james couldn't tell night from day in that closet.
oh, the kitten’s got claws. he wished to tease, yet it was james that nearly mewled.
regulus didn’t hold back, ruthlessly kissing and tugging at the gryffindor’s robes with force that rivaled the bludger james nearly missed that morning’s practice session.
pathetic, potter. every smirk against his skin seemed to taunt.
yeah, i am.
demanding was an understatement when it came to the black household. be it Sirius’s blazing gaze whenever her howler came or regulus’ icy stare from the slytherin table, promising a hell of a match.
and what happens after the match.
james let out a sharp hiss as he felt the searing pressure of fangs sink deep into the tender flesh of his neck, cruel pinches sending waves of heat licking intensity through his muscles.
merlin, regulus could pass for a vampire.
and so he stood there, helpless, squirming, hoping and praying to every deity out there that a prefect wouldn’t come investigating.
“keep it down,” regulus hissed, his voice a serpentine whisper that slithered through the closet, a command that danced on the edge of the delicious danger james repeatedly found himself dancing towards these few months.
padfoot will murder me.
James decided to tempt fate today between kisses, "you sure pack a punch, black," he quipped, awaiting the familiar faint pause and the scoff he knew too well. but fortune faltered for james potter today, much like his talent for divination, for regulus had no mood to play today as his knees rose up and up james' thighs and he felt the cool silver rings press his mouth shut as he squealed out a please. his eyes rolled back, and james felt himself transported into the vast expanse of the very same heavens he had so diligently memorized during his late-night stargazing for his astronomy assignment.
it was almost comical, the way regulus domineered him. he had him against the wall, using the slant of the closet to tower over the gryffindor chaser as he bit, scratched, kneed, sucked and squeezed at every open bit and crevice of james’ tan skin for god knows how long. true to his nature, the slytherin git seized upon the briefest moment of vulnerability, when james’ knees betrayed and buckled, bowing to pleasure at last. regulus took that moment to sit on him with a cruel alacrity, as though the very misfortune of his weakness was but an opportunity to be savored, taunting his hips with a merciless and unforgiving pace.
james lay as helpless as a dandelion caught in the grasp of a fierce, unrelenting gale, his body ebbing in and out of consciousness, the line of pain and pleasure mixing like the oils regulus painted with. he was certain he had died—died, and ascended to some heavenly realm, only to awaken in the fiery pits of hell itself, where regulus stood above him, grinning like the devil, his eternal tormenter. all around him, the world bled red—red in hue, red in heat, red in the very air he breathed, and red in the maddening pulse of his blood, as though his senses had been consumed by that single, all-encompassing color. with each languid move and endless suckle, It was as if the very fabric of existence had unraveled on his lips, leaving him drowning in a sea of stardust. between the heat of their bodies and the harmony of their pants, james felt lost between worlds, where the face of his tormentor was the only clarity amidst the madness, grinning and teasing and teasing until-
james groaned.
regulus hissed into his neck.
fu-u-u-ck.
neither of them stirred, the shared silence stretching taut, each absorbing the weight of their surroundings. Neither seemed certain of how to break the silence. quietly, james mulled on their trysts, of the lust that bound them in so strange and precarious an arrangement. how does one even attempt to articulate such an accord, between two rivals?
“re-“
“don’t” he panted, sweat sticking across his alabaster face, the faint scent of sex and cedar filling james’ senses. an aphrodisiac beyond comparison.
“say that, and I will make next week hell, Potter,” a muggle gun in a velvet case, yet beneath the barbs, a flicker of mirth lingered, faint and fleeting, privy only for those who dared to decipher the enigma that was regulus black.
James smirked, the challenge alight in his eyes,
“reggie,” he drawled, a name turned weapon, sharp and teasing.