Chapter 9
James and Regulus were having a staring contest, one James was doomed to lose from the beginning. It was his fault, really—he’d asked Regulus about Barty and Evan in as neutral a tone as he could muster. Regulus was skinning him and dissecting his very soul with his eyes and James couldn’t help feeling inadequate in his presence.
“Why are we here?” Regulus asked at last, and James finally allowed himself a breath.
“Er—I like their food?” James rubbed the back of his neck and Regulus raised an eyebrow, an odd shadow of mirth gracing his expression. “Or, um, I want to talk to you?” Because yeah, the only way to help Sirius work through whatever was tearing him apart was to bring Regulus into the equation, but now that the younger man was so close …. James could practically count his eyelashes and he’d be damned if he turned back now.
Regulus blinked and poked at the salad he’d ordered. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to stick around,” he said, the words falling smooth and unbothered from his lips.
James swallowed loudly. “I like talking to you,” he said, hoping his even tone combatted his rapidly reddening face. Was it obvious that he was hanging on Regulus’ every word?
“How was the concert?” Regulus asked, and James froze— what kind of question was that? What mind games were they playing?
His mouth opened once, soundlessly, before he could string together an answer. "You sure know how to…entertain a crowd.”
“Can you dance, Potter?”
What was happening ? “I reckon I’m okay at it.”
“Is that so?”
“Er—yes?”
“Are you usually this anxious on dinner dates, Potter?”
James needed to regain the upper hand. Fast. “Only when they’re with beautiful men,” he said, schooling his expression into a grin.
Regulus’ head tipped back a fraction of an inch. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter.”
Now that was a game James could play. “Perhaps I ought to try praise next?”
The younger man’s eyes flashed with something dark and James allowed himself a sharp smirk.
“Maybe you should talk to Evan about that, he’s real good at it,” Regulus taunted, poorly hiding his amusement. His eyes were bright, and James never wanted to look away.
“Not Barty?” James asked, playing into Regulus’ little ploy.
Regulus hummed, “he’s one for the flipside.”
James raised an eyebrow and feigned confusion. “Is that so?”
“We make quite the show, do we not?”
“ You certainly make quite the show,” James said, but when Regulus laughed, he couldn’t help feeling as though it was at his own expense.
“Awfully forward, aren’t we?”
Regulus and his endless game of questions. “I prefer it that way.”
James leaned back and Regulus moved forward a fraction of an inch. The miniscule, subconscious movement made James’ heart race.
“So, you like watching me bleed onstage?” Regulus asked, and James huffed a laugh. “How vile of you.”
“Tell me, do you get off on being publicly thrown around the stage like a dog? ” James said, his voice lowering in time with the darkening quality of Regulus’ eyes. Interesting . “You do, don’t you? Does it get you hot when Barty treats you like a toy for thousands of people to see?”
The faint blush dusting Regulus’ cheeks was the sweetest victory James had ever known, and he wanted to know how far down that blush went. He wanted to track it with his tongue and his teeth.
“Let’s get out of here,” James decided, fishing a wad of cash from his wallet, “pets aren’t allowed inside,” he muttered as he made his way to the door, not bothering to see if Regulus was following.
James led him to his favorite bar, and upon arrival, Regulus shrugged, maintaining his facade of indifference, save for his blown-wide pupils, of course. “I could use a drink—my throat is awfully sore, I suppose. I love to please fans, and it seems I’ve been rewarded with one tonight.”
“You’ll certainly be rewarded with something tonight,” James drawled, his fingers twitching with the desire to touch Regulus’ pale skin.
Regulus ignored James’ words and pulled him to the throng of people on the dance floor. He found the rhythm with speed only a musician could muster and looped his arms around James’ neck.
“Relax, Potter. I’m not going to eat you.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I’ve misread the room, then?”
Regulus rolled his eyes and James slid his hands to the younger man’s hips, squeezing gently and pulling him closer. When Regulus looked up at him, James nearly drowned in the wide, dark pupils that had swallowed his irises.
“Allow me to rephrase,” Regulus hummed and closed his eyes, running his fingers through the hair at the base of James’ neck. “Relax, Potter. This won’t be fun if you’re so tense.”
James was sure Regulus’ sneer rivaled his own. “That’s my line,” he said, dipping his head down to whisper the words directly into Regulus’ skin. He pressed a ghost of a kiss to the man’s shoulder before straightening and twirling Regulus around. Regulus pressed his ass into James’ dick, because of course he would, and leaned his head back on James’ shoulder.
A soft, barely audible moan slipped from Regulus’ lips, and the satisfaction on his face was more than enough proof of Regulus’ intentions. James pulled him closer still.
“I don’t usually fuck fans,” Regulus murmured, his breath warm on James’ ear.
