Twelve Years South

Sirius has spent twelve years searching for Regulus.

When he finally traces him to a sunlit house in a Brazilian beach town, he expects answers, anger, maybe a reunion painful enough to crack him open. What he does not expect is Regulus grown up, gorgeous, tanned, sharp-mouthed, and standing in the doorway like every lost year has learned how to haunt him beautifully.

The door opens. The past comes rushing back. And Sirius, for once in his life, has no intention of letting go.

Work Text:

Before there had been silence, there had been Sirius and Regulus.

There had never seemed to be any space between them when they were children. Not enough for another person to stand in, not enough for a hand to slip through, not enough for Walburga’s sharp voice or the stiff-backed rules of the Black family to wedge them apart.

Where Sirius went, Regulus followed.

If Sirius sat at the long dining table, swinging his legs beneath a chair too tall for him, Regulus dragged his own chair across the polished floor until it knocked against Sirius’s.

“Reggie,” Sirius would whisper, even though they were already close enough that their shoulders touched. “You’re squashing me.”

Regulus would stare at the considerable stretch of empty chair still available to Sirius.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m little.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t squash people.”

“It does.”

“How?”

“Because I said.”

Sirius, already incapable of refusing him anything, would sigh with theatrical suffering and lift one arm.

“All right, then. Come here.”

Regulus would immediately abandon his own chair altogether and climb into Sirius’s lap, tucking himself against the taller boy as though that had been the plan from the beginning. Sirius would hold him around the middle with one arm while reaching awkwardly for his spoon with the other.

“You have your own breakfast,” Sirius would complain.

“Yours is better.”

“It’s the same.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It came out of the same bowl.”

Regulus would open his mouth expectantly.

Sirius would roll his eyes and feed him anyway.

If Sirius went to the library, Regulus went to the library.

If Sirius climbed beneath a table to hide from a lesson, Regulus crawled in after him and pressed himself against Sirius’s side.

If Sirius was punished and sent upstairs, Regulus waited outside the door until Sirius was allowed out again.

If Sirius ran through the halls, Regulus ran behind him, smaller legs struggling to keep up until Sirius inevitably heard his breathless little voice.

“Sirius!”

He always stopped.

No matter how fast he was running. No matter how much trouble was chasing him. No matter who was shouting after them.

Sirius always stopped.

He would turn to find Regulus hurrying towards him, dark curls bouncing, small face pinched with determination.

“You’re too fast,” Regulus would accuse.

“You’re too slow.”

Regulus would glare at him.

Sirius would crouch with his back turned.

“Come on, then.”

The glare vanished instantly.

Regulus would scramble onto him, arms wrapping around Sirius’s neck, little legs locking around his waist. Sirius would hook his hands beneath Regulus’s knees and stand, carrying him as though he weighed nothing at all.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“You could say thank you.”

“No.”

“Rude.”

“Go faster.”

“You are the most demanding person I’ve ever met.”

“Go faster, Sirius.”

Sirius would grin.

Then he would run.

Regulus would squeal into his shoulder, clinging tighter while Sirius tore through the house with him on his back, skidding around corners and nearly colliding with furniture. They would be breathless by the time they hid themselves away somewhere, Sirius laughing too loudly and Regulus pressing both hands over Sirius’s mouth.

“Shh!”

“You’re the one who screamed.”

“You ran too fast.”

“You told me to.”

“You should know when I’m wrong.”

“I’m not a mind-reader, Reggie.”

“You’re Sirius.”

As though that explained everything.

Perhaps, to Regulus, it did.

Sirius was the one who knew when Regulus was tired before Regulus admitted it. Sirius knew which foods he would refuse, which fabrics made him itch, which rooms frightened him after dark, which stories calmed him, which lies he told when he was upset, which expression meant he was about to cry and which meant he was about to bite somebody.

Sirius tied his shoes.

Sirius fastened the buttons he could not reach.

Sirius brushed knots from his curls while Regulus sat between his knees and complained that he was pulling too hard.

“I’m barely touching you.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re mean.”

Sirius would immediately become gentler.

“Sorry.”

Regulus would settle again, mollified by the apology he had expected to receive.

At night, it was Sirius who found him standing in the doorway with his pillow clutched against his chest.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Sirius would whisper.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

Regulus would glance back into the dark corridor.

“I heard something.”

“It was probably the house.”

“The house doesn’t breathe.”

Sirius would stare at him.

Regulus would stare back.

Then Sirius would lift the covers.

“Get in.”

Regulus always did.

He curled close, pressing his cold feet against Sirius’s legs until Sirius hissed.

“Reggie!”

“They’re cold.”

“I noticed.”

“Warm them.”

“With what?”

“You.”

“That isn’t how people ask for things.”

Regulus would tuck his face beneath Sirius’s chin.

“Please.”

Sirius would grumble, wrap both arms around him, and pull him closer.

They slept tangled together, Regulus’s hand fisted in Sirius’s nightshirt, Sirius’s chin resting against his hair. Even asleep, Regulus clung. Even asleep, Sirius held on.

When Regulus woke from nightmares, Sirius whispered until he calmed.

When Sirius woke angry, Regulus patted his face with a small, solemn hand until Sirius laughed despite himself.

They had been inseparable enough that even their arguments rarely survived more than a few minutes.

“You broke it,” Sirius accused once, holding up the snapped remains of something he had been hiding beneath his bed.

“I didn’t.”

“You’re the only person who knew it was there.”

“I didn’t break it.”

“Then what happened?”

Regulus crossed his arms.

“It broke.”

“By itself?”

“Yes.”

“Reggie.”

“It was badly made.”

“You stepped on it.”

“It shouldn’t have been on the floor.”

“It was under my bed!”

“That’s part of the floor.”

Sirius glared.

Regulus’s lower lip trembled.

Sirius lasted less than three seconds.

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That face.”

“What face?”

“The sad one.”

“I’m not sad.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“No, I’m not.”

Sirius threw the broken thing aside and opened his arms.

Regulus climbed into them immediately.

“You’re still annoying,” Sirius muttered into his curls.

“You’re still mean.”

“I’m hugging you.”

“You can be mean while hugging.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Regulus tightened his arms around him.

Sirius held him tighter in return.

Walburga watched all of it.

She watched Regulus refuse to sit unless Sirius was beside him. She watched Sirius interrupt lessons because Regulus was tired. She watched Regulus hide behind Sirius whenever voices rose. She watched Sirius answer questions on his behalf, carry him despite being told to put him down, slip treats into his hands, take punishments meant for him, and glare at anyone who made Regulus uncomfortable.

She watched them whisper in corners.

She watched them sleep curled together.

She watched Regulus reach for Sirius without looking, certain he would always be there.

She watched Sirius bend his entire young life around keeping that certainty intact.

She hated it.

At first, her objections came in clipped remarks.

“Regulus has legs, Sirius. Put him down.”

“He’s tired.”

“He can walk.”

“He doesn’t want to.”

“That is irrelevant.”

“It isn’t irrelevant to him.”

Then came the separate chairs.

The separate lessons.

The separate rooms.

The locked doors.

Regulus cried the first night Sirius was forbidden from letting him into his bed.

Sirius heard him from across the corridor.

“Sirius!”

His voice was thin through the door.

“Sirius, open it.”

“I can’t.”

“Open the door!”

“It’s locked.”

“Use magic.”

“I’m trying.”

Sirius had not known enough. He had muttered every word he could remember, pointed his stolen wand at the lock, kicked the door, shoved his shoulder against it until it hurt.

On the other side, Regulus sobbed.

“Sirius!”

“I’m here.”

“Let me in.”

“I’m trying, Reggie.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll get it open.”

“You promised.”

“I know.”

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You are!”

“I’m right here.”

“I can’t see you!”

Sirius had slid down the door until he sat against it, pressing both palms flat to the wood.

“Put your hand on the door.”

“What?”

“Put your hand where mine is.”

“You don’t know where mine is.”

“Middle. Near the bottom.”

There had been a pause.

Then a faint scrape from the other side.

“Is it there?” Sirius asked.

“Yes.”

“Mine too.”

Regulus sniffed.

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“Don’t move.”

“I won’t.”

Sirius slept against the door that night.

So did Regulus.

Walburga found them in the morning, one child on either side of the locked wood, each with a palm pressed against the same place.

After that, her disgust stopped being quiet.

“It is shameful,” she said.

Sirius stood with Regulus behind him, one small hand curled into the back of Sirius’s shirt.

“He was frightened.”

“He is always frightened because you encourage weakness in him.”

“I don’t.”

“You coddle him.”

“He’s little.”

“He is not an infant.”

“He’s still little.”

“And you are teaching him that he is incapable of surviving without you.”

Sirius lifted his chin.

“He doesn’t have to survive without me.”

Walburga’s expression hardened.

Behind Sirius, Regulus’s fingers tightened.

“You see?” she said. “That. That is precisely what I mean.”

“What?”

“This revolting dependence.”

Sirius flinched at the word revolting, but did not move aside.

“He loves me.”

“He worships you. There is a difference.”

Regulus peered around Sirius’s arm.

“I don’t worship him.”

Walburga’s eyes snapped towards him.

Regulus immediately disappeared behind Sirius again.

Sirius spread his arms a little wider, shielding him.

“You are corrupting one another,” Walburga said coldly. “He has no discipline because you indulge every whim. You have no respect because you are too occupied playing his servant.”

“I’m not his servant.”

“No. You are worse. A servant can be dismissed.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched.

Regulus tugged his shirt.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Sirius heard the fear in it and swallowed everything he wanted to say.

Walburga saw that too.

She saw that one quiet word from Regulus could leash every fury inside Sirius. She saw how Sirius looked back immediately, how his face softened, how his entire body turned towards the smaller child.

She saw it.

And decided it had to end.

Sirius remembered the morning Regulus was taken in pieces.

A small trunk by the door.

Regulus wearing his best clothes.

Alphard waiting.

Walburga standing straight-backed and unmoved.

Sirius coming down the stairs too quickly, still pulling on one shoe.

“What’s happening?”

No one answered him.

Regulus looked pale.

Sirius stared at the trunk.

“Why is Reggie’s stuff down here?”

“Sirius,” Alphard began.

“Why is his stuff down here?”

Regulus moved towards him.

Walburga caught his shoulder.

Sirius stopped dead.

“Let him go.”

“Sirius.”

“Let him go.”

Regulus twisted beneath her hand.

“Sirius.”

That was all it took.

Sirius rushed forward.

Walburga pushed him back before he could reach Regulus.

He stumbled, caught himself, and immediately lunged again.

“What are you doing?”

“Regulus is leaving.”

The world had gone soundless.

Sirius looked at her.

Then at Alphard.

Then at Regulus.

“Leaving where?”

“To live with your uncle.”

“For how long?”

Walburga did not answer.

Sirius’s stomach dropped.

“For how long?”

“This arrangement is permanent.”

“No.”

Regulus made a small sound.

Sirius shook his head.

“No.”

“It has already been decided.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“You are a child. You do not decide anything.”

“He can’t go.”

“He can.”

“No, he can’t.”

“He will.”

Regulus tore free of Walburga’s hand and ran.

Sirius caught him so hard they nearly fell together. Regulus climbed him like he had done a thousand times before, arms crushing around Sirius’s neck, legs locking around his waist. Sirius held him beneath the thighs, staggering back, trying to keep him out of everyone else’s reach.

“No,” Sirius said again.

His voice broke.

Regulus buried his face against Sirius’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You’re not going.”

“She said I have to.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. I won’t let you.”

“Sirius.”

“I’ll hide you.”

“Where?”

“In my room. Under the bed. I’ll bring you food.”

“They’ll find me.”

“Then somewhere else.”

“Sirius.”

“We can leave.”

Regulus pulled back enough to look at him, wet-eyed and terrified.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ll find somewhere.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius,” Alphard said quietly.

“Don’t.”

“You cannot take him anywhere.”

“I can.”

“You are six years old.”

“I don’t care.”

“You have no money.”

“I’ll steal it.”

“Sirius.”

“I said don’t!”

Regulus flinched at the shout.

Sirius immediately lowered his voice.

“Sorry. Sorry, Reggie. I wasn’t shouting at you.”

“I know.”

“I won’t let them take you.”

Walburga seized Sirius by the back of his shirt.

He screamed.

Regulus screamed louder.

Hands dragged them apart.

Sirius kicked, bit, clawed, and twisted so violently that someone lost their grip for half a second. He reached Regulus again, caught his hand, held on with everything he had.

Regulus’s fingers were small and damp inside his.

“Sirius!”

“I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let go!”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t let go!”

“I won’t!”

Their hands slipped.

Sirius caught his fingertips.

Then only two fingers.

Then one.

Then nothing.

Regulus was pulled away.

Sirius hit the floor and scrambled after him.

“Reggie!”

Regulus was sobbing now, reaching back over Alphard’s shoulder as he was carried towards the door.

“Sirius!”

“I’ll find you!”

“Sirius!”

“I’ll come and get you!”

The door opened.

Regulus’s face was red and wet, his mouth open around another cry.

“I promise!” Sirius screamed. “Reggie, I promise!”

Then the door closed.

For twelve years, Sirius remembered the sound it made.

Not a slam.

Not anything dramatic enough to deserve haunting him.

Just the ordinary, solid click of a door shutting.

Regulus vanished behind it.

At first, Sirius waited for him to come home.

He waited through breakfast.

Through lessons.

Through dinner.

Through the first night.

He slept against Regulus’s old bedroom door because his own room felt wrong without a smaller body curled against him.

In the morning, he asked when Regulus was coming back.

Walburga ignored him.

He asked again.

She told him never.

He refused to believe her.

For weeks, he stole parchment and wrote letters.

REGGIE,

I AM COMING TO GET YOU. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. I AM FINDING OUT WHERE YOU ARE.

SIRIUS

He wrote another the next day.

REGGIE,

ARE YOU SLEEPING ALL RIGHT? UNCLE ALPHARD BETTER LET YOU SLEEP WITH A LIGHT. I TOLD HIM YOU DO NOT LIKE THE DARK. I MISS YOU.

SIRIUS

Then another.

REGGIE,

I FOUND THE THING YOU BROKE. I AM NOT ANGRY ANYMORE. I WASN’T REALLY ANGRY BEFORE. YOU CAN BREAK THE REST WHEN YOU COME BACK.

SIRIUS

And another.

REGGIE,

I AM STILL HERE.

SIRIUS

He never received an answer.

He did not know whether the letters were sent.

He suspected they were not.

As he grew older, the questions changed.

Where was Alphard living?

Why was no one permitted to tell him?

Why did every mention of Regulus end with a warning?

Why did the family speak as though Regulus had been placed somewhere distant enough to become irrelevant?

Sirius made him relevant.

He carved Regulus’s name into the underside of his desk.

He kept the little wooden figure Regulus had broken.

He hid one of Regulus’s old jumpers beneath his mattress until it stopped smelling like him.

When Sirius went to Hogwarts, some foolish, stubborn part of him believed Regulus might appear there eventually.

He watched every new student who crossed the Great Hall.

He searched every small, dark-haired face.

He was only eleven himself, but he counted the years.

Next year.

Regulus would be old enough next year.

Throughout Sirius’s second year, he waited.

He stood on the platform before the start of term and watched every family pass through the barrier. He looked for Alphard. He looked for Regulus. He looked for the child he remembered, although he knew Regulus would not be so little anymore.

On the night of the Sorting, Sirius barely heard the names before Regulus’s place in the alphabet.

He sat rigidly at the Gryffindor table.

His palms sweated.

His heart hammered.

Black.

The surname would be called.

Regulus would walk in.

He would see Sirius.

Perhaps he would be angry. Perhaps he would cry. Perhaps he would run across the Great Hall without waiting to be Sorted.

Sirius would catch him.

He had imagined that part most clearly.

Regulus running.

Sirius catching him.

The names moved past B.

No Regulus.

Sirius stayed staring at the doors long after the last first-year sat down.

He waited the next morning too.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Regulus never came.

By the time Sirius was fifteen, grief had hardened into something meaner.

He ran away from home with a bag slung over one shoulder and Regulus’s name still burning in the oldest part of him.

He searched whenever he could.

Not carefully at first.

He demanded information from people who refused to give it. He searched names in family records. He opened letters that were not his. He listened outside doors. He chased rumours that led nowhere.

Alphard had left Britain.

That was all anyone would say.

Sirius did not know when.

He did not know where.

He did not know whether Regulus had gone with him.

He did not know whether Regulus remembered him.

That was the question that hurt worst.

Not whether Regulus was alive.

Sirius refused to imagine otherwise.

Not whether Regulus was safe.

Alphard had taken him, and Sirius clung to the belief that Alphard would not have harmed him.

But memory was a delicate thing.

Regulus had been so young.

Six years was long enough to love someone entirely.

Twelve years was long enough to forget.

Sirius finished Hogwarts at eighteen and gave himself no more excuses.

He had spent years waiting for information to fall into his hands.

It never had.

So he hunted it.

Months passed in a blur of records, arguments, closed doors, half-truths, and family accounts. Sirius followed every thread. Alphard’s name appeared and disappeared through old transactions. His grandparents still had contact with him. That much became obvious when Sirius found references to gifts, withdrawals, international transfers, and accounts he was never meant to see.

Gringotts gave away what the family would not.

Brazil.

Alphard had moved there years ago.

Regulus had gone with him.

Sirius stared at the evidence until the writing blurred.

Brazil.

For twelve years, Regulus had been on the other side of the world.

Alive.

Somewhere real.

Somewhere Sirius could reach.

He found the address written among account documents, copied it onto a folded piece of parchment, and left before anyone could discover what he had done.

Now, with the Brazilian sun burning across his shoulders and the sea breathing somewhere nearby, Sirius walked through the streets of Búzios with the address clenched in one hand.

It was hotter than he had expected.

Everything seemed bright enough to sting. White walls reflected the afternoon light. Flowering plants spilled over fences in fierce bursts of colour. The air carried salt, sun-warmed stone, and the faint sweetness of something Sirius could not name.

His shirt clung to the centre of his back beneath the straps of his backpack.

He had been walking in the wrong direction for twenty minutes before realising he had passed the same painted wall twice.

“Brilliant,” he muttered, stopping beneath the thin shade of a tree. “Absolutely brilliant. Cross an ocean, survive international Portkeys, get defeated by one bloody street.”

He unfolded the parchment again.

The ink had begun to smudge where his fingers kept pressing into it.

He read the address for what had to be the hundredth time.

Then he looked up at the house numbers.

“No. No, that’s forty-two. I need—”

He turned the parchment upside down.

Stared.

Turned it back.

“Right. That explains nothing.”

A bead of sweat travelled down his temple. Sirius wiped it away impatiently and continued walking.

His heart had been beating too quickly since he arrived in town.

He told himself it was the heat.

It was not.

Every step brought him closer to something he had imagined for most of his life. The thought had become enormous inside him, too large to examine directly.

Regulus.

His little Reggie.

Not little anymore.

Sirius tried to picture him at eighteen.

The image refused to form properly.

Sometimes he imagined the same small child stretched taller, still pale, still solemn, still watching Sirius with grave grey eyes.

Sometimes he imagined a stranger.

Would Regulus recognise him?

Sirius had changed. He was taller, broad through the shoulders, his hair long enough to brush the collar of his shirt. There was a small scar near his chin that had not existed when Regulus last saw him. He no longer looked like the boy who had carried Regulus through hallways and promised to come back.

Would Regulus remember that promise?

Would he hate Sirius for taking twelve years to keep it?

Sirius gripped the parchment harder.

“I was six,” he muttered. “You can hardly blame me for not mastering international travel at six.”

A sharp little voice in his own head answered that Regulus might.

Regulus had always expected Sirius to be capable of anything.

You’re Sirius.

As though that had been enough.

Sirius swallowed.

“What am I even going to say?”

He looked ahead as if the street might answer.

Hello, Reggie. Sorry I’m late.

Terrible.

I crossed an ocean because our mother was a lunatic and I missed you.

Worse.

Do you remember me?

He hated that one enough to stop walking.

For a moment, Sirius stood completely still while people moved somewhere farther down the street and the leaves above him stirred in the sea breeze.

Do you remember me?

He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest.

“Of course he remembers me.”

The certainty sounded fragile aloud.

Sirius started walking again.

He checked every number.

Forty-six.

Forty-eight.

Fifty.

His pace slowed.

The next house sat a little farther back from the street, partially concealed behind a low wall and an open gate. It was gorgeous. Pale walls. Wide windows. Dark wood. Greenery crowded around it, lush and bright, with flowers climbing near the entrance. Sunlight lay warm across the front path.

Sirius looked at the number.

Then at the parchment.

Then back at the number.

His entire body went cold despite the heat.

“This is it.”

The words barely left him.

He stood outside the gate, staring.

Twelve years.

Twelve years of doors shutting.

Twelve years of asking.

Twelve years of searching crowds for a face that never appeared.

Regulus was inside that house.

Perhaps.

Sirius’s mouth went dry.

He took one step through the gate.

Then another.

The backpack suddenly felt absurdly heavy. He slipped it from one shoulder, adjusted it, then put it back exactly as it had been.

He looked down at himself.

His clothes were creased from travelling. His boots were dusty. His hair was a disaster.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Exactly how a person should look while returning from the dead.”

He dragged both hands through his hair.

That made it worse.

He tried to smooth it back down.

That also made it worse.

Sirius glared at his reflection in one of the windows.

“Stop.”

His reflection did not.

He approached the door.

His hand lifted.

Stopped before his knuckles touched the wood.

What if Alphard answered?

What if Regulus was not home?

What if the address was old?

What if Regulus opened the door, stared at him, and felt nothing?

Sirius closed his eyes.

For one second, he was six again, his fingers slipping from Regulus’s hand.

Don’t let go.

I won’t.

He knocked.

Three times.

The sound seemed deafening.

Sirius dropped his hand and stepped back.

He waited.

Nothing.

He listened.

There was movement somewhere inside.

His pulse leapt.

Footsteps approached the door.

Sirius’s grin appeared before he could stop it, wide and helpless. His eyes burned. He dragged in a breath and held it.

The handle turned.

The door opened.

Sirius froze.

The person standing there was not Alphard.

It was not the solemn, dark-haired boy Sirius had spent the entire journey trying and failing to imagine.

It was—

Holy fucking hell.

The person in the doorway was shorter than Sirius, with warm, tanned skin and dark curls falling around a face so beautiful Sirius forgot, briefly and completely, why he had come.

A loose tank top exposed slender shoulders and the graceful line of a collarbone. Shorts left long, smooth legs bare beneath the afternoon light. The curls were wild from the heat, some falling across a forehead touched by sun, and there was a pale blonde streak cutting through the fringe.

Sirius’s gaze travelled down before he could stop it.

Then travelled back up.

Then, because restraint had never been one of his talents, went down again.

Fucking gorgeous.

Every inch.

Soft-looking thighs. Narrow waist. Pretty mouth. Delicate hands resting against the door. Those shorts sitting high enough to make Sirius’s thoughts fall straight into filth.

