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The first time that Sirius Black watched his little brother cum was purely by accident. He’d snuck into the quidditch locker rooms late at night and under the cover of James Potter’s invisibility cloak with the intention of spelling the Slytherin’s shower stalls slick with oil - as slimy as Severus Snape’s hair, he’d joked with Remus and Peter - but his plans were foiled by the mist rolling out from under the bathing room’s door, clearly in use.
He was just about to back away and abandon the plan in favor of coming back another night when the showers were unoccupied, when he heard a familiar string of French curses spill, high pitched and muffled. He lied to himself, told himself it was concern for his younger brother’s well being that had him reaching out with an invisible hand and slowly pushing the door open enough to slip inside, but really, it was his curiosity that won out amongst the rest of the warring emotions that those sounds brought forward.
And the very first thing that Sirius noticed once his eyes adjusted to the heated fog of the room and fell on a lone naked body, relaxed, spread, and leaning back against the shower wall, was that Regulus wasn’t so little anymore .
Gone are the curves of early adolescence that he’d idly noted the last time that Sirius had seen the boy naked, replaced by the figure of a proper and growing teenage boy. At fifteen, Regulus was thin, but fit. Toned from quidditch and tight, all over, especially the thighs that spread and drew Sirius’s gaze south in secret appreciation. Sirius couldn’t help but notice how similar their features were. How everything about himself was mirrored, just slightly more delicate, on his younger brother’s body.
Where Sirius himself was elfish, tall and lanky with higher cheekbones and a sharp jaw, Regulus was smaller. spritely, softer in places but comparably angled in the set of his face or the jut of his hip bones in a visible V. They had matching patches of hair nestled under the point of their pelvises, thatches of black curls well trimmed and sitting just above their cocks. The only minor differences were where Sirius’s was naturally bigger, and Regulus’s sat proudly at attention between the two fingers that he smoothed down around it, pressing it between and then dipping in search of a wet heat that Sirius himself lacked.
He felt an ache in his own balls watching Regulus’s fingers slide in - two, to just the first knuckle - repeatedly in between frigging his engorged clit. Sirius had to reach down and squeeze himself to stem the hardening of his cock in his pants when those fingers resurfaced from the abyss glistening and sticky, spread on the lips around Regulus’s cock and then over the sensitive knob itself.
That was his brother , Sirius chastised himself, even if he hadn’t already seen his face - Godrick’s balls, his face, twisted up in pleasure and mouth agape - it was made evident and impossible to deny by the ring adorning his first finger, shiny silver and proud. That was his brother, and he was getting - no, he was - aroused from spying on him in the shower.
Throbbing, straining in his pants and watching Regulus’s other hand drop the clench against the slippery shower wall behind him as he got himself off. Legs spread and bearing his grown clit to the stream of shower head water, hot enough to steam the room thoroughly.
He should leave.
He should leave, but.. Regulus made a throaty noise, his legs clenching and his toes curling like he was-
“So close,” Regulus gasped, and Sirius didn’t want to disturb him or alert him to another presence by attempting to sneak back out when he was balancing on such a precarious peak.
And really.. a little longer couldn’t do any more harm than the several minutes he’d already been looking could, right?
So he looked, because he was desperately curious now to see what sort of face Regulus would make when he came. To see if it looked anything like the way bliss did on his own, which he’d caught glances of and gotten off to while he masturbated in front of his mirror before.
He hoped that he did. Also hoped, irrationally and with only a half recognized thought, that no one else got to see the faces that his little brother made when he came. No one was good enough to deserve that view.
No one, except maybe himself, because he continued to stand with his gaze frozen and entranced by the way that those long and graceful fingers rubbed down around his cock and dipped into his wet heat repeatedly, skin glistening with more than shower water.
Sweat, quickly washed away, prickled over top of his heated and pinkened skin.
His palm flattened and grinded down against his length as his body tightened, and as Sirius’s eyes dragged back up over the smooth surface of his stomach towards his chest, he noticed that even Regulus’s reconstructed buds were as shallowly dipped against his pecs as Sirius’s own were, and encouraged rouge by delicate ministrations of the hand previously pressing against the wall that Sirius unthinkingly raised a hand and mimicked on himself, over his shirt, feeling the hardness of the points under his own fingers and imagining they were his brother’s.
He even dragged his thumb under the shape of his own breast, wondering what the raised white lines below his brother’s nipples felt like. If they were smooth, only slightly raised, or if they were rough and sensitive to the touch.
Salacious images flooded his mind as he kept his eyes trained on the scars, and he let them, thinking it wasn’t a harm to.. picture indecencies, as long as he wasn’t actually planning to act on them. First of him attempting what Remus had on a few of his, tattooing beautiful white stars like sparkles across them, while his brother squeezed his thighs around his knee and held his shoulders for support, and then of himself laying Regulus out, encouraging the skin to darken under the suction of his mouth.
But while Sirius felt beastly and ugly for the marks that’d been forced on him as a young and inobedient child, he thought these marks that Regulus chose made him even more beautiful. He’d been on copious potions since he was a child, but when it came to his chest, well.. you couldn’t magically eradicate or permanently change parts of yourself so viscerally, it had to be done the muggle way.
Their parent’s had been keen only because they looked at Sirius and saw a boy not fit to be heir, so they needed another , and quickly Regulus’s madness became a condition, and then because it suited them, a gift from the stars, gracing their family with a proper boy after all.
