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“Finally.”
The edge of the bed dipped beneath Sirius’ weight as he leaned back, a freshly lit joint hinged by the corner of his mouth while he used both hands to wrench open his fly and free his rock hard cock from the confines of his dark jeans. He was so pent up that he couldn’t even be bothered to pull them down, let alone get them off before getting a firm hand around himself. He’d do it after—strip down, stretch out, and get comfortable enough to float on the edge of bliss like a brainless mutt in the bog that was his childhood bedroom for hours on the first grassy vacation he’d been able to take since moving home. But for now, he just needed to bust.
Man, did he ever.
He’d only been back home for two weeks, but Sirius already missed the privacy of having his own place. He knew he’d have to behave himself while he was here—that was the deal he’d made, after all. He got his gap years and then he got his shit together, went and got the degree his father chose for him (see: practical) and came home a respectable heir at the rotting age of twenty-six—but it was proving harder than he’d thought it would be. Living with his family again was fucking stressful. School had been stressful too, but at least while he was there he could kick back, smoke up and more importantly, get off whenever he needed to.
Here, he had to settle for half-assed wanks in the shower and absolutely no getting high, because God forbid his mother notice and raise hell about it like he was a teenager all over again, so thank fuck for small mercies that came in the form of a pre-planned holiday for the parentals and pre-purchased joints. As soon as he heard their car leave the garage, Sirius had pulled his stash out of his bedside table, unable to wait any longer.
His pleasure started to peak after only a few pulls on his cock, cottony shivers of his burgeoning high falling down his spine to unfurl low in his belly. His pulse pounded furiously, trapped within his shaft by the adjustable lasso he’d fastened around his base before supper. He shouldn’t wear it for so long, but he wanted to take full advantage of the time his parents would be out of town—and once Sirius got an idea into his head, it was hard to shut it down. The latex was painfully tight now.
Sirius rubbed his palm over his blunt crown, savouring the right hook of an icy sensation that burned outwards and intensified the longer he teased himself. His mind whirled fast through a series of his favourite fantasies, rushing to choose the one he wanted to come to first before he erupted over his knuckles. He was too sober yet to broach anything especially taboo, but when the guilty memory of sliding his cock between his ex-girlfriend’s thighs while she was sleeping off a tequila-soaked stupor flitted through his mind, he latched onto it.
Disregarding the disastrous morning after, where she’d thrown disappointed looks at him from all around the place as she packed her things, Sirius focused on the memory at hand: warm, milky skin around his shaft, the pliant weight of her body as he ground against her, the inevitable jump startle when she’d woken up after the dampness of her panties sucking him in sent him flying over the edge—oh fuck, that feeling, the twisting of his wrist now, as he deftly released the lasso, there it was, almost, soft, sleeping, nearly—
“Shit!” Sirius hissed as the door flung open behind him. He frantically fumbled to tuck his outraged cock back into his jeans before aiming a withering glare over his shoulder, squeezing his bulge into submission when it gave a hearty kick beneath the sharp bite of his zipper because, ah, there was the other source of his homemade frustrations—his thirteen year old brother, Regulus.
Their relationship wasn’t always so strained; the two of them had been thick as thieves when Sirius lived at home. From the time he could crawl, Regulus had been Sirius’ little shadow, and despite their age difference, Sirius hadn’t been like the other teenagers with kid siblings that he knew, who resented the usurpers their parents saddled them with. Sirius loved being an older brother. Right from the start, he’d been intensely proud to stand in front of Regulus against all things: imaginary bears in the backyard, bugs crawling out of the dirt, the world trying to force him into a shape he didn’t fit.
Regulus was the whole reason that Sirius had traded his life away for the gap in his education instead of getting the hell out of dodge as quickly as he could after graduating—he just didn’t have it in himself to leave the kid until he absolutely had to, but when he’d finally had to, well… life happened.
They drifted apart as he drowned in his studies. Sirius still thought—hoped—he’d done enough, made enough of an impression early enough to prevent their parents getting their claws into him, so it’d been a total smack in the face to come home and find the gentle, shy boy who used to cling to his side like he was stuck with glue replaced by a stiff, slant-nosed caricature of their mother.
Sirius hardly recognised him, and it didn’t help that Regulus hadn’t said more than a handful of words to Sirius since he’d been back, always eyeing him dubiously when he thought Sirius wasn’t looking, refusing all of his offers to hang out, and slipping out of any room Sirius entered like he was carrying cooties or some shit. Stealthy, sneaky, taking slow steps backwards that made Sirius itch with the urge to chase him, pin him down wherever he caught him and demand to know what the fuck his problem was—but now was so not the time for him to come around, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he snapped, cringing when it came out harsher than he meant for it to.