The stranger looked just as startled to find him there.

Wide grey eyes moved over Sirius’s face, down the open neck of his shirt, across his chest, his waist, his trousers—

And stopped.

Colour rose visibly across those tanned cheeks.

Sirius glanced down.

The front of his trousers had become extremely, humiliatingly obvious.

He should have been embarrassed.

Instead, the sight of that blush sent heat curling lower in his stomach.

Well.

That was interesting.

The stranger’s eyes darted away, only to return almost immediately. Their lips parted. Their weight shifted against the doorframe, one hip pressing to the wood in a movement so effortlessly pretty that Sirius nearly forgot language altogether.

His mind supplied images with brutal enthusiasm.

Those bare thighs spread beneath him.

That tank top shoved up.

Those shorts dragged down.

His cock sinking into a gorgeous, tight cunt while that pretty mouth opened around a scream.

He imagined holding that narrow waist, fucking into her until those lashes went wet, until that soft-looking body shook, until her cunt was stretched around his cock and dripping down his thighs.

Christ.

Sirius had crossed an ocean to find Regulus and was standing on Regulus’s doorstep thinking about bending some beautiful girl over the nearest surface.

He was a terrible person.

He was also still hard.

The stranger glanced down once more, visibly trying not to.

Sirius caught it.

A slow grin spread across his face.

The blush deepened.

Oh, definitely interesting.

Sirius shifted his weight, allowing his backpack to slide down one arm. He caught the strap loosely in his hand and leaned slightly closer.

“Hello.”

The stranger blinked.

Sirius’s grin widened.

“Sorry. That was a bit weak, wasn’t it? I’ve had a very long journey, but I’m usually much more impressive than that.”

No answer.

The stranger stared at him.

Up close, she was even prettier. Her eyes were a cool, stormy grey beneath dark lashes, startling against sun-warmed skin.

Sirius tilted his head.

“Do you speak English?”

The stranger’s brows drew together faintly.

Sirius lifted both hands.

“Right. Sorry. That sounded terribly British of me.”

Still nothing.

Sirius lowered his voice.

“You can keep staring, by the way. I don’t mind.”

A breath caught.

Sirius saw it.

His own smile sharpened.

“Actually, I’m rather enjoying it.”

The stranger straightened slightly but did not move away from the doorframe.

“Are you always this…” The voice was soft and distinctly accented. “This—”

“Charming?”

“I was not going to say charming.”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“No.”

“Sexually distracting?”

The stranger’s face went scarlet.

Sirius laughed.

“There we are. I knew you understood me.”

“You are standing at my door.”

“I am.”

“With…” The stranger’s gaze dropped involuntarily again.

Sirius looked down at his erection, then back up.

“Yes. That appears to be happening.”

“You are not embarrassed?”

“Should I be?”

“Yes.”

“Are you?”

The stranger’s lips pressed together.

Sirius leaned one shoulder against the opposite side of the doorway, mirroring the pose.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“I did not answer because it was a stupid question.”

“Mm. But you keep looking.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I looked once.”

“Three times.”

“Twice.”

“Four now.”

The stranger glared.

Sirius’s grin turned delighted.

God, she was beautiful when annoyed.

“Do you do that often?” the stranger asked.

“Do what?”

“Arrive at strangers’ houses like this?”

“Only the exceptionally pretty ones.”

“You did not know who would open the door.”

“Then I’ve been rewarded for my bravery.”

The stranger’s eyes narrowed, but there was still colour high across those cheeks.

Sirius let his gaze linger on the curve of one bare thigh.

Rewarded was not a strong enough word.

He could already imagine pushing that gorgeous little body against the doorframe, sliding one hand into those shorts, feeling a wet cunt against his fingers while she tried not to make noise. He imagined dropping to his knees, dragging the fabric down, pressing his mouth between tanned thighs until those elegant hands tangled in his hair.

Then he imagined standing again, turning her around, bending her over, and shoving his cock into her cunt while she cried out his name.

His trousers tightened further.

The stranger noticed.

This time the glance lasted long enough that Sirius gave a quiet, amused hum.

“See something you like?”

The stranger looked sharply at his face.

“You are very arrogant.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It is hot.”

“It is.”

“I mean the weather.”

“I didn’t.”

The stranger inhaled.

Sirius watched the tank top shift across their chest.

Fuck.

He needed to remember why he was there.

Regulus.

Right.

Regulus.

He cleared his throat, though his smile remained.

“As much as I’d love to continue this—and I truly would—I’m actually looking for someone.”

The flirtation in the stranger’s expression dimmed slightly.

Sirius noticed and felt absurdly pleased by it.

“Someone?” the stranger asked.

“Two people, technically. But one matters considerably more.”

“Who?”

“Alphard Black.”

The stranger went still.

Sirius straightened away from the wall.

“This is his house, isn’t it?”

No answer.

A knot formed beneath Sirius’s ribs.

He pulled the folded parchment from his pocket and glanced at it once more.

“I might have the wrong address. I’ve spent half the afternoon walking in circles, and I’m beginning to suspect the person who designs your street signs has a personal grievance against me.”

The stranger stared at the parchment.

Sirius held it out slightly.

“Does Alphard live here?”

A beat passed.

“Yes.”

Relief struck so hard Sirius nearly laughed.

“Thank fuck.”

The stranger’s gaze snapped back to his.

“Sorry. Long journey.”

“You said that.”

“I did. I’m hoping it excuses most of my personality.”

“It does not.”

“Shame. Is he home?”

“No.”

Sirius’s relief faltered, but only slightly.

“All right. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

The stranger did not answer immediately.

Sirius studied that beautiful face, trying to read it.

“And Regulus?” he asked.

The reaction was immediate.

The stranger straightened fully.

The lazy lean vanished. The blush remained, but confusion overtook it. Those grey eyes searched Sirius’s face with sudden intensity.

Sirius’s heart began to beat harder.

“Regulus Black,” he clarified. “He lives here too, doesn’t he?”

The stranger’s lips parted.

Sirius took a small step closer.

“Do you know him?”

Silence.

“Is he here?”

The stranger looked almost frightened now.

Sirius’s grin faded.

“Hey. It’s all right. I’m not here to hurt him.”

“What do you want?”

The question came more sharply than anything else the stranger had said.

Sirius stared.

The accent curled differently than Sirius remembered hearing it, but something in the sound struck him oddly. Something familiar buried beneath twelve years.

He ignored it.

“I need to see him.”

“Why?”

“That’s…” Sirius exhaled. “Complicated.”

“Then explain.”

“I will. To him.”

The stranger’s shoulders pulled back.

“You arrive without warning. You ask for Alphard. You do not say why.”

“And I flirted with you.”

“That is not helping.”

“I thought it might.”

“It did not.”

“It helped me.”

The stranger looked offended.

Sirius softened before he meant to.

“Look, I’m sorry. Truly. I’ve been trying to find Regulus for a very long time.”

“How long?”

Sirius swallowed.

“Twelve years.”

The stranger’s expression changed.

Only slightly.

A tremor through the lips. A flicker behind the eyes.

Sirius barely noticed because saying the number aloud here, on this doorstep, made the lost years feel suddenly unbearable.

“He was taken away when we were children,” Sirius continued. “I didn’t know where. No one would tell me. I thought he might come to Hogwarts, but he never did. Then I found out Alphard left Britain. I’ve been looking properly for months.”

The stranger stared at him as though afraid to blink.

Sirius attempted a smile.

It came out crooked.

“So, yes. I’m aware that arriving unannounced is strange. And I’m aware I look like I’ve been dragged through several countries by my hair. But I have crossed an ocean, and I’m not leaving before I see him.”

The stranger whispered something in Portuguese.

Sirius caught none of it.

“What?”

Another string of soft, disbelieving Portuguese followed.

Sirius shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The stranger put one hand against the doorframe as though needing to steady themself.

Then those grey eyes lifted and met his properly.

Not a flirtatious glance.

Not an embarrassed one.

A searching, stunned stare that seemed to peel twelve years from Sirius’s face.

The stranger’s breath trembled.

“Sirius?”

The sound of his name made something in him twist.

Not because of the accent.

Because of the voice beneath it.

Because once, long ago, a small child had called his name as though Sirius were the answer to every fear in the world.

Sirius frowned.

“Yes.”

“Is it really you?”

His skin prickled.

“What?”

The stranger stepped away from the doorframe.

They were still shorter than him.

Much shorter.

The top of those dark curls would fit beneath Sirius’s chin.

Just as they once had.

Sirius looked at the grey eyes.

At the shape of the mouth.

At the small line that appeared between the brows when confused.

At the pale blonde streak falling through the dark fringe—a detail that had not been there when they were children, yet somehow made the face beneath it clearer instead of stranger.

His pulse thundered.

The person in front of him pressed a hand against their chest.

“I am Regulus.”

The world stopped.

Sirius did not breathe.

He stared.

Regulus stared back.

Sirius’s mind rejected the words, accepted them, rejected them again, and then violently rearranged everything he had seen since the door opened.

The grey eyes.

The familiar frown.

The delicate mouth that had once trembled whenever Sirius sounded angry.

The way Regulus had stared at him before knowing what to say.

The way he had spoken his name.

Not a girl.

Regulus.

This was Regulus.

This impossibly gorgeous, tanned, curly-haired boy in tiny shorts and a tank top was Regulus.

His Reggie.

Sirius’s stomach dropped straight through the ground.

Every thought he had entertained moments ago crashed back into him at once.

The bare thighs spread.

The shorts dragged down.

His cock buried in a tight hole.

That pretty mouth screaming beneath him.

Sirius went completely blank.

Regulus’s eyes flickered down once more towards the tent in Sirius’s trousers.

Then slowly returned to his face.

The blush on Regulus’s cheeks deepened until it seemed to reach his ears.

Sirius opened his mouth.

Nothing emerged.

Regulus opened his.

Also nothing.

They stood in the doorway, staring at each other in absolute, mutual horror and astonishment.

Sirius’s thoughts were a continuous scream.

That was Regulus.

He had been flirting with Regulus.

He had asked whether Regulus liked his erection.

He had imagined fucking Regulus until he screamed.

Holy fucking shit.

Regulus shifted one foot.

Sirius’s gaze dropped automatically.

Bare leg.

Shorts.

He snapped his eyes back up so quickly his neck hurt.

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

Not quite disbelief.

“Sirius,” he said again.

That broke something.

Not the shock.

Not the humiliation.

Something older.

Something that had been stretched painfully tight for twelve years.

Sirius saw the child on the other side of the closing door.

He saw small fingers slipping from his.

He heard himself promising.

I’ll find you.

The grin that tore across his face was helpless, enormous, and wet at the edges.

“Reggie!”

Regulus gasped.

Sirius dropped his backpack where he stood and surged forward.

He caught Regulus around the waist, hauled him against his chest, and wrapped both arms around him so tightly that Regulus’s feet nearly left the floor.

Regulus made a startled, breathless sound.

Then he laughed.

The sound went straight through Sirius.

Sirius buried his face against Regulus’s curls, eyes burning, grin pressed into his hair. He swayed them both without meaning to, rocking Regulus in his arms as though twelve years had collapsed and the smaller boy had only just run into him after falling behind.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius choked out. “Holy fuck, Reggie, I’ve got you.”

Regulus’s arms came up around him.

For half a heartbeat, the touch was hesitant.

Then Regulus clung.

He wrapped himself around Sirius with the same complete certainty he had carried as a child, fingers twisting into the back of Sirius’s shirt, face pressing against his shoulder while startled laughter shook through them both.

Sirius held him tighter.

“My baby,” he whispered, voice breaking around the words. “There you are. There you fucking are.”

Regulus laughed again, breathless and disbelieving, and clung harder.

Sirius held him until the force of it became almost ridiculous.

Regulus’s feet had settled properly onto the floor again, but Sirius’s arms remained locked around his waist, one hand spread across the small of his back and the other pressed between his shoulder blades. He could feel Regulus breathing against him. He could feel the quiet tremors left behind by laughter and shock. He could feel the warm, living weight of him, solid and real where Sirius had spent twelve years holding nothing but memories.

He did not want to loosen his grip.

He did eventually, but only enough to pull his face out of Regulus’s curls.

“Let me look at you.”

Regulus lifted his head.

Sirius kept both arms firmly around the shorter boy’s waist as he leaned back, staring down into his face.

For several long seconds, he said nothing.

Regulus blinked beneath the attention.

“What?”

Sirius’s grin spread slowly.

“Nothing.”

“You are staring.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve waited twelve fucking years to do it.”

Regulus’s expression softened.

Sirius’s eyes moved over him greedily, taking in every detail as though he could somehow recover the lost years by studying what they had made. The warm tan across Regulus’s cheeks. The dark curls falling untidily around his face. The pale blonde streak cutting through his fringe. The elegant slope of his nose. The soft curve of his mouth.

Those grey eyes were still the same.

Older, certainly. Sharper around the edges. More certain.

But the same.

Sirius lifted one hand from Regulus’s waist and cupped his cheek.

Regulus leaned into it before he seemed to realise what he was doing.

The movement struck Sirius directly in the chest.

“There you are,” he murmured again.

Regulus’s lashes lowered.

“You already said that.”

“I’m going to keep saying it.”

“For how long?”

“The next twelve years, probably.”

“That sounds irritating.”

“You used to find me charming.”

“I was five.”

“You had excellent taste at five.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

Sirius brushed his thumb beneath one of those grey eyes.

“God, I missed you.”

Regulus went very still.

“I missed you so fucking much, Reggie.”

“Sirius—”

“No, you don’t understand.” Sirius gave a breathless laugh, though his eyes burned again. “I waited. Every fucking year, I waited. I thought you’d turn up. I thought somebody would finally tell me where you were. I thought you’d walk into Hogwarts one day and I’d see you across the Great Hall.”

Regulus watched him quietly.

“In my second year, I was fucking unbearable,” Sirius continued. “More unbearable than usual, I mean.”

“That sounds difficult.”

“It was devastating for everyone around me. I spent the entire Sorting staring at the doors because you were supposed to be there.”

“I was already here.”

“I know that now.”

Sirius’s hand slid from Regulus’s cheek into his curls. He pushed a dark lock away from his forehead, then touched the blonde streak with the tip of one finger.

“This is new.”

Regulus glanced upwards as if he might somehow see his own fringe.

“It appeared when I was nine.”

“Just decided the rest of your hair wasn’t dramatic enough?”

“I did not decide it.”

“Of course not. The universe took one look at you and thought, ‘No, he needs to be even prettier.’”

Regulus flushed.

Sirius’s grin sharpened immediately.

“Oh, there it is.”

“What?”

“That blush.”

“I am not blushing.”

“You absolutely are.”

“It is hot.”

“You tried that excuse at the door.”

“It was true then too.”

Sirius laughed, sliding his hand back down to Regulus’s waist.

“I cannot fucking believe this is you.”

“You have said that several times.”

“You were tiny.”

“I am still shorter than you.”

“You were tiny and pale and used to follow me everywhere.”

“You used to leave without me.”

“So you had to follow.”

“You could have waited.”

“I always stopped when you called.”

“That does not mean you waited.”

“It does in spirit.”

“It does not.”

Sirius stared at him for another moment, then his expression softened into something helpless.

“You still argue exactly the same way.”

Regulus’s lips parted.

Sirius pulled him close again, not quite another hug but near enough that their bodies pressed together. He tucked Regulus beneath his chin, one hand settling at the base of his spine.

“You have no idea how miserable everything was without you,” Sirius muttered into his hair.

Regulus’s hands rested cautiously against Sirius’s chest.

“The house was too quiet. My room was too fucking big. Meals were terrible because nobody stole my food and insisted mine tasted better even though it came from the same bowl.”

“I remember that.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

Sirius drew back sharply enough to see his face.

“You remember?”

Regulus frowned at the force of the question.

“Of course I remember.”

“All of it?”

“Not every single day.”

“No, obviously, but—you remember me carrying you?”

“Yes.”

“You remember sleeping in my bed?”

“Yes.”

“You remember making me warm your freezing feet?”

Regulus gave him a small, almost offended look.

“They were cold.”

“They were weapons.”

“You complained too much.”

“I still let you do it.”

“You always complained and then did whatever I wanted.”

“I spoiled you.”

“Yes.”

The easy agreement made Sirius bark out a laugh.

“At least you admit it.”

“You did everything for me.”

“I would have kept doing it.”

“I know.”

The words were quiet.

Sirius’s smile faltered.

Regulus’s fingers curled slightly against his shirt.

“I waited too,” Regulus said.

Sirius swallowed.

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Regulus looked down.

“For years.”

The answer hurt.

Sirius tightened his arms.

“Reggie.”

“I thought you would come.”

“I tried.”

“I know that now.”

“I wrote to you.”

Regulus looked up quickly.

“What?”

“Letters. Loads of them. At the beginning, anyway. I didn’t know where Alphard had taken you, so I gave them to—” Sirius stopped, jaw tightening. “I asked for them to be sent.”

“I never received any letters.”

“I thought you hadn’t.”

“What did they say?”

Sirius looked at him for a moment.

“Mostly that I was coming to get you.”

Regulus’s face changed.

Sirius forced a grin because if he did not, he might start crying properly, and he had already spent enough of this reunion with wet eyes.

“One said you could break the rest of my things when you came back.”

“I broke one thing.”

“You broke loads of things.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You were a menace.”

“You encouraged me.”

“I encouraged creativity.”

“You told me to throw a vase down the stairs.”

“It made a brilliant noise.”

“Alphard said that was why I could not be trusted around antiques.”

“He was correct.”

Regulus’s mouth curved.

Sirius stared at it.

Then his gaze moved over Regulus’s face again.

And down.

His earlier shock had done absolutely nothing to make Regulus less gorgeous.

If anything, knowing it was him had somehow made every detail sharper. Sirius knew the person standing in his arms now. Not the body, perhaps, not the young man Regulus had become, but the small shifts of expression. The thoughtful narrowing of his eyes. The little crease between his brows. The way he pressed his lips together when trying not to smile.

The familiarity made the attraction worse.

Much worse.

Sirius looked down at the tank top hanging loosely over Regulus’s narrow frame.

Then at the shorts.

Then at the legs.

His cock remained painfully hard inside his trousers, pressed between them now that he had pulled Regulus close again.

Regulus felt it.

The shorter boy stiffened.

His eyes dropped.

Slowly.

Sirius followed the line of his gaze, then looked back at Regulus’s flushed face.

A wicked smile curled across his mouth.

“Still there.”

Regulus’s cheeks darkened.

“I noticed.”

“I think you did more than notice.”

“You are pressing it against me.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Sirius shifted his hips deliberately.

Regulus sucked in a breath.

The tiny sound made Sirius’s grin widen.

“Well,” Sirius murmured, “now I am.”

Regulus stared up at him through those dark lashes.

Sirius’s thoughts immediately went filthy again.

“Fuck,” he said softly.

“What?”

“You.”

Regulus blinked.

Sirius tilted his head, studying him with open appreciation.

“I’m sorry, Reggie, but holy fucking shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You.”

“You already said that.”

“Because I’m struggling to form a more intelligent thought.”

“That does not usually stop you talking.”

“That mouth is still sharp, then.”

Regulus’s lips twitched.

Sirius slid both hands over his waist and held him at arm’s length again.

“Look at you.”

Regulus glanced down at himself.

“What is wrong with me?”

“Wrong?” Sirius repeated. “Nothing is fucking wrong with you. That’s the problem.”

“There is a problem?”

“You were supposed to be recognisable.”

“I am recognisable.”

“No. You were supposed to look like a taller version of the little boy I remember.”

“I do.”

“You opened the door looking like that.”

“Like what?”

Sirius stared at him in disbelief.

“Reggie.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“You are the most gorgeous person I have ever fucking seen.”

Regulus froze.

Sirius continued before he could stop himself.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Your face alone should be illegal. And then there’s all this.”

He gestured openly at Regulus’s body.

Regulus’s blush spread down his throat.

“All what?”

“This.” Sirius squeezed lightly at his waist. “You’re tiny.”

“I am not tiny.”

“You are compared to me.”

“You are unnecessarily tall.”

“I’m perfectly tall.”

“You look like you were stretched.”

“And you look like every filthy thought I’ve ever had learned how to walk.”

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius stared back.

Then Regulus’s eyes dropped towards Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius noticed.

His grin softened into something slower.

“There you go again.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking.”

“I am allowed to look at you.”

“You are.”

Sirius leaned closer.

“In fact, I strongly encourage it.”

Regulus did not move away.

The space between them narrowed until Sirius could feel the warmth of Regulus’s breath against his lips.

“You really are fucking pretty,” Sirius murmured. “God. Pretty doesn’t even cover it. You’re hot. You’re so fucking hot it’s offensive.”

“You looked at me as though you wanted to eat me.”

“I still do.”

Regulus’s breath caught again.

Sirius’s gaze dropped to his mouth.

“And I did not merely think you were pretty,” he continued, voice lower. “I was thinking things about you that would make this conversation significantly more embarrassing.”

“I think it is already embarrassing.”

“For you, maybe.”

“You are the one with a boner.”

“And you’re the one who keeps staring at it.”

“I am not staring now.”

“You’re staring at my mouth instead.”

Regulus immediately looked into his eyes.

Sirius laughed.

“That’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable.”

“You used to be.”

“I was a child.”

“Now you’re fucking devastating.”

Regulus’s expression flickered between embarrassment and amusement.

Sirius leaned back just enough to look at all of him again.

“Turn around.”

Regulus frowned.

“Why?”

“I want to see you.”

“You can see me.”

“I want to see all of you.”

“No.”

“Come on, Reggie.”

“No.”

“One little spin.”

“I am not spinning for you.”

“You used to do anything I asked.”

“That is not true.”

“It is completely true.”

“You did anything I asked.”

“And now I am asking you to spin.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes.

Sirius clasped his hands dramatically beneath his chin.

“I crossed the Atlantic.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“I spent twelve years in misery.”

“You are using our separation to make me turn around?”

“Yes.”

“That is manipulative.”

“I prefer persuasive.”

“It is manipulative.”

“Please?”

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius widened his eyes.

Regulus stared harder.

Sirius smiled sweetly.

“You are ridiculous,” Regulus muttered.

But he stepped out of Sirius’s arms.

Sirius’s grin became triumphant.

“That means yes.”

“It does not.”

Regulus turned anyway.

It was not a proper spin at first. He only pivoted stiffly, clearly intending to prove that the entire request was beneath him.

Sirius caught his wrist.

“No, no. A proper one.”

“I am not performing.”

“A little spin.”

“Sirius.”

“Reggie.”

Regulus gave him a flat look.

Sirius lifted their joined hands above Regulus’s head and gently guided him around.

Regulus huffed but allowed himself to turn beneath Sirius’s arm, curls shifting around his face, bare feet moving lightly over the floor.

Sirius watched him.

The front view was unbearable enough.

The back nearly killed him.

Those shorts hugged Regulus’s hips and curved neatly beneath a small, perfectly rounded arse.

Sirius’s mouth fell open.

A low groan escaped him before he could stop it.

