius pulled back and said, “I’m taking your virginity, baby. It’s all good for me. But this is about you. Your first time—”
“Our first time.”
Sirius’ mouth was on his again before he could feel embarrassed by how horribly hearts-and-flowers that was, or how vulnerable it made him feel to say it at all—like he was putting the hope he hadn’t even had a moment to realise he was holding onto for a next time out there when Sirius had only ever offered this once. But if this was the only time they were going to do this, then Regulus didn’t want to miss a second of it by getting all in his head again, and he pressed Sirius down into the pillows, surging over him as all thoughts became superfluous but one—reaching a flow state between his brother’s legs.
He grasped at Sirius’ firm curves while leaning his weight on him with the driving force of his lips. Sirius seemed to like Regulus holding him down; he wasn’t passive about it, but he did open up his legs, hooking one around Regulus’ lower back and dragging him impossibly closer as he writhed beneath him. The angle brought their erections together, and Regulus rolled his body like he was stretching out on the ice, friction sparking heat up his spine.
“Fuck me,” Sirius gasped against his mouth. His nails scraped through Regulus’ hair, making him groan.
Regulus caught each of his wrists and slammed them down to the bed, hooking his thumbs underneath the leather cuffs and bringing them together over Sirius’ head. He held them with one hand as he reared back enough to get his other hand between them, stroking more lube over their shafts. Sirius arched into the touch, back lifting off the bed, arms pinned.
“Tell me,” Regulus breathed—begged. It wasn’t a command so much as him pleading, “I need to hear it. Say it again…”
Sirius’ nostrils flared as Regulus pushed a knee up under his thigh, notching the head of his cock at Sirius’ waiting hole. He looked like a force of nature down there, with his hair barely restrained by the tie and his chest rising and falling in harsh waves from the ragged breaths he drew in through his swollen, parted lips. His eyes were narrowed to half mast, so full of lust that Regulus felt like he was being swallowed up their depths.
“I need you to fuck me, baby,” Sirius said, heel digging into the base of his spine. “Need you to stuff your pretty cock in deep and make me come with it, come on.”
Regulus groaned as he sank inside, breathtakingly aware of every inch of warm, wet ground he pushed through. He was so out of his element—this was the very antithesis of his comfort zone—and yet Sirius’ body welcomed him easily, all the way to the hilt, and it couldn’t have felt more like coming home.
He paused there, balls shoved up against the crease of his brother’s cheeks, breathing through the initial white-out need to come. But then Sirius clenched around him, egging him on to move, and the moment of restraint cracked like the end of a stick against his backside, his hips snapping hard enough to force a cry out of Sirius. A familiar tug in his stomach had his muscles working hard to pump himself in and out, shoving more forcefully when he realised that Sirius’ sounds of approval came louder and more unhinged the harder he went. He didn’t have to try to be gentle, or particularly careful, dropping his head down to muffle a groan against his brother’s flesh as he chased his pleasure. His chin brushed over Sirius’ nipple, and he lowered his mouth onto it next, sucking the stiff bud past his teeth and biting down when Sirius’ cock lurched between them.
“Fuck, Reg!”
Sirius’ hands came up off the pillow, testing Regulus’ hold. Regulus forced them down again, remembering his anger before, how badly he’d wanted to punch Sirius. Knock him around. Get knocked around himself. Had that only been a few hours ago?
He still felt the urge to lash out at Sirius for being so annoying about everything. For throwing a party the night before a game, for not fighting it when their parents told him Regulus was moving in with him after Regulus spent months angry and blaming him for an injury that wasn’t even his fault, except that when he’d been laying on a stretcher and sure his life was over, Sirius had been right there, and Regulus had been in too much pain to lie and say he hadn’t thrown his stick down defending him, so the excuse stuck like a plaster and covered up his own insecurities, only making everything worse.
Regulus punched their mouths together instead of using his fists, whining over his brother’s tongue. Trying to convey what he needed without having to ask for it—by attacking Sirius’ weak spot with his own crumbling defences. He was a man on the strong side of the ice, needing escape, needing Sirius to give it to him.
Sirius didn’t even need to break free of Regulus’ hold to flip them over, straddling him with his knees clamping his naked thighs in one smooth motion. He planted his hands flat on Regulus’ chest, steadying himself as he rocked his hips, the angle burying Regulus’ cock even deeper. Regulus gave a tentative thrust from below, and both of them gasped when it brushed Sirius’ prostate and his whole body spasmed, seizing briefly around him.
“Shit. Yes. Do that again.”
Regulus did, and the two of them quickly found a rhythm that matched and sent them both soaring, a hard and fast race to the finish. Regulus didn’t want to be the first to come, though, so he sat up when he felt his orgasm building, dragging Sirius’ hands behind his back and holding them there against the base of Sirius’ spine while he circled his fingers around his brother’s hard length between them, tightening his grip how he liked it for himself.
“Close,” Sirius rasped, pushing his cock through Regulus’ fist with every upwards thrust.
It was like a domino effect; the way Sirius’ quads tightened brutally, his face screwing up in the pictured of tortured bliss as he fell into Regulus’ lap and ground himself between the cock in his ass and the vice around his own until he came, ropes of come splattering Regulus’ chest and even hitting Sirius’ chin when he swooped down and crashed their mouths together again.
