Fuck him. Who needs golden boy James Potter anyway? "I'll always be there for you, Reg," my ass. I bet Lily was right to leave him. Him and his fucking smiles and his fucking care and his fucking promises and his fucking curly hair and his fucking Maida Vale flat and his fucking soft hands.
Damn it. There Regulus goes, thinking about James' hands again. He has to stop doing that. He should focus on the conversation instead, on the way James averted his gaze the entire time, on how that pathetic, pathetic man basically begged Regulus to say something, anything. "I know you're hurt," he's said. "I'm hurt too." That was taking the bloody piss. James doesn't get to dump him and be sad about it. He'd made his choice, and Regulus could cope with it however he pleased.
That first night, Regulus had taken the tube back to Hackney and bought a bottle of Tesco vodka and gotten absolutely sloshed in front of Friends reruns. He'd cried when Ross had said that lobster shit and then wallowed in self-pity until the sun came back up. The second night, he'd gone out clubbing alone, off his tits on coke he'd been saving for a special occasion, and snogged some guy whose name he doesn't remember. He'd regretted that when clocking in for work the next morning, and felt so ill that even excessive cigarettes didn't help. That's when you know it's bad.
But that was days ago now, and Regulus' self-pity had turned into anger. He was mad at James, obviously, but he was more mad at himself. It was naive of him to think that someone like James could go for someone like him. James the fit guy who'd go to Sports' Nights all through uni and who everyone thought would be married by graduation and who was already working at a firm and earning more money than Regulus could ever dream of with his pathetic humanities degree. James, who actually talked about feelings and didn't need meds to function and who'd never been blackout. James who even managed to make Sirius into something other than a fuckup. Regulus had been stupid to think James could save two members of the Noble House of Black.
So now, Regulus marches through Croydon on his way to visit Barty for the first time since the break-up. He and Barty hooked up long before he and James ever started talking, and after too many drinks he can still see that look in Barty's eyes. Plus, Regulus heard that Evan went on a date this week so he's pretty sure he knows exactly where Barty's head is at.
When he reaches Barty's building, he rings the bell repeatedly. That should be enough to annouce his presence. And, sure enough, when door buzzes open and Regulus makes his way up to the second-floor flat, Barty's standing in the doorway, looking anything but surprised.
"You're alive," Barty says, sounding nearly impressed.
"So are you."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Barty plasters a smirk. "It's not like the guy I've fancied for years has been gushing about how great and perfect and fucking pornographic his date just went."
At any other point in time, Regulus would have felt bad for Barty. As his best friend, he's heard him lose his mind over Evan for the longest time, only to fall victim to his own fear of rejection. That's what it boils down to, after all. Barty Crouch Jr, the very same man who has fucked just about every man, woman, both, and neither in Greater London is afraid that the one person he's never even kissed might turn him down, and thus he will their friendship forever. Regulus has told him to grow a pair time and time again, but Barty never does, and Reg truly does feel sorry. Except that, now, he has bigger fish to fry. "Can I come in?"
Barty steps aside, letting Regulus inside of his tiny studio. Regulus helps himself to a beer from the fridge but sets it down after a sip, and looks at Barty, who looks right back at him. "Why'd you come here, Reg?"
"Why'd you think?"
Barty sighs. "You know this won't help you feel any better, right?"
"Sorry, I don't remember asking for a therapist." He shrugs, before adding: "Besides, it sure as hell will help a little bit."
Barty shakes his head before walking towards Regulus and shutting the flat door behind him. "You know that James...I mean, it has nothing to do with you, right?"
"Ugh," Regulus groans. "Could we not mention him for a second, please? I really don't want to be reminded of the guy that ruined my fucking life."
"He didn't ruin anything."
Regulus crosses his arms. "Who's side are you on, anyway?"
"Yours, always."
"Then act like it."
Barty walks closer and picks up Regulus' beer, bringing it up to his lips as the space between them shrinks and Regulus can almost feel the heat coming from his body. When he places it back down, Barty lets his arm rest on the table right next to Regulus, and the two look at each other for a long time, neither of them quite wanting to make the first move. Touching the other now would be admitting to needing some sort of comfort, which would be admitting that they're hurting. Regulus is sure as hell not about to show how fucked up James has left him feeling.