“Fuck.”

Regulus stopped with his back half-turned.

“What?”

“That arse.”

Regulus whipped fully around.

His face went scarlet.

“Sirius!”

“What?”

“You cannot say that.”

“I just did.”

“You cannot say it so loudly.”

“Why not?”

“The neighbours!”

Sirius glanced past him towards the open door.

Then back at Regulus.

“Do they speak English?”

“Some of them.”

“Then they should be grateful for the educational opportunity.”

Regulus slapped a hand over Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius laughed against his palm.

“Quiet,” Regulus hissed.

Sirius caught his wrist and kissed the centre of his hand before pulling it gently away.

Regulus’s eyes widened.

“You cannot stand in the doorway shouting about my arse.”

“I wasn’t shouting.”

“You groaned.”

“I had reason.”

“You are impossible.”

“You have the perkiest little arse I’ve ever seen.”

“Sirius.”

“It’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.”

“I want to bite it.”

Regulus made a strangled noise and grabbed Sirius by the front of his shirt.

“Inside.”

Sirius let himself be pulled forward, grinning down at him.

“Bossy.”

“Inside now.”

“You’re still spoiled.”

“You are still loud.”

Regulus tugged him across the threshold.

Sirius bent close to his ear as he passed.

“You showed it to me.”

“You made me turn around.”

“And I’m eternally grateful.”

Regulus shoved him farther into the house.

Sirius laughed, stumbling two steps before turning to watch Regulus hurry back to the entrance. Regulus leaned outside, glanced towards the neighbouring houses, then snatched Sirius’s abandoned backpack from the path.

Sirius folded his arms.

“See anyone?”

“No.”

“Disappointed?”

“I am making sure nobody heard you.”

“They probably heard you invite me inside.”

“I did not invite you. I dragged you away from public embarrassment.”

“That is even hotter.”

Regulus came back in and shut the door firmly.

The click of it should have meant nothing.

It was simply a door closing.

Still, Sirius watched it.

Regulus turned, one hand lingering on the handle.

For a moment, they both went quiet.

Twelve years ago, a door had shut between them.

Now Regulus stood on the same side of one as Sirius.

Sirius’s teasing smile softened.

Regulus must have seen the change because his own expression gentled.

“You are here,” he said.

“I am.”

“Really here.”

Sirius crossed the space between them.

He took the backpack from Regulus’s hand and dropped it beside the wall, then pulled Regulus against him again.

“Really here.”

Regulus rested his hands against Sirius’s chest.

Sirius wrapped his arms around the narrow waist he was already becoming dangerously fond of holding.

“You’re not getting rid of me now,” he murmured.

“I have not tried.”

“Good.”

“You only arrived ten minutes ago.”

“And I’ve already decided I live here.”

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Alphard will disagree.”

“Alphard loves me.”

“Does he?”

“He did twelve years ago.”

“You bit him.”

“He was taking you away.”

“You bit him very hard.”

“Did he complain about it?”

“For years.”

“Excellent.”

Regulus laughed softly.

Sirius stared down at him.

There was something dazzling about hearing that laugh now. It had changed, become lower and warmer than the sound Sirius remembered, but it still lifted at the end in exactly the same way.

Sirius squeezed him.

Regulus’s breath left him in a small huff.

“You are crushing me.”

“You used to say you couldn’t squash people because you were little.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I said.”

Sirius went still.

Regulus’s eyes glinted.

Then Sirius laughed so hard he had to bend forward, pressing his forehead against Regulus’s shoulder.

“You remember that too.”

“I remember a lot.”

“Oh, Reggie.”

Sirius straightened and kissed his forehead.

Regulus’s eyes fluttered closed.

Sirius kissed the blonde streak next.

Then one temple.

Then the warm curve of his cheek.

Regulus turned pink again.

“You keep kissing me.”

“I’ve got twelve years to catch up on.”

“That is a lot of kisses.”

“I’m prepared to work hard.”

Regulus gave him a suspicious look.

Sirius grinned.

“Lead the way, gorgeous.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere with somewhere to sit. Preferably somewhere I can continue staring at you without the neighbours enjoying the show.”

Regulus rolled his eyes but took Sirius by the hand.

The contact felt startlingly natural.

Sirius looked down at their joined hands.

Regulus’s fingers were no longer the tiny ones Sirius remembered. They were slender and sun-browned, marked faintly across the knuckles, but they folded into Sirius’s with the same instinctive ease.

Regulus began leading him farther into the house.

Sirius followed close behind.

Very close.

His gaze dropped immediately to Regulus’s arse.

Regulus glanced back.

“Stop looking.”

“No.”

“You are shameless.”

“You’re walking in front of me in those shorts. What do you expect?”

“For you to behave.”

“You must not remember me very well after all.”

“I remember you being difficult.”

“I’ve improved.”

“You have become worse.”

“But taller.”

“That is not an improvement.”

“And more handsome.”

“That is debatable.”

Sirius caught Regulus’s waist from behind and pulled him back against his chest.

Regulus stumbled into him with a startled sound.

“Debatable?”

“Yes.”

“Cruel.”

“You have already praised yourself enough.”

“I was waiting for you to do it.”

“I did not know that was required.”

“It’s required now.”

Sirius rested his chin on top of Regulus’s curls as they stood in the middle of the house.

“Tell me I’m handsome.”

“No.”

“Reggie.”

“No.”

“I told you you’re gorgeous.”

“You told me you wanted to bite my arse.”

“That was praise.”

“It was harassment.”

“You spun for me.”

“You made me.”

“You liked it.”

Regulus turned his head slightly.

“I did not.”

Sirius could see the corner of his mouth trying to rise.

“Liar.”

Regulus pulled out of his arms and resumed walking.

Sirius followed, laughing.

The living room was bright and open, with wide windows admitting the afternoon sun. Regulus walked towards a large sofa and gestured at it.

“You can sit there.”

“You say that like I’m a visiting official.”

“You are technically a visitor.”

Sirius dropped onto the sofa.

Regulus remained standing.

Sirius looked up at him.

Regulus looked down at Sirius.

Neither moved.

Sirius spread his knees slightly and patted one thigh.

“Come here.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped.

His flush returned when he saw the hard shape still straining against Sirius’s trousers.

“No.”

“You always sat on my lap.”

“When I was a child.”

“And?”

“And you did not have that.”

Regulus pointed.

Sirius looked down.

“My cock?”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

“You cannot just say it.”

“What would you prefer? My tragic condition?”

“Your—”

“My eager reunion?”

“Sirius.”

“My extremely enthusiastic response to seeing you?”

Regulus pressed his lips together.

Sirius leaned back into the sofa, stretching one arm along its top.

“It isn’t going anywhere while you’re dressed like that.”

“These are normal clothes.”

“Not on that body.”

“You are blaming my clothes?”

“I’m praising them.”

“You were hard before you knew who I was.”

“And now I know, yet I remain hard. A fascinating development.”

Regulus stared at him for several seconds.

Then he turned as though intending to sit at the far end of the sofa.

Sirius caught his wrist.

“No.”

“What?”

“Not over there.”

“I am sitting down.”

“You’re sitting here.”

Before Regulus could object again, Sirius tugged him forward.

Regulus lost his balance with a sharp sound and landed sideways across Sirius’s lap.

Sirius immediately wrapped one arm around his waist, securing him against his chest.

Regulus braced a hand on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Sirius!”

“There.”

“Let me up.”

“No.”

“You cannot drag me onto your lap whenever you want.”

“I did when we were little.”

“I usually climbed onto you.”

“Exactly. You’re out of practice.”

Regulus shifted.

His thigh pressed across Sirius’s erection.

Both of them froze.

Sirius’s fingers tightened involuntarily at Regulus’s waist.

Regulus’s face became brilliantly red.

Sirius looked at him slowly.

“Careful.”

“You pulled me here.”

“And now I’m warning you about the danger.”

“The danger is you?”

“The danger is what happens if you keep rubbing that pretty little arse against my cock.”

“I am not rubbing anything.”

“You moved.”

“I was trying to get comfortable.”

“Try again.”

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius grinned.

Regulus deliberately went still.

“Coward,” Sirius murmured.

“You are disgusting.”

“And you are sitting on my cock.”

“I am sitting on your lap.”

“The distinction is becoming academic.”

Regulus made an irritated sound but did not stand.

Instead, he adjusted carefully until he was sitting more securely across Sirius’s thighs, one arm settling loosely around Sirius’s shoulders.

The movement still dragged his arse against the hard ridge in Sirius’s trousers.

Sirius groaned.

Regulus looked at him, eyes wide.

“Did that hurt?”

Sirius barked out a laugh.

“No, gorgeous. Quite the opposite.”

“I did not mean to.”

“You can mean to next time.”

“There will not be a next time.”

“You’re still sitting here.”

Regulus looked away.

Sirius’s smile softened.

He slid his hand slowly up Regulus’s back, feeling the warmth of him through the thin tank top.

“I missed this.”

“My arse?”

“That too.”

“Sirius.”

“Holding you.”

Regulus quietened.

Sirius’s thumb moved absently against his side.

“I used to think about it all the time,” Sirius admitted. “Finding you and pulling you onto my lap again. You were smaller in my imagination.”

“I should hope so.”

“You were still five.”

“That is disturbing.”

“Not like this, obviously.”

“I know.”

“I just—” Sirius exhaled. “I never knew what you’d look like older.”

Regulus studied him.

“What did you imagine?”

“You, mostly. Just taller.”

“I am taller.”

“Barely.”

“I grew.”

“You remain extremely portable.”

“Do not carry me.”

“I’m absolutely going to carry you.”

“No.”

“I crossed an ocean for the privilege.”

“That does not grant you permission.”

“Your feet were nearly off the floor when I hugged you.”

“That was because you lifted me.”

“And you clung.”

“I was surprised.”

“You wrapped yourself around me.”

“I was emotional.”

“I’ll make you emotional again.”

Regulus’s blush deepened.

Sirius smiled at him.

“Too easy.”

“You say things deliberately.”

“Of course I do.”

“To make me blush.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful when you blush.”

Regulus went even redder.

Sirius laughed triumphantly.

“That was almost unfair.”

“You are unbearable.”

“And yet here you are.”

Regulus looked down at where Sirius’s arm circled his waist.

His fingers toyed with the open collar of Sirius’s shirt.

Sirius watched them.

Then he remembered the other person who should have been in the house.

“Where is Alphard?”

Regulus glanced back up.

“At work.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“When will he be home?”

Regulus’s expression shifted.

“Not for another two weeks.”

Sirius blinked.

“Two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of job sends him away for two weeks?”

“The same job that sometimes sends him away for two months.”

Sirius stared.

“What the fuck does he do?”

“He works in conservation.”

“That sounds much less dangerous than the two-month absences suggest.”

“He works mostly in the Amazon.”

Sirius’s brows rose.

“The actual Amazon?”

“No, Sirius. The small decorative one behind the house.”

Sirius’s mouth dropped open.

Regulus looked smug.

“Oh, you’ve learned sarcasm.”

“I had twelve years without you. I needed another way to entertain myself.”

“I am so proud.”

Regulus settled more comfortably against him.

“Alphard works with several magical and non-magical conservation organisations. They track illegal logging, help protect threatened areas, document damage, work with local communities, and try to stop companies and illegal crews from destroying protected forest.”

Sirius listened, his fingers continuing to stroke slowly along Regulus’s side.

“He’s out there now?”

“Yes.”

“Trying to stop logging?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re here alone?”

“I am seventeen.”

“That was not an answer.”

“It is the relevant answer.”

“No, the relevant answer would be, ‘Yes, Sirius, I’ve been abandoned entirely undefended, thank goodness you arrived to guard me.’”

“I do not require guarding.”

“You absolutely do.”

“From what?”

Sirius looked pointedly at Regulus’s face.

“Anyone with eyes.”

Regulus sighed.

“I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“You always used to hide behind me.”

“I was five.”

“You keep using that excuse.”

“It is important context.”

Sirius considered him.

“Alphard just leaves for weeks?”

“It is his work. He has been doing it for years.”

“And you don’t go with him?”

“Sometimes I do.”

Sirius’s arm tightened immediately.

“You go into the Amazon?”

“Yes.”

“With him?”

“Usually.”

“Usually?”

“Sometimes with school programmes or conservation groups.”

Sirius stared at him.

“You never went to Hogwarts, but apparently you spent your childhood wandering around a deadly rainforest.”

“I did not wander.”

“What did you do?”

“I studied.”

“In the rainforest.”

“Yes.”

“With murderous wildlife.”

“Most animals are not murderous.”

“Some are.”

“Some people are too.”

“And I don’t want you wandering around them either.”

Regulus gave him an amused look.

“You have been here less than an hour and are already telling me where I can go.”

“I have twelve years of protecting you to catch up on.”

“You cannot catch up by becoming controlling.”

“I can try.”

Regulus shifted again, and Sirius’s breath hitched as the curve of his arse pressed more firmly against him.

Regulus noticed.

His eyes flicked towards Sirius’s face.

Sirius’s hand flattened at his waist.

“You keep doing that.”

“I am sitting.”

“You sit dangerously.”

“That is not a real thing.”

“It is now.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped briefly to Sirius’s trousers.

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“Painfully.”

“Should I move?”

“No.”

The answer came so quickly that Regulus laughed.

Sirius grinned.

“You stay exactly where you are.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I’m reunited with the prettiest boy alive, he’s sitting on my lap, and my cock is hard enough to break stone. I’m allowed to be ridiculous.”

Regulus covered Sirius’s mouth again.

“Stop saying things like that.”

Sirius kissed his palm.

Regulus immediately pulled his hand away.

Sirius laughed.

“You fall for that every time.”

“You keep kissing me without warning.”

“Do you want a schedule?”

“No.”

“Good. Ruins the romance.”

Regulus stared at him for a second, then looked away towards the window.

Sirius saw the small smile he tried to hide.

“So,” Sirius said, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Regulus’s tank top, “if Alphard is off fighting loggers, what are you doing here?”

“I finished school.”

Sirius’s expression lit.

“You graduated?”

“This year.”

“From Castelobruxo?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Sirius’s smile faltered with another small ache.

He had missed that too.

Regulus noticed.

“What?”

“I should have been there.”

“You did not know.”

“I still should have.”

“You could not attend a graduation you did not know existed.”

“Watch me.”

“It has already happened.”

“I’ll make you graduate again.”

“That is not how graduation works.”

“I’ll put on a robe, announce your name, make you walk across the living room.”

“No.”

“I’ll clap very loudly.”

“The neighbours already dislike you.”

“They haven’t met me.”

“They have heard enough.”

Sirius’s hand slid up to cradle the back of Regulus’s neck.

“I’m proud of you.”

Regulus went quiet.

“Really?”

“Of course really.”

“You do not even know what I studied.”

“I don’t care. You finished an entire magical education without me there to do your homework.”

“You never did my homework.”

“I would have.”

“You would have done it incorrectly.”

“How dare you?”

“You hated studying.”

“I was brilliant.”

“You were six.”

“I was a brilliant six-year-old.”

“You once spelled your own name wrong.”

“That was artistic interpretation.”

Regulus laughed.

Sirius watched him with a soft grin.

“What was Castelobruxo like?”

“Large.”

“Useful.”

“It is hidden in the rainforest.”

“Of course it is.”

“The castle looks like a temple. There are enchanted protections around the grounds, and the Caipora guard the school.”

“The what?”

“Caipora.”

“That explained nothing.”

“Small magical beings. Extremely protective. Extremely mischievous.”

“Did you like them?”

“Yes.”

“Were they dangerous?”

“Sometimes.”

“Of course you liked them.”

“They liked me too.”

“I’m sure every creature with teeth likes you.”

“One of them stole my shoes for three days.”

“I already love it.”

“I had to attend lessons barefoot.”

“Did you look cute?”

“I looked angry.”

“So yes.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

Sirius leaned his head back against the sofa.

“What did you study there?”

“The usual subjects at first. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History, Astronomy, Defence.”

“You’re good at Defence?”

“Yes.”

“How good?”

“Very.”

Sirius looked delighted.

“My Reggie can fight.”

“Your Reggie has been able to fight for years.”

“That is somehow both reassuring and deeply upsetting.”

“I did not spend twelve years waiting helplessly for you.”

“I know.”

Sirius said it quietly.

Regulus looked at him.

Sirius traced his fingertips along Regulus’s spine.

“I can see that.”

Regulus’s expression softened.

“I had Alphard.”

“Was he good to you?”

“Yes.”

The immediate certainty eased something ugly and old inside Sirius.

“He was?”

“He took care of me. He never tried to make me forget you.”

Sirius’s fingers stilled.

“Did he talk about me?”

“Sometimes.”

“What did he say?”

“That you tried to bite through his hand.”

“I nearly succeeded.”

“That you screamed for hours after we left.”

Sirius looked away.

Regulus touched his jaw, turning his face back.

“That he wanted to bring you too.”

“What?”

“He said he tried.”

Sirius stared at him.

Regulus’s thumb rested near the small scar on Sirius’s chin.

“He could only take me. He did not have permission to take you, and you were the heir. Nobody would allow it.”

“I would have gone.”

“I know.”

“They should have let me.”

“I know.”

Sirius swallowed hard.

Regulus’s hand remained against his face.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Sirius turned his head and kissed Regulus’s thumb.

Regulus’s lashes lowered.

“What did you specialise in?” Sirius asked softly.

“Magical creatures.”

Sirius’s mood lifted at once.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you’re doing next?”

Regulus nodded.

“I start university next term.”

Sirius blinked.

“University?”

“Yes.”

“For magic?”

“Yes.”

“You have magical universities here?”

“There are magical universities in Britain too.”

“There are?”

Regulus stared at him.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

“What course?”

Regulus’s entire face changed.

The difference was immediate and almost startling. His eyes brightened. His posture lifted. Even his voice gained warmth when he answered.

“Magizoological Conservation, Rehabilitation and Rewilding.”

Sirius repeated the title slowly.

“That is a lot of words.”

“It needs to be specific.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

“What does it actually mean?”

“It means studying magical creatures in their natural habitats, understanding the threats affecting them, treating injured or displaced animals, restoring damaged habitats, and preparing rehabilitated creatures for release.”

Sirius smiled as Regulus spoke.

“You love it.”

Regulus paused.

“Yes.”

“You really love it.”

“Yes.”

Sirius’s grin widened.

“Tell me everything.”

Regulus regarded him cautiously.

“Everything would take a long time.”

“I have nowhere else to be.”

“You travelled with one backpack.”

“I’ll buy more clothes.”

“You cannot simply move into the house.”

“Watch me.”

“Alphard will return and find you occupying his sofa.”

“He should be delighted.”

“He may throw you out.”

“I’ll cling to you.”

“That will not help.”

“It always used to.”

Regulus tried not to smile.

Sirius squeezed his waist.

“Tell me about the course.”

Regulus shifted so he was turned more towards Sirius, his knees resting across one of Sirius’s thighs.

“The first year covers field assessment, magical ecology, creature behaviour, veterinary spellwork, habitat enchantments, conservation law, and ethical rehabilitation.”

“Ethical rehabilitation?”

“Making sure creatures are not kept in captivity merely because it is easier for people.”

“Right.”

“Some animals become too accustomed to humans or magical handlers. Others lose hunting behaviours after injury. Some have been trafficked and cannot safely return to where they were found. You have to assess whether release is possible and, if it is, prepare them properly.”

Sirius watched the passion gather in Regulus’s face.

“And you’re going to do that?”

“Yes.”

“With dangerous creatures?”

“Yes.”

“How dangerous?”

Regulus considered.

“It depends.”

“That is not a comforting answer.”

“Some are only classified as dangerous because the Ministry does not understand them.”

“And the others?”

“Are dangerous.”

Sirius groaned.

“Of course.”

“I know what I am doing.”

“You’ve just graduated.”

“I have practical experience.”

“How?”

Regulus’s smile became small and proud.

“My course includes a work placement.”

“Already?”

“It begins before the academic term.”

“Where?”

“At a sanctuary.”

“What sort of sanctuary?”

“One specialising in magical creatures native to the Amazon and surrounding regions.”

Sirius stared at him.

“No.”

Regulus frowned.

“No?”

“No dangerous Amazon creatures.”

“You do not decide that.”

“I’ve decided it.”

“I have already accepted the placement.”

“Unaccept it.”

“No.”

“Reggie.”

“Sirius.”

“What creatures?”

“Many.”

“Name them.”

“Why?”

“So I know what I need to protect you from.”

“You cannot protect me from my work.”

“Try me.”

Regulus sighed.

“The sanctuary treats animals injured by illegal logging, poaching, trafficking, fires, curses, and habitat displacement. Some are brought in by conservation teams. Some are found by local communities. Some arrive through the Brazilian magical authorities.”

“And you take care of them?”

“Yes.”

“You personally?”

“I will be working with the rehabilitation team.”

“Doing what?”

“Feeding, behavioural observation, enclosure enrichment, assisting healers, preparing treatments, monitoring recovery, recording magical responses, helping with habitat conditioning, and eventually assisting with releases.”

Sirius stared at him in stunned admiration.

“You heal them?”

“I help.”

“And then let them go?”

“When they are ready.”

“Back into the wild?”

“That is the purpose.”

Sirius looked over Regulus’s face again.

The boy he remembered had once cried for an hour after finding an injured bird near a window. Sirius had held him while Alphard examined it, and Regulus had refused to leave until it moved.

Of course this was what he had chosen.

“Dangerous animals,” Sirius murmured.

“Some.”

“From the Amazon.”

“Yes.”

“That can bite you.”

“Some.”

“Poison you.”

“Some.”

“Burn you?”

Regulus hesitated.

Sirius’s eyes widened.

“Reggie.”

“There are safety procedures.”

“That means yes.”

“There are extensive safety procedures.”

“That means definitely yes.”

Regulus smiled.

Sirius looked at him, helpless between horror and pride.

“You’re fucking incredible.”

The smile disappeared beneath another blush.

“I have not started yet.”

“You got the placement.”

“Yes.”

“You graduated.”

“Yes.”

“You’re starting university.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to save dangerous magical animals and send them back into the wild.”

“I will be assisting qualified professionals.”

“You’re incredible.”

Regulus looked down.

Sirius hooked one finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Sirius leaned in until their foreheads touched.

His cock was still hard beneath Regulus, his arms were still locked around that narrow waist, and Regulus’s warm breath still brushed his mouth.

But for one quiet second, Sirius simply looked at him.

At the child he had lost.

At the young man he had found.

At everything Regulus had become during twelve years Sirius could never reclaim.

“You grew up,” Sirius whispered.

Regulus’s eyes searched his.

“So did you.”

“Not this well.”

“You are still arrogant.”

“You’re still bossy.”

“You are sitting in my house with your cock pressed against me.”

“You’re sitting on it willingly now.”

Regulus flushed.

Sirius’s grin returned.

“And you’re going to university to save monsters.”

“They are not monsters.”

“There he is.”

“Who?”

“My Reggie.”

Regulus’s expression softened.

Sirius tightened his arms around him.