As for the scarring, there was only so much magic could do for the healing of muggle wounds that were willingly sought out. Magic can sense intention, and so while the healing time had been slim to none compared to the muggles who underwent the same transformation, he hadn’t been spared the evidence, but something about the glow on his brother’s face after the procedures results were revealed to him told Sirius that he wasn’t upset about this, but instead proud.
Still, it made sense to Sirius why Regulus would be sneaking around in the dead of night to shower, and to do.. this. To touch himself, where he throbbed and where he felt empty. Alone, where no one but a lone ghost may catch him and mock what's in his pants.
A lone ghost, or.. his brother.
Who was in no mood to mock, would never , but with a sickening desire to drop to his knees and worship those parts of him wholly, having never imagined how turned on he could be by his own brother’s bulge.
Eyes drifting up after the utterance of more whimpered French, Sirius couldn’t help but stare as Regulus’s eyebrows came together to form a crease between them, like it was a strain to reach his peaks, mouth hanging open still and then on a silent moan. Sirius felt distinctly disappointed that he stifled the noise, and squeezed himself again to still the urge to take the couple of steps that separated them and make himself known with diligent enough movements to rip those sounds from his brother’s throat; to make him cum a second time.
His brother.
His brother, for Merlin’s sake, who’s thighs clenched off his frenzied search for climax, and who’s fingers slowly left him, dripping and glistening and coated in creamy white. They looked delectable, and must’ve tasted so for the whine Regulus gave when he swiped them past his own lips. Regulus opened his eyes as his tongue darted out to have a try of himself, gaze on the floor in front of him and then drifting up lazily, catching with eerie precision on Sirius’s face.
Their eyes met, as if Regulus could see him standing there, had caught him watching, and the very last similarity that Sirius noted before he backed slowly out of the cracked open door and fled from the changing rooms entirely, was how they glowed like twin flames. Sirius’s held chunks of blue light starlight burning in his irises and Regulus’s - capable of that same brightness - could also be as stormy as the clouds above the violently thrashing sea.
Back in the relative safety of the Gryffindor dorms, Sirius whipped off the invisibility cloak in a flurry of motion as he brushed past the lot of boys strewn about haphazardly on their beds, having waited up for him to get back. He tossed it at James, who caught it with a mild grunt and then turned his confused smile up at him as he asked, “So? How were the showers?”
“Fine,” Sirius grumbled, moving to his chest of drawers to thumb around for a clean set of pajamas while his mind replayed the ten minutes he spent in the shower on repeat.
Glistening skin, wide mouth, slurred French, toned thighs, pretty pink cock.. Fuck. That was his brother, and he’d just.. just.. he’d wanted to..
“Well? Did you get them plenty lubed?”
“What?” Sirius gasped, turning around with startled wide eyes. He held his clothes in an obvious bundle over his crotch, which Remus’s eyes dropped to look at with an upturned brow, but his kind-of, sort-of, not-really-dating-yet boyfriend said nothing.
Peter snickered from his place on the floor, hands working on a set of cards that he was stacking in an inelegant tower. “The showers, Pads, did you manage to place the charms a’ight?”
“Oh,” Sirius stuttered lamely, scrubbing a hand over his face to attempt to clear his mind of Regulus’s naked body, and the images it conjured rampantly of him in all manner of positions different from the standing, spread one he’d encountered tonight. “No, there was someone in there. Didn’t fancy waiting up for them to go, what with class tomorrow.”
With his mind in the gutter as it was, if he stuck around he might have wound up lubing the wrong thing. Not the shower, or the stalls, or the lockers, but a cock, a clit, a hole-..
“D’ya need a hand next time?” Peter asked, and Sirius all but choked.
“No! N-no.. no. I’m good, I can get it done.”
“When?” James whined, face pinched in disappointment. “Your prank and mine were supposed to be found ‘round the same time!”
James was supposed to go out the next morning to hex the foliage around the entrance of the broom shed to spray anyone leaving without a broom with a foul smelling musk that would send them running for said slippery showers.
“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Tomorrow, Prongs, I’ll do it tomorrow.” He answered lamely, before rushing off to the bathrooms. He didn’t care if it seemed like him being cagey, or dismissive, he just needed to fucking cum and if he didn’t take care of his predicament soon, he was going to ruin a perfectly good pair of school trousers.
He shut and locked himself inside one of the closest stalls to the door, dropped his pajamas carelessly and then let his pants follow the heap to the floor. Fisting himself was a sweet relief, his hand cold and clammy around his wet and weeping cock. Three pumps, maybe four, had him spilling hot seed over his knuckles, his brother’s name a shameful whisper on his tongue.
*
Sirius tried his damndest to put the incident the night before out of his mind as he went about his day. It was an accident, he walked in at a bad time and couldn’t escape without being found out. He also couldn’t have turned around, obviously, or the swish of the fabric might’ve uncovered his toes. One had to be careful about how they moved in a cloak that was technically far shorter than he needed it to be for proper coverage.
He could’ve closed his eyes, but the shock prevented even that decency. He would swear it, did swear it to himself, over and over again.