Regulus’ nose wrinkled. “It’s only eight. And I smelled something burning…”
Sirius rolled his eyes and took another drag as he kicked off his boots, the sizzle loud and mingling with the sound of his still-pounding heart in his ears.
“You’re smoking again.”
“Never stopped.”
“Is that weed? Are you getting high in here?”
“Bang on, baby brother. You can go away now.”
Plucking the joint out of his mouth, Sirius waved his hand at the door, but instead of scurrying away like Sirius assumed he would, Regulus surprised him by stepping further into the room.
He glanced around, clearly locked in some internal debate, and Sirius couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the vicious way that he tucked into that glossy bottom lip with those sharp teeth of his. Would they tear skin? Till blood? What did he taste like? Probably tart, like teenage angst, that’s why his face was always twisted up in a sneer these days. It was such a shame, because he used to leave such sickly sweet residue on Sirius’ face with all of those childish kisses he would give out like candy…
“Sirius?”
“What?” Sirius’ eyes darted upward, then quickly away from Regulus’ shrewd gaze, fighting the heat creeping up his neck by taking another drag. Could his brother tell what he’d been thinking? What had he been thinking? And why did it make him harder? What the fuck was wrong with him?
He knew, obviously—he was just really horny, and Regulus wouldn’t go the fuck away, he was there, and pretty, and he’d been pissing Sirius off which got his blood all hot and rushing, so…
Regulus huffed, hands clenching irritably at his sides. “Are you even listening to me? I said I want to try.”
Sirius shook his head to clear up some of the filthy mental images conjured up like magic.
“Try what? Weed?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, ‘cuz you’re a kid? Have you even smoked a cigarette before?”
Colour rose to Regulus’ cheeks. He opened his mouth to object, but Sirius cut him off, making a point of raking his gaze over him—from his white ankle socks, past his knobby knees and over the baggy pinstriped pyjama set he had on to his perfectly pouty face, all of it screaming sweet, smoking virgin. Sirius’ cock twitched. Stop looking. Stop looking. Shit…
“Get outta here Reg.”
“No.”
“No?” Sirius resisted the urge to laugh. “I wasn’t fucking asking.”
Regulus’ eyes hardened obstinately. “No. You’re gonna get me high, or I’m calling mum and dad right now and telling them you’re doing drugs in the house.”
“You wouldn’t,” Sirius snarled. Except that he didn’t know Regulus wouldn’t—sure, it used to be them against the world, but not anymore. And the determined look on Regulus’ face told him that oh yes, he absolutely would rat on Sirius if he didn’t get his way.
“Wanna bet?” His brother crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a challenging brow.
Sirius screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, holding it in until the urge to throttle Regulus felt less all-consuming. Painful erection and the probability that he might actually die if he didn’t come soon aside, it couldn’t hurt to let him stay, right? There was no one around to catch them, and sure, introducing Regulus to drugs wasn’t ideal, but it was just a little weed. Maybe it would help dislodge the stick up his arse lately. Plus—this could be the chance he’d been waiting for to reconnect. Far be it from Sirius to look an olive branch in the mouth, or whatever the saying was.
“Well?”
“Yeah, fuck it,” Sirius exhaled and opened his eyes. He was almost positive he was going to regret this. “Shut the door.”
*
“Why can’t I have my own?”
“Because you weigh… what? Forty-five kilos soaking wet? And you’ve never smoked before.” Their sides pressed together as Sirius wrapped an arm around Regulus’ shoulders and held the filtered end of his joint up to his brother’s mouth. “Now come on, be a good boy and pucker your lips like I showed you. That’s it, inhale slowly…”
Regulus ripped away, smothering a coughing fit with his elbow, and Sirius rubbed his back through the right of passage as he took his own hit. It happened to the best of them, he gave his smoke-laced assurances, there was no escaping that first bitter singe of the throat, no matter how prepared you were for it.
“It burns,” his brother croaked, eyes full of unshed tears.
Sirius smothered an inappropriate smile. “You get used to it,” he soothed, but several attempts later, Regulus was only growing more frustrated that he couldn’t master the art of not choking on each drag he tried to take before it had any hope of reaching his chest. His cheeks were all blotchy, and Sirius couldn’t stand it, the soft spot he had for Regulus re-opening like a pit in his stomach, and he was definitely feeling fuzzy, so he wasn’t thinking as clearly as he was before. The room was sufficiently hazy, and sure, he’d hotbox his way to a high in here eventually, but Regulus’ need to relax was so palpable that Sirius felt like he’d have to start doggy-paddling through it soon enough, and he didn’t have the patience to wait.