Regulus leaned closer, resting his head against Sirius’s shoulder, and this time there was no hesitation at all.

Sirius pressed his cheek into the dark curls and held him.

Regulus remained exactly where Sirius could reach him.

Sirius remained quiet for perhaps thirty seconds.

It was, Regulus would later decide, the longest sustained period of silence Sirius had managed since arriving.

Then Sirius shifted beneath him, tightened his arm around Regulus’s waist, and said, “I want proof.”

Regulus lifted his head from Sirius’s shoulder.

“Proof of what?”

“Everything.”

“That is not an answer.”

“The last twelve years.”

Regulus studied him.

Sirius’s expression had changed again. The wicked humour remained in the curve of his mouth, and his cock was still unmistakably hard beneath Regulus’s hip, but there was something else in his eyes now—something hungry in a way that had nothing to do with sex.

He wanted to see.

Not merely what Regulus looked like now.

He wanted the years.

Every birthday he had missed. Every school term. Every place Regulus had gone without him. Every version of Regulus that had existed between the crying child carried through a closing door and the beautiful young man sitting across Sirius’s lap.

Regulus’s fingers stopped playing with Sirius’s collar.

“What sort of proof?”

“Photographs.”

“We have photographs.”

Sirius straightened immediately.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the cabinet.”

“Get them.”

Regulus stared at him.

“Now.”

“That sounded like an order.”

“It was a desperate plea delivered with authority.”

“You can get them.”

“I don’t know which cabinet.”

Regulus pointed across the living room.

“That one.”

Sirius followed the direction of his finger.

“Still don’t know which shelf.”

“The bottom one.”

“Still don’t know which albums.”

“All of them.”

“Excellent. You get them.”

“You are closer.”

“You’re on my lap.”

“You pulled me here.”

“And now I’m emotionally dependent on your continued presence.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes.

Sirius smiled shamelessly.

“You said we were too dependent on each other as children.”

“I did not say it. Walburga did.”

“And she was a miserable old hag, so we can ignore her.”

“You want me to move.”

“No, I want you to bring the cabinet over.”

“The cabinet?”

“Yes.”

“With magic?”

“Obviously.”

“I am not summoning an entire cabinet across the living room.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is made of wood and glass, and Alphard will be furious if I smash it.”

“Summon the albums, then.”

“They are stacked beneath other things.”

Sirius sighed with immense suffering.

“Fine.”

His arm loosened.

Regulus began to stand.

Sirius immediately caught him again.

Regulus looked back.

“What?”

“One more.”

“One more what?”

“Hug before you go.”

“I am crossing the room.”

“You’ve left once already. I’m cautious now.”

Regulus’s expression softened despite himself.

He turned on Sirius’s lap, put both arms around his neck, and hugged him.

Sirius folded around him instantly.

“There,” Regulus murmured. “Satisfied?”

“Not remotely.”

“You asked for one.”

“I lied. I want hundreds.”

“You will have to let go first.”

Sirius reluctantly loosened his arms.

Regulus stood.

The loss of warmth from Sirius’s lap was immediate. Sirius watched him cross the living room with his chin propped in one hand, his gaze dropping without shame to the gentle movement of Regulus’s hips.

Regulus knelt in front of the cabinet.

Sirius made a low, appreciative sound.

Regulus looked over his shoulder.

“Do not start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made a noise.”

“I’m allowed to breathe.”

“That was not breathing.”

“It was admiration.”

Regulus turned back to the cabinet and opened the lower door.

Several large albums were stacked inside, some with worn leather covers and others decorated in bright fabric. Regulus gathered three against his chest, stood, reconsidered, bent down again, and took another two.

Sirius watched the entire process with increasingly blatant interest.

When Regulus returned, he dropped the stack onto the low table with a heavy thump.

“That’s all of them?”

“There are more upstairs.”

Sirius looked delighted.

“Bring those too.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because these cover most of it.”

“Most isn’t all.”

“You can see the others later.”

The word later lodged pleasantly inside Sirius’s chest.

Later meant Sirius would still be here.

Later meant Regulus expected him to remain.

Sirius smiled.

“All right.”

Regulus chose the oldest album and sat beside him.

Sirius looked down at the narrow strip of empty sofa between them.

Then at Regulus.

Regulus ignored him and opened the cover.

Sirius caught him around the waist, lifted him bodily, and deposited him back across his lap.

Regulus made an outraged sound.

“Sirius!”

“What?”

“I was sitting there.”

“You were sitting too far away.”

“There was less than a foot between us.”

“An unbearable distance.”

“You cannot keep moving me.”

“You weigh nothing.”

“That is irrelevant.”

“It’s extremely relevant to how easily I can move you.”

Regulus reached for the album before it slid from his knees.

Sirius secured one arm around him, shifted Regulus until his back rested against Sirius’s chest, and looked over his shoulder at the first page.

“Comfortable?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Regulus was already relaxing against him.

Sirius rested his chin near Regulus’s shoulder.

The first photograph showed a much younger Regulus standing in front of the same house, his curls shorter, his skin not yet as deeply tanned, both hands gripping the straps of a small backpack.

He looked solemnly furious.

Sirius went completely still.

Regulus felt it.

“That was shortly after we moved here.”

“How old?”

“Six.”

Sirius stared at the photograph.

Six.

Not long after the separation, then.

The little boy in the photograph shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, looking beyond the person holding the camera as though expecting someone else to appear.

Sirius’s arm tightened around Regulus.

“You look angry.”

“I was.”

“With Alphard?”

“With everyone.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

Regulus did not answer immediately.

The child in the photograph turned his face away from the camera.

“Yes.”

Sirius pressed his mouth against Regulus’s temple.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did not know where I was.”

“I promised.”

“You were six.”

“I still promised.”

Regulus tilted his head back against Sirius’s shoulder.

“You came.”

“Twelve years late.”

“You came.”

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment.

Then Regulus turned the page.

There were more photographs of the early years in Brazil.

Regulus standing ankle-deep in the sea, glaring at a wave that had soaked the bottom of his clothes.

Regulus asleep in a hammock with a book open across his chest.

Regulus sitting on Alphard’s shoulders during some crowded celebration, one hand tangled in Alphard’s hair and the other clutching a brightly coloured sweet.

Regulus at a small birthday table, staring suspiciously at a cake covered in blue icing.

Sirius pointed.

“Why do you look personally betrayed by the cake?”

“It had coconut.”

“You don’t like coconut.”

“I hated coconut.”

“I know.”

Regulus glanced back.

“You remember?”

“You once spat it into my hand.”

“You told me I could.”

“You looked like you were being poisoned.”

“I was.”

“It was one bite.”

“It was disgusting.”

Sirius kissed his cheek.

“My fussy baby.”

“I am not fussy anymore.”

Regulus turned the page.

A photograph showed him examining a plate with obvious distrust while several other children ate around him.

Sirius barked out a laugh.

“You were saying?”

“That could contain anything.”

“It’s bread.”

“You do not know that.”

“It visibly is.”

“You sound like Alphard.”

“I always knew he was clever.”

“You bit him.”

“And yet I respect his judgement about bread.”

The album continued.

Regulus grew gradually beneath Sirius’s hands.

At seven, he was missing one of his front teeth and scowling at the camera while holding an enormous fish.

At eight, he stood in the centre of a street festival, covered in glitter and wearing a paper crown.

At nine, the first pale streak had appeared in his fringe, faint and narrow against the dark curls.

Sirius touched the photograph.

“There.”

Regulus looked down.

“The streak?”

“Yes.”

In the photograph, nine-year-old Regulus kept trying to flatten the pale strand while it sprang stubbornly back into place.

“You hated it?”

“For a week.”

“Why?”

“People stared.”

“They were staring because you were pretty.”

“I was nine.”

“You were pretty at nine. Not like now,” Sirius added before Regulus could object. “Now you’re offensively attractive. Then you were a pretty child.”

Regulus considered this.

“I thought it made me look strange.”

“It makes you look like someone painted moonlight into your hair.”

Regulus went quiet.

Sirius brushed his fingers through the real streak.

“I love it.”

“You have known about it for less than an hour.”

“I’ve loved things faster.”

“Such as?”

“You.”

Regulus turned his face enough to look at him.

Sirius smiled.

“That took about three seconds the first time.”

“You were a baby.”

“I had excellent instincts.”

Regulus’s mouth softened.

He turned another page.

There were photographs from parties now. Not grand, miserable family events filled with dark robes and colder faces, but loud celebrations crowded with colour. Children raced through open courtyards. Tables were covered with food. Lanterns hung between trees. Regulus appeared in the middle of it all, sometimes dancing, sometimes eating, sometimes being dragged into photographs by laughing friends.

Sirius studied every face.

“Who’s that?”

“Tomás.”

“Who is Tomás?”

“A childhood friend.”

“Why does he have his arm around you?”

“Because we were taking a photograph.”

“He could have stood beside you without touching.”

“We were eleven.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You do not know him.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“You have seen one photograph of an eleven-year-old.”

“Exactly. Suspicious.”

Regulus turned the page.

Tomás appeared again, this time chasing Regulus through a garden while Regulus laughed over his shoulder.

Sirius pointed accusingly.

“There. Look at him.”

“He is running.”

“After you.”

“We were playing.”

“What game?”

“I do not remember.”

“A seduction game?”

“At eleven?”

“Scheming can begin young.”

Regulus gave Sirius a long look.

“You need help.”

“I needed you. I found you. I’m cured.”

“That is not how anything works.”

More pages.

Regulus at twelve in school robes, standing before the towering stone entrance of Castelobruxo.

Regulus in the school grounds, his hair soaked through, holding up a muddy shoe while several other students laughed.

Regulus asleep during a journey, cheek pressed to a window.

Regulus at a festival with painted patterns curling around his eyes.

Sirius touched each photograph as though contact might allow him to reach backwards through time.

“You got taller here.”

“I was twelve.”

“You were still tiny.”

“I was average.”

“Tiny.”

“I was not.”

“You barely reached Alphard’s shoulder.”

“Alphard is tall.”

“So am I.”

“You are taller.”

Sirius’s grin became pleased.

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“You just admitted I’m taller.”

“I have eyes.”

“And you like it.”

Regulus’s ears turned pink.

Sirius laughed against his neck.

“Too easy.”

The next pages held school photographs.

Regulus in classrooms.

Regulus sitting cross-legged beneath a tree while enchanted notes floated around his head.

Regulus in protective gloves, carefully holding a small creature with luminous feathers.

Sirius leaned closer.

“What is that?”

“A filhote de guará-lume.”

“A what?”

“A fire-glow scarlet ibis chick.”

“It is on fire.”

“It glows.”

“I can see flames.”

“They are not hot unless the bird is frightened.”

“Were you frightened?”

“No.”

“It looks frightened.”

“It was injured.”

In the photograph, thirteen-year-old Regulus kept one hand cupped beneath the bird’s body while the other stroked its head with extraordinary gentleness. The creature’s magical glow dimmed gradually, settling as Regulus murmured to it.

Sirius watched the moving image twice.

Then a third time.

“You always loved animals.”

“Yes.”

“You cried over that bird at home.”

“It hit the window.”

“You refused to eat until Alphard told you it would live.”

“It was hurt.”

“You tried to make me give it my pillow.”

“You had two.”

“I gave it one.”

“I know.”

Sirius kissed Regulus’s shoulder.

“I’d give you all of them now.”

“That would leave you with none.”

“I’d sleep on you.”

Regulus turned another page.

The photographs became busier as Regulus grew older.

There were more friends, more trips, more celebrations.

Regulus playing football on a beach with his trousers rolled above his knees.

Sirius stared at the image.

Regulus in the photograph darted around another player, stole the ball, and sent it cleanly between two stones serving as a goal.

“You play football?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was eight.”

“Are you good?”

Regulus glanced back at him.

“I was captain of the school team.”

Sirius’s mouth dropped open.

“You captained a team?”

“Yes.”

“You?”

Regulus looked offended.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You used to wander off in the middle of games.”

“I was five.”

“You once abandoned hide-and-seek because you found an interesting beetle.”

“It was blue.”

“You left me searching for an hour.”

“You should have noticed I was gone.”

“That is not how hide-and-seek works.”

“It should be.”

Sirius looked back at the photograph.

Regulus moved with startling speed, slipping around the other players with easy precision. His curls were tied away from his face. His legs were lean and strong beneath his shorts.

Sirius swallowed.

“You still play?”

“Yes.”

“I want to watch.”

“You will complain about the uniform.”

“Does it involve shorts?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m your most dedicated supporter.”

“You have never watched a match.”

“I know quality when I see it.”

The next photograph showed the team after a victory. Regulus stood in the centre, laughing while two teammates lifted him off the ground.

Sirius immediately scowled.

“Put him down.”

Regulus looked at him.

“They cannot hear you.”

“The one on the left has his hand far too close to your arse.”

“He was keeping me from falling.”

“He was enjoying himself.”

“You are jealous of a photograph.”

“I am observant.”

“You are jealous.”

“Who is he?”

“Lucas.”

“Did you date Lucas?”

“No.”

“Did he want to date you?”

“I do not know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Regulus tried to turn the page.

Sirius caught his wrist.

“Reggie.”

“Perhaps.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the smiling boy in the photograph.

“I hate Lucas.”

“You have never met him.”

“I don’t need to.”

Regulus finally turned the page.

Sirius’s suspicion was rewarded almost immediately by the appearance of an older Regulus sitting beside a handsome boy at a party.

The boy’s arm was around Regulus.

Regulus was leaning against him.

Sirius went silent.

Regulus felt Sirius’s entire body stiffen behind him.

“That,” Sirius said slowly, “is not Lucas.”

“No.”

“Who is that?”

“Mateus.”

“Why is Mateus touching you?”

“We were dating.”

The room seemed to change temperature.

Sirius stared at the photograph.

“You had a boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

Sirius looked at Regulus.

Then at the photograph.

Then at Regulus again.

“You had a boyfriend.”

“You repeated it.”

“I’m processing.”

Regulus frowned.

Sirius pointed to Mateus.

“How long?”

“Seven months.”

“Seven?”

“Yes.”

“Months?”

“That is generally what seven months means.”

Sirius looked appalled.

“What did you do with him?”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed.

“That is none of your business.”

“It is absolutely my business.”

“Why?”

“Because he had his hands on you.”

“He was my boyfriend.”

“That does not improve matters.”

“It was several years ago.”

“How several?”

“Two.”

Sirius studied the photograph more closely.

Regulus was wearing a loose white shirt and several bright necklaces. Mateus was whispering something into his ear while Regulus tried not to smile.

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

“He made you laugh.”

“Sometimes.”

“Was he funny?”

“Yes.”

“I’m funnier.”

“You do not know him.”

“I don’t need to. I’m objectively funnier.”

Regulus turned the page.

Another photograph showed Regulus kissing Mateus’s cheek.

Sirius slapped a hand over it.

“No.”

Regulus blinked.

“No?”

“I don’t want to see that.”

“You asked for photographs.”

“I asked for photographs of you, not evidence of crimes committed against me personally.”

“You did not know me then.”

“I still object retroactively.”

Regulus attempted to pull Sirius’s hand away.

Sirius held it firmly over Mateus’s face.

“Turn the page.”

“You are being childish.”

“Turn it.”

“There are more photographs of him.”

“Remove them.”

“No.”

“Burn them.”

“No.”

“Cut him out.”

“No.”

“Draw something ugly over his face.”

Regulus laughed.

Sirius looked at him.

The jealousy loosened slightly at the sound.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

“You like me being jealous.”

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Regulus finally turned the page.

Sirius removed his hand.

The next photographs showed another party, and another boy.

Sirius stared.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Henrique.”

“You dated him too?”

“Yes.”

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

“Three.”

“Three?”

“Yes.”

“That is three too many.”

“You have dated people.”

“That is different.”

“How?”

Sirius opened his mouth.

Closed it.

“Because.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Because I didn’t know you were here looking like this.”

Regulus flushed.

Sirius jabbed a finger at Henrique.

“What did he do?”

“He was a dancer.”

“That was not my question.”

“You asked who he was.”

“I asked what he did with you.”

“I am not telling you that.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed.

Regulus’s colour deepened.

“Oh, I’m going to find him.”

“You do not know where he lives.”

“I found you across an ocean. Henrique cannot hide from me.”

“You are not hunting my ex-boyfriends.”

“I’m not hunting them.”

“You are.”

“I merely want conversations.”

“What sort of conversations?”

“Threatening ones.”

Regulus sighed.

“Henrique lives in Portugal now.”

Sirius paused.

“Convenient.”

“He moved for work.”

“Coward.”

“He has never met you.”

“Yet he sensed danger.”

Regulus turned more pages before Sirius could interrogate him further.

The album shifted towards festivals and dances.

Regulus appeared in bright costumes, surrounded by crowds and music. Some photographs were taken at school celebrations. Others showed street festivals in Búzios and neighbouring towns. Regulus danced in nearly all of them.

Sometimes alone.

Sometimes with friends.

Sometimes held by the waist as he moved with somebody else.

Sirius’s jealousy competed fiercely with fascination.

“You dance.”

“Yes.”

“Properly?”

“What does that mean?”

“Not awkwardly swaying while hoping nobody notices.”

“I have taken lessons since I was nine.”

Sirius watched a photograph in which fifteen-year-old Regulus spun beneath strings of lights, curls flying, feet quick and precise.

“What sort?”

“Several kinds.”

“That is vague.”

“Samba. Forró. Lambada. Ballroom. Some contemporary dance.”

Sirius stared.

“You can do all of those?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we are looking at photographs.”

“We can stop.”

“We have barely begun.”

“Dance for me later.”

Regulus hesitated.

Sirius immediately noticed.

“That wasn’t a no.”

“It was not an answer.”

“It was a future yes.”

“You are inventing things.”

“I’m manifesting.”

Regulus laughed under his breath and turned another page.

The costumes became more elaborate.

Feathers.

Jewels.

Masks.

Paint.

Shimmering fabrics that moved magically in the photographs.

At first, they were childhood outfits—bright shirts, oversized hats, wings that fluttered independently, animal ears that twitched whenever someone called Regulus’s name.

Sirius pointed to one.

“You were a rabbit.”

“I was ten.”

“You had ears.”

“They were part of the costume.”

“And a tail.”

“Yes.”

Sirius watched ten-year-old Regulus turn around repeatedly, trying to catch sight of the fluffy tail attached to his costume.

“You were adorable.”

“I was annoyed.”

“You were a tiny rabbit.”

“The tail kept moving.”

Sirius laughed.

“You still do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn around trying to see your own arse.”

“I do not.”

“You did at the door after I commented on it.”

“I was checking my shorts.”

“Sure.”

Regulus elbowed him lightly.

As the years advanced, the costumes changed.

More skin.

More glitter.

More ornate jewellery draped over Regulus’s shoulders, waist, wrists, thighs, and ankles.

At fourteen, he wore fitted white trousers and a brilliant blue cropped top with feathered sleeves.

At fifteen, he wore a gold costume that left his stomach bare.

At sixteen, he appeared in a jewelled harness over a thin, translucent shirt, grinning while somebody adjusted an enormous set of wings behind him.

Sirius’s breathing grew heavier with every page.

Regulus noticed.

“You are very quiet.”

“I’m trying not to frighten you.”

“With what?”

“My thoughts.”

“That has not stopped you before.”

“These are considerably worse.”

Regulus’s ears turned pink.

Sirius’s hand slid more securely around his waist, drawing him back until Regulus was pressed along the full length of his chest.

“Do you still have these costumes?”

“Some.”

“Which ones?”

“I do not know.”

“All the revealing ones?”

Regulus looked at him over his shoulder.

“Why?”

Sirius smiled.

“For historical appreciation.”

“You are not appreciating history.”

“I’m appreciating you in very little clothing. It happens to be historical.”

Regulus turned another page.

Carnival filled the photographs.

Crowds packed the streets beneath explosions of colour. Music seemed almost audible in the moving images. Costumes flashed beneath the Brazilian sun and under bright night-time lights. Everyone was dressed according to different themes—birds, jungle cats, sea creatures, insects, spirits, flowers, stars.

Regulus was always in costume.

At first, the outfits were elaborate enough to cover him.

Then, as he grew older, they became increasingly daring.

Sirius stared at a photograph from the previous year in which Regulus wore little more than a beaded arrangement across his chest and a feathered piece sitting low around his hips.

His hand tightened around Regulus’s waist.

“Where is the rest?”

“That is the costume.”

“That is jewellery.”

“Yes.”

“Where are your clothes?”

Regulus pointed to the beaded fabric.

“There.”

“That would not cover my hand.”

“It covered what it needed to.”

“Barely.”

Sirius watched the moving photograph. Regulus danced past the camera, his skin glimmering with gold paint, curls decorated with tiny jewels.

Several people turned to watch him.

Sirius glared at every one of them.

“Did the entire town see you dressed like this?”

“There were thousands of people.”

“That was not the answer I wanted.”

“You asked.”

“Thousands?”

“It was Carnival.”

“You walked around half-naked in front of thousands of people?”

“I danced.”

“That is worse.”

Regulus laughed.

“It was hot.”

Sirius’s eyes dragged slowly down the photographed version of him.

“I’ll fucking say.”

Regulus turned the page.

Sirius stopped breathing.

The next photograph was recent.

Very recent.

Regulus looked almost exactly as he did now, though his curls had been arranged more deliberately, the blonde streak swept through the front and decorated with tiny golden chains.

He stood in the centre of a group dressed according to an animal theme. Masks, painted markings, tails, ears, feathers, fur, claws, shimmering scales.

Regulus had been transformed into some sleek, fantastical jungle creature.

A delicate black-and-gold mask covered the upper half of his face, shaped around catlike eyes. Pointed ears rose from his curls. Gold paint traced patterns over his cheeks, throat, collarbones, chest, waist, and thighs. Layered necklaces and chains draped across his bare torso. Decorative cuffs circled his upper arms and wrists. A long, elegant tail curved behind him, animated enough to sway with his movements.

He wore tiny black shorts sitting low on his hips.

Nothing else.

No shirt.

No jacket.

No robe.

Only sun-warmed skin and an impossible amount of jewellery.

In the photograph, Regulus turned towards the camera.

The mask made his eyes seem darker.

He smiled.

Then he slowly turned around, revealing the tail fixed just above the curve of his arse.

Sirius made a noise that sounded genuinely wounded.

Regulus froze.

Sirius snatched the album closer.

“What the fuck is that?”

“A Carnival costume.”

“I can see that.”

“It was earlier this year.”

“You wore this outside?”

“Yes.”

“In public?”

“Yes.”

“In front of people?”

“That is generally what public means.”

Sirius stared at the photograph with such intensity that Regulus shifted nervously on his lap.

The photographic Regulus moved again, turning sideways while someone adjusted one of the chains draped around his hips.

The tiny shorts clung to him.

The tail swayed.

Sirius’s erection throbbed hard enough beneath Regulus that both of them felt it.

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius pointed at the photograph.

“I’m taking this.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“It is my photograph.”

“It belongs to me now.”