It was innocent enough that he had a wank after, as well. He was a healthy teenager, and it was something he did often late at night. It had very little at all to do with the sight of his brother masturbating mere feet from him under sparkling sprays of hot, inviting water. It wasn’t Regulus’s hands, veins popping and fingers thin and insistently stuffing himself full while he grinded his palm against his cock that had Sirius hard but just.. hands, in general. Bodies. Cocks. Holes.
Sirius was just.. wildly attracted to and easily aroused by the human form, it didn’t matter to his young and fertile body that it was Regulus, just that there was someone fit and exposed and feeling pleasure in front of him.
He’d have reacted the same way to seeing Remus.
Or James.
Or Peter.. okay, maybe not Peter.
And, if he was honest with himself, he could maybe admit that he couldn’t remember feeling so obsessed with Remus or James after the first time he’d seen them naked. Although, it had been a long time since that first time, and they’d all been gangly and practically pre-pubescent, so maybe that was it.
This was something new, and new was exciting.
That’s all.
That was the only reason why his eyes were glued to his brother’s hands delicately placed around a fragile cup of tea at breakfast, or twirling his wand as he sat outside with his group of friends, or tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear as he read in the library; a place where Sirius was to grab a book, and totally not out of the ordinary for him, as Remus’s perplexed gaze on him would suggest it was.
Because he'd seen them do something they hadn't before, and the novelty of that was glaring, blinding him but only momentarily. A blink of bright light in his eyes, he was sure.
And he hoped hard, when the day came to an end and after hours spent mucking around until surely, surely, no one would be occupying the quidditch changing rooms, that he was right, and he found them empty, so that he could fulfill his half of the prank and potentially rewrite the memories of the room steamy from sex with cold tiles and empty cubicles.
Apparently his erection had been hard enough to cancel out the hope, because as he let himself into the locker room it was immediately obvious that once again, one of the showers was being used.
Sirius waited on baited breath and open ears for a terrible song or practiced incantations or literally anything that would indicate for him that it was anyone but his brother, but when French crooned, louder than it had the night before, his pretenses were shattered by the door he once again pushed open and slipped past, following the whimpered melody.
His excuse for it this time was simple; He hadn’t gotten off to it the night before, and if he did, he’d get over it. He’d watch his brother fuck himself while stroking his wand until he too, came, and Regulus would be none the wiser, and then he wouldn’t have to do it again. Right?
Wrong.
Because Regulus was in a new position, sitting on the shower floor with his knees bent and his thighs spread, putting on display for Sirius more clearly then before the plump slits of skin which, when parted, revealed a devastatingly inviting and angrily red and empty hole, and it was all too clear how one indulgence or two, or three or four, of this vision couldn't possibly do.
Still, he'd have to make do.
Fuck.
Regulus’s entrance winked at Sirius with the contractions of pleasure as he held himself open by the bottom of his cunt and furiously rubbed his cock with his other hand. Side to side he pinched the short length of him between his fingers and tugged, up and down, while his other two fingers spread his entrance and pressed around in time.
His brother’s head was thrown back in rapture as he worked himself - arse lifting from his seated position every so often with the pulsing of his cunt - clearly holding off his orgasm with repeated pauses and the odd finger dipping in; never enough to satiate his obvious need.
Sirius had to bite down on his knuckles to keep from making a pained noise, because the way his erection dragged against his own zipper - he’d foregone pants - as it twitched, hurt a little, and made him even more eager to release himself and get this out of his system.
Get Regulus out of his system.
Those fingers, bent at the knuckles and white with the pressure he kept as he rubbed around himself.
Just enough.
Not enough.
Not nearly. Sirius would know the look of dissatisfaction on his brother’s face anywhere, because it was the same one that quite often graced his own face. He ached something horrible to smooth the crease between his brows with the pad of his thumb.
Or maybe his lips.
He could brush them down from there, softly enough to not be noticed along the bridge of his nose, and maybe taste the puff of an exhale from his brother’s lips before he pulled away..
The gentleness of his thoughts in combination with the distraught way that Regulus searched for something greater than he was gaining from his current efforts blew him back like the breath he’d just imagined swallowing, and with an unsteady step he felt the hardened edge of a bench behind his knees.
Carefully, after the slide of his boots was all too loud for his liking - his presence a secret as it was - Sirius sat himself down on the seat, eyes on his brother’s face. Regulus searched around the room as if looking for a source of inspiration, and seemingly found it underneath the bench where Sirius sat.
Leaning carefully back, and as Regulus’s lips twisted up as he finally drove two fingers south from his cock and towards the entrance he held open, Sirius very stealthily let down his fly.
It hardly made a noise, and he was proud, though his cheeks went red when the shuffle of fabric to the side and release of his prick came louder than he meant that to.
Regulus paused with his fingers stuffed in, his legs tensing. After a moment spent stiff, he then slid down until he laid flat on the floor, and Sirius mourned the straight on look at his brother's angelic face until his attention was captured by supple pale skin, accented by knicks and cuts and the calluses inside of his knees from where Regulus would sit on a broom and chase golden snitches through the sky.
That he does fast, speed aiding his flight through the air to his goal. This, though, he does slowly. It's an inquisitive and thorough exploration of himself that Sirius gets a front row seat to.
Feet in front of him, Regulus unknowingly bared himself fully to his brother. Cock, and cunt, and puckered hole when the hand underneath him and spreading his lips dropped down to spread his cheeks instead.