He just wanted to kick back and feel good—at least, that’s the reason he gave himself for it when he clapped a hand over the back of Regulus’ neck and drew his face in close.
“Okay. Open up.”
Regulus went stiff, blinking slowly at him. “Why?”
“It’ll be easier this way,” Sirius explained, rubbing his thumb and forefinger in jelly smooth circles behind his ears, but looking at Regulus’ downturned mouth, he suddenly wasn’t so sure. Regulus waited, his lips slightly parted, as Sirius brought the joint up and made the end sizzle, the red hot cherry between them. He locked that smoke in his lungs, letting it burn from the inside out as he whispered, “Just trust me and take what I give you. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
On the upsweep of a singular nod from Regulus, Sirius slanted their mouths together, inside of his cheeks tingling. Regulus’ gasp borrowed his exhale beautifully, without resistance, letting it settle in his lungs. By the time he let it go again, it was with a moan so rich that Sirius was sure his tongue struck gold when he licked it off his own lips.
He caught Regulus’ head as it nearly fell backwards over his shoulders. “Mhm… felt that one, didn’t you?”
Regulus’ eyes fluttered open, and Sirius could see it—pupils the size of river rocks, like something inside him had finally shaken loose.
“Can we do that again?” he breathed, scooching closer, and there he was, this was the baby brother that Sirius remembered, warm lips pressing greedy against his own for more of that subdued, streamlined buzz.
*
They wound up talking for hours. Regulus was chatty when he was high, and he rambled for ages about everything and nothing at all, hopping from topic to topic while Sirius listened half-heartedly. He was still so hard. The whole time Regulus was talking about school, and books he’d been reading, and the robotics club he wanted to join next year, Sirius was distracted, watching his mouth move. He’d switched to regular cigarettes once the first joint was gone, just enjoying a mellow rip and the way the smoke curled and danced between them, bitter and bending around his brother’s breath.
“And then Barty’s robot released a mallet from its back and crushed the other one to bits—ah?”
At Regulus’ startled noise, Sirius blinked, and his thumb came away sticky from where he’d reached up and smudged it against Regulus’ lips.
“Why’re you wearing makeup?” he asked, leaning back on his hand so he didn’t do something really stupid, like suck the shiny shit off his thumb. It was bad enough that the taste was still all over his mouth.
Regulus shrugged, expression turning sheepish. He bit down on his lip again, causing a plush swell ‘round his front teeth that went straight through Sirius and landed with a dull thump at the base of his cock. He wanted to be the one biting that lip.
Fuck.
“You don’t like it?”
Double fuck.
How was he even supposed to answer that? Makeup never really interested him; sure, it was hot whenever his ex girlfriend would darken her lashes with some black mascara, or colour her lips ruby red to suck his cock, but he couldn’t say that he really had any strong opinions about the stuff before Regulus walked in wearing lipgloss, and the opinions he was forming now were… inappropriate. Very inappropriate.
He smeared his hand over the duvet.
“I don’t feel any type of way about it,” Sirius answered carefully. He thought that was a safe lie, a smart bluff, but he immediately regretted it when Regulus’ face fell, and he turned away to not-so-subtly scrub the rest of the gloss off of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Hey—wait a second, shit, I didn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Regulus shot to his feet, but he stood up way too fast and immediately swayed.
Sirius snagged his wrist before he could topple backwards. He landed with a grunt across Sirius’ lap, squeezing his watery eyes shut and burying his face against the side of Sirius’ throat.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” He asked, gentler this time, “Why the lipgloss, Reggie?”
Regulus answered after a long moment of stubborn silence. “So my lips don’t get chapped. And it’s nice. Barty gave it to me.”
“And why the fuck is Barty worrying about your lips?” Sirius’ grip tightened a little. Regulus shifted higher up in his lap, curling into him. It was almost like old times—if Sirius could ignore what that weight was doing to him. “This kid… he given’ you shit?”
Regulus peeked out from where he was tucked underneath Sirius’ chin, brows bunched together in a frown. “No?”
Sirius trained his eyes on the ceiling. “Then what? You like him or something?”
“No, jeez. Barty’s just a friend. And he doesn’t treat me like a girl.”
“Well, good. You’re not one.”
“Even if I wanna wear lipgloss?”
Regulus’ voice was so small when he asked—Sirius swallowed thickly and returned his eyes to his brother’s face. “The only thing that would make you a girl is you being one. Are you a girl, Reggie?”
“No.”
“No, I didn’t think so. You’re just a very pretty boy, aren’t you?” Sirius carded his fingers through Regulus’ hair, chest growing tight when his brother melted against him.
Scooting back until his shoulders touched the headboard, Sirius stretched his legs out over the bed and leaned against his pillows, keeping his hand on the back of Regulus’ head.
