craving
If you asked him, Regulus would tell you he tried his best to be good.
They just fucked an hour ago, after all. There’s no reason for him to want, to crave James anew. He tried to let James focus on his movie—something Marvel and uninteresting—and he tried to keep his attention on his book, propped open on his knees.
It’s a cool Friday evening. Summertime rain outside and the windows of their flat open to let it all in. James sits on the opposite end of the couch in running shorts and an old T-shirt. Nothing special, but on James it looks incredible.
Regulus sits facing him, socked feet up on the couch, legs bent to give him a place for his book. An easy night in. Quiet comfortability after all this time.
But then James leaned back into the cushions, let out a little contented sigh. Settled in, propped one foot up, let the other hang off the edge, and opened his legs.
This was the shift, the moment Regulus went from satiated to hungry again.
It would be so easy for Regulus to settle between them; he’d only have to shift, to turn himself around and he’d be in James’ arms. Usually, he would. It’s probably why James did it.
Come here, love.
He doesn’t even have to say it aloud and Regulus will go to him. So many years have made Regulus fluent in James, in his body language and quiet tells.
But tonight, Regulus doesn’t want to play James’ game. For once, he wants to keep the ball in his court.
Regulus slides his socked foot along the couch between them, but keeps his nose buried in his book. He isn’t reading, not really, but he refuses to acknowledge James. Plans to play coy.
“Mm? Baby, what—?” A startled gasp.
Regulus pushes his foot up, nudges gently at James’ balls, puts pressure on his dick. He isn’t hard, but it won’t take much. At any rate, Regulus hears the hiss of breath and knows he’s won.
“Reg, what are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“Don’t play coy with me.”
Regulus glances up, expression impassive. “I’m not.” As he says it, he rubs his foot against James again. He’s half-hard now, and his legs fall open a little wider. Regulus has to bite his cheek to keep from grinning. “Watch your movie, James.”
“You’re a demon,” James groans, and drops his head back. “Fuck.”
Regulus does it almost absently. He manages to read a few more paragraphs as his foot continues to rub at James’ dick. It’s fully hard now, and James’ hips roll slightly into the pressure. He whimpers, a soft moan, and Regulus struggles to keep himself from tossing his book to the side and crawling across the couch.
But he’s always had better self-control than James.
“Regulus,” James whines, fingers in a loose loop around Regulus’ ankle. He’s not watching his movie anymore, head thrown back and eyes closed. “Do you want me to fuck you again? Is that what this is?”
“I’m not doing anything, James.” Regulus flips a page in his book, though he hasn’t read a damn word. He nudges at James’ balls, then pushes up along his shaft. Presses a little harder at the head and James moans, broken and desperate. “Quiet. The neighbors will hear you.”
James’ grip tightens on Regulus’ ankle. “Baby, come on. Let me—Fuck, give me a second to—”
“No.” Regulus shuts his book. Nods at James’ shorts. “Take them off.”
James looks at him, glassy-eyes and slightly dazed, but rushes to get his shorts off. He swears under his breath when Regulus’ socked foot runs the length of his thigh, ghosts over his leaking cock, and pulls back.
“Reg, come on,” James snaps, and that’s when Regulus knows he’s gone too far. James reaches for Regulus’ ankle and pulls, manages to yank him across the couch, gets hands on his waist and maneuvers him onto his lap and between his legs. “Isn’t that better?”
They’re pressed chest to chest, Regulus lying on him, the position just right for their cocks to brush. Regulus bites back a groan when James’ hand disappears beneath his shorts, palm kneading his ass.
“I can’t believe you told me to be quiet.” James huffs a laugh as his middle finger circles Regulus’ rim. He’s still loose and sensitive from earlier, and it pulls a choked noise from his throat. The ball is back in James’ court now. “You, who is the reason for half our noise complaints in the first place.”
“Am not,” Regulus manages, breathless, when James’ finger continues to rub at his hole but doesn’t attempt to push past the ring of muscle. “You’re as loud as I am.”
James snorts, removes his hand to press his finger to Regulus’ lips. A silent command. Another piece of their language. Regulus opens his mouth and laves at James’ finger; he doesn’t look away from dark, blown-out hazel eyes.
The first press of James’ finger inside him rips a moan from Regulus’ throat. He squirms, but James’ arm around his waist holds him in place as the finger sinks deeper. It doesn’t take long before James’ is fucking him with it, finger crooked just right to brush the bundle of nerves inside Regulus.
It’s after James pushes a second finger into him, their kisses sloppy and desperate, that Regulus cries out at the perfect slide of fingers. It turns into a broken moan, loud and obscene, and James grins—triumphant.
His lips find Regulus’ ear, and he whispers, low and soft, “I’m just getting started, so keep telling yourself you’re not that loud, love. I’m sure our neighbors would agree.”