“You cannot steal photographs from my album.”

“I absolutely can.”

“Why do you want it?”

Sirius looked at him.

Regulus immediately seemed to regret asking.

“Why do you think?”

Regulus’s face heated.

“Sirius.”

“I’ll keep it with me.”

“No.”

“I’ll put it beside my bed.”

“No.”

“I’ll stare at it every night.”

“No.”

Sirius leaned closer to Regulus’s ear.

“I’ll use my imagination.”

Regulus shivered.

Sirius noticed.

The hand at Regulus’s waist spread wider.

“Do you still have the costume?”

Regulus looked down at the album.

“Perhaps.”

“That means yes.”

“It might be in a box.”

“Where?”

“Upstairs.”

Sirius groaned softly.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I’m trying very hard to behave.”

“You have not behaved once since arriving.”

“You have no idea how much worse I could be.”

Regulus’s fingers curled around the edge of the page.

Sirius watched the photograph again.

His gaze lingered on the mask.

The ears.

The tail.

The small strip of fabric covering Regulus’s hips.

He imagined seeing Regulus in it properly.

Not trapped inside a photograph.

Standing in front of him.

Blushing.

Nervous.

Beautiful.

Sirius’s voice dropped.

“You’d wear it for me?”

Regulus swallowed.

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I do not know where it is.”

“We can find it.”

“You have only just arrived.”

“And I already have priorities.”

Regulus tried to turn the page.

Sirius caught his hand.

“No.”

“There are more photographs.”

“I’m not finished with this one.”

“You have been staring at it for several minutes.”

“I’m going to stare for several years.”

Regulus shifted again, perhaps attempting to turn enough to see Sirius’s expression.

The movement pressed his arse directly against Sirius’s erection.

Sirius’s head fell back against the sofa.

A rough groan escaped him.

Regulus went completely still.

Sirius closed his eyes.

“Reggie.”

“I did not mean to.”

“That keeps happening.”

“I was trying to turn.”

“You succeeded.”

Regulus’s breathing had changed.

Only slightly.

Sirius could feel it where Regulus’s back pressed against his chest.

Sirius looked down.

Regulus’s hands were still resting on the album, but his fingers had tightened. His thighs were drawn close together. Colour had spread from his cheeks down the long line of his throat.

Sirius moved his mouth near Regulus’s ear.

“You’re nervous.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“You keep saying things.”

“You like the things I’m saying.”

Regulus did not answer.

Sirius’s lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“You keep clinging to me.”

Regulus’s fingers left the album and caught the sleeve of Sirius’s shirt.

As though proving the accusation.

Sirius smiled.

“There.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means you want me close.”

“I have not seen you for twelve years.”

“And now?”

Regulus’s grip tightened.

“Now you are here.”

The answer scraped something raw inside Sirius.

His teasing softened.

He folded both arms around Regulus and pulled him firmly back against him.

Regulus let the album fall closed across their legs.

Sirius pressed his face into Regulus’s neck, breathing him in. Warm skin. Salt. Something clean and faintly floral. The smell of the Brazilian afternoon still clinging to him.

“I need you,” Sirius whispered.

Regulus’s breath trembled.

“I’ve needed you for years.”

“Sirius.”

“I don’t know how to do this slowly.”

Regulus turned his head.

Their faces were suddenly close.

Too close for pretending.

Sirius’s eyes moved over his face.

The flushed cheeks.

The uncertain mouth.

The lashes trembling faintly when Regulus blinked.

“You can tell me to stop,” Sirius murmured.

Regulus looked at his lips.

Sirius waited.

For perhaps the first time since walking through the door, he truly waited.

Regulus’s fingers moved from Sirius’s sleeve to his shoulder.

Then into the long hair at the nape of Sirius’s neck.

He clung.

Sirius’s pulse leapt.

“Reggie?”

Regulus leaned forward.

Only slightly.

It was enough.

Sirius closed the remaining distance and kissed him.

Regulus squeaked.

The startled sound vanished against Sirius’s mouth.

For half a heartbeat, Regulus froze.

Sirius felt every tense line of him—the stiff shoulders, the caught breath, the fingers suddenly locked in Sirius’s hair.

Then Regulus kissed him back.

Sirius’s restraint broke.

One hand slid up the length of Regulus’s spine while the other gripped his waist. He turned Regulus across his lap, drawing him closer until their chests pressed together.

Regulus clung harder.

His mouth was soft.

Warm.

Uncertain for only the first few seconds before instinct overtook nerves. He followed Sirius’s movements, tilting his head when Sirius did, lips parting beneath gentle pressure.

Sirius groaned into the kiss.

Regulus trembled.

Sirius pulled back barely an inch.

“Still all right?”

Regulus’s eyes remained closed.

“Yes.”

The word was breathless.

Sirius kissed him again.

Regulus made another tiny sound and wrapped both arms around Sirius’s neck.

The album slipped from their knees and landed on the floor.

Neither looked at it.

Sirius kissed Regulus slowly at first, learning the shape of his mouth. The angle that made his breath catch. The pressure that made his fingers twist tighter into Sirius’s hair.

Regulus tasted faintly sweet.

Sirius wanted more.

He brushed his tongue against Regulus’s lower lip.

Regulus inhaled sharply.

His lips parted.

Sirius deepened the kiss.

Regulus whimpered into his mouth.

The sound went straight through Sirius.

Sirius’s hand tightened at his waist, pulling him closer as their tongues met. Regulus was hesitant, then curious, following Sirius’s lead and answering each slow stroke with one of his own.

The kiss turned messy almost immediately.

Twelve years of absence sat between every breath.

Sirius kissed him like he could consume the distance.

Regulus kissed him like he was afraid Sirius might vanish if he let go.

Their mouths parted only long enough to breathe before finding each other again. Regulus’s fingers tangled in Sirius’s hair. Sirius’s palm travelled over his back, pressing him closer until there was no space left between them.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathed against Regulus’s lips.

Regulus kissed him again before he could say more.

Sirius laughed softly into it.

“There you are.”

Regulus made an impatient sound and pulled Sirius closer by the hair.

Sirius’s laugh became a groan.

“Oh, you like kissing me.”

Regulus’s cheeks burned.

“Stop talking.”

“You always hated it when I was right.”

Regulus kissed him again.

Sirius grinned against his mouth.

“Very convincing.”

“Sirius.”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

Regulus stared at him from only inches away, lips swollen from kissing.

“Sirius.”

A shudder moved through him.

Sirius caught Regulus beneath the thighs and shifted them.

Regulus gasped as Sirius turned, easing him backwards onto the sofa. Sirius followed carefully, bracing one hand beside Regulus’s head and settling between his parted legs without breaking eye contact.

Regulus lay beneath him, curls spread against the cushion, blonde streak bright across his forehead, chest rising and falling beneath the thin tank top.

Sirius forgot how to breathe.

Regulus’s hands remained hooked around his shoulders.

“What?” he whispered.

Sirius stared down at him.

“You.”

“You say that often.”

“Because you keep getting prettier.”

“That is not possible.”

“It apparently is.”

Regulus’s knees pressed lightly against Sirius’s sides.

Sirius lowered his head.

Their mouths met again.

This kiss was deeper from the beginning.

Regulus opened beneath him, one hand sliding from Sirius’s shoulder into his hair while the other clutched his shirt. Sirius kissed him until Regulus was breathless, until every nervous little sound dissolved into the wet meeting of their mouths.

Sirius’s body pressed closer.

Regulus felt the hard line of him through their clothes.

His breath broke.

Sirius stopped.

Their foreheads touched.

Regulus’s eyes opened slowly.

Sirius searched his face.

“Tell me.”

Regulus’s fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Do not stop.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened.

He kissed him again.

Regulus arched into the contact with a soft, startled moan, thighs tightening around Sirius’s hips. Sirius answered with a rough sound of his own, one hand gripping the sofa while the other held Regulus securely at the waist.

Their bodies shifted together.

Slowly.

Carefully.

The friction through their clothes dragged another broken sound from Regulus.

He hid it against Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius kissed him harder.

Regulus’s legs drew closer around him, keeping him there. His nervousness had not disappeared; Sirius could feel it in the trembling of his hands and the quickness of his breath. But he continued to cling, continued to kiss, continued to pull Sirius back whenever he lifted his head.

Sirius’s mouth moved from Regulus’s lips to the warm curve of his cheek.

Then his jaw.

Then back to his mouth when Regulus turned impatiently after him.

“You’re greedy,” Sirius murmured.

Regulus flushed.

“You keep moving away.”

“Only to look at you.”

“Do it later.”

Sirius groaned and kissed him again.

The unopened albums remained stacked on the table.

The oldest one lay forgotten on the floor, the photograph of Regulus’s Carnival costume hidden safely between its closed pages.

Sirius no longer needed it.

The real Regulus was beneath him, warm and flushed and clinging, kissing him as though twelve years had only been a breath held too long and they had finally, desperately, remembered how to breathe.

Regulus did not know where one kiss ended and the next began.

There was only Sirius above him, heavy and warm and real, kissing him like he was furious with the concept of distance. Like every inch between them had personally offended him. Like twelve years had been a debt he intended to collect from Regulus’s mouth.

Regulus clung to him because there was nothing else to do.

His hands were tangled in Sirius’s hair, fingers twisted in the long dark strands at the nape of his neck. Every time Sirius shifted, Regulus held tighter. Every time Sirius pulled back even enough to breathe, Regulus chased him with a helpless little sound that made Sirius groan like he had been struck.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathed against his mouth. “Listen to you.”

Regulus shook his head, though he did not know what he was denying.

Sirius smiled against his lips.

“Yes. You. All those little noises.”

Regulus flushed so hot he felt feverish.

“I’m not—”

Sirius kissed him before he could finish.

It was not gentle this time.

It was hungry, deep, messy. Sirius’s tongue slid into his mouth, and Regulus made a broken sound immediately, something between a whine and a squeak, small and startled and far too needy to be dignified. Sirius swallowed it greedily, one hand cupping the side of Regulus’s face while the other gripped his hip hard enough to keep him pinned against the sofa.

Regulus’s legs tightened around Sirius’s waist.

Sirius pressed down.

The hard line of his cock dragged against Regulus through both their clothes, thick and hot beneath denim, grinding low against the curve of Regulus’s arse.

Regulus gasped into Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius did it again.

Slow.

Deliberate.

A brutal, controlled roll of his hips that made the friction impossible to mistake. His cock was hard and heavy, trapped in his trousers, dragging against Regulus’s arse until Regulus’s breath hitched and his thighs trembled around Sirius’s hips.

“There,” Sirius murmured, mouth still brushing his. “You feel that?”

Regulus’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Sirius.”

“You feel how hard I am for you?”

Regulus whined.

Sirius smiled like the sound had fed something wicked in him.

“Words, Reggie.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Regulus shook his head again, face burning, fingers pulling desperately at Sirius’s shirt.

Sirius lowered his head and kissed him slower, tongue sliding against his with filthy patience, as though he had all the time in the world and intended to spend every second of it ruining him. Regulus opened for him with a soft, shaky noise, hips twitching helplessly beneath him.

Sirius rolled his hips again.

Regulus squeaked.

The sound broke apart under Sirius’s tongue.

Sirius groaned, low and rough.

“Christ, you’re sweet.”

Regulus tried to hide his face against Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius would not let him.

He caught Regulus’s jaw and tilted his face back, kissing him again, deeper, messier, until Regulus could barely breathe. Their tongues moved together with growing desperation, slick and clumsy, both of them too impatient to make it graceful. Sirius’s hair fell around them like a dark curtain. Regulus could taste him, could feel the heat of his breath, could feel every sharp inhale Sirius took when Regulus’s hips moved by accident beneath him.

Except after the first time, it stopped being an accident.

Regulus rolled his hips up.

Only a little.

Only enough to rub himself against the heavy shape of Sirius’s cock through their clothes.

Sirius went still.

Regulus froze too.

Their mouths parted with a wet sound.

Sirius looked down at him.

Regulus’s chest rose and fell beneath the thin tank top, lips swollen, eyes wide and dark and nervous. His cheeks were flushed almost crimson. His fingers were still clamped in Sirius’s hair, as if part of him had forgotten how to let go.

Sirius smiled slowly.

“Oh.”

Regulus swallowed.

Sirius’s voice dropped.

“You did that on purpose.”

Regulus’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Sirius leaned closer, nose brushing Regulus’s cheek.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“I—”

Sirius rolled his hips again, grinding his cock firmly against Regulus’s arse.

Regulus’s answer dissolved into a whine.

Sirius’s smile turned feral.

“That’s what I thought.”

Regulus’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Sirius.”

“You’re needy.”

“No.”

“No?” Sirius asked, and did it again.

Regulus arched under him, breath catching sharply.

Sirius kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so fucking needy.”

Regulus shook beneath him.

Sirius dragged his mouth down along Regulus’s jaw.

The kiss changed shape there, became less frantic and more possessive. Sirius pressed his lips beneath Regulus’s ear, then lower, along the sensitive line of his neck. Regulus tipped his head back before he could think better of it.

Sirius noticed immediately.

He laughed softly against Regulus’s skin.

“Look at you. Giving me your throat.”

Regulus made a small embarrassed sound.

Sirius kissed him there again, open-mouthed and hot.

Regulus’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“Sirius.”

“I know.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

Sirius dragged his teeth lightly over the skin beneath Regulus’s jaw.

Regulus shuddered.

Sirius’s hand slid from his cheek to his throat, not squeezing, only holding him there, thumb brushing gently over his pulse while his mouth worked lower.

“I know exactly what you need.”

Regulus’s breathing turned uneven.

Sirius sucked a mark into the side of his neck.

Regulus gasped, back bowing from the sofa.

The sound was so pretty that Sirius did it again.

Harder.

Regulus whined.

“Sirius—”

“That’s it,” Sirius murmured. “Make those sounds for me.”

Regulus clung to him, helpless as Sirius kissed and sucked and bit at his neck, leaving dark marks blooming across tanned skin. Each one made Regulus tremble more violently. Each one made Sirius grind down harder, cock dragging against Regulus’s arse through layers of fabric until the friction made both of them pant.

Sirius bit him just below the jaw.

Regulus squeaked.

Sirius groaned like the sound had gone straight through him.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus’s head tipped farther back.

Sirius stared for a second, wrecked by the sight of him—flushed and gasping beneath him, curls spread against the cushion, blonde streak bright at his temple, his throat marked by Sirius’s mouth.

His.

The word hit hard enough to make Sirius’s hips jerk forward.

Regulus moaned.

Sirius kissed the mark he had just made, almost soothingly, then bit another one lower.

Regulus’s legs tightened around him.

“You like that?”

Regulus’s eyes remained squeezed shut.

Sirius smiled against his neck.

“You do.”

Regulus’s voice came out small.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“It feels—”

Sirius rolled his hips, cock pressing hard against him.

Regulus whimpered and lifted into it.

Sirius kissed the corner of his jaw.

“It feels what?”

“Good.”

The word was almost too quiet.

Sirius went hot all over.

“Yeah?”

Regulus nodded, still clinging.

Sirius kissed him again, messy and deep, tongue pushing into his mouth while his hips kept moving. Regulus answered with desperate little rolls of his own, trying to match him, trying to find the friction again every time Sirius’s cock dragged over him.

Their clothes made everything worse.

The barrier of fabric meant Sirius could not feel as much as he wanted, but it also meant he had to grind harder, had to press closer, had to keep Regulus pinned beneath him while his cock strained painfully in his trousers.

Regulus was trembling underneath him, making soft, high sounds into Sirius’s mouth.

Whining.

Squeaking.

Moaning when Sirius found a rhythm.

“Fuck,” Sirius panted, dragging his mouth away only to bite at Regulus’s neck again. “You’re going to kill me.”

Regulus shook his head.

“You are.”

“You came to my house.”

“I came to find you.”

“You are heavy.”

Sirius laughed breathlessly.

“And you’re still arguing while I’m on top of you.”

“You like arguing.”

“I like you.”

Regulus’s eyes opened.

Sirius held his gaze while he rolled his hips again, slow and obscene, grinding the hard length of his cock against Regulus’s arse.

Regulus’s lashes fluttered.

Sirius leaned down until their mouths nearly touched.

“I like you like this even more.”

Regulus swallowed.

“Sirius.”

“All flushed and noisy.” Sirius kissed him once. “Clinging to me.” Another kiss. “Grinding against my cock like you want it.”

Regulus whimpered.

Sirius’s hand moved to Regulus’s thigh, gripping it and hitching it higher around his waist. The new angle pressed them together more tightly. Regulus gasped, hips jerking up.

“There,” Sirius groaned. “There, fuck, that’s better.”

Regulus’s fingers pulled at the back of Sirius’s shirt.

Sirius lowered his head to Regulus’s throat again and spoke against the marked skin, voice rough and dark.

“I’m still taking that photograph.”

Regulus made a dazed sound.

“The Carnival one.” Sirius kissed the newest bruise forming on his neck. “You in those tiny little shorts. That mask. That tail.”

Regulus’s entire body tightened.

Sirius felt it and smiled.

“Oh, you like that.”

Regulus shook his head, but his hips rolled up at the same time.

Sirius groaned.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Regulus’s face was burning, but he did not stop moving.

Sirius dragged his cock against him again and again, each grind slower and more deliberate than the last, until Regulus was panting beneath him. The sofa creaked softly under them. The album lay open on the floor now, forgotten, pages bent, photographs shifting and moving in the corner of Sirius’s vision.

He did not look away from Regulus.

“I’m going to keep that photo,” Sirius murmured. “I’m going to take it with me, and I’m going to look at it when you’re not there.”

Regulus whined.

Sirius kissed him.

“And I’m going to jerk my cock thinking about you in that costume.”

Regulus’s mouth fell open against his.

Sirius’s voice got lower.

“Thinking about that pretty little mask. Those ears. That tail swaying behind you.”

Regulus’s hips rolled again, needier now, less controlled.

Sirius’s hand tightened on his thigh.

“Fuck, yes. Like that.”

Regulus hid his face against Sirius’s neck.

Sirius did not let him stay there long. He caught his jaw, turned him back, and kissed him until Regulus was whining into his mouth again, tongue sliding shyly against Sirius’s before becoming bolder, messier, desperate.

Sirius pulled back only far enough to speak.

“Or maybe I’ll find the costume.”

Regulus’s eyes opened.

Sirius smiled down at him, wild and dark and beautiful.

“Maybe I’ll make you wear it for me.”

Regulus’s breath trembled.

“Sirius.”

“That tiny little thing.” Sirius’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Regulus’s tank top just enough to touch warm skin at his waist. “No shirt. All that gold on your skin.”

Regulus shivered beneath him.

“The mask hiding your face.” Sirius kissed the corner of his mouth. “Those shorts barely covering you.”

Regulus’s hands curled into fists in Sirius’s shirt.

Sirius pressed his hips down harder.

Regulus cried out softly.

Sirius groaned at the sound.

“I’d pull them down just enough,” Sirius murmured against his lips. “Not all the way. Just enough to see your arse.”

Regulus made a helpless, broken noise.

Sirius’s cock throbbed so hard he swore under his breath.

“You like hearing it.”

Regulus shook his head weakly.

“You do. Fuck, Reggie, you’re shaking.”

Regulus’s thighs were trembling around him. His face was flushed and overwhelmed, lips wet from Sirius’s kisses, throat bruised from his mouth.

Sirius stared at the marks and had to kiss them again.

“I’d bend you over,” he whispered into Regulus’s neck. “Hold you still by these pretty hips.”

Regulus’s hips rolled up, and Sirius answered immediately, grinding down against him.

“Yes,” Sirius groaned. “Like that. Fuck, keep doing that.”

Regulus did.

Clumsy at first, then needier, chasing the pressure with every roll of his hips. Sirius met him each time, dragging his cock against him through their clothes, rough enough that both of them were breathing hard.

Sirius bit Regulus’s neck again.

Regulus squeaked.

“There’s that sound,” Sirius murmured. “God, I’m obsessed with that sound.”

Regulus’s voice came out trembling.

“You keep making me.”

“I know.”

Sirius kissed him, filthy and deep, then spoke straight into his mouth.

“I want to hear what you sound like when I push my cock inside you.”

Regulus went completely still for half a second.

Then he moaned.

Sirius’s control nearly snapped.

His hips jerked forward hard enough that Regulus’s body shifted beneath him. Sirius caught him, one arm sliding under his back to keep him close while his mouth crashed against Regulus’s again.

The kiss was all tongue, teeth, breathless need. Regulus kissed back with frantic inexperience, clinging to Sirius like he had been waiting years to be wanted this badly and did not know what to do with it now that it was happening.

Sirius knew what to do with it.

Sirius wanted to do everything with it.

“You’re so little under me,” Sirius panted, forehead pressed to Regulus’s. “Fuck, Reggie. Look at you.”

Regulus opened his eyes.

Sirius’s gaze burned down into his.

“I’m so much bigger than you.”

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius’s cock dragged against him again, thick and unmistakable.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How big I am.”

Regulus whimpered.

“How hard you’ve made me.”

“Sirius.”

“Say it.”

Regulus shook his head, overwhelmed.

Sirius kissed him softer, though his hips kept moving.

“Say it, pretty boy.”

Regulus’s eyes went glassy with nerves and want.

“You’re big.”

Sirius groaned.

“Fuck.”

Regulus swallowed, voice barely there.

“You’re so big.”

Sirius dropped his head into the crook of Regulus’s neck and swore again, rough and wrecked.

Regulus’s hands stroked through his hair in shaking little movements.

Sirius dragged his teeth over another patch of skin.

“And you’re so fucking little.”

Regulus made a tiny sound.

Sirius’s hand slid up beneath his tank top, palm spreading over his waist, feeling the warm, smooth skin there. He did not push farther. Not yet. It was enough to feel him tremble beneath the touch.

“I’d fill you up,” Sirius whispered. “You know that?”

Regulus’s fingers tightened painfully in his hair.

Sirius kissed his throat.

“I’d get that massive fucking cock inside you, and you’d feel it everywhere.”

Regulus’s hips jerked up sharply.

Sirius hissed.

“Fuck, yes.”

“Sirius.”

“You’d take it so pretty.”

Regulus whined, face turned into Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius kept talking because every word made Regulus shiver harder, and every shiver sent Sirius closer to the edge of his self-control.

“I’d go slow at first,” he murmured. “Because you’re tiny and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Regulus’s breath hitched.

“But I’d make you take it. Inch by inch. Get you stretched around me until there’s nothing in your head but my cock.”

Regulus moaned, soft and broken.

Sirius pressed a kiss beneath his ear.

“Then I’d fuck you properly.”

Regulus clung so hard his nails dug into Sirius’s shoulders through the fabric.

Sirius groaned.

“I’d shove my cock in that pretty little hole and fill you up until you’re shaking.”

Regulus’s hips rolled again, frantic now.

Sirius met him, grinding hard.

The rhythm was filthy, unmistakable. Sirius’s cock dragged against Regulus’s arse through their clothes while Regulus moved beneath him, whimpering at every press, every shift, every rough scrape of friction.