“Tell me more about the robot with the mallet,” he prompted, watching as the ceiling fan turned and turned in lazy circles overhead, until he was swimming through the bright baby blue pools burned into the back of his mind, body warm beneath his brother’s.
*
“What happened with Marlene?”
Sirius’ fingertips swiped idly from Regulus’ jaw down to the ridge of his collarbone, peeking out from the loose drape of his shirt, the top few buttons undone. His skin was so supple, as soft as warm, buttery ivory, but he had the lower bite of freckles over the hill of his shoulder, like the sun got hungry. Sirius rubbed his thumb over each speck, mouth watering. He was no better than the summer heat. Taking him over, urging him to shed his clothes, causing him to sweat… Their legs were sticking where they were tangled together, jeans and sleep pants left in a pile on the floor.
“What did mum say?”
“That she dumped your arse and ran for the hills.”
Sirius snorted. “She said it like that?”
“No,” Regulus conceded, smirking. “But that was what I heard.”
“Prat.” Sirius dug his fingers into the meat under his arm until Regulus’ flailing nearly made him groan.
“Really,” Regulus prodded his side with his fingers once he stopped. “Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me.”
“I dunno what you want me to say, Reg. You’re not that far off. She told me I was too much and packed her bags,” he sighed, tactfully avoiding the part where Marlene admitted, shame-faced, that the things he wanted from her sexually were really starting to freak her out. Sirius didn’t think his kinks were all that bad, but even he had to admit he had a habit of getting carried away. He’d never hurt her, but he wanted to try things… and he wanted her to want to try them with him, for him, to please him… and yeah, maybe it was a little fucked up to touch her in her sleep, but he hadn’t realised she’d be that grossed out by it. He should’ve asked. He did apologise. She accepted his apology with a pitying look that drove him across the room, where they hugged, and she patted his back and told him he wasn’t a bad guy—he just wasn’t for her.
Sirius didn’t like the way those words still stung like relief. He’d loved Marlene—hadn’t been in love with her, but he’d sort’ve assumed that feeling would come with time. Maybe the stirring of discontent that’d come from making that assumption should’ve been a red flag. The way he sort of dreaded the day he fell head over heels for her the same way he’d watched the days ‘til he got his degree and wound up back under his father’s thumb dwindling into dismal nothing, his freedom wasted away, never feeling quite like wings on his back. But sleeping around never satisfied his need for deeper connection, and Marlene was beautiful. She was blonde and curvy, and he didn’t ache when he looked at her.
Not like he was aching now.
“Her loss,” Regulus whispered.
“Is it?” Sirius attempted to smooth his mouth into a smile. “Some nerve you have to say that when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague since I’ve been home.”
It seemed almost laughable when they were pressed so tight together, with so little space between them, that Regulus had been but a ghost of disapproval in his periphery thus far.
“What was that about, anyway?”
Regulus’ face did something complicated then. His forehead wrinkled and his lips thinned into a frown, but his cheeks betrayed him, cherry powder flush taking over the high points of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He ducked down to hide the reaction, but it was too late. Sirius had already seen it.
“Reg?” Sirius’ smile curled into a real one, a weird, giddy feeling bubbling in his chest. “What? What’d I say?”
“Shut up.”
“No, what—”
“I’m leaving.”
“Your legs don’t work. You told me so yourself.”
Regulus groaned, and Sirius shuffled back up into an upright position to tug his brother’s head back by his hair. He took a fistful of it and yanked, intending to make him answer—but Regulus’ blush deepened and crawled its way across the wire of Sirius’ arousal, jagged inhale hitting his insides just right. There was a slight tremble under his skin, Regulus’ eyes all glassy, red ‘round the edges, body nicotine buzzing.
Their eyes locked, and Regulus had the infuriating audacity to look like he wanted more. The night was barely legal, the feeling mutual… Sirius reached for his stash almost blindly. Once his mouth was wet and sensitive from putting it on his brother’s again and again he asked, disjointed from the first time, “So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been such a little priss, or am I gonna have to torture it out of you?”
So many emotions flitted their way across Regulus’ relaxed features that Sirius got whiplash from watching his blank, freshly blissed-out stare twist, tumble and finally warble into a fit of riotous giggles that his brother buried against his shoulder—still not an answer.
“What’s so funny?” Sirius couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “I’ll do it,” he swore. “I bet you’re still ticklish.”
“Noooo it’s not, it’s not funny, it’s just—” Regulus panted breathlessly, his explanation turning into a pained sound. “You’re a jerk, Sirius. You’re the one who left, you know.”