Teeth clashed, hard like helmets on the ice, mildly painful, and that was it for Regulus—the possessive way that Sirius’ body locked up around him sent him tipping over the edge. He bucked into the sensation before going still as waves of pleasure rolled over him, out of him, a warm, buzzing sensation spilling out into his arms and legs. Sirius’ fingers pushed through his hair as he came down from it; Regulus wasn’t sure when he’d released the cuffs, but his arms were locked around his brother’s back, and he was clinging to his chest with his face buried against his neck while he caught his breath.
They were both sweaty and shaking. A bone-deep exhaustion settled in, taking the place of all that fresh thrill that came before. The nerve-wracking way that things had sparked between them at the first flash of those fuck me eyes before. Sirius carefully disentangled himself, letting Regulus’ arms down easy before throwing himself onto his stomach, burying a satisfied groan against the pillows.
“Fuck yeah. Knew you’d be good at that.”
“I didn’t,” Regulus sighed, stretching out his legs. They ached right up into his hips, but not in a bad way. It was more of a sore muscle burn, like the kind left behind after leg day—flexing his injured side, it didn’t feel strained. Actually, his range of motion felt wider, his movements more fluid. Probably because his bones felt like jelly. His physical therapist would be proud.
He cleaned the come off of his chest and laid down next to his brother, clasping his hands to keep himself from reaching for him. He didn’t know if Sirius’ tactile nature extended to post-orgasm intimacy, and he didn’t want to make things awkward, he just hadn’t expected the… hunger… to stick around like it was. The urge to grab him and do what they just did again and again, beg Sirius to teach him other things, everything. He’d been so apathetic to sex before, and now he felt ravenous, excited for it, and they’d only just finished.
And sure, he could go out and get laid—snag himself one of those puck bunnies Sirius mentioned before—that was an option, but he didn’t think it would feel like this with anyone else, or if he could even manage to get it up. Even if he found some bossy, dominant man… it wouldn’t be Sirius. It was Sirius he craved more of; the familiarity and comfort of his brother’s constant presence. He was staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out how to broach the subject when Sirius gave him a shove.
“I can feel you overthinking from here. What’s up?”
“I dunno. That was…”
“Better than you could’ve imagined?”
Regulus blew out a breath. “You don’t need me to stroke your ego.”
“No, but I’ll let you anyway. I’ll even tell you exactly how to do it, Reggie, and you’ll be an expert at stroking me in no time, since you’re such a fast learner.”
He hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to show Sirius’ cock the same level of appreciation as he’d shown his ass, and the idea of taking his time, learning how to make Sirius feel good, had Regulus spent cock twitching between his legs.
Turning his chin over his shoulder, Regulus found Sirius watching him with a look of concern on his face that didn’t match the playful tone of voice. He forced a smile, trying not to let his nerves take hold.
“We might have to do it again, you know. If we win tomorrow…” he didn’t sound very teasing, though he was trying to be light-hearted. Instead he landed somewhere almost apologetic, bracing for Sirius to laugh off his belief in pre-game rituals and remind him that this was just charity, a means to an end.
Sirius wasn’t laughing, though. Not anymore.
He sat up with a shrug.
“You know where to find me before the next game, ice princess.”
Regulus nodded once and looked away, scrubbing his face with his hands. The sounds of the party were filtering back in now that the rush had faded—more muted than before, but still. “I really need to sleep. You said you’d kick everyone out if I played your game.”
“Yeah, I was over the party anyway. I just wanted to play with you,” Sirius shot him a wink as he pulled his clothes back on.
Regulus’ heart fluttered. He got up and did the same, and once they were both dressed and somewhat un-fucked, though not really, Sirius crowded him against the door again.
“Even if you don’t win,” he clarified, pinning Regulus’ hips and brushing his mouth against his ear, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. And I don’t want you doing it with anyone else, either. You have needs, you come find me. Got it?”
“Got it,” Regulus shuddered, relieved when Sirius pushed his tongue back into his mouth, taking the burden of the unknown out of the equation entirely.
He was floating on feel-good endorphins—and hard again—by the time Sirius wrenched him away from the door and threw it open, calling out a booming, “Party’s over!” as he stomped down the stairs.
Dazed, Regulus waltzed back through the house as hoards of drunk college students filtered out. He bumped shoulders with someone coming up from the rec room as he started down the second set of stairs—a tall, lanky someone who’d been playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ with them earlier—looking as flustered as Regulus felt by the sudden collision, his face beet red.
“‘Scuse me,” Remus muttered, only sparing Regulus a glance before casting his gaze to the floor and literally fleeing the house through the kitchen.
“What the fuck?” Regulus steadied himself, continuing down the stairs.
He found the rec room blissfully empty besides James, who was still sitting on the couch alone and staring morosely at the cup he was holding between his legs. He perked up when he saw Regulus snag his discarded cup off the table and knock the rest of it back—taking that drink he’d had to pass on earlier.
“Woooo!” he cheered, though the delight didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Who’s the bird, little Black?”
“Your mom,” Regulus grinned, throwing James the middle finger. The way James’ mouth fell open in shock made him feel as on top of the world as when he managed to net a hat trick. Regulus turned on his heels and went back upstairs, no longer worried about the game tomorrow. They were going to win—he could just feel it—because instead of dirty game socks or taping his stick in a specific pattern, Regulus had something better this season; he had a lucky star.