Like the feel of being opened was a greater pleasure than the swipe of his palm against his clit.
Sirius carefully removed his rings - an assortment of all shapes and sizes, starting with his signet - slipping one by one into the pocket of his robes, only half aware of every clink, some louder than others but the sounds were thankfully drowned out by the moans that started to leave Regulus's lips.
Shit, he wished for them closer.
In his ears, even, pressed against his neck.
Once his hand was bare he swiped it in a loose fist along his length, attempting to prolong the quickly approaching inevitable.
Regulus picked up the rhythm of his top two fingers as the bottom ones teased his second hole, pressing and playing there almost curiously.
Sirius could taste the damage the indent of his teeth in his lips was doing, rich and iron filled, like his heart which pumped rapidly.
He prayed to Merlin for something dastardly as he stared at the lewd scene before him and was rewarded with the press of a finger - wet from the shower water - into the tight ring that Regulus teased.
Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh merde, fuck, fuck, Sirius panted in his head, the speed of his on hand picking up as his brother filled himself.
Two fingers in his cunt, one in his tight little arse, legs falling spread and straightening as his back arched, and Sirius could tell he was getting close.
Sirius reached down with his other hand to cup his balls, dragging them down tightly as he leaned back farther, neck stretching and body wound and ready to snap, to cum, his eyes wide open and fucking pinned to Regulus like a sticking jinx.
He panted as quietly as he could, slapping and skin sounds matching the squelches coming from the floor below him, and from this angle he could picture himself making the most bold of moves.
Pulling off the cloak, positioning himself over Regulus and fitting their hips together as he slid his erection through the slick folds of his brother's center until with a slip, and a press, and a slide, he'd fill him up and fuck him.
He'd fuck him so good . Any way that he wanted; slow and loving, hard and fast, a mix of both but any way that it happened would be passionate, depraved, illicit and so fucking hot.
He'd beg for those blessed hands all over him and he'd do the same in return.
He would drag his fingers over Regulus's chest and tweak his nipples until he was keening, a lot like the noises that were filling the room around them as Sirius got close and Regulus toppled over the finish line of excitement. Feminine, high pitched sounds that betrayed the bliss wracking his body filled the room, and the only thing missing from the music that flirted with his ears and encouraged his own orgasm was the gasp he could imagine, crisp and loud and-
"Sirius, oh, merde, baise-moi, Siri, ah, uh, nng! "
Sirius came vigorously - shocked into a grunt of disbelief and sick, deeply gratified pleasure - from his name spilling from his brother's mouth in a series of delicious pleas, the sounds of him cumming making Regulus's voice break even further.
White flooded over Sirius's knuckles and hit the inside of the cloak he wore with harsh splats, and it wouldn't stop . He didn't stop, but continued to milk himself as he watched Regulus force himself to cum again, body trembling from the effort and his breath leaving him in little gasps.
"Fuck, fuck, ah, uh, " The sounds were a never ending torment as Sirius came down, but Regulus kept going. He watched a third orgasm take over, rolling into a forth that Regulus hardly had the energy to grind himself into, but did so with a determination that saw him finally boneless and sated where he lay under the stream of magically warmed water.
The pitter patter of the shower were the only sounds left in the room when Regulus finally let his fingers fall free of his spasming holes, and it took Sirius excruciating minutes to fit himself back inside of his pants - still sticky and semi hard - when Regulus's palms landed flatly on the floor by his sides and he didn't make any attempt to move from his prone position.
His heart was still racing over his name being wrung out of his brother in the throes of private passion. Surely, he'd been mistaken. Misheard. Somebody else's name, a Sarah or a Siriah or some pretty something other than his own.
He was still sat there, basking in the afterglow of a brilliant if not slightly mind blowing orgasm, trying to make names up and match them in his head, to convince himself that it wasn't him that Regulus thought of, imagined thrusting into him as he fingered himself, when his brother pushed himself to sitting against the wall and let his head thunk back against the tile.
Eyes closed, chest still slightly heaving, Regulus muttered, obviously to himself , or maybe even to him in his mind, "Fuck, fuck, Siri. That was.. merde. "
Sirius silently agreed and attempted to be so as he left, too.
*
He still hadn't spelled the showers a week later, though he'd been back every night. Twice more he'd caught Regulus in the act and thoughtlessly joined him, and both times there was a hint, or a suggestion, that Regulus thought of him as he fucked himself; in new positions each time.
The first time, he bent himself over the bench and held himself open for the door, and the second, oh, the second , he'd dragged the shower head down from the wall and had mimicked riding the stream, a hand intermittently pulling on his nipples and dragging nails down his stomach, leaving little marks of red that Sirius envied.
"Oh, shit , shit, over maman's piano?" Regulus had groaned the first time as he mimicked being taken, and Sirius thought, who else would he phrase such perversion so personally for?
"If they find us, find us in here, mmm, more, more!" He'd cried out the second time as he grind down against the handle of the shower head, fucking himself with only the force of the water, and Sirius had kept a tight grip on the door handle behind him to keep from pushing forward, pushing Regulus down, stuffing his cock where it was extra heated and wet .
Still, despite the way Sirius couldn't find an explanation for the scenarios Regulus seemed to play out in his head besides that he was thinking of him, he wasn't entirely sure that he was, either.