“Ages ago,” Sirius said dully. The walls in his bedroom were the same deep shade of maroon they’d been since he was fifteen and thought a sexed-up man cave made him more edgy. He found it hard to believe that much had changed in their foundation that his return would crack the years-old fissure between them wide open. “What’s different now?”
There had to be something.
Something he’d said or did, or maybe something their mother said about him that earned such a frigid reception.
“Don’t. Please don’t make me say it,” Regulus’ voice squeaked and broke off. God, he really was so young. He pushed off of his chest, but it cost him whatever precious equilibrium he’d found in Sirius’ arms. Sirius could practically see the intoxication settle in his psyche, late and sinking like lead right into Sirius’ lap, leaving his upper body weightless. “‘M woozy,” he slurred at the middle ground above Sirius’ shoulder.
“Okay, hey, c’mere. We don't have to talk about it.”
Sirius coaxed him back down, relieved when Regulus went with a shaky little sigh, slumping against the slant of his chest.
“Sirius,” he whimpered, clutching at him.
Sirius flattened his hands against his back. “I know, Reggie. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
*
The right side of Regulus’ lower buttocks was sore. Sirius noted passively that every time his hands slid down the smooth expanse of his back and drifted (way too low) over his tiny briefs, his legs tensed around Sirius’ thighs, which in turn caused a delicious pressure to melt outwards from where all of his heat was pressing down against Sirius’ groin.
“‘S where they do my injections,” he mumbled on the fourth pass. Those were fairly new; their mum had told him offhandedly that Regulus’ doctor had recommended that he start testosterone now that his peers would all be firmly in the throes of puberty themselves.
Sirius hummed and pulled him further up his thighs from where he’d sagged lower. The bottom hem of his pyjama shirt had ridden up, radiating warmth that tempted Sirius with each skim of his palms over the strip of skin. Finally, and with the cover of a nice, cottony film over his better judgement, Sirius slipped his hands underneath the fabric.
It was innocent enough at first. Regulus shivered but said nothing as Sirius traced the valley of his spine, paying special attention to the dimples at the very base of it and rubbing soothing circles around the sweet dips with his thumbs.
“‘S this okay?” he checked, getting bolder each time Regulus would sigh, “Yeah,” or, “Mmm,” or Sirius’ personal favourite, “Feels good…”
The smoky sounds of assent were slowly going to his head.
There was something heady about holding Regulus like this; touching, stroking, cupping his hands around his bottom, hooking the waistband of his briefs and bringing them down over the swell, mouthing distractedly at the curve of his jaw with no idea when he started making out with his neck, or when Regulus started moving in his lap, rolling his hips and grinding into him.
“Reg?”
His skin tasted like Sirius’ spit—and faintly coppery.
“Nnn… you make me feel so… so hot all over…”
He was high out of his mind, didn’t know what he was saying, but it all sounded so honest, like there was no point left in lying when the lights were low and his lids were heavy, consciousness on the cusp of some syrupy dream where no consequences could reach him. And Sirius was suddenly so ashamed that it took him this long to consider that the way Regulus had been dodging him might’ve been something completely different to the disgust he’d imagined, but oh, now he was getting it—he’d been a hormonal teenager once himself.
He remembered distinctly being thirteen and skittish, bare-backing his bedsheets after retreating to his room in a frustrated flurry of oh, fuck, she was so hot for the first time. His eyes were blind to the room as he pictured Regulus naked and doing the same, arse up and centre all glistening.
The same scene replayed in his head, over and over and over and over and then his hands were there, peeling him open, spreading a silky wet haven between his brother’s cheeks that he was never meant to know the temptation of—such an oasis that his fingers slipped through the slick folds with ease, burying his digits between bald lips, and Regulus was still clinging to him, hot breath gusting across the sensitive ridge of Sirius’ collarbones, practically begging him to discover more.
It really was all his fault that Regulus had been acting the way he had—he was just freshly coming into himself, and what choice did he have but to avoid it when the ache set in around his older brother, of all people? It was probably so embarrassing and confusing for him. Regulus was growing up now, and his body didn’t care what Sirius was to him in blood, it only knew that they belonged together. Sirius couldn’t bring himself to care either.
“I think… I think I fucked up, baby,” Sirius rasped, nuzzling his cheek to rouse him from his semi-sleep squirming.
“Wha—?”
“I should’ve never left you here all alone. I should’ve stayed longer—should’ve fought to stay. I did this to you, didn’t I? You must’ve been so lonely here without me…”
Regulus whined.
“It’s okay,” Sirius soothed, rubbing wet circles against his cunt. It was all so clear to him. “I’m here now. And you’re still my sweet boy under all that self-righteous bullshit, aren’t you?”