“Good boy,” Sirius breathed before he could stop himself.

Regulus froze.

Sirius felt the reaction like a spell going off beneath his hands.

Then Regulus made the sweetest, most helpless sound Sirius had heard from him yet and rolled his hips up again.

Sirius’s eyes darkened.

“Oh.”

Regulus hid his face.

Sirius laughed softly, breathless and dangerous.

“Oh, Reggie.”

“Don’t.”

“You liked that.”

Regulus shook his head, but his body betrayed him, hips still moving, legs still tight around Sirius’s waist.

“You liked that a lot.”

Regulus’s voice shook.

“Sirius, please.”

The word hit him like lightning.

Sirius stopped moving.

Regulus made a distressed little sound immediately, fingers tugging at him.

“No, no, don’t—”

Sirius lifted his head, eyes searching Regulus’s face.

“Please what?”

Regulus stared at him, flushed and shaking and embarrassed beyond words.

Sirius’s thumb brushed his cheek.

“Tell me.”

Regulus swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You want me to keep going?”

Regulus nodded quickly.

“With the grinding?”

Another nod.

“With my mouth on you?”

Regulus’s eyes fluttered.

“Yes.”

“With me telling you all the filthy things I want to do to you?”

Regulus’s blush deepened to something almost painful.

A whisper.

“Yes.”

Sirius closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them again, he looked starving.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

Regulus’s expression shifted, need softening into something more aching.

“You said that already.”

“I’ll keep saying it.”

Sirius kissed him again, and this time there was something almost tender threaded through the hunger. It lasted for a few seconds before Regulus whined into his mouth and rolled his hips upward, and then Sirius was gone again.

He pressed Regulus harder into the sofa, kissing him with tongue, sucking on his lower lip, biting it gently enough to make Regulus squeak. His hips found the rhythm again, cock dragging heavy and insistent against Regulus’s arse.

Regulus tried to match him.

He was clumsy with it, sweetly so, all nerves and want and shaky little movements. Sirius guided him with a hand on his hip, holding him steady, teaching his body where to move.

“There,” Sirius whispered. “Like that.”

Regulus obeyed.

Sirius groaned.

“Just like that. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Regulus whined, nails catching in Sirius’s shirt.

The pressure built between them, all heat and friction and the rough drag of clothing. Sirius could feel himself leaking in his trousers, cock aching, trapped and desperate. Every time Regulus moved, Sirius imagined less fabric between them. He imagined those little shorts from the photograph pushed down just enough. He imagined the tail trembling behind Regulus as Sirius bent him over. He imagined Regulus trying to stay quiet, failing, crying out every time Sirius shoved his cock deeper.

He told Regulus so.

Not all at once.

In pieces.

Against his mouth.

Against his throat.

Between kisses and bites and low, wrecked groans.

“I’d keep the mask on you.”

Regulus whimpered.

“I’d make you look back at me.”

Regulus clung harder.

“Make you watch while I fuck you.”

Regulus’s hips jerked up.

“Fuck, yes, you like that.”

“Sirius.”

“I’d hold your hips. Right here.”

Sirius’s hands gripped him, fingers pressing into the narrow curve of his waist.

“Keep you still while I push in.”

Regulus shuddered.

“You’d feel so tight around me.”

Regulus made a helpless sound against his mouth.

“You’d take all of it.”

“I don’t—”

“You would.” Sirius kissed him. “You would for me.”

Regulus went soft beneath him in a way that made Sirius dizzy.

Not limp.

Not passive.

Trusting.

Melting.

His hands opened against Sirius’s back, clutching him close.

“For you,” Regulus whispered, barely audible.

Sirius stopped breathing.

Then he kissed Regulus so hard the sofa shifted beneath them.

Regulus moaned into it, legs tightening, body arching, hips rolling up with desperate rhythm now. Sirius answered every movement, grinding down harder, cock pressing thick against him through the denim until the friction made Sirius grit his teeth.

“Fuck, Reggie,” he panted. “You’re going to make me come in my trousers like a teenager.”

Regulus’s eyes opened, dazed and dark.

That should not have made Sirius hotter.

It did.

Regulus looked down between them, then back at Sirius.

His voice was shaking.

“Would you?”

Sirius stared.

Regulus’s face went redder.

“I mean—”

Sirius kissed him again, messy and groaning.

“Yes.”

Regulus whimpered.

“Yes, fuck, if you keep moving like that, yes.” Sirius’s voice broke into something rougher. “You feel what you’re doing to me?”

Regulus nodded.

“Feel how hard my cock is?”

“Yes.”

“You like it?”

Regulus’s lips parted.

“Yes.”

Sirius groaned like he was in pain.

Regulus rolled his hips up again, bolder this time, chasing the hard shape of Sirius through their clothes.

Sirius’s head dropped.

His forehead pressed to Regulus’s shoulder.

“Shit.”

Regulus did it again.

Sirius bit his neck in response, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough that Regulus squeaked and arched.

“Careful,” Sirius warned.

His voice sounded wrecked.

Regulus’s fingers slid into his hair again.

He tugged lightly.

Sirius’s whole body shuddered.

Regulus noticed.

A tiny, dangerous confidence flickered through his expression.

Sirius saw it and smiled with his teeth.

“Do that again and I’m going to become a problem.”

Regulus tugged again.

Sirius cursed, low and filthy, and ground his cock down hard against him.

Regulus cried out.

“There,” Sirius said, almost snarling now. “That what you wanted?”

Regulus nodded, breathless.

Sirius kissed him, then kissed his neck, then sucked another dark mark into the skin already bruised by his mouth.

Regulus writhed beneath him, not trying to get away, only overwhelmed, needy, unsure where to put all the feeling Sirius was dragging out of him.

His hips kept moving.

Sirius’s did too.

The rhythm turned rougher.

Not careless, never careless, but desperate. Sirius held himself above Regulus enough not to crush him, but everything else pressed close—the heat of his chest, the strength of his thighs, the hard line of his cock grinding against Regulus again and again.

Regulus’s sounds filled the living room.

Soft whines.

Sharp little squeaks when Sirius bit him.

Breathless moans when Sirius kissed him with tongue.

Sirius praised every one.

“There’s my pretty boy.”

Regulus shivered.

“So noisy for me.”

Another whine.

“So fucking sweet.”

Regulus pulled him down harder.

Sirius laughed against his mouth.

“You like being called sweet?”

Regulus mumbled something unintelligible.

Sirius kissed him again, tongue sliding into his mouth.

Regulus answered eagerly now, no longer waiting for Sirius to lead every movement. His tongue met Sirius’s messily, uncertain but hungry. Sirius groaned into him, hips stuttering.

“Fuck, kiss me like that again.”

Regulus did.

Sirius’s control frayed further.

The living room had narrowed to the sofa, to Regulus beneath him, to the hot press of bodies and the slick, open-mouthed sound of kissing. Outside, the afternoon sun still spilled across the house. Somewhere beyond the windows, Búzios carried on as if Sirius had not found the centre of his world and pinned him breathless beneath him.

Regulus’s heel dragged against the back of Sirius’s thigh.

Sirius’s hips jerked.

Regulus gasped.

Sirius braced one hand beside Regulus’s head, the other gripping his hip.

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you?”

Regulus stared up at him.

Sirius’s voice cracked under the weight of it.

“Twelve years, Reggie. Twelve fucking years without you.”

Regulus’s expression softened, even through the haze of want.

Sirius kissed him once, slower.

“I spent half my life missing you.”

Regulus’s hands slid up to frame Sirius’s face.

“I missed you too.”

Sirius closed his eyes.

Regulus kissed him first.

It was clumsy and sweet and utterly devastating.

Then Regulus’s hips rolled again beneath him.

Sirius opened his eyes, dark with hunger.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Regulus’s mouth trembled with a nervous smile.

“You said that.”

“I’m saying it again.”

Sirius lowered himself, kissing the smile away.

His hips resumed their rhythm, cock dragging against Regulus’s arse with slow, grinding pressure. Regulus’s body answered at once, arching and trembling and clinging like he could not help it.

Sirius returned to his throat, licking over one of the bite marks before sucking another beside it.

Regulus squeaked.

Sirius grinned against his skin.

“That one stays.”

“They all stay.”

“Good.”

“What if Alphard sees?”

Sirius lifted his head.

“Alphard is gone for two weeks.”

Regulus stared at him.

Sirius’s grin turned absolutely wicked.

“Two weeks, Reggie.”

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius kissed him.

“Two weeks alone in this house.”

Another kiss.

“Two weeks to find that costume.”

Regulus whimpered.

“Two weeks to see how many noises I can get out of you.”

“Sirius.”

“Two weeks to mark every inch of you.”

Regulus’s hips rolled up hard.

Sirius groaned.

“Fuck, yes. That’s it.”

He kissed Regulus’s mouth again, filthy and deep, and Regulus kissed back like he had forgotten nerves entirely.

Sirius’s hand slid down to grip Regulus’s thigh, holding him open against the sofa. Their bodies fit closer at the new angle. The hard ridge of Sirius’s cock pressed directly where he wanted it, grinding against Regulus’s arse with enough force to make both of them gasp.

Regulus’s nails dug into Sirius’s shoulders.

Sirius did not slow.

“There you go,” he panted. “That’s my baby brother.”

Regulus whined loudly.

Sirius kissed the sound out of his mouth.

“My pretty baby brother.”

Another grind.

“My needy baby brother.”

Regulus’s whole body shook.

Sirius bit his lower lip gently and pulled back just enough to look at him.

Regulus looked ruined already, and they had barely done anything.

Sirius’s heart slammed against his ribs.

He wanted everything.

Wanted the photograph.

Wanted the costume.

Wanted Regulus beneath him and over him and against him.

Wanted to make him laugh again.

Wanted to hear every story in every album.

Wanted to hunt down everyone who had touched him and then come back to touch him better.

Wanted to fuck him.

Wanted to hold him afterwards.

Wanted to never lose him again.

The wanting was enormous enough to be frightening.

So Sirius kissed him through it.

Regulus accepted him with a soft, desperate sound, tongue sliding against his, hips still rolling up to meet every thrust of Sirius’s clothed cock.

The sofa creaked again.

The albums on the table sat untouched.

The Carnival photograph remained somewhere inside the fallen pages, still moving, still showing Regulus in gold paint and a tail and tiny shorts.

Sirius did not look at it.

Not now.

Not when Regulus was beneath him, flushed and marked and whining into his mouth.

Not when Regulus clung to him like he was afraid the world might try to separate them again.

Not when Sirius had him right there, warm and trembling, every needy sound pressed into the space between their kisses.

“Do not stop,” Regulus whispered again, voice breaking.

Sirius’s answer was a groan against his mouth.

“I won’t.”

He ground down harder.

Regulus arched up.

Their mouths found each other again, tongues sliding together, messy and desperate and breathless, and Sirius held him down against the sofa as though he intended to kiss the missing years out of his skin one bruise at a time.

Sirius kept kissing him until the living room stopped feeling like a room at all.

There was no house.

No bright Brazilian afternoon.

No open albums scattered half-forgotten across the floor and table.

There was only Regulus beneath him, shaking and flushed, mouth wet from kissing, throat marked by Sirius’s teeth, hips still rolling up every time Sirius dragged his cock against him through their clothes.

Regulus had gone so loud.

Not loud enough for the neighbours, perhaps, not yet, but loud compared to the soft, startled squeaks from the first kiss. He had stopped trying to swallow every noise down. Now they came out of him in helpless little pieces—whines against Sirius’s mouth, breathy moans when Sirius bit at his throat, high, broken sounds when Sirius ground down at just the right angle.

“Mm—Sirius—”

“That’s it,” Sirius murmured against his jaw. “Let me hear you.”

Regulus shook his head weakly, but his body betrayed him at once, hips jerking up, thighs trembling around Sirius’s waist.

Sirius groaned and rolled his hips again.

The hard length of his cock dragged firmly against Regulus’s arse through their clothes.

Regulus made a sharp, needy sound.

“Ah—fuck—”

Sirius froze for half a second.

Then his grin went dark and delighted.

“Oh, you swear now.”

Regulus’s face went redder.

“Shut up.”

Sirius kissed the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

“Sirius.”

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“Come on, Reggie.”

“No.”

Sirius shifted, pressing his cock down harder.

Regulus gasped, fingers digging into Sirius’s shoulders.

“Fuck—”

“There it is.”

Regulus whined, embarrassed and desperate, and Sirius kissed him again before he could complain.

It turned filthy almost immediately.

Sirius pushed his tongue into Regulus’s mouth, and Regulus opened for him with a soft, eager sound, kissing back messily, clinging as though Sirius was the only solid thing left in the world. Their tongues slid together, wet and uncoordinated with need, Sirius guiding and Regulus following before growing bolder, licking into Sirius’s mouth until Sirius groaned and pressed him harder into the sofa.

“Christ,” Sirius panted. “You learn fast.”

Regulus’s eyes were dazed.

“You keep teaching.”

Sirius stared at him.

Then he laughed, rough and breathless, and kissed him so hard Regulus whimpered.

The sound broke into a moan when Sirius’s hand slid under the hem of his tank top.

Warm skin met his palm.

Regulus sucked in a breath.

Sirius stopped with his fingers spread across the narrow curve of Regulus’s waist.

“Still okay?”

Regulus nodded quickly.

Sirius’s eyes searched his.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Want me to keep touching you?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to take this off?”

Regulus’s lashes fluttered.

He nodded again.

Sirius kissed him once, slower.

“Words.”

Regulus swallowed.

“Yes. Take it off.”

Sirius’s control splintered visibly.

He pushed himself up onto his knees between Regulus’s legs, caught the bottom of the tank top, and dragged it upward.

Regulus lifted his arms.

The fabric slipped over his head, pulling his curls into brief disarray before Sirius tossed it somewhere behind him without looking.

Then Sirius went still.

Regulus lay beneath him bare from the waist up, chest rising and falling quickly, tanned skin marked by sun and shadow, throat already bruised where Sirius had kissed and bitten him. His body was slender, smaller beneath Sirius, all narrow waist and soft chest and delicate ribs.

Sirius stared like he had been given something sacred and obscene at the same time.

Regulus’s arms moved as if he meant to cover himself.

Sirius caught both wrists immediately and pinned them gently beside his head.

“No.”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

Sirius leaned over him, hair falling around them.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You were about to.”

Regulus’s mouth parted around a shaky breath.

Sirius lowered his voice.

“I waited twelve years to see you. Let me see.”

Regulus stopped resisting.

Slowly, Sirius released his wrists.

Regulus left his arms where they were, spread on the sofa, fingers curled into the fabric.

Sirius’s expression softened for one devastating second.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Then his mouth was on him.

Regulus gasped as Sirius kissed the centre of his chest.

Not teasing now.

Worshipful.

Possessive.

Open-mouthed kisses pressed over warm skin, down from his collarbone to his sternum, then across to one side. Sirius dragged his lips over him slowly, leaving heat everywhere he touched. Regulus’s chest lifted beneath his mouth, breath catching when Sirius’s tongue flicked lightly over one nipple.

“Oh—”

Sirius smiled against him.

“There?”

Regulus’s hands flew back into Sirius’s hair.

Sirius did it again.

Regulus made a higher sound, sharp and embarrassed, thighs tightening around Sirius.

“Mmh—Sirius—”

“You’re sensitive.”

“No.”

Sirius closed his lips around the nipple and sucked.

Regulus arched off the sofa with a broken moan.

“Ah—fuck, Sirius—”

Sirius groaned against his chest.

“So sensitive.”

Regulus whined.

Sirius scraped his teeth lightly over him, and Regulus’s fingers pulled hard at his hair.

The sting sent heat punching through Sirius.

“Do that again,” he murmured.

Regulus looked down at him, breathless and confused.

“What?”

“My hair.”

Regulus’s fingers tightened uncertainly.

Sirius sucked another mark into his chest.

Regulus tugged.

Sirius’s eyes fluttered shut for half a second.

“Fuck.”

Regulus noticed.

Even overwhelmed, even blushing down to his chest, he noticed.

His fingers tugged again, slightly harder.

Sirius lifted his head and looked at him.

Regulus froze.

Sirius’s smile was dangerous.

“You’re getting brave.”

Regulus’s lips trembled around a nervous, needy breath.

Sirius kissed down the centre of his chest, then to the other nipple, giving it the same attention—tongue, teeth, lips, all slow enough to make Regulus writhe and loud enough to make Sirius feel half-insane. Every sound Regulus made seemed to strike somewhere under Sirius’s skin.

“Mm—ah—Sirius, please—”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I—” Regulus broke off into a squeak when Sirius bit gently. “Fuck.”

Sirius laughed against him.

“Still teaching you?”

Regulus’s answer was just a whine.

Sirius kissed lower.

Over the shallow dip beneath Regulus’s ribs.

Over his stomach.

His tongue traced briefly along the line of muscle that tensed beneath his mouth, and Regulus jerked like even that was too much.

Sirius’s hands slid to his hips.

The shorts were still there.

Tiny and dark and infuriating.

Sirius paused with his mouth pressed just above the waistband.

Regulus looked down at him.

Sirius’s eyes lifted.

“I hate these.”

Regulus blinked.

“You liked them.”

“I like them on you.” Sirius hooked two fingers into the waistband. “I hate that they’re in my way.”

Regulus’s stomach jumped under Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius pressed a kiss to the skin just above the fabric.

“Can I take them off?”

Regulus hesitated for only a heartbeat.

Then nodded.

Sirius’s hands tightened.

“Words, pretty.”

“Yes.”

Sirius’s breathing went rough.

“Yes what?”

Regulus’s cheeks burned.

“Take them off.”

Sirius dragged the shorts down slowly.

Regulus lifted his hips, and Sirius nearly lost his mind at the small movement, at the trust in it, at the sight of Regulus allowing himself to be stripped bare on the sofa while still looking at Sirius like he might disappear if Regulus blinked too long.

The shorts slid down his thighs.

Past his knees.

Over his ankles.

Sirius tossed them aside.

For a moment, he did nothing.

Regulus was naked beneath him.

Completely.

His cock was hard against his stomach, flushed and leaking, shifting with every uneven breath. His thighs were parted around Sirius’s body. His skin was hot and sun-warmed and marked already by Sirius’s mouth at his neck and chest.

Sirius’s jaw went slack.

Regulus squirmed beneath the stare.

“Sirius.”

Sirius looked up at him.

His eyes were dark enough to drown in.

“You’re perfect.”

Regulus made a soft, embarrassed sound and turned his face away.

Sirius caught his jaw gently.

“No. Look at me.”

Regulus’s eyes came back to his.

Sirius bent and kissed him.

It should have been sweet.

It was not.

The moment Regulus opened his mouth, Sirius kissed him filthy again, tongue pushing in, hands sliding down to his hips. Regulus moaned into him, trembling harder now that there was nothing between his skin and Sirius’s hands.

Sirius’s palm closed around his hip.

Then his thigh.

Then his arse.

Regulus gasped sharply.

Sirius groaned into his mouth.

“Fuck.”

Regulus’s body went tense for half a second.

Sirius pulled back.

“Too much?”

“No.” Regulus swallowed, eyes huge. “No, just—”

Sirius squeezed again, slower this time, fingers pressing into the soft curve of his arse.

Regulus’s mouth fell open.

“Ah—”

Sirius’s expression turned almost reverent.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Regulus whimpered.

Sirius kissed him, then shifted down his body again, mouth trailing over his ribs, stomach, hip.

He bit there.

Regulus jerked.

“Sirius!”

Sirius smiled against his skin and sucked a mark into the sharp curve of his hip.

“There too.”

Regulus’s hand found his hair again.

Sirius kissed lower.

His mouth moved along the inside of Regulus’s thigh.

Regulus froze.

Sirius looked up from between his legs.

Regulus was staring down at him, face flushed, lips parted, hair a mess, throat covered in marks. His eyes had gone dark with nerves and want.

Sirius kissed the inside of his thigh again.

Regulus’s breath shook.

“Still okay?”

Regulus nodded.

Sirius’s fingers dug lightly into his thigh.

“Words.”

“Yes.”

Sirius’s mouth curved.

“Good.”

The word made Regulus’s cock twitch against his stomach.

Sirius saw.

Of course he saw.

He stared at it for a second, then lifted his eyes back to Regulus’s face.

“Oh.”

Regulus’s face went crimson.

Sirius kissed his thigh again.

“You liked that.”

“No.”

Sirius dragged his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin.

Regulus whimpered.

“Liar.”

“Sirius.”

“You’re so easy.”

Regulus’s hands covered his face.

Sirius immediately caught both wrists and pinned them down against the sofa.

“No hiding.”

Regulus made a desperate little sound.

Sirius kissed the inside of his other thigh, slower, closer.

Regulus trembled beneath him.

“Sirius, please—”

“There’s that word again.”

“I don’t know what I’m asking for.”

“I do.”

Sirius left a mark high on his thigh, then another below it, kissing and biting until Regulus’s legs twitched against his shoulders. He took his time there, mapping the warm skin with his mouth, making Regulus louder with every mark.

“Mm—ah—Sirius—please—”

Sirius licked over one bruise and looked up.

“You sound so pretty.”

Regulus whined.

“So fucking pretty when you beg.”

Regulus’s cock leaked against his stomach.

Sirius leaned in and kissed the head.

Regulus cried out.

Not loud.

Not controlled.

A sharp, shocked sound torn straight out of him.

“Ah—!”

Sirius’s eyes went dark.

He kissed it again.

Regulus’s hips jerked.

“Sirius—fuck—”

Sirius wrapped one hand around Regulus’s cock, loose at first, stroking slowly from base to tip.

Regulus melted into the sofa with a broken moan.

“Oh—oh, fuck—”

Sirius watched his face while he stroked him.

Regulus’s eyes fluttered shut, brows drawing together, mouth open around soft, shaking noises. His thighs tried to close, but Sirius’s body kept them apart. His hands clawed uselessly at the sofa.

Sirius stroked him again, thumb sliding through the wetness at the tip.

Regulus sobbed out a sound.

“Nn—Sirius—”

“That good?”

Regulus nodded frantically.

Sirius lowered his mouth.

Regulus looked down just in time to see.

His breath stopped.

Sirius kissed the head again, then licked him slowly, tongue dragging over sensitive skin.

Regulus’s whole body arched.

“Ah—Sirius!”

Sirius groaned and took him into his mouth.

Regulus’s sound broke into something high and helpless.

“Oh—oh, fuck, fuck—”

Sirius stroked what he could not take, mouth hot and wet around him, tongue pressing just right. Regulus shook beneath him, one hand flying to Sirius’s hair and then freezing, as if he did not know whether he was allowed.

Sirius hummed around him.

The vibration made Regulus nearly sob.

“Ah—please—mm, please—”

Sirius pulled off slowly, lips dragging, and Regulus whined at the loss.

“Touch me.”

Regulus blinked down at him, dazed.

“What?”

“My hair. You can pull.”

Regulus’s fingers sank into it at once.

Sirius smiled and took him back into his mouth.