Regulus hadn't said, or moaned his name again and Sirius worked hard at first to let other people's utterances of it replace the memory, until he felt it slipping and panicked, dismayed that he may never hear it again, causing him to grasp onto it tighter, giving it center stage in his mind.
Somewhere along the week of constant erections that even a frantic and erotic shag with Remus under the cover of privacy charms couldn't wilt, he'd flown far past disgusted with himself for thinking of Regulus in that way and outright denying his desires for his little brother and landed somewhere to the left of the field underneath the quidditch pitch, on tile floors inside of another house's changing rooms and extremely, vulnerably desperate to have him.
He couldn't help but let his eyes wander, like those of an eager puppy, towards the Slytherin boy whenever he could, whenever he wouldn't be caught. Somehow, subconsciously, or maybe because of the way Remus repeatedly drew his attention away, he thought it would be all too obvious to his brother just how he was looking.
Regulus was always perceptive.
Always almost all-knowing, always the smartest man in any given room and especially when night fell and it came to one with only the two of them in it, Regulus naked and gorgeous and Sirius hiding under a cloak like a pervert, touching himself to the fifth show he'd gotten.
Gotten?
Stolen.
Potentially one of the last, because after he got back from a particularly raunchy display (Regulus had brought a toy , muggle and vibrating), James seemed more than fed up with waiting for Sirius to have the balls to follow through (if only he knew what exactly was stopping him, or what Sirius's mind was now stuck on following through with ) and promptly pulled the cloak from his grasp and tried to hand it over to Peter.
"No!" Sirius had yelped, tugging it back from the astonished looking boy. He held it to his chest with the biggest pout of his lip, panic making him blurt words he didn't think through. "I'm.. I've been spying on someone."
"Spying? On someone in the.. in the Slytherin locker rooms?" James asked slowly, confused.
"Yes," Sirius nodded, and at the looks of utter disgust from the three men in front of him - James on his bed, Peter sitting at the end of Remus's and Remus with a book in his lap and an unsurprised look on his face - he continued hastily. "I've a whole plot, you see. Bigger than some stink bombs and slimy showers. It’ll be grand but I.. I need more time."
He did.
He really, really did.
But James wasn't keen to indulge a plan he wouldn't divulge, and though he reluctantly agreed to ditch the shower prank idea for now, he wouldn't let Sirius keep the invisibility cloak any longer, either.
That meant that Sirius had no safe way to sneak into the Slytherin showers, and he mourned the loss of his luck the next late night, and the one following, where he may have gotten to see Regulus in all of his glory just once more.
How the want for one more time gnawed at him.
How seeing his brother each time he did - in the hall, in the Great hall, on the grounds, in a classroom as he passed by - worsened that want.
How it made him feel tingly and antsy and ready to grab at him in front of everyone which was insane because they were brothers and for Regulus, nothing between them had changed.
Sirius was still the estranged older sibling who didn't come home anymore, and he was still the little brother left behind and unnoticed with no idea that Sirius had already always kept an eye on him and now, he couldn't keep his eyes off of him .
In a particularly empty Great Hall for lunch on Saturday, Sirius caught sight of Regulus walking in, at the side of Pandora and stopping to talk with Professor Slughorn by the doors.
He looked radiant, a little sunkissed and red in the cheeks and with his hair lazily tied back at the nape of his neck. A waistcoat accentuated the skinniness of his hips and his robes hung loosely off of his shoulders, his hands dipped casually inside of his pockets.
He stood proud, confident in himself, divine and cherubic and like something like perfection sent from hell and officially beginning to torment Sirius with all of these things he never knew he could want, shouldn't want , but now wanted worse than he could remember wanting for anything .
He longed for those hands to surface, to get a glimpse at the dexterity of them where they held a prim and sure grip on his wand. Practically stared daggers at the pocket facing him, begging for even just a swipe of his wrist to be visible, something to fuel the mental image of those hands on him when he would no doubt run to the loo directly after his meal.
The tilt of his brother's chin alerted Sirius to his broadening stare and Sirius quickly dropped his own to his plate in front of him, pressing his thighs together to hide the evidence of his train of thought even from himself (lest he go completely mad ) under the table.
A strong, scarred hand came down to rest on his upper thigh as the man attached to that hand leaned in. Remus, with his lips close to Sirius’s ear and his voice low, asked curiously, “Is it him you’ve been spying on in the showers, seren y bore? ”
Sirius shivered from the purr of Remus’s nickname for him, rough and heady in his ear.
Welsh for morning star, and truly, he was feeling particularly wicked for his desires and temptations as of late.
“Who?” He breathed, refusing to look up.
“Regulus?” Remus cooed back playfully with a squeeze to Sirius’s thigh.
“What? No. No, that.. why would you think that?” Sirius stuttered unconvincingly, licking at his lips like the lies were a physical burn to them.
“I can’t think of anyone else you’ve been this jumpy about lately, Padfoot.” Remus pointed out with a nudge of his shoulder.
Sirius looked up to the taller man then. Remus searched his face, a stringent look that softened like he found his answer in the way Sirius’s pupils blew wide or his mouth hung a little loose.
“N-no, that would be.. would be..” Sirius shook his head adamantly. As he looked around the table he was relieved to find their other mates absorbed in their own conversation, not paying attention to the quiet and tense one happening between the two of them.