His brother’s legs spread wider around his thighs, knees digging into the mattress as he pushed back into Sirius’ hand. Regulus’ hole sucked the tip of his fingers deeper—he was going to go out of his own skin if he didn’t push his cock through that tight ring very soon, and his mouth just kept moving, sucking his throat raw, as if he was already half-mad.
“Reggie, fuck, can I… I need…”
The yes left his brother’s mouth before Sirius could even form the question—fuzzy blanket permission draped over whatever it was going to be, yes. Regulus was so far gone, he’d let Sirius do anything he wanted to him, and it wasn’t some lethargic resignation he said it with but real desperation; the room was probably still spilling, his small body unable to contain the amount of want building up inside of it. Sirius would take care of him. He would. Regulus didn’t need to lift a finger, he just needed to lay there and let him.
It was like moving through water to get their underwear out of the way, wading through the motions to line his cock up and breach the entrance of his impossibly tight channel—but he was rewarded with the fruits of his labour when he pushed in with a bit more force and felt that first sweet, juicy ripe burst. This was his brother, and he’d loved him since he was nothing but bruised knees and baby teeth, but never like this, this was so much better. Regulus baring down around him, body-locked.
He wasn’t even all the way in; it was just the top third of his shaft buried between his brother’s legs, but it was better than any other sex he’d ever had; experiencing the easy, overwhelming pleasure of thrusting shallowly into someone who never pulled away, who didn’t tense up when he touched him, and Sirius sat there against his pillows and edged himself with short strokes and the way Regulus’ sighs and small, subconscious shifts to get comfortable caused bands of colour to streak across the backs of his eyelids for truly ages, time bending differently since he’d been so close to the brink for so long.
Using Marlene’s thighs paled in comparison to this; to the total submission Regulus was showing him. Sirius kissed his ear for it, his jaw, his slack lips. His hands massaged his cheeks and guided Regulus’ body to keep grinding against him, inner walls clinging to his shaft and sending little lightning bolts of pleasure rippling down his spine, and he felt so good, Sirius’ balls tightened with every inch of ground he gained; not that there was an abundance to parse through to begin with, but it was Regulus’ virginity he was claiming, and what he lacked in development he made up for by being totally and completely his.
Sirius was practically floating outside of himself, buried in his brother and humping mindlessly against the blunt stop of his cervix when he came, white-hot watering him deep and panting, “Fuck, fuck yes baby, taking me so good, take it.”
He stayed hard even after emptying a load inside him—so damn horny and in no rush for the silky satisfaction of using Regulus like a stim toy to end. His come oozed out around his shaft, and Sirius stuffed it back in, shuddering each time until the oversensitivity gave way to reanimated arousal, and he was fucking him again, arms locked around his shoulders and hips driving up, up, up at a far more frantic pace, punching choppy sounds of pleasure out from the pit of Regulus’ belly.
His jaw hung open, and Sirius sucked his tongue into his mouth and kissed him squarely, wanting to swallow him whole. The room blurred as he rolled Regulus onto his back. He was sprawled out, arms flopping uselessly at his sides, hair strewn across his face, and Sirius knelt between his legs and thumbed through the sticky mess of his first release, using his own come to slick up his brother’s mound. He was fascinated by his baby smooth skin; in comparison, Sirius’ groin was dark, coarse hair curling a little around his base and growing down from his stomach in a sweat-damp trail the same colour as they shared on their heads. Sirius pushed Regulus’ pyjama shirt up to reveal his pert chest and similarly hairless underarms, amused by the lack and turned on by the way it all felt under his palms.
He must wax. The glow would be concerning for his age otherwise. Sirius groped one tit while he returned his other hand to his brother’s cunt, the heel of it sliding down the swollen hood, so easy to find and fondle.
Regulus clenched around him, making Sirius moan.
“Gonna make you come, baby…”
His brother’s fingers flexed and tugged at Sirius’ sheets as his pleasure mounted, Sirius still inside of him and his palm rocking over the fat bundle of nerves crowning the intrusion while he pinched and pulled at his nipple. He was so green and Sirius wanted to feel him fucking quaking.
When a loose and lengthy, “Daddy—” left his brother’s lips as he came, Sirius’ vision blacked out. He pushed Regulus’ straining knees up to his waist and dropped his body, bringing them chest to chest and finally fucking him into the mattress with the same wild abandon as he’d envisioned pinning him down before.
“Daddy—”
“Daddy—”
“Daddy—” was going to be the bloody death of him.
The way it fell from Regulus’ lips like a plea; his laced up little brother wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. Was it porn that he got that from, or was it just instinctive? Sirius had always been the stepping stone between him and everyone else, even their parents. Now puberty was hitting him hard like a hammer to the plug wedged right through Regulus’ pre-cracked core, and it was Sirius that was first in line to fill the gaps—fill him right the fuck up.
