Sex, Drugs, Etc

In every muggle film you’d snuck to watch with Sirius when you were children, the weddings were out of love. The male lead swoops in and saves the female lead, the knight in shining armor, a savior. Sometimes it’s the other way around, the woman saves the man, helping him escape to a world where everything is perfect and they’re in love and it’s perfect and there’s fucking rainbows and unicorns. And part of you, the stupidest goddamn part of you, somehow thought that was how it was going to be.

That part of you was wrong.

Regulus Arcturus Black. R.A.B. The second eldest, son of Walburga and Orion Black and scion of House Black after his brother Sirius’ dishonorable leave from the family to live with James Potter. In every pureblooded family’s eyes, he was one of the best, if not the best, eligible bachelor on the market.

You should’ve been overjoyed to be marrying him straight out of Hogwarts. You were not. You hardly knew him in all the years you spent in the same Hogwarts house, the same common room, the same parties. It was almost like you had purposely been avoiding him ever since you were promised to each other at the mere age of three.

Now here you are, readying yourself to walk down the aisle, brush his lips with yours, and say ‘I do’. Bloody brilliant. You had half a mind to stab your wand in your eye, but unfortunately, it was not sharp enough. Pity. The maids were crowding you, adjusting your dress, your veil, giving you compliments, saying how pleased Lord Black would be with your appearance. It was complete and utter rubbish.

Marriages within the Sacred 28 families weren’t marriages, but business transactions. Your parents did not love each other and you doubt your grandparents did either. You were a Zabini. This was your duty to continue the line. It was expected of you. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream. This wasn’t fair, none of it was. You didn’t even have the chance to live your life before it was taken from you by him. You hated him. You decided upon it right there and then. You would despise him until the day you died. Despise him when you carried his child, despise him when you raised your child, despise him when your own child married.

You knew you were being foolish. He had as much say in the matter as you did. He probably decided on despising you forever as well. You would never know because you wouldn't ask. You wouldn’t speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary, as one who despises another would. You would engage in intercourse with him for an heir, of course, you would dine with him, you would dance with him at balls. But you would not speak to him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

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Regulus was drunk. He would never show it, he was good at that. But there was no way in hell he could do this sham of a wedding sober. He knew he had to marry you at birth. He even went out of his way doing your shared time at Hogwarts to talk to you, but you avoided him, and rightfully so. He wouldn’t want to talk to him either.

“You’re disgracing yourself. Put down the glass, Regulus,” his best man, Evan Rosier, interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m perfectly fine, Evan.” Regulus didn’t even slur his words. He prided himself on pretending to be entirely sober during events such as these. He prided himself on pretending as a whole. He would pretend to enjoy this. Pretend to enjoy you. He didn’t hate you, no, he couldn’t, that would be silly. But he couldn’t love you. Just as you couldn’t love him.

He was led to the altar, the priest already waiting there, his mother and father in the crowd. For once, his mother looked less sour. This was all her doing. Music started to play, “Here Comes The Bride”, he assumed, but his mind was miles away. How many children would you have? Would you raise them alone? No. He refused to be his father, barely in his own children’s lives. He would not just be a figurehead in his family.

Before he knew what was happening, you were in front of him. Vows were said, promises were made. “You may kiss the bride.” He moved to kiss you and you rolled your eyes at him. Perhaps you weren’t what he thought you’d be, which intrigued him enough to not let his mind wander again for the rest of the night.

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You danced with him, yet refused to look into his piercing gaze, focusing instead on the floral arrangements. The other couples dancing. You locked eyes with Narcissa Black who gave you a reassuring nod. She saw through you, and for once, you were glad someone could see through your false front.

“You don’t talk much,” your new husband cut through your haze of ignorance.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“That, I doubt.”

“How so?”

“You aren’t exactly crazy about me.”

“Should I be?”

“I am your husband.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He didn’t say anything to that. In fact, he was silent for the rest of the night, an amused half smile on his face. You were just glad he got the hint. Your honeymoon was on a private island in the Caribbean, which would’ve made you scoff if you weren’t so enamoured with its beauty. Regulus wasn’t so pumped. You almost wanted to ask which room you would be staying in before remembering you were married. You would share. You would consummate the marriage. You would throw yourself out of a window.

That last one was wishful thinking.

It was 11:00. You couldn’t put off what was bound to happen anymore. You wouldn’t be the one to say it, however. How was one supposed to say, “Hey, I know we hold a strong dislike for one another, but we have to fuck in order for our lines to continue, despite the fact that any form of intimacy with you makes me want to vomit.” Perhaps you could say it like that. He was out on the balcony overlooking the ocean while you read a book in the much too large bed. At least you wouldn’t have to touch each other whilst sleeping.

“Well?” You tossed your book to the side, breaking the silence.

“Well, what?” He turned to face you.

“Aren’t we supposed to be doing something?”

“I was unaware that was what you wanted.”

“What I wanted was never taken into account, this is what our families need.”