Regulus pulled.

Sirius groaned.

Regulus moaned louder.

It went on until Regulus was shaking too hard, until his hips were twitching upward in desperate little movements, until Sirius could feel how close he was getting.

Then Sirius stopped.

Regulus made a sound of pure distress.

“No—”

Sirius kissed his thigh.

“Not yet.”

Regulus looked wrecked.

“But—”

“Not yet.”

Sirius rose over him enough to kiss him, letting Regulus taste himself on his tongue. Regulus groaned into the kiss and clung hard, needy and furious and desperate all at once.

“You stopped,” he panted.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not done with you.”

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius kissed him once more, then pulled back.

He dragged his own shirt over his head and threw it aside.

Regulus stared.

Sirius noticed immediately.

He grinned.

“See something you like?”

Regulus’s blush deepened, but his eyes kept moving—over Sirius’s chest, his shoulders, the dark hair falling around his face, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he leaned back over him.

“Yes,” Regulus whispered before he could stop himself.

Sirius’s expression fractured with want.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus reached for him.

Sirius let himself be pulled down, let Regulus’s hands move over his bare shoulders and chest, tentative at first, then firmer when Sirius kissed him again. Their bodies pressed skin to skin for the first time.

Regulus moaned into Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius’s still-clothed cock ground against Regulus’s naked thigh, hard and trapped and aching.

Regulus felt it and made another small, desperate noise.

“You’re still dressed,” he whispered.

Sirius laughed roughly.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Yes.”

Sirius kissed him harder.

“Good.”

He shifted off the sofa only long enough to shove his trousers down.

Regulus watched every movement, eyes wide and hungry.

Sirius’s cock sprang free, thick and heavy and flushed, and Regulus went very, very still.

Sirius saw the way his eyes widened.

He saw the nerves.

The want.

The sudden understanding.

Sirius climbed back between his legs slowly.

“Breathe.”

Regulus swallowed.

“You are big.”

Sirius’s cock twitched at the words.

“I told you.”

“You are very big.”

Sirius groaned and kissed him.

“And you’re very pretty.”

“That is not the same.”

“No.” Sirius brushed a hand down Regulus’s side. “But it’s true.”

Regulus’s eyes dropped again.

Sirius caught his chin and made him look up.

“We go slow.”

Regulus’s breath shook.

“I know.”

“And you tell me if anything feels wrong.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched despite everything.

“You are Sirius.”

Sirius stared at him.

Then laughed, sudden and helpless, dropping his forehead to Regulus’s shoulder.

“You absolute menace.”

Regulus laughed too, breathless, nervous, and bright.

Sirius kissed the laugh off his mouth.

The laughter faded into another moan when Sirius’s naked cock slid against Regulus’s. The skin-to-skin heat made both of them groan. Sirius rocked once, just to feel it, dragging the length of himself against Regulus’s.

Regulus’s eyes fluttered.

“Fuck.”

Sirius kissed him again.

“I need to prep you.”

Regulus went still beneath him.

Sirius stroked his waist.

“Okay?”

Regulus nodded.

Sirius looked at him.

Regulus swallowed.

“Yes.”

Sirius kissed his forehead, then the blonde streak, then his mouth.

“Good.”

He shifted down again, slower this time, trailing kisses over the marks already blooming across Regulus’s chest and stomach. Regulus watched him through half-lidded eyes, breathing fast. Sirius kissed his hips, squeezed his arse again, spread him open with both hands, and groaned at the sight.

“Fuck.”

Regulus’s face burned.

“Sirius.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Regulus made a wounded little noise.

Sirius kissed one cheek, then bit it gently.

Regulus squeaked.

Sirius laughed softly and did it again, kissing and biting across the curve of his arse until Regulus was squirming beneath him.

“Ah—Sirius—”

“Too much?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Sirius squeezed him again.

Regulus’s hips pushed back helplessly.

Sirius noticed.

His voice lowered.

“Oh, you want more.”

Regulus’s hands gripped the sofa.

Sirius kissed him there, close but not close enough.

Regulus whined.

“Sirius.”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

Sirius’s hands spread him open.

Regulus went tense.

Sirius kissed the inside of his thigh, then the curve of his arse, waiting until the tension loosened.

“Relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Sirius pressed another kiss to his skin.

“You’re doing so well.”

Regulus shivered hard.

Sirius smiled.

“There it is again.”

“Stop noticing.”

“Never.”

He leaned in and licked over Regulus’s hole.

Regulus made a strangled, shocked sound.

“Ah—!”

Sirius groaned.

“Fuck, that sound.”

Regulus buried his face in the cushion.

Sirius slapped one hand lightly against his hip.

“Don’t hide.”

Regulus turned his head just enough to gasp for air.

“Sirius—”

Sirius licked him again, slower, firmer.

Regulus’s voice broke.

“Oh—oh, fuck—”

Sirius held him open and put his mouth on him properly.

Regulus nearly came off the sofa.

His hands scrambled for purchase, fingers clutching at cushions, at Sirius’s hair, at anything he could reach. Sirius ate him out with the same hunger he had kissed him, tongue dragging over him again and again until Regulus was whimpering uncontrollably.

“Mm—Sirius—ah—please—please—”

Sirius groaned against him.

Regulus’s hips twitched backward.

The movement was small.

Needy.

Unmistakable.

Sirius’s hands tightened on him.

“That’s it,” Sirius murmured, voice rough. “Give it to me.”

Regulus answered with a broken whine.

Sirius pressed his tongue against him, teasing, circling, then pushing in.

Regulus cried out.

“Ah—Sirius!”

Sirius’s cock throbbed painfully.

He shoved one hand down and gripped himself for a second, trying not to lose control from the sound alone.

Regulus was shaking beneath him.

Sirius pushed his tongue into him again.

Regulus moaned louder this time, helpless and high.

“Oh—mm—ah, ah—”

Sirius drew back only enough to speak.

“You like my tongue in you?”

Regulus shook his head into the cushion, breath coming fast.

Sirius licked over him again.

Regulus whined.

“Words.”

“Yes.”

Sirius smiled against him.

“Yes what?”

Regulus’s voice was ruined.

“I like it.”

Sirius groaned and went back to him.

He took him apart slowly there, with tongue and mouth and hands, until Regulus stopped trying to be quiet at all. The room filled with the sounds he made—soft sobbing moans, choked little pleas, breathy, desperate noises that got louder every time Sirius pushed his tongue inside him.

“Ah—ah—Sirius, fuck—please—”

Sirius loved every one.

He loved the way Regulus’s hips started moving, pushing back into his mouth. Loved the tremble in his thighs. Loved the way his cock lay flushed and wet against his stomach whenever Sirius glanced up. Loved how desperate he looked, marked and naked and clinging to the sofa like Sirius’s mouth was too much and not enough.

Eventually, Sirius pulled back.

Regulus whined immediately.

“No—”

Sirius kissed the back of his thigh.

“Greedy.”

Regulus’s reply was unintelligible, just a soft, needy sound.

Sirius reached for his wand where it had fallen with his trousers and murmured a spell. A small bottle snapped into his hand.

Regulus lifted his head weakly.

“What is that?”

“Something useful.”

Regulus blinked at the bottle.

“Oh, fuck.”

Sirius bent and kissed Regulus’s palm.

Then his wrist.

Then the inside of his thigh.

“I’m here.”

Regulus’s eyes went soft.

“I know.”

Sirius coated his fingers carefully, warming the lubricant between them. His expression changed again, sharpening with focus.

He settled between Regulus’s legs and lifted one of them over his shoulder.

Regulus inhaled.

Sirius kissed his ankle.

Then his calf.

Then the back of his knee.

“You’re flexible.”

“I dance.”

“I’m going to thank every instructor you’ve ever had.”

“Do not.”

“I might send flowers.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius kissed higher up his thigh.

“Relax.”

Regulus tried.

Sirius could see it—the conscious effort, the trembling breath, the way he unclenched his hands and then immediately gripped the cushion again.

He kissed him once more.

“Good.”

Regulus shivered.

Sirius’s slick finger circled his hole, teasing lightly.

Regulus’s whole body jerked.

“Ah—”

“Easy.”

“It’s cold.”

“I warmed it.”

“Not enough.”

“You’re complaining already?”

“You are touching my arse with cold fingers.”

Sirius laughed and kissed his thigh.

“There’s my brat.”

Regulus flushed.

Sirius circled him again, slower, gentler.

Regulus’s breath stuttered.

The tip of Sirius’s finger pressed in slightly.

Regulus tensed.

Sirius stopped immediately.

“Breathe.”

Regulus obeyed, shaky and uneven.

“In.”

Regulus inhaled.

“Out.”

He exhaled.

Sirius kissed his thigh while he waited.

“Again.”

Regulus breathed again.

Sirius pressed in slowly.

Just one finger.

Only to the first knuckle.

Regulus made a high, startled sound.

“Ah—Sirius—”

“Too much?”

“No.”

“Pain?”

“No. Just—strange.”

“I know.”

Sirius kissed his thigh.

“Keep breathing.”

Regulus nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Sirius pushed in a little farther, slow enough that the movement was almost maddening. Regulus whined through his teeth, one hand reaching blindly until Sirius caught it with his free hand and threaded their fingers together.

“There,” Sirius murmured. “Hold on to me.”

Regulus gripped him hard.

Sirius pushed the rest of the way in.

Regulus gasped, back arching.

“Oh—”

Sirius went still.

Regulus panted beneath him, trying to adjust.

Sirius watched his face.

“You’re doing so well.”

Regulus whimpered.

Sirius leaned down and kissed him, awkward with Regulus’s leg still hooked over his shoulder, but worth it for the way Regulus softened against his mouth.

Sirius started moving his finger slowly.

Regulus’s sound changed.

The first few were uncertain little gasps.

“Ah—mm—oh—”

Then Sirius curled his finger.

Regulus jolted.

“Sirius!”

Sirius froze.

Regulus stared at him, eyes wide.

Sirius curled it again.

Regulus moaned.

Loud.

Helpless.

“Oh, fuck—”

Sirius’s grin spread slowly.

“There?”

Regulus’s face was crimson.

“Sirius.”

“There, then.”

He stroked the same place again.

Regulus’s head fell back.

“Ah—ah, fuck—please—”

Sirius groaned, cock leaking against his own stomach.

“Fuck, Reggie. You sound perfect.”

Regulus clenched around his finger.

Sirius’s breath hissed between his teeth.

“And you feel—Christ.”

Regulus whimpered.

Sirius worked him open slowly, pushing in and out, circling, curling, letting Regulus grow used to the feeling before adding more. Regulus’s noises became needier as the discomfort faded into heat.

“Nn—Sirius—ah—please—please—”

“You want another?”

Regulus swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no.”

Regulus’s fingers tightened in Sirius’s.

“Yes.”

Sirius kissed his knee.

“Good.”

He slicked a second finger and pressed it alongside the first.

Regulus tensed again.

Sirius stopped.

“Breathe.”

Regulus nodded, breathing shakily.

Sirius waited until he relaxed, then pushed in slowly.

Regulus’s moan was softer this time, drawn out and trembling.

“Ahh—mm—”

Sirius’s eyes were fixed on him, hungry and intent.

“That’s it.”

Regulus’s thighs trembled.

Sirius pressed both fingers deeper.

Regulus whined.

“Full.”

Sirius went still.

“Too full?”

Regulus shook his head quickly.

“No. Just full.”

Sirius’s cock throbbed at the words.

“Fuck.”

Regulus looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

Sirius’s jaw clenched.

“Don’t look at me like that while saying things like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to be ruined.”

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius leaned closer, fingers still buried inside him.

“Do you?”

Regulus’s voice came out broken.

“Yes.”

Sirius closed his eyes.

For one second, his expression was pure restraint under pressure.

Then he opened them again and began moving his fingers.

Regulus cried out.

Sirius kept the pace slow but firm, scissoring him carefully, stretching him open inch by inch. Regulus’s body resisted at first, then began to yield. His little whines became longer moans. His hips started rolling back into the movement without meaning to.

“Ah—ah—Sirius—mm, please—”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know—more—please—”

Sirius’s breath turned ragged.

“More?”

Regulus nodded frantically.

Sirius curled both fingers.

Regulus shouted.

“Oh—fuck!”

“There?”

“Yes—yes, there—”

Sirius did it again.

Regulus’s cock twitched, leaking onto his stomach.

Sirius stared at him.

“You’re going to make a mess all over yourself.”

Regulus moaned.

Sirius’s fingers slowed.

“You’d like that?”

Regulus shook his head, overwhelmed.

Sirius curled his fingers again.

Regulus sobbed out another moan.

“Yes—”

Sirius’s grin went sharp.

“Good.”

He lowered his mouth back to Regulus’s thigh, kissing and biting while his fingers kept moving. Regulus’s leg tightened over Sirius’s shoulder. His other thigh shook against Sirius’s side. Every curl of Sirius’s fingers dragged another noise out of him.

“Nn—ah—ah, Sirius—please—”

Sirius listened like the sounds were music.

He added more lubricant before even thinking of another finger. He moved slowly, carefully, watching for every flinch, every change in Regulus’s breathing.

When he teased the third finger against him, Regulus’s eyes opened.

“Sirius.”

“I know.”

“You are already—”

“I know.”

Sirius kissed the inside of his knee.

“You need to be open for me.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped, involuntary, to Sirius’s cock.

It was flushed and heavy between his thighs, thick enough that Regulus swallowed nervously.

Sirius followed his gaze.

Then looked back at him.

“I told you,” he murmured. “I’m big.”

Regulus’s cheeks burned.

“So I have to make sure you’re ready.”

Regulus nodded slowly.

Sirius pressed the third finger in.

Regulus’s hand crushed his.

“Ah—fuck, fuck—”

“Breathe.”

“It’s—”

“I know.”

“Sirius—”

“I’ve got you.”

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut.

Sirius did not move.

He waited while Regulus adjusted around three fingers, waited while the trembling eased from sharp to shaky, waited while Regulus breathed through it and clung to his hand like Sirius was anchoring him in place.

“That’s it,” Sirius murmured. “Good. So good for me.”

Regulus whimpered.

The praise seemed to loosen something.

His body softened around Sirius’s fingers.

Sirius pressed deeper.

Regulus moaned, startled and filthy.

“Oh—”

Sirius’s breath stuttered.

“There you go.”

Regulus’s hips twitched.

Sirius moved slowly at first, three fingers pushing in and out with careful pressure, then scissoring, stretching, opening him. Regulus was loud now, louder than he had been all afternoon, head tipped back, mouth open, hands clinging.

“Ah—ah—Sirius—mm—please, please, oh fuck—”

Sirius kissed up his thigh.

“You’re taking three so well.”

Regulus whined.

“So fucking well.”

Regulus’s body clenched around him.

Sirius groaned.

“You like being told.”

Regulus’s voice shook.

“Yes.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened.

“Yes, you do.”

He curled his fingers again.

Regulus cried out, hips jerking.

“Sirius!”

“There’s my pretty boy.”

Regulus almost sobbed.

Sirius kissed his hip, his stomach, then lower, taking Regulus’s cock back into his mouth just as his fingers pushed deep.

Regulus’s shout broke into a moan so desperate Sirius felt it vibrate through his whole body.

“Ah—Sirius, Sirius, fuck—”

Sirius sucked him, fingers still moving inside him, curling into that spot again and again until Regulus was shaking apart beneath him.

It was too much.

Not painful.

Too good.

Too full.

Too hot.

Regulus tried to speak, but only sounds came out.

“Mm—ah—ah—please—please—Sirius—”

Sirius pulled off his cock with a wet sound.

“Not yet.”

Regulus sobbed.

“Please.”

“Not yet.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

Sirius kissed the head of his cock once, then moved back down, fingers slowing inside him.

Regulus whined at the loss of Sirius’s mouth.

Sirius almost smiled.

So greedy now.

So open.

So far from the nervous boy who had squeaked at the first kiss and hidden every blush like it betrayed him.

Sirius withdrew his fingers carefully, making Regulus whimper.

“Empty,” Regulus breathed before he seemed to realise he had said it.

Sirius went still.

Regulus’s face went scarlet.

Sirius stared at him.

Then he groaned, low and ruined.

“You cannot say things like that and expect me to survive.”

Regulus covered his face with one arm.

Sirius pushed it away.

“No hiding. Not after that.”

“I did not mean to say it.”

“I’m very glad you did.”

Regulus whined.

Sirius slicked his fingers again, slower this time.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to his hand.

Sirius noticed.

“Last one.”

Regulus’s breath caught.

Sirius’s voice softened, though his gaze remained hungry.

“We don’t have to.”

Regulus stared at him.

“You said—”

“I know what I said. I want you ready, not scared.”

Regulus’s expression shifted.

Something tender threaded through the need.

“I’m not scared.”

Sirius searched his face.

“Nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Want to stop?”

Regulus shook his head.

“No.”

“Want my fingers?”

Regulus swallowed.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

The question made him flush hard enough that Sirius nearly kissed him just for it.

Regulus whispered, “Four.”

Sirius’s eyes closed briefly.

“Fuck.”

He kissed Regulus’s thigh, then his hip, then his stomach.

“Good boy.”

Regulus trembled violently.

Sirius smiled against his skin.

“That one does things to you.”

Regulus’s answer was a desperate whine.

Sirius pressed two fingers in first, easy now compared to before.

Regulus moaned softly.

Then three.

Regulus’s breath caught, but his body opened for it.

Sirius took his time, working him slowly, watching him relax again before easing the fourth finger against him.

Regulus’s hand found Sirius’s wrist.

Not stopping him.

Holding him.

Sirius stilled.

“Eyes on me.”

Regulus opened his eyes.

Sirius held his gaze as he pressed the fourth finger in.

Regulus’s mouth fell open.

No sound at first.

Only a silent, overwhelmed gasp.

Then—

“Ah—ah, fuck, Sirius—”

Sirius groaned.

“I know.”

Regulus clung to his wrist, body trembling around him.

“It’s too much?”

Regulus shook his head quickly.

“No—no, just—full, so full—”

Sirius’s cock jerked hard.

He breathed through it with visible effort.

“You’re killing me.”

Regulus made a broken little sound.

Sirius did not move yet.

He waited while Regulus adjusted to all four fingers, waited while the tight grip eased into fluttering little clenches. His free hand stroked Regulus’s thigh, steady and soothing.

“Breathe.”

Regulus breathed.

“That’s it.”

Regulus’s eyes were wet, though not from pain. Overwhelmed. Needy. Lost in it.

Sirius leaned forward and kissed him.

It was awkward and stretched and messy, but Regulus kissed back immediately, tongue pushing into Sirius’s mouth with desperate need. Sirius swallowed every sound as he began moving his fingers again.

Regulus cried into the kiss.

“Mmh—ah—Sirius—”

Slow.

Careful.

Deep.

Sirius scissored him open with four fingers, stretching him until Regulus was writhing under him, until the sounds spilled out between kisses and against Sirius’s cheek.

“Ah—ah—please—please, Sirius—oh, fuck, please—”

“Taking four for me,” Sirius murmured against his mouth. “So fucking pretty.”

Regulus sobbed out a moan.

“You’re going to take my cock so well.”

Regulus’s whole body clenched.

Sirius groaned, fingers buried deep, forehead pressed to Regulus’s.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus rolled his hips down onto Sirius’s fingers.

Sirius stopped breathing.

Then Regulus did it again.

Clumsy.

Desperate.

Begging without words.

Sirius’s eyes went black with want.

“Oh, you are needy.”

Regulus whined.

Sirius curled his fingers.

Regulus cried out.

“There?”

“Yes—yes—Sirius, please—”

“You want it?”

“Yes.”

“You want my cock?”

Regulus’s eyes rolled shut.

“Yes.”

“You want me to fuck this pretty little arse?”

Regulus’s voice broke.

“Yes—please—”

Sirius kissed him hard.

Regulus kissed back with tongue, messy and frantic, hips still moving against Sirius’s fingers. The stretch made him shake. The pressure made him whimper. Sirius’s voice made him worse.

“You’re so open for me now.”

Regulus moaned.

“So wet.”

Another whine.

“So fucking ready.”

Regulus’s nails dug into Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius’s fingers slowed, but did not stop.

He looked down at Regulus beneath him—naked, marked, legs spread, one still over Sirius’s shoulder, cock flushed and leaking over his stomach, body stretched around Sirius’s fingers, mouth swollen from kissing.

Sirius had imagined finding him.

He had imagined hugging him.

He had imagined carrying him, laughing with him, dragging him away from the world that had stolen him.

He had not imagined this.

He had not imagined Regulus looking up at him with desperate grey eyes and whispering, “Please,” like Sirius held every answer inside his hands.

But he did.

He had Regulus open beneath him, clinging and needy and loud, and Sirius could barely think past the heat of it.

Regulus rolled his hips again.

Sirius cursed.

“Fuck.”

Regulus whimpered.

“Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Please.”

“I know.”

Sirius kissed him softer, impossibly tender for a second, while his fingers stayed deep inside him.

“I’ve got you.”

Regulus’s hands came up to frame his face.

Sirius turned into the touch and kissed one palm.

Then the other.

Regulus’s body trembled around his fingers.

Sirius’s voice dropped into something rough and reverent.

“I’m not losing you again.”

Regulus’s eyes softened.

Then Sirius curled his fingers one more time, and Regulus’s softness shattered into another helpless moan.

“Ah—Sirius!”

Sirius grinned against his mouth.

“There he is.”

Regulus whined, half laughing, half desperate.

Sirius kissed him again, tongue sliding deep, fingers moving slowly, stretching him open, preparing him with maddening care.

And Regulus let him.

Louder now.

Needier now.

Clinging with both hands, pleading into his mouth, hips rolling down onto Sirius’s fingers as if he could not help chasing more.

“Please—mm—please, Sirius—please—”

Sirius groaned, his own cock hard and heavy against Regulus’s thigh, aching with every broken sound.

“Soon,” he promised against Regulus’s lips.

Regulus shivered.

Sirius kissed the newest mark on his throat.

“Soon, Reggie.”

His fingers pushed deep again.

Regulus cried out and clung harder.

Sirius smiled into his skin.

“I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Sirius finally drew his fingers back.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Regulus made a sound like the world had been stolen from him.

“No—”

Sirius’s breath caught.

He was already so far gone that the little broken protest nearly finished him where he knelt. Regulus was spread beneath him on the sofa, naked and flushed, hair a wreck against the cushions, the blonde streak damp and curling at his temple. His throat was dark with hickeys. His chest was marked by Sirius’s mouth. His thighs trembled where Sirius had held them open. His cock lay hard and wet against his stomach, leaking, twitching every time Sirius touched him, every time Sirius spoke.

And his hole, slick and open from Sirius’s mouth and fingers, clenched helplessly around nothing when Sirius pulled away.

Sirius watched it happen.

A rough, ruined groan tore out of him.

“Fuck.”

Regulus’s hands clawed at the cushions.

“Sirius.”

“I know.”

“You said soon.”

“I know.”

“You said—”

“I know, baby.”