Sirius buried his face against the side of his brother’s head and lurched from the force of his orgasm, a deeper and more satisfying shock wave than even the first. They were never gonna be able to come back from this, from the way his cock dragged against Regulus’ insides and coated them in him, in his spend, so thick and damning that if Regulus hadn’t been on puberty blockers so early, they definitely could’ve had an extra special extension of their love for the world to see in ten months time. A pretty little bundle with a head full of pure black hair and bright blue eyes to tie them together forever. Sirius’ shoulders trembled as he pictured the flat belly heaving beneath his own bloated with his baby.
It was mostly the weed talking, but it was still loud in his ears for as long as he lay there, going soft and slipping out of his brother’s well fucked hole; the fucked up desire to trap him making the process slow.
This was all so messy.
Sirius peeled himself off of Regulus and snagged another joint, sitting on the edge of the bed beside his brother, who was disheveled, well-fucked and raw between his legs, sleeping peacefully in a growing puddle of their mixed release. His undies were still hanging from one ankle. And because Regulus was so out of it, and Sirius was in too deep, he started feeling him up again, eventually swaying onto his knees, laying his sticky cock across Regulus’ slack face and rubbing it into his hot cheeks. Regulus turned restlessly—not away from him, but onto his side, burrowing deeper into Sirius’ balls. Sirius lit up while he carded his hand through Regulus’ hair.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathed out. “Get familiar with it…”
*
Come morning, Sirius had only slept a little, too busy indulging every small urge where Regulus was concerned to actually get any shut-eye, but he’d sobered up enough to attempt to get his wet noodle of a baby brother into the shower. Regulus was dead to the world, he was no help at all, hanging from his arms around Sirius’ neck while Sirius did all the work, but nothing could’ve wiped away the friction rashes all over him, or the kisses bitten into his throat deep enough to bruise, and Sirius couldn’t resist putting another load into him post-shower (and on top of his freshly changed sheets) anyway.
The room still stunk of sweat and sex and weed, even with the windows opened and the morning birdsong spilling in. Regulus was awake by that point, still bleary, but he arched into Sirius’ touches and even left a hickey of his own under Sirius’ jaw while he writhed against him, mumbling dazedly, so thoroughly claimed inside and out that there was no room left for any shyness. He called Sirius Daddy with more intention behind the word, repeating it in breathy whispers when Sirius begged him to—when he promised to take care of him, and made him come hard enough to see stars.
The high wore off over the course of the day, but Regulus remained as docile as a kitten, practically dick-drunk from the constant heavy petting. He was all soft smiles and tucked into Sirius’ side, happy to be fed from his fingers and whining when Sirius got up to use the toilet or refresh the cold rag he’d been holding against Regulus’ forehead in between turning up the heat between them, intimacy as illicit as touching the thermostat downstairs. Their parents would have a hernia if they came back tomorrow and found them hot and horny like this, but Sirius couldn’t help himself. His side felt cold without him now, but he didn’t expect it to actually last; Regulus would need to be hung out to dry pretty soon.
When everything went back to normal, would Regulus wind up feeling some type of way about what Sirius had done to him while he was under the influence? Even if he didn’t, the best case scenario was likely that they just went back to being brothers, sweeping everything under the rug—and the thought turned his stomach, but Sirius could let it lie if only for Regulus’ sake. He still wanted to do bastardly things to him, but he didn’t want to lose him.
He probably should’ve thought of that before sticking his dick into him.
“Why’re you looking at me like that?”
Sirius met his brother’s gaze over the ridge of his soft cock tucked into his boxers. Regulus’ cheek was creased from napping with his head against Sirius’ thigh while Sirius scrolled through his socials and tried to ignore the mounting feeling of impending doom. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d set his phone aside and was staring down at him like a creep.
Regulus’ scowl deepened.
“Earth to Sirius. Helloooo…”
Sirius pushed his thumb into his warm, wet mouth, watching as Regulus’ eyes rolled back, whiting out.
“I wanna fuck your throat,” he rasped.
Cheeks hollowing around his digit, Regulus moaned.
*
Their parents brought dinner home with them. The four of them sat around the dining room table while they talked about their trip, about the lodge they stayed at and the beautiful weather and the private chef—Sirius heard none of it, picking at his food and taking bites in between stealing glances at his brother across the table.