“Fair enough.” He joined you on the bed before leaning over you, as if inspecting your features. “You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he said. “But what do you what, Mrs. Black?” You were a Black now, of course. Merlin’s beard. “Do you want me to touch you?” You nodded hesitantly. It’s not like you wanted wanted it, but your bloodline had to continue, so you wanted in a way. That’s why heat pooled in your stomach, why you felt yourself getting a little slick. You moved your lips to brush his, and when he reciprocated, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. This was not like how he kissed you at the wedding, this was harsher, rougher. You weren’t sure you hated it.

Your shirt was off in a moment, along with his, and his hands were on your waist trailing up as his lips moved to your neck, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses. His hand unclipped your bra swiftly and his fingertips brushed across your already hardened nipple.

“This alright?” He questioned against your neck. You could only whimper in response, your physical reaction holding you back from responding in kind. He smirked against your skin before rolling your nipples and fondling your breasts, his mouth moving to suck on one. His hands were multitasking, one on your chest and the other moves to slip under your skirt.

“So wet for me already? It’s almost like you’re a virgin,” he teased, waiting for a fiery comeback, but there was none. His hands paused for a second before his eyes met yours. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me for having morals,” you countered, before his finger brushed your clothed heat. You almost moaned at the feeling, bucking your hips into his hand.

“You’re untouched.” He mumbled, resuming his mouth’s attack on your upper body. You let him pull off your skirt, his trousers coming off with them somewhere in the mix. His fingers circled your clit through your panties, causing you to grind on his fingertips. “So needy,” he chastised before quite literally ripping your panties off and sliding a finger inside, inch by inch. He curled slowly, looking for the spot to make you scream.

You bit your lip to hold back anything monumentally loud and he groaned. “No, I want to hear you.” That was all it took for you to moan his name as he pushed another finger into your throbbing pussy, stretching you until you felt like crying. You tugged on his boxers, barely making any change, but he understood the message. His boxers were off in a second, leaving you both completely exposed to each other. His fingers continued to prepare for his cock, making you moan from the intrusion.

His cock throbbed, heavy and hard, aching to bury itself into your welcoming core. But that wouldn’t have been enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything. His fingers plunge deeper, curling against your inner walls, stroking that sensitive spot that made you see stars. His thumb rubbed circles on your clit, the pressure just right, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He stretched you, coaxing your cunt to open for him, to accommodate his member. He waited for you to cum around him, for your tears to fall, your eyes to roll back as white heat exploded from you.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, such a good girl.” He positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging against your core. You could feel the warmth of him, the hardness, the pain he must feel from holding back. He pressed forward, the head popping past your entrance, stretching you wider than his fingers did. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body resisting the intrusion.

“Doing so well for me..” He praised, pushing further, inch by agonizing inch, splitting you open. You could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his cock as it slid deeper. He pulled back, cock slipping out of your abused hole, before pushing back in slowly, starting a harrowing pace. His hips rocked forward, his massive cock sinking into you time and time again, watching your face intently, gauging your reactions, ready to stop at the first sign of discomfort.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his eyes rolling back as your walls gripped him. “You’re so tight.” He paused when he reached the barrier of your cervix, giving you a moment to adjust, his hand slipping in between your bodies to find your clit and rub slow circles, ensuring your pleasure. “That’s it, let yourself feel good.” He began to move then, shallow thrusts that gradually increased in depth and intensity. Each slide of his cock sent sparks of pleasure through your body, building, intensifying, until you were writhing beneath him, a moaning and whimpering mess.

His hips snapped forward, driving his cock deeper, harder, faster. Each thrust was like a shockwave, your walls clenching desperately around his length as he moved his hand to your stomach, feeling how utterly deep he was inside you. His body covered yours completely, his broad chest pressing against your breasts, his hard abs grinding against your soft stomach. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin, the power of his muscles. His movements became more urgent, more primal, as he shifted your legs up and over his shoulder, folding you nearly in half. This new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, his cock ramming against your cervix with each powerful thrust.

His hands slid under your thighs, gripping your hips, pulling you onto his cock with each snap of your hips, your screams filling the mansion. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts. He pounded into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you to the limit, you could do nothing but moan and clutch his arms helplessly.

“Reg- Regulus!” The sound of you calling out his name only turned him on more, driving his cock into you with renewed vigor, your walls fluttering around him. “Cum for me. Cum on my cock, please, let me feel you.” He continued his ministrations, pushing you to the edge, your moaning growing more frantic, more loud, your body shaking beneath him as you finished on him.

“That’s it, let go for me. You’re being so good..” The feeling of your walls clamping down on his cock, rippling and squeezing, was his own undoing. He buried himself to the hilt, his length pulsating, his seed jetting forth in thick, hot spurts, filling you deeply. He almost collapsed onto you, exhausted, his cum mixing with yours as he laid next to you, pulling you close to him as he muttered a spell for the lights to turn off.

Turns out the big bed was unnecessary, as he wouldn’t be letting go of you all night.