When he looked back at Remus, he shrugged.
“He returns your heated looks once you’re not (looking).” With a nod of his head towards the door he said, “See for yourself.” And then went back to his food, removing the hand that had captured Sirius’s attention in the first place.
With a carefully slow look and after a swallow of his nerves, Sirius raised his eyes. Regulus was in fact looking at him, and he made to look away but when their gaze’s caught, they stuck.
Stayed.
Regulus raised his chin and an eyebrow, almost like a challenge, before his eyes wandered over Sirius’s face before returning, and when they did, everything seemed to shift.
The room around Sirius went silent as his little brother’s face relaxed with an air of mischief, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Sirius watched the motion ardently, teeth sinking into his own when Regulus’s hand finally slid free of his pocket.
He raised it to his lips, gliding first over his chest and across his collarbone in a languid display before trailing up the side of his throat. Over his chin it coasted and then two fingers - ring clad, Sirius noticed - pressed against his lips like a lover’s touch after a particularly passionate kiss.
The kind that leaves the skin reddened, clearly bitten. Regulus rubbed those fingers against his lips and to the side, and the rings he wore caught the light streaming in through one of the hall’s giant windows.
It glinted, drawing Sirius’s attention and he was startled immediately by the bulky one hanging loosely around his brother’s pointer finger, an oddity next to his other, slimmer jewelry.
It was a signet ring; of which Regulus didn’t own.
It was Sirius’s signet ring, he realized upon further inspection, his initials bold and visible to him even from across the room.
S.B.
Sirius looked down at his own mix and matched assortment of rings in astonishment, confirming even though he already knew that one was missing.
Must have been missing for some time, because the last time he remembered having it.. was in the Slytherin showers. When he slipped it off his finger to pocket it in his robes, along with all of the others he wore. Except he must’ve missed, must’ve let it drop, and now Regulus wore it, like a bright and bold display of an inside joke.
Regulus knew.
He knew, at the very least, that Sirius was in those changing rooms with him.
Was in the showers with him.
Had known, since at least the second time, that Sirius was spying on him, and had potentially deduced that he was doing something filthy enough to warrant the taking off of his rings and had continued to.. to..
Oh, Merlin. To masturbate.
Regulus’s lips turned up in smirk as realization dawned for Sirius, probably evident as the morning sun on his face, and turned his attention back to the conversation in front of him. He dropped his hand, too, but he didn’t pocket it. He left it hanging by his side, twirling the ill-fitting ring around his knuckle and letting Sirius stare at it.
See it.
See it, and strain in his pants, and swear obscenities in his head.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Merde, il etait descendu devant Sirius intentionnellemont.
As lunch ended around him Sirius came to with the shocking discovery of how long he’d been sitting there staring in the direction of the door. Far longer than Regulus had actually stood there, he’d kept his eyes trained instead of following his brother’s figure to the table because he’d been choking on the reality of his situation.
His situation, and the decision it came with.
Because he had two choices, and neither were the right one to make, but one was arguably more morally correct, while the other would satiate this need brewing inside of him but had the potential of making things worse.
Making things harder. Him harder.
He could continue on pretending that Regulus didn’t know, and not ask for his ring back, and do his very best to stop thinking of him like that - naked, spread, being fucked this way or that by his own fingers, by a toy, by Sirius, himself - and hope that Regulus never confronted him about it, but the way his brother flaunted his ring when he knew Sirius would see it made this choice decidedly less effectual sounding, because Regulus probably would take it upon himself if Sirius didn’t man up and question him about it first, and Sirius would be at the disadvantage of not knowing when it was coming.
Or, Sirius could corner and confront Regulus about this shocking turn of events on his own terms. Perhaps even catch him in the showers to do so - without the invisibility cloak - where this entire mess started, but he wasn’t sure if he should hope to catch Regulus naked and aroused or be there when he showed up, fully dressed and not yet started.
He hadn’t done that, yet.
Hadn’t watched him disrobe.
Had only ever ended up there when Regulus was already starkly nude and getting off.
If he chose the second option, if their talk went well, maybe..
No, no, non, he shouldn’t be sitting there thinking of actually doing anything with Regulus. At the very most this had to be all fun and games for his brother, right? A bit of cat and mouse, something to hold over Sirius’s head, a bit of sibling antagonism and an embarrassing set of actions that gave Regulus leverage over him.
Despite the way he wanted to choose the second option and let the cards fall where they may - either a stacked deck against him or a collapse of paper walls between them - he was a coward without his symbolic reminder of the powerful house from which he was descended and then estranged from, and so he chose the first.
He wasn’t going to say a thing, wasn’t going to give Regulus the satisfaction.
Shagged Remus with a worrying regularity over the next week; pretty much any time he caught sight of his brother left him jumping at the bit to screw, be screwed, and he’d seek out familiar arms for all manner of debauchery, coming away satisfied but not satiated.
Coming away tired but buzzing with a need that wasn’t being met.
That he was actively denying.
It was driving him insane. Truly, he was losing it, as he’d lost the whites of all his nails because when his thoughts circled the proverbial drain as they seemed to do constantly, slip sliding past gaping gutter bars to land in the sewers where he belonged for the way he was thinking of his younger brother, he’d bite at them until they burned.
