The Kitchen
Sirius had always been interested in his younger brother, always looking out for him. Watching him when he went around the house, keeping tabs on his favourite spots in the garden to read. Sirius wanted to believe he was a good older brother, he wanted to call them friends. Sure they had been drifting apart as the years passed and they grew up, but that was common right? You don't stay best friends with your little brother forever.
They were now a far cry from the laughing duo that had plagued Grimmauld place. The two boys that ran circles around their mom to her dismay, and anger, that knew the best hiding spots for those times. Small cramped nooks or cupboards where they would huddle together for hours and hear her screaming and shouting and well, angry. At them, or the world or anything, they never knew cause it was always directed at them.
Her anger didn’t go away as the boys grew, but Sirius and Regulus got too big for their hiding spots. And anyways, it was no use hiding from her anger now Sirius thought, not with her biggest concern was him carrying on the family legacy. Making her proud. Being the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect Black. That he was good enough was all that mattered to her.
So he tried, he told himself, he tried so hard and he always managed during the school year safely tucked away at Hogwarts far away from his parents. He got decent grades, really good ones actually but not the best so it didn’t make her proud did it? Sometimes she punished him for that, if she deemed the grades not good enough. So Sirius made sure they were.
But summer was always hard, weeks spent at home with his family. The usual comfort of moments with Regulus was nonexistent as his brother was rarely seen other than at dinner but then with his mind elsewhere. Sirius usually managed with the knowledge that his friends and the train to safety were only a short time away. It was a short time he had to tell himself so he didn't explode or sink into the ground.
But these last two weeks were killing him, the constant looks from his mother, urging him to do better, be better, to stop being such an embarrassment had pushed him further than before. His sleep schedule was fucked since he kept waking up from stressed induced nightmares. That is if he even managed to fall asleep. Sirius didn’t know why the words got to him now, he only knew that they did and it was draining him.
One night he had been waking up from a particularly bad nightmare, fiction and memories blending together, and decided to go to the kitchen and escape his room.
He now wishes he hadn't. He wishes he had just stayed in his room that night and not walked in on him standing there. Sirius relives the memory as it plays in his head, it's been playing on a loop, but he can’t admit that to himself, he can’t, he won’t.
Sirius remembers how he, shaky from the nightmare, slowly got up from his bed, deciding he couldn't just keep laying there waiting for another torment. He looked in the mirror and saw the creature of horror he was, black hair a mess, an old dark grey t-shirt with holes in it and a pair of well used sweatpants. He deemed he looked how he felt: like a horrible mess.
He remembers how he decided to go to the kitchen for a cup of water, needing to move his body to get the nightmare out of his system. Now he keeps wishing he hadn't.
In the dark quietly, as to not disturb he was slowly making his way to the kitchens, reaching for the doorknob in the dark. He opened the door and was surprised by two things:
One, the light was on.
Two, Regulus.
Regulus was in the kitchen, his back turned to the door, to Sirius, reaching for something on a shelf too high up. Reg was standing on his toes reaching his arms above his head, and, he wasn’t, he wasn’t wearing any trousers. Just a big black T-shirt barely covering his underwear and when he was reaching like that it didn’t do much to cover him. Sirius could feel himself staring, watching the pale exposed skin of his brother's legs and thighs for too long.
The memory makes his dick twitch.
Regelius had turned around then noticing the sound of the door closing behind Sirius.
“Oh, Sirius. Hi.”
Sirius could barely form any reasonable response, but he managed to blurt out
“Hi Reg, what are you doing here?”
And immediately scorned himself, he hadn’t used that nickname in ages. But Regulus didn’t seem to mind or he at least didn’t let it show. He just stood there with unruly hair in a too big t-shirt looking at him. It made Sirius ache.
“Couldn't sleep, so I figured I would make some tea but someone put the teabags up there.”
Regelius made the word “someone” sound like “a fucking idiot”, which made Sirius smile and before he could stop and think he just asked
“Do you need help? I could get it for you.”
Regulus looked like he wanted to tell him to piss off but for some reason he didn’t
“Okay, sure” Regulus turned around to point at the shelf and a specific tin, “these ones are the ones i wa...”
But Sirius was already there, behind Regelius, cutting him off mid sentence and reaching for the tin. Sirius remembers how close they were, how he was basically pressing himself against Regulus, the action disguised as just reaching for the tea. Just for a second he felt his body against him. But then he took a step back handing Regulus the tea tin.
“Here you go”
Regulus took the tea from Sirius but before he could thank him, or say anything, Sirius walked out of the kitchen, the door closing behind him.
Sirius walked back to his room, heart racing, dick hard and aching in his pants.
Now a week later, he revels in the memory. Now in the middle of the night in the safety of his own room he lets himself do what he stopped himself from doing then. What he has been trying not to do every day for a week.
Sirius takes off his underwear and grabs his cock. He’s already so fucking hard from the image of Regulus in his mind. His beautiful legs and thighs that he just wants to grab and hold beneath his hands. And the feeling of pressing up against Reg, he has not been able to let it go and he can’t deny himself jerking off to the memory. Not anymore.
Reg couldn't have noticed how hard he was could he? He hasn’t said anything so it's probably fine he thinks to himself, it's fine, he’ll never know Sirius thinks, as he starts stroking his cock.
He thinks that Reg’s mouth would probably feel better than his own hand. He thinks about how good Regulus would look down on his knees with his cock shoved down his throat. His eyes looking up at him from underneath his messy curls, his gaze pleading. His hand moves quicker, his hips stuttering at the image. It’s sinful, it’s wrong but he can’t find a good reason to stop, all he feels is need.
Sirius fucks his hand thinking about him, about Regs messy hair that he wants to grab, his thighs, his mouth. His beautiful legs and that t-shirt sliding up.
And if he comes embarrassingly quickly with his brother's name on his lips spilling over his hand as he pumps himself through his orgasm, well that's nobody's business is it?