James shook his head. “Such crude language. What would Evan say?”
“He’s always been the best at getting me to shut up, I suppose.”
“It’s easy work, I bet,” James teased, swallowing his jealousy.
Regulus scowled. “What the fuck does that mean?”
James laughed and raised a thumb to Regulus’ temple, pressing the wrinkle in his brow smooth. “You just need your mouth full, and I’ll bet you’re on your knees before he can even unzip his pants,” James said, moving his finger from Regulus’ brow to trace his lips, slipping his thumb inside to prove his point. “You’re good when you’re full, aren’t you?”
Regulus’ eyes fluttered closed and James was so hard it hurt.
“What a sweet little thing you are,” he whispered, caressing Regulus’ tongue— and tongue piercing , Jesus christ —with his finger.
[Regulus POV]
What the actual fuck.
Regulus couldn’t think of anything but James’ stupid fingers and James’ stupid voice and James’ stupid hands—he wanted so badly to hate the man who replaced Regulus in his brother’s life, but every stupid little thing about James was intoxicating and the man made Regulus’ head go quiet, for once. They’d talked for hours over dinner, but Regulus felt he hardly knew the man at all.
He’d barely escaped James’ wandering hands to the club bathroom, where he was staring at his reflection, trying to discern what exactly just happened. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket for the past ten minutes, and though he was a shot or two past tipsy, he still had half a mind to worry about Evan, especially with the state Regulus left him in.
Regulus fished his phone from his pocket. The band’s group chat had a dozen notifications, and when Regulus saw his name among them he scrolled to the top of his unread messages.
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: REGULUS BLACK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
Panda: wrong bar wrong bar wrong bar wrong bar
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: MY POOR INNOCENT EYES
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: [attachment].img
Regulus’ face flushed at the photo Evan had sent of Regulus dancing, ass flush with James’ hips. He had his head back against James' shoulder and his hands were buried in James’ hair. There was a trail of fresh hickies on his neck that practically glowed under the dim bar lights.
Bass[ed]: potter stole my husband
Bass[ed]: we can take him in a fight, right?
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: [attachment].img
The next photo was of James attacking Regulus’ neck with his hands inching up the main singer’s abdomen under his shirt. Regulus’ head was swimming.
Bass[ed]: that has got to be homophobic
Bass[ed]: or at least a hate crime
Panda: you’re all going to hell
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: good lord get a damn room (my room)
Regulus shook his head at his friends’ dramatics and typed a response.
Reggie.or.not.here.I.cum: ur just jealous
Panda : I assure you, I am not.
Bass[ed]: i am. i fully am. fuck potter
Reggie.or.not.here.I.cum: that’s the goal
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: i bet potter has old man breath
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: does he have old man breath
Bass[ed]: why tf r u fucking in public
Reggie.or.not.here.I.cum: ig i’m a slut
Panda: gross
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: ur a pretty little slut tho ;)
Panda: NOT IN THE GROUP CHAT EVAN
Bass[ed]: we oughta put u on a damn leash
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: 👀👀👀
DrummerIHardlyKnowHer: idea for next concert???
Panda: gross
Reggie.or.not.here.I.cum: i can bark
Panda: REGULUS I SWEAR TO GOD
The bathroom door opened and James stopped a few feet from Regulus, and he looked… worried? Why couldn’t Regulus find anything to hate about James?
“Is everything okay?”
Regulus rolled his eyes and managed one last text with his bandaged hands before putting his phone away for good.
Reggie.or.not.here.I.cum: don’t worry, Pandora, i’ll let you know if he’s any good :)
Regulus was dragged from the club bathroom to James’ house, but before anyone could lose any clothes, his phone rang. When he chucked the device across the room and groaned into James’ mouth, the older man’s phone rang.
“Fuck, it’s Pandora. I didn’t know she had my number,” James said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Would it be irrational to leave the band to get some damn peace and quiet? “Pandora, is everything alright?”
“Is Regulus with you?”
James eyed where Regulus was tangled in his arms. “You could say that—”
“Pictures of him in the club are going crazy right now. They’re all over the internet.”
Regulus sighed loudly and stuck his hand out. James raised an eyebrow and handed the device over. “The photos in the group chat?”
“No, thank god . They’re of you alone but it looks like a goddamn bear mauled your neck. Did James try to fucking eat you ?”
With an exaggerated groan Regulus leaned back into James’ large, warm hands. “Mmmmm…he's certainly trying,” he grinned and James ghosted a finger over his lips. “Panda, I let Barty spit in my mouth in the middle of our fucking concert. So what if I’m seen with some hickies?”
Pandora grumbled something unintelligible before letting out a long breath. “Your act on stage tonight went beyondviral! The band is blowing up again and Evan’s parents won’t stop fucking calling—”
Regulus shivered, relishing in the goosebumps that exploded across his skin when James rubbed his hands over Regulus’ chest.