And Regulus, the spiteful little prat, wasn’t helping. He’d been upping the ante every day, from taunting Sirius with that ring pressed to any of his exposed skin, to licking sweets from honeydukes slowly with his gaze aimed at him, to flaunting his thighs with the hiking of the uniform skirt he had the audacity to wear up past his knees while he sat on a ledge, until anyone looking might get to see his pants.
Regulus had even gone so far as to reach down and pretend to tie his shoe before dragging his hand, nails and all, up the inside of his calf, his thigh, his stomach..
At that, the visual reminder of the way Regulus looked with those knees bent and his center on display, Sirius couldn’t help but snap .
Gone was any restraint, embarrassment or ability to choose a less confrontational approach, stomped on by his heavy boots which were weighed down with an insistent necessity for Sirius to have him or he was going to combust like a dying star.
Fold in on himself, be reduced to nothing but this insatiable curiosity to know if Regulus’s folds were as silken and soft as they looked. If his grip was as steady as he imagined. If his lips were as demanding. If he tasted like Sirius could only guess he would; intoxicating.
He couldn’t even wait another day to find out. Couldn’t force himself to simply go in search of those showers with nothing but the dark night to cover him, which he’d have to leave outside of the changing rooms anyway. No, instead, he waited under the ground near the Slytherin dorms like a predator for his brother to return to them after his last class.
He was quietly grateful for the chilly dungeon air, preventing sweat to break out against his fevered skin.
He found a poorly lit section of the hallway; an alcove like the hundreds of them in the upper level hallways - deep and secluded - but without the light that the windows upstairs provided.
Dark, hidden away, he waited on the edge of it as a few students passed here or there but it was when Regulus came by, thankfully alone, that Sirius pounced like a lion on the unaware snake.
He caught him around the waist with one arm, his hand cupping his crotch possessively and his other other coming up to stifle the shout that threatened to leave his brother’s mouth as he dragged him back into the shadows.
When his back touched the farthest wall he dipped his chin, brushed Regulus’s ear and inhaled the slightly salty scent of his skin, bitter like the trees outside and heady.
Regulus struggled for a moment, until his hands came up to the one held tightly against his mouth and his fingers - fuck, they were lovely, with manicured nails and cool to the touch - brushed over Sirius’s copious rings, and then his entire body relaxed.
Deflated, like a balloon, the fight blew out of him on a shaky exhale. His brother’s body relaxed against his chest, hands dropping, and Sirius delicately dropped his hand to rest flatly against his collarbones.
“Sirius?” Regulus all but whined, and Sirius had to stifle the groan it threatened to drag from him.
“Why,” He started gruffly, pained when Regulus’s hands searched backwards for his hips and landed there easily, intimately, like that’s a totally normal way to hold your brother, who’s holding you . “Why are you doing this to me?”
“What am I doing?” Regulus tipped his head to the side, displaying the rapid pulse underneath his stretched, unblemished skin.
Sirius’s mouth watered, but his words still came out colored in frustration. He caught Regulus’s left hand, leaving him leant back supported only by the hand under his throat for a moment as he dragged it up in front of their faces. He forced Regulus to look, same as he did, as he pressed his mouth against his brother’s ear and grumbled huskily, “You’re taunting me, petite etoile. ”
Regulus’s head fell back against Sirius’s shoulder and he stared low lidded at his hand, held in Sirius’s. “Why did you stop coming?”
“Quoi?”
“To the showers, under that spelled cloak of yours. Why did you stop coming?” Regulus repeated himself, and if Sirius didn’t know any better, he’d almost think he sounded hurt.
“The cloak isn’t mine. It’s James’s, and he took it off of me.” Sirius groaned, letting his head fall to Regulus’s shoulder. He smelled so bloody good.
Had he always smelled like this? Like something that would taste good to bite..
Sirius used his chin to drag Regulus’s shirt collar to the side and then he dropped his mouth, giving in to temptation to chase the flavor with his lips into the crook of Regulus’s neck. What point was there now in denying his desires when Regulus was melted against him and sounding offended that he’d stopped coming to see him get off?
“Siri..” Regulus whined again, soft and breathy.
“How did you know I was there?” Sirius let their hands fall, smoothing his palm down the front of Regulus’s shirt before gripping the bottom of it and tugging it roughly from it’s position, tucked into his fucking skirt .
His fingers finally touched the warmer skin below Regulus’s navel, quickly searching out somewhere warmer by fitting beneath the hem of said destructive attire.
“It’s short,” Regulus gasped, hips twitching as Sirius unceremoniously stuffed his hand further down. “The cloak. Doesn’t cover your boots when you move.”
“You knew,” Sirius reiterated roughly, driven further into his insanity by the feel of Regulus’s cock, bulging between thick lips. He pressed there, rewarded with the disbelieving moan that it tore from his brother’s throat. “That I was there. Watching you..”
“Oui,” Regulus canted his hips, encouraging Sirius’s hand lower and Sirius eagerly obliged.
“And you just.. kept.. fucking yourself .. anyway,” Sirius coupled each word with a press of his fingers; first down through his folds, then against his entrance, circling the wet heat and picturing himself slipping into it, finally spreading him wide between his fingers and adding pressure to the palm of his hand, like he’d watch Regulus do to himself. “Spread yourself, rubbed your cock, stuffed your cunt, came, came all over your fucking fingers, all while knowing I was watching?”