To his satisfaction, Barty crumbles first, leaning in and pressing his lips against the skin of Regulus' neck. Reg closes his eyes, but picturing James in Barty's place, quickly opens them again. James was soft and tender in his touch. Regulus wants anything but soft and tender right now. Instead, he slides his fingers into Barty's hair and gives it a sharp yank. Barty lets out a groan of surprise, before kissing Regulus again, rougher this time.
That's better.
Regulus can feel Barty's teeth scraping, and pulls his hair again, which makes Barty bite. That's the stuff. Who needs to punch a wall when you can get your best friend to bite you instead? As Barty kisses lower, Regulus lets out a small, consciously timed whimper, and suddenly Barty has hoisted him onto the table and the beer has been knocked to the floor and Regulus doesn't care because he's grabbing at the back of Barty's head. And then Barty's shirt is coming off and Regulus' shirt is coming off and Barty is licking his way down Regulus' torso, down the flat path cleared by thick pieces of athletic tape. But, just as Barty's tongue finds the band of Regulus' boxers, Regulus grabs his hair once more and pulls it off of him.
Barty looks at him with surprise, his dark eyes widening with desire. "Do you mind? I was busy."
"I know you were," Regulus replies. "But trust me, I don't think you'll be complaining very long."
With those words, Regulus slides off of the table and falls to his knees, pulling Barty's trousers down with him. He's starting to harden already, just like Regulus knew he would. He flits his eyes up to Barty's face, and he can see how bad he wants it, but he doesn't start yet.
"So are you gonna..." Barty says, and Regulus shrugs.
"I don't know. Am I?"
"Oh, fuck you."
"Not until you say the magic words."
Barty rolls his eyes. "Please."
"Please what?"
"You're a prick, you know that?"
Regulus repeats his question. Part of it is because he wants to make sure Barty isn't about to change his mind, but the other part is because he likes this back-and-forth. James always wanted it so bad, it was almost too easy. He'd be begging before his clothes had even hit the floor. Barty, on the other hand, refuses to beg, which makes it all that much hotter.
"Regulus Black," Barty starts, "please stop being an ass and just suck me off already." Regulus kisses his thigh and he can feel Barty's knees shake. He looks back up at him. "C'mon, man." He kisses him again, harsher this time. "I said please." His cock hardens, and Regulus plays with his boxer band before pulling the underwear off. He licks it from base to tip and Barty inhales, but Regulus stops right before taking him in. He looks Barty in the eyes again, and this time Barty holds his breath. Regulus cocks his head, and Barty finally lets out a please that's so pathetic it makes him frown. Perfect.
He takes Barty's cock in his mouth, and can taste the precum the second it touches his lips. He bobs his head a few times and Barty groans and pulls at his hair, which makes Regulus moan and pump harder, using his hand to play with the base and balls. But, just when Barty's groans get louder, Regulus stops and stands up.
"Okay, my turn."
Barty's happy to oblige, and before he knows it, Regulus is lying on the bed and Barty is grinding on him, using his fingers to rub against Regulus' crotch. Regulus can feel himself getting wet, but he doesn't want to take his pants off just yet. Or so he pretends, but he lasts less than a minute before ripping his clothes off and letting Barty slide into him.
That's the stuff.
As Barty pushes in and out of him, Regulus moans and groans, but it's still too nice for his liking. So, with one movement, he pushes his way up until he's riding Barty with much more fervour than he knew possible. Feeling himself reach his breaking point, Regulus flips onto his back once more, and locks his legs behind Barty as he thrusts in and out of him.
"Fuck, Reg, you're so-" but Barty chokes on his sentence. He keeps thrusting, faster and faster, until Regulus grabs him by the neck and pulls him close, sinking his teeth into Barty's shoulder to stop himself from screaming. His legs are shaking now, and he can barely think of anything other than how badly he wants to climax and how he can't remember the last time he so badly wanted to climax and how he's surprised Barty hasn't finished yet.
Before Regulus can wonder how much more he has in him, Barty puts his hand at Reg's throat and gives one last push. From that alone, Regulus's whole body goes numb, and he can feel Barty fill him up.
"Fuck," Barty says again, and Regulus wants to scream but he can only muster up a whimper. Barty falls to the side, panting. "That was..."
"Uh-huh..." Regulus says. Or, at least, he feels like he says. He doesn't know if the numbness of his face allows him to make full sentences. He wants to go again. He wants a shower. He wants chips. He wants to punch a hole in the window. He wants a hug. He wants James. Shit. Guess that didn't work.