“—Regulus, are you listening to me?”
“I’m trying, Panda, but a man is only so strong.”
The phone call ended abruptly and Regulus’ eyes slipped closed.
“Barty is calling, Reg,” James whispered.
Regulus shot him a glare and yanked the phone from James’ hand. “If one more person fucking cockblocks me, I’m going to lose my fucking mind—”
“Listen to me, Regulus, and listen good,” Barty growled and Regulus almost melted then and there. “You’re going to stop being an asshole and you’re going to return to the hotel because your friend needs you. I do not care about how empty your damn holes are, or how desperately you need to suck Potter dry.”
Barty hung up and James leaned back, looking down at Regulus with an amused smile. “Shit, that was hot as fuck. You really do like being told what to do, don’t you? I’ll have to keep that in mind—you have no idea the things I want to do to you.”
Regulus wasn’t sure he was still breathing. How was this the same James as the fumbling idiot in the coffee shop?
James pressed a kiss to Regulus’ forehead. “Your next show isn’t too far away, right? How about you put on another show for me, baby.”
Regulus moaned into James’ mouth.
***
Though it pained him greatly, Regulus was grateful Barty made him return to the hotel—despite Regulus feeling akin to a scolded child—because Evan visibly calmed once he returned. Barty, Evan, and Pandora even shared amused smiles when they took in Regulus’ disheveled appearance.
Pandora pulled Regulus into the bathroom before he got to Evan. “His mom sent some nasty texts and his dad won’t stop calling. They saw the show tonight, I think.”
“Why doesn’t he block their asses?”
But Regulus knew why, it was the same reason he couldn’t stop thinking about his fucking brother.
Pandora released him from the bathroom and he settled into the bed next to Evan and Barty. When Regulus moved to grab Evan’s phone and read the messages he’d received, Pandora’s hand shot out. Barty jolted as well, snatching the device from Evan’s grip.
Pandora shook her head at Regulus, her eyes deep with something that made Regulus’ chest tighten. “Don’t do this to yourself, Reg.”
“You all read them, why can’t I?”
Barty gave him an unimpressed look. “You and I both know that reading those messages will do far more harm than good.”
Regulus crossed his arms and glared at his friends. “I’m not a fucking child, I can take care of myself.”
“Right. Tell that to your hands.”
“And your neck.”
“And your reputation,” even Evan added.
He knew they were right, but Regulus was in a particularly argumentative mood. “Were my parents assholes? Yes. Do I give a shit anymore? No.”
But below his right shoulder blade, his skin crawled and burned. Along the notches of his spine, his skin began to itch. The small of his back throbbed in the shape of a hand, a cold hand, leading him up the stairs to his bedroom. His knee ached, it had hit the second stair from the top when he’d fallen. His neck screamed out when a hand, a cold hand, dragged him to the bed. Always the bed. And the sheets didn’t hurt but his shoulder and his back and his spine and back and knee and neck and back and he wanted it to stop.
Regulus shook his head— he was over Mother’s torment, he was past that .
But the bedroom door shut with a click , the same sound the lighter made before it came to life. He’d been Pavlov’s dogged— was that even a verb? —and all it took was the sound of a door or a lighter to set him off. All it took, no. No, it always took a click.
Heels in the hallway. Click .
Handcuffs on the metallic bed frame.
Belts unbuckling. Click .
Desk drawer opening.
Wedding rings on the desk. Click .
Lighter flicking on.
Door shut and locked. Click .
He didn’t want it, he didn’t, but they wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t listen but maybe she liked to listen, just to disobey. Because his words had no power, not in that house. Regulus thought perhaps his words had negative power, because they always seemed to lead to something worse. If he asked for food, he was hit. If he asked for water, he was hit. If he said he didn’t want it, he was hit. If he told her to stop, he was hit.
In the second grade, Mother had picked him up from school early, back when He was still around, because they had to prepare their house for a party—He would scrub the floors, Regulus would take out the trash or be locked in his room—and on the walk home, a dog trotted in Mother’s way. It stopped—“it” being the dog, for Regulus was still new to the idea of hate—and Mother hadn’t the time for stopping. And Mother hit the dog until it ran away.
So, Regulus’ rules of the world grew:
- No talking at home
- No leaving his room without permission
- Food is a privilege
- Water is to be earned
- Dogs get hit
Was he just an animal to Mother? He was hit again and again and again and Mother never hit anyone but dogs and Regulus. She never hit Father, she never hit uncles or aunts or cousins.
Click .
Pavlov’s dog began to shake, waiting for the strike.
He panted and drooled and waited for the pain he deserved because he was a dog.
And dogs got hit.