Regulus trembled at that.

Sirius noticed.

Of course Sirius noticed.

Even now, with his own cock aching so badly he could barely breathe, he noticed every tiny thing Regulus gave him. Every flinch. Every shiver. Every soft broken sound.

Sirius slicked his hand again and wrapped it around his own cock.

His head fell back.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus stared.

He could not seem to help it.

His eyes dropped immediately to Sirius’s hand, to the hard, thick length of him sliding through his fist, flushed and wet and so obviously desperate. Sirius stroked himself slowly, jaw clenched, eyes half-lidded as he watched Regulus watching him.

Regulus swallowed.

The movement was small.

Sirius saw it anyway.

“You like looking?”

Regulus’s face burned.

He did not answer.

Sirius dragged his fist down to the base of his cock, then back up, thumb catching over the head.

Regulus’s breath shook.

Sirius smiled through a groan.

“Oh, you like looking.”

Regulus whined, helpless and embarrassed.

“Sirius.”

“You’ve been staring since I got my trousers off.”

“You’re—”

Sirius’s hand paused at the base.

“I’m what?”

Regulus’s lips parted.

His eyes remained fixed on Sirius’s cock.

“Big.”

The word came out so softly, so wrecked, that Sirius nearly lost the last thin strand of control he had.

His fist tightened.

His hips pushed forward into his hand.

“Fuck.”

Regulus made a tiny sound in response, high and needy, and shifted on the sofa as though his body was trying to chase Sirius even from where he lay.

Sirius leaned over him.

Regulus’s legs fell open instinctively.

Sirius’s cock slid against the inside of one thigh first.

Both of them inhaled sharply.

Then Sirius angled himself lower and dragged the slick length of his cock between Regulus’s cheeks.

Regulus jerked beneath him.

“Ah—”

Sirius groaned, pressing his forehead briefly to Regulus’s.

“You feel that?”

Regulus nodded frantically.

Sirius slid forward again, slow and teasing, cock nudging along the slick heat of him without pushing in.

Regulus’s hands flew, clutching Sirius’s shoulders.

“Sirius.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t tease.”

Sirius laughed, low and breathless.

“Don’t tease?”

Regulus shook his head.

“Please.”

Sirius’s grin widened.

“Now you remember the word.”

Regulus looked ruined.

“Sirius, please.”

“Please what?”

Regulus whined.

Sirius dragged the head of his cock over him again, rubbing against his hole, catching there just enough to make Regulus gasp before sliding away.

Regulus’s hips rocked down after him.

Sirius watched it happen with open hunger.

“Oh, look at that.”

Regulus made a broken sound.

“You’re trying to take it yourself.”

“Sirius—”

“You’re that desperate?”

Regulus’s thighs trembled around Sirius’s hips.

“Yes.”

The honesty hit harder than any flirtation could have.

Sirius’s breath stuttered.

Regulus looked up at him with wet, desperate eyes, mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, voice shaking.

“Yes, I’m desperate. Please.”

Sirius’s expression cracked.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus’s hands slid up Sirius’s chest, then around his neck, dragging him closer.

“Please fuck me.”

Sirius groaned so loudly it was almost a growl.

He kissed Regulus hard.

Regulus opened beneath him immediately, kissing back with a sob caught in his throat, tongue pushing into Sirius’s mouth, fingers tangling in his hair. Sirius kissed him messily, hungrily, desperately, while his hand guided his cock back between Regulus’s cheeks.

The head pressed against Regulus’s hole.

Regulus went still beneath him.

Sirius pulled back just enough to see his face.

“Breathe.”

Regulus nodded, eyes locked on his.

Sirius’s voice was ragged.

“Tell me again.”

Regulus’s fingers tightened around his shoulders.

“I want it.”

Sirius shuddered.

“Again.”

“I want your cock.”

Sirius’s eyes went almost black.

“Again.”

“Fuck me, Sirius.”

Sirius pushed in.

Just the head.

Slowly.

So slowly it nearly destroyed both of them.

Regulus’s mouth fell open around a silent gasp first, body tightening hard beneath Sirius’s hands. Sirius froze immediately, every muscle trembling with the effort of staying still. He could feel Regulus stretched around the head of him, hot and tight and slick, taking only the first bit and already clenching like he did not know whether to pull closer or run from the feeling.

Sirius’s breathing went ragged.

“Fuck.”

Regulus made a tiny, broken noise.

“Ah—”

“Too much?”

Regulus shook his head quickly, though his eyes were wide and wet.

“No.”

Sirius’s hand stroked his hip.

“Pain?”

“No. Just—” Regulus swallowed hard. “So big.”

Sirius dropped his forehead to Regulus’s shoulder and groaned.

“You can’t keep saying that.”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“You asked.”

“I know.”

Regulus’s legs shifted around him, uncertain, shaking.

Sirius kissed his throat, his jaw, his cheek.

“I’ve got you.”

Regulus clung to him.

“I know.”

Sirius pushed in another inch.

Regulus cried out.

“Ah—fuck—”

Sirius froze again, breathing hard against his neck.

“Breathe, Reggie.”

Regulus tried.

His breath came out broken.

“Mm—Sirius—”

“That’s it.”

Sirius kissed him.

Slowly.

A soft kiss, tender enough to make Regulus’s body loosen by degrees beneath him. Sirius waited until he felt the tight grip around his cock ease, until Regulus’s thighs stopped trembling quite so sharply, until his hands unclenched from Sirius’s hair and then clung again with purpose instead of panic.

Then Sirius pushed deeper.

Regulus moaned into his mouth.

“Oh—oh, fuck—”

Sirius groaned with him, hips stuttering despite his effort to stay controlled.

The feeling was impossible.

Regulus was so tight, so hot, so open for him after all that preparation and still so small beneath him that Sirius felt half-mad with it. Every inch took patience Sirius did not have and care Sirius forced himself to find anyway. He held Regulus steady, one hand gripping his hip, the other braced beside his head, kissing him through every slow push.

Regulus was loud now.

No hiding.

No pretending.

Every inch Sirius gave him dragged another sound out of him.

“Ah—Sirius—”

Another inch.

“Mm—fuck—”

Another.

“Please—please—”

Sirius stopped, panting.

Regulus’s eyes flew open.

“Why—”

“Because I’m trying not to come.”

Regulus stared up at him, dazed and flushed.

Sirius laughed breathlessly, though it sounded nearly pained.

“Don’t look so pleased.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Regulus’s lips parted.

Then his hips shifted down, trying to take more.

Sirius cursed violently.

“Reggie.”

Regulus whined.

“Please.”

“Greedy.”

“Yes.”

Sirius’s control snapped another thread.

He pushed deeper.

Regulus’s head fell back against the sofa.

“Ah—ah—Sirius!”

Sirius groaned, hips pressing forward, cock sinking in slowly, stretching him open around every thick inch. Regulus’s nails dug into his back. His legs tightened, then trembled, then climbed higher around Sirius’s waist as though his body could not decide whether to resist or drag him closer.

Sirius kept murmuring against his skin.

“Good. So good. Fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Regulus whined.

“Sirius, I—”

“I know.”

“It’s so much.”

“I know, baby.”

“Sirius—”

“I’ve got you.”

Another slow push.

Regulus gasped.

Sirius’s cock slid deeper.

The angle shifted.

Regulus’s whole body jolted.

“Oh—fuck!”

Sirius stilled, eyes snapping to his face.

“There?”

Regulus stared at him, shocked and trembling.

Sirius drew back barely an inch, then pushed in again at the same angle.

Regulus cried out.

“Ah—yes—there, there—”

Sirius groaned.

“Fuck, there it is.”

He did it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Regulus’s mouth opened on a helpless moan, body arching beneath him.

“Sirius—please—”

“I’m not even all the way in yet.”

Regulus made a broken, needy sound.

Sirius kissed him hard enough to swallow it.

Then he pushed forward, careful but relentless, until the last inch sank in and his hips finally pressed flush against Regulus.

They both went still.

For one suspended moment, neither of them made a sound.

Sirius was buried completely inside him.

Bottomed out.

So deep that Regulus could feel him everywhere.

So deep that the fullness seemed to steal the air from his lungs.

Regulus’s eyes were wide and unfocused, hands shaking where they gripped Sirius’s back.

Sirius’s own breathing was wrecked, chest heaving, forehead pressed to Regulus’s.

“Fuck,” Sirius whispered.

Regulus clenched around him.

Sirius’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck, Reggie, don’t—”

“I can feel you.”

Sirius groaned.

Regulus’s voice was trembling, awed and ruined.

“You’re so deep.”

Sirius opened his eyes.

Regulus looked down between them.

Sirius followed his gaze.

For a second, neither of them understood what they were seeing.

Then Sirius saw it.

A small, obscene swell low in Regulus’s belly, subtle but unmistakable, rising beneath flushed skin where Sirius was buried deep inside him.

Sirius stopped breathing.

Regulus stared.

His hands moved from Sirius’s shoulders to his own stomach, fingers trembling as they brushed over the slight bulge.

Sirius’s cock jerked inside him.

Regulus gasped sharply.

The bulge shifted.

Sirius made a sound that was almost a snarl.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Regulus’s eyes were enormous.

“Sirius—”

Sirius pressed one shaking hand over Regulus’s stomach, feeling himself there, feeling the shape of his cock buried so deep inside Regulus that he could see it.

Could feel it move.

His entire body went hot and violent with want.

“Fuck.”

Regulus whimpered at the weight of Sirius’s palm.

Sirius drew his hips back slowly.

Not far.

Just enough.

The bulge shifted beneath his hand.

Regulus’s mouth fell open.

Sirius pushed in again.

The swell moved.

Regulus cried out.

“Ah—Sirius!”

Sirius stared down at his hand on Regulus’s belly like it had undone him.

“It moves.”

Regulus’s nails scraped over his wrist.

“Sirius.”

“It fucking moves when I thrust.”

Regulus moaned, high and helpless, hips twitching beneath him.

Sirius did it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Watching the movement under his palm.

Regulus’s head fell back, throat exposed, marks dark against his skin.

“Oh—oh, fuck—”

Sirius’s restraint died there.

Completely.

The soft careful patience went up in flames.

He caught both of Regulus’s legs and pushed them up, folding them higher, opening him wider. Regulus gasped as Sirius shifted the angle, thighs pressed up, knees near his chest, his body spread beneath Sirius and helpless around the cock buried inside him.

Sirius looked down at him.

Regulus looked back, flushed and trembling, already pleading without words.

Sirius’s voice was wrecked.

“Hold on.”

Regulus clung to him.

Sirius pulled back.

Then thrust in hard.

Regulus screamed.

“Ah—Sirius!”

The sound broke something open in Sirius.

He did it again.

Harder.

Regulus’s cry pitched higher, turning into a moan that filled the living room.

“Fuck—fuck, Sirius—”

Sirius gripped the backs of Regulus’s thighs and started fucking him properly.

Hard.

Fast.

Deep.

Every thrust drove his cock all the way into Regulus, hips snapping forward, body pressing Regulus into the sofa. The wet, filthy sound of it filled the air, mixed with Regulus’s cries and Sirius’s rough groans. Regulus’s hands scrambled across Sirius’s shoulders, his arms, the sofa cushions, anything he could cling to as Sirius fucked him open.

“Ah—ah—ah—Sirius!”

“There,” Sirius panted. “There, fucking take it.”

Regulus sobbed out a moan.

“Too—ah—too deep—”

Sirius slowed for half a second.

Regulus immediately whined.

“No, no, don’t stop—”

Sirius’s eyes darkened.

“Too deep but don’t stop?”

Regulus’s head tipped back, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from the force of it, from the fullness, from the brutal, perfect drag of Sirius’s cock inside him.

“Don’t stop.”

Sirius groaned.

“You’re perfect.”

He thrust again.

Regulus cried out.

“So fucking perfect.”

Again.

“Taking my cock so well.”

Regulus moaned, body arching beneath him.

Sirius held his legs higher and fucked him harder.

The angle was devastating.

Every thrust hit deep, dragging over that spot inside Regulus that made him scream, then shove his own hips helplessly down like he needed more even when he was already overwhelmed.

“Sirius—Sirius—fuck—please—”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do.”

Regulus shook his head, sobbing out sounds between thrusts.

“Ah—ah—mm—please—”

Sirius bent over him, forcing Regulus’s legs higher with the movement, driving deeper.

“Say it.”

Regulus’s mouth opened.

Sirius thrust hard.

Regulus nearly sobbed.

“Please fuck me.”

Sirius’s control burned.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Harder.”

Sirius froze for the smallest fraction of a second.

Regulus’s eyes fluttered open, wet and desperate.

“Please.”

Sirius snarled into his mouth and gave him exactly what he asked for.

He fucked him harder.

The sofa creaked beneath them, cushions shifting, old photo albums sliding further across the floor with every rough movement. Regulus’s body bounced beneath the force of Sirius’s thrusts, legs held up, arse lifted slightly from the sofa as Sirius drove into him again and again.

Regulus was screaming now.

Not words at first.

Only sound.

“Ah—ah—ah—Sirius—fuck—ah!”

Sirius kissed him messily, swallowing the cries for a few seconds before dragging his mouth back down to Regulus’s marked throat. He bit over one of the hickeys already there.

Regulus clenched hard around his cock.

Sirius’s rhythm faltered.

“Fuck.”

Regulus sobbed.

“Sirius—”

“Do that again.”

“I can’t—”

Sirius thrust deep, grinding in at the end.

Regulus clenched again.

Sirius groaned, rough and broken.

“Yes. Fuck, just like that.”

Regulus’s hands were shaking against his back, nails dragging down Sirius’s skin. The sting made Sirius fuck him harder, hips snapping forward, cock punching deep.

The bulge moved beneath Regulus’s stomach with every thrust.

Sirius could not stop looking.

Could not stop pressing his hand there.

Could not stop feeling himself through Regulus’s skin.

He flattened his palm over the slight swell and thrust into it.

Regulus cried out so loudly Sirius had to kiss him.

“Sirius!”

“I can feel myself in you,” Sirius groaned against his mouth. “Fuck, Reggie, I can feel my cock in your belly.”

Regulus made a ruined sound and clenched around him again.

Sirius swore.

“You like that?”

Regulus nodded wildly.

“You like being this full?”

“Yes—yes—fuck—”

Sirius drove into him harder.

“You like taking my cock this deep?”

“Yes!”

“Look at you.”

Regulus tried.

His eyes were unfocused, mouth open, lashes wet, curls stuck to his temples.

Sirius gripped his jaw and made him look down.

“Look.”

Regulus’s gaze dropped to Sirius’s hand on his stomach, to the obscene little movement beneath it every time Sirius thrust.

His whole body shuddered.

“Oh my god.”

Sirius groaned.

“Yeah.”

Regulus’s voice broke.

“Sirius.”

“Yeah, baby, I know.”

“You’re inside me.”

Sirius’s hips stuttered violently.

“Fuck.”

“You’re so deep.”

Sirius lost another piece of himself.

He caught Regulus’s legs again, pressing them wider, higher, and fucked him like restraint had never existed.

Regulus screamed for him.

He screamed into the house, into the hot afternoon, into the space between every lost year and every found touch. He cried Sirius’s name until it broke apart into moans. He pleaded without knowing what he was asking for. He clung and writhed and took every hard, deep thrust like Sirius was giving him back something neither of them had known how to name.

“Sirius—ah—please—please—”

“What do you need?”

“You—fuck—just you—”

Sirius kissed him hard.

Regulus’s tongue pushed into his mouth immediately, messy and desperate, and Sirius fucked him through it, hips driving forward with a rhythm that made Regulus’s sounds dissolve into broken whimpers.

“Mm—ah—ah—”

Sirius pulled back only enough to breathe.

“You’re mine.”

Regulus sobbed.

“Yes.”

Sirius thrust deep.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

Again.

“Again.”

“I’m yours—ah—Sirius, I’m yours—”

Sirius groaned, dropping his forehead to Regulus’s shoulder.

Regulus’s hands buried themselves in his hair.

“Yours.”

Sirius bit his neck hard enough to leave another mark.

Regulus cried out and arched.

The movement dragged Sirius deeper.

Both of them moaned.

“Fuck,” Sirius panted. “Reggie.”

Regulus was shaking apart beneath him now, legs trembling where Sirius held them up, stomach tightening under Sirius’s palm, cock flushed and leaking between them. Every thrust shoved Sirius deep enough to make his belly shift, and every movement of that little bulge seemed to send Regulus further out of his mind.

“Sirius—Sirius, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

“It’s too much—”

“You’re taking it.”

Regulus sobbed.

“You’re taking all of it.”

“Sirius—”

“You wanted me to fuck you.”

“Yes—”

“This is what you wanted?”

Regulus nodded frantically.

Sirius slowed suddenly, thrusting deep and grinding there instead of pulling out.

Regulus let out a broken, desperate cry.

“Oh—fuck, fuck, please—”

Sirius’s palm pressed lightly over the bulge.

Regulus clenched around him.

“Please what?”

“Move.”

Sirius smiled against his cheek.

“You want it hard again?”

Regulus whined.

“Yes.”

“Fast?”

“Yes.”

“Deep?”

Regulus’s voice cracked.

“Yes.”

Sirius kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Good boy.”

Regulus shook hard.

Sirius gave it to him.

Hard.

Fast.

Deep.

Rough enough that Regulus’s cries turned loud and ragged, rough enough that the sofa creaked beneath them, rough enough that Sirius had to hold Regulus steady by his thighs and hip to keep him from sliding up the cushions with every thrust.

Regulus’s body took it beautifully.

So beautifully Sirius nearly lost his mind.

Every time Sirius drove in, Regulus’s mouth opened around a helpless sound. Every time Sirius dragged back, Regulus’s hips tried to follow. Every time Sirius filled him again, Regulus clenched tight and moaned like he had been made for it.

“Ah—ah—Sirius—please, please, please—”

“Fuck, listen to you.”

Regulus could not stop.

“Sirius—mm—fuck—ah—”

“So loud now.”

Regulus whined.

“Screaming for me.”

Regulus’s nails dug into his back.

“Letting the neighbours hear after all.”

Regulus’s eyes flew open.

“Sirius—”

Sirius thrust hard.

Regulus screamed.

“There it is.”

“You’re—ah—awful—”

“You love it.”

Regulus sobbed out a laugh that became a moan when Sirius hit that spot again.

“Yes.”

Sirius groaned.

“Yes, what?”

“I love it.”

Sirius’s rhythm faltered.

Regulus clung to him.

“I love it, Sirius, please—”

Sirius kissed him like he could not survive another second without it.

The kiss was filthy, almost violent with need, tongues sliding together while Sirius fucked him fast and deep. Regulus’s sounds poured straight into Sirius’s mouth—whines, sobs, moans, pleas. Sirius swallowed every one and gave them back as rough groans of his own.

He felt wild.

Drunk on heat and history and Regulus’s body beneath him.

Drunk on the sight of the marks he had made.

Drunk on the small bulge moving beneath his palm.

Drunk on the fact that he had found him.

Found him.

Regulus was here.

Regulus was beneath him.

Regulus was saying his name like a prayer and a plea and a wound finally closing.

“Sirius,” Regulus whimpered, voice breaking. “Sirius, Sirius—”

“I’m here.”

Regulus’s eyes found his.

Sirius thrust deep and stayed there for half a second.

“I’m here.”

Regulus’s mouth trembled.

Then Sirius moved again, and whatever answer Regulus might have given shattered into a moan.

“Ah—fuck—”

Sirius’s hand slid from Regulus’s stomach to his cock, wrapping around him.

Regulus jerked violently.

“Oh—”

Sirius started stroking him in time with his thrusts.

Regulus nearly screamed.

“Oh fuck—Sirius—Sirius, I—”

“I know.”

Regulus shook his head, overwhelmed.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m going to—”

“I know.”

Sirius fucked him harder, hand moving over his cock, thumb slicking over the head each time. Regulus’s body tightened beneath him, thighs trembling, stomach clenching, hole fluttering around Sirius’s cock until Sirius could barely hold his rhythm.

“Fuck, Reggie.”

Regulus sobbed his name.

Sirius bent close to his ear.

“Come for me.”

Regulus broke.

His whole body arched beneath Sirius, mouth open on a scream that turned into a shaking moan as he came hard over Sirius’s hand and his own stomach. His hole clenched wildly around Sirius’s cock, tight and rhythmic and perfect.

Sirius swore, hips stuttering.

“Fuck—fuck, Reggie—”

Regulus shook through it, crying out with every pulse, every thrust Sirius could not stop giving him. Sirius kept fucking him, slower for only a few strokes, then rough again when Regulus clung and moaned like he still wanted more even as pleasure tore through him.

The sight of him ruined, trembling, marked, and coming under him nearly sent Sirius over the edge.

But then Regulus opened his wet eyes and whispered, “Inside.”

Sirius stopped dead.

His cock throbbed hard inside Regulus.

Regulus’s legs tightened around him.

Sirius stared down at him, ruined beyond speech.

Regulus’s voice was soft and wrecked.

“Please.”

Sirius made a sound like he had been gutted.

He kissed Regulus hard and fucked into him with the last of his control gone, chasing the edge now, hips rough and uneven, cock driving deep with every thrust.

“Fuck,” Sirius groaned. “Fuck, Reggie—”

Regulus clung to him, shaking from aftershocks, whispering against his mouth.

“Yes. Please. Sirius, please.”

Sirius buried himself deep.

All the way.

His hand pressed over Regulus’s stomach, over the place where he could still feel himself.

He came with a broken groan, hips grinding in as deep as he could get, filling Regulus while Regulus whimpered and held him through it. Sirius shook above him, breath shattered, face buried in Regulus’s neck as the force of it rolled through him again and again.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of them breathing.

Ragged.

Wet.

Ruined.

Sirius stayed buried inside him, arms shaking where he held himself above Regulus.

Regulus’s hands stroked clumsily through his hair.

Neither of them moved.

Sirius pressed his mouth to the side of Regulus’s throat, over one of the bruises he had left there.

Regulus made a tiny exhausted sound.

“Still okay?” Sirius whispered.

Regulus’s answer came against his hair, barely more than breath.

“Yes.”

Sirius closed his eyes.

His body trembled once.

Regulus’s fingers tightened.

“Sirius.”

“I know.”

“You’re heavy.”

Sirius gave a breathless, broken laugh into his neck.

“There he is.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

Sirius lifted his head just enough to look at him.

Regulus was wrecked.

Beautiful.

His lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and lingering heat. Marks covered his neck and chest. His curls were a disaster around his face, the blonde streak plastered damply across his forehead.

Sirius stared down at him, something raw and enormous moving through his expression.

Regulus looked back.

Then he whispered, “You found me.”

Sirius’s face crumpled for half a second before he buried it against Regulus’s neck again.

His arms slid around him carefully, holding him without crushing him.

“I found you.”

Regulus turned his face into Sirius’s hair.

Outside, somewhere beyond the walls of Alphard’s house, the sea kept moving under the afternoon sun.

Inside, Sirius held him like he was never letting go again.

And this time, Regulus held on too.

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