Regulus was wearing a hoodie pulled up over his head to cover the extent of Sirius’ lust, and he was slouching in his chair, phone in his hand. Sirius never would’ve gotten away with that at his age, but it seemed some of the house rules had relaxed since he went away. Regulus raised a questioning brow when he caught him looking, and Sirius lowered his eyes back to his plate. They hadn’t spoken since he’d finally trudged out of Sirius’ room to shower off all the sex, and Sirius was sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He felt like he was a kid again; one who’d repeatedly dipped his hand into the cookie jar and left the crumbs of his crimes everywhere, all over his brother.
“So what did you two get up to?”
Walburga’s shrewd eyes narrowed between them.
“The house is suspiciously clean…”
Sirius opened his mouth to answer when a socked foot pushed between his knees, toes searching and pressing into the meat of his inner thigh. He startled, heart leaping into his throat as he caught Regulus’ ankle and sat there under his mother’s scrutiny, positive the guilt was written all over him.
“We—uhh—”
“We had a movie marathon in the lounge,” Regulus shrugged, aiming a lopsided smile Sirius’ way as his foot rubbed between his legs. “There’s probably still popcorn under the couch. Right, Sirius?”
He nodded lamely.
“You better take the vacuum to it,” their father grunted. “We don’t want to be getting ants.”
“Sure,” Sirius muttered.
Regulus’ toes nudged his rapidly hardening cock before falling away. Their mother didn’t even ask what movies they watched—what the fuck? It was like he was stuck in the Twilight Zone or something.
*
The knock on his bedroom door came two hours after their parents went to bed. Sirius would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting it—only because he was still reeling from Regulus’ sneaky teasing of him at dinner. His brother slipped into his room and shut the door with his shoulders, the lock turning quietly into place.
Sirius was fresh from a shower, towel slung low around his hips. Regulus flushed as he took in his bare chest as if it was the first time, and it hadn’t only been a single evening since they’d both been naked in his bed. It was still unmade—Sirius was pretty sure his brother’s pyjama shirt was balled up somewhere under the covers, probably come-stained.
He wasn’t wearing pyjamas now; at least, not any of his matching sets. No, Regulus’ pale legs stood out from one of Sirius’ old band t-shirts, stolen from his closet, which stopped at mid-thigh and drowned his narrow figure until he twisted the hem of it with his fidgety hands, and it pulled up, showing off another pair of his white briefs.
Sirius wrenched his eyes away from his brother’s crotch before he indulged any of his many ideas, but it wasn’t very helpful. Regulus’ neck was covered in love bites like he was wearing a red and purple collar in the chain-shape of Sirius’ lips, and God help him, but he wanted to tug at it with his teeth. He really wasn’t usually such a pervert—only, Regulus seemed to inspire all of his wildest desires, like someone had handed him a key to the wretched domain that held them. A key he didn’t seem keen on returning. He watched as Sirius dropped his towel and dragged on a pair of joggers.
“What’s up?” Sirius asked, trying to keep his tone casual. Light. He was not thinking about putting the thirteen year old in front of him on his knees and smudging the sticky shit shining across his apple red lips.
“Nothing,” Regulus said, and then added, “I’m bored. What’re you doing?”
“I was probably just gonna go to bed. Dad wants me to go in to work with him tomorrow…”
It was time Sirius started putting his degree to good use, he’d said.
“Why?”
“I thought we could hang out.” Regulus eyed his nightstand obviously, and Sirius cringed.
“We can’t smoke when they’re home, Reg. Mum will rip me a new one if she finds out I got you high…”
Regulus needed to stop looking at him like that; mouth all plump and pouty, such a far cry from threatening to dog him in when he didn’t get his way. “Okay,” he said slowly, like he was drawing Sirius into the point. “We can do the other things though, right?”
“Other things,” Sirius repeated tonelessly.
“Yeah, you know… unless you don’t want to?” At his stunned silence, Regulus shied away. “Actually, never mind, this was stupid, of course you don’t—”
Sirius was on him quicker than he could get the door open, flattening his hand against the wood over his brother’s shoulder and pinning him against it with his hips.
Regulus sucked in a breath and held very, very still.
Pretty, perfect little lamb that he was—Sirius wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity, no way.
“We have to be quiet,” he warned.
His brother’s lashes fluttered.
“And we have to keep our clothes on… just in case. We can’t get caught, baby…”
Regulus shook his head–silent ‘we won’t’, back to begging with those cute, nonverbal cues.
“And one more thing...” Sirius bent down, pressing a kiss to the soft spot below his brother’s ear. He steeled himself to add importantly, “You have to tell me… if I’m being too much… I won’t be upset with you, I just don’t want to do anything you don’t like, okay?”
“Okay,” Regulus whispered. Cool fingers drifted over Sirius’ stomach, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Will you play with me in my sleep again, Daddy?”
“You want that?” Sirius leaned back to look him in the eyes. Big, blown out baby blues sparkled back at him.
Yes.