
snitch
It’s in the aftermath, sweat cooling on their flushed skin and grins loose on their faces, that James pulls what Regulus least expects from his bedside table.
Their bodies are so entwined that were it not for the contrast of soft pale skin and a golden bronze tan, you might not know where one ends and the other begins.
“What’s that?” asks Regulus, his head on James’ chest, curls tickling the underside of James’ chin.
James holds the golden ball above him between pointer finger and thumb. “The snitch I stole ages ago. Back when we were in school.”
Regulus adjusts his leg thrown over James’ hip. “Why the hell did you steal a snitch?”
“Why not?” James shoots him a crooked grin. His thumb rubs absent circles on the high point of Regulus’ shoulder.
“Is it the first one you caught?”
James’ smile turns soft, almost shy. He turns and buries his nose in Regulus’ hair, voice muffled when he says, “No, love. It’s yours.”