“Oui,” His brother confirmed with another slutty nudge forward. Like a baby doe he balanced on legs that were farther and farther spread, until the only thing keeping him up on his toes was the tightening grip he had on Sirius’s hips.
Grinding pleasure through his center, Sirius’s moved his other hand up from Regulus’s collar to put a mild threat against his airway, and Regulus moaned his enjoyment of the hold, sounding desperate to be properly sullied.
“You dropped your ring, that second time.” With the reminder, Sirius flushed. “I thought you wanted me to know that you were watching. Wanted me to put on a show for you, so I did. Called your name and everything, Sirius, why didn’t you.. didn’t you..”
“Fuck you?” Sirius asked, finally and fatally bringing his two fingers together and dipping them in, sliding them inside.
The clench of his brother’s cunt around his fingers was an inescapable hold, an inevitable black hole which begged him to never leave it, him, empty again.
“Mmm..” Regulus hummed.
Shit, Regulus was hotter, tighter, wetter than Sirius had even had the capacity to imagine. Fucking drenched, Sirius could feel it dripping down his fingers as he forced them inside and rocked them slowly, searching with the pads of them for that spot that made his brother make such pretty noises.
Angel songs that echoed.
He had all manner of obvious excuses for why he didn’t take Regulus then, when he heard his name, but rather than list all of the reason he shouldn’t, he bit down just below where his thumb rested, hollowing his cheeks to leave a mark before growling, “I’m going to, now, I think. Are you sure that’s what you want, Reggie? You want me to fuck you ?”
“Merde,” His French sounded even sweeter when it was encouraged by the drag of Sirius’s fingers inside of him. “Yes, Sirius. What more convincing do you need from me, than to know I was fucking myself to the thoughts of it?”
“I’m your brother,” Sirius stated plainly, a smirk twisting his lips. He suddenly tugged Regulus up by his cunt, straightening and forcing him back to feel Sirius’s erection at his backside.
“Did you like watching me?” Regulus panted like he already knew the answer, thrusting himself forward to gain more purchase against Sirius’s hand, buried between his legs.
“Yes,” Sirius hissed appreciatively, coloring any exposed skin pink as he worked his dedication inside of him.
“Did you touch yourself, while you watched?”
“Yes,” He nipped at his brother’s jaw. “And it’s ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about you. The things I want to do with you.”
He choked on his words when Regulus reached up to fist tufts of Sirius’s hair at the nape of Sirius’s neck, caging in his face, and tugged. “And your fucking hands, Merlin, Regulus, I want them everywhere .”
“ Ah, nnng..” They were being so loud, so obvious, so easily caught in the hallway. “Want to touch you, too. Let me touch you, Sirius?”
Long strips of pale skin, Sirius turned his head to bite at the inside of Regulus’s elbow, rewarded with the indecent jerk of his body.
“You’re going to let me into the Slytherin dorms, Reg,” Sirius explained as he focused his attention south, really driving home his point with two fingers and the heel of his hand. “You’re going to lead me to your room, and we’re going to lock and spell the room up tight. And you’re going to give me back my ring, because I am going to do all manner of disrespectful things to you with it.”
Regulus, as his body shook with the tightening of an incoming orgasm, could barely manage proper English as he cried, “Finally.”
Sirius got him close. So fucking close. One more thrust, or two, and Regulus’s body would explode and he’d get the pleasure of those first, sordid tightenings around his fingers; the ones he’d watched from the bench as Regulus rode through to the second, third, fourth orgasm until he was all strung out on a high of bliss.
And then he pulled his hand away, with a quick shove of his brother forward that had him - regrettably - dropping his hands from Sirius’s hair in an effort to keep himself from falling onto his knees.
A beautiful sight that would have been, but Sirius had plans, and they didn’t include losing himself in the feel of his brother’s hot mouth in the hallway, of all places.
Bringing his fingers up to his lips - sopping and messy - he waited for Regulus to turn around and watch him with an incorrigible stare - all wide eyes and spread lips - before sliding them over his tongue and tasting his first taste of forbidden fruit.
His eyes fluttered closed on possibly the loudest groan he’d ever given; the taste a profound awakening of his senses.
Powerful, pleasant, salty sweet acidity bursting in his mouth, furthering the insistence of his steps when he dropped his fingers and opened his eyes, stalking forwards towards Regulus.
“And the very first thing that I’m going to do, tu es une délicieuse petite salope, is taste you where you’re heavenly. Lap up all of that mess, suck your cock until it’s red and swollen and sore. Going to devour you, petite etoile. ”
Sirius caught his brother’s cheeks and dragged him in, up, mashing his own mouth against him in what hardly counted as a kiss but was every bit the passionate press he intended to mimic lower. Tongues, and mouths and wet lips as he walked him backwards towards the dungeons entrance.
Pulling away when Regulus’s back hit the wall beside it, Sirius couldn’t help but notice once again, how bloody similar they looked.
Twinning passions.
Brotherly love.
He was going to make expressly clear to Regulus what big brother’s were for.
The first time Sirius saw his little brother cum, it had been an accident, but this time, and the many, many times following, the spill of seed from him and on him and into him would be undeniably intentional, and as hot as the water Regulus had let redden his skin and steam the room while he fucked himself, aware that his brother had been watching.