Casual Touch
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yess” Sirius moans, “god yes, fuck”
He throws his head back and keeps filling his room with moans and wet noises from fucking his own hand. His dick is so sensitive from all the times he has already come. But he can’t stop. The images in his head keep playing over and over again. The images of Reg, of his little brother, the fantasies Sirius’s mind has created in this desperate need. Of Reg on his knees with his mouth open and ready for Sirius cock. And tears streaming down his preatty face as Sirius fucks his throat.
Sirius starts moving his hand faster, quickly approaching his orgasm. He has lost count on how many he has already had this night, of how many times he has spilled over his own hand thinking of his brother.
Sirius knew this time wouldn’t be enough either. He knew what he needed, what he so desperately craved. He wanted to bury his cock deep inside of Reg, Sirius wanted to fuck him, needed to fuck him. He wanted Reg to be on his hands and knees, ass in the air as Sirius fucked him from behind.
The thoughts make his hips jerk in need and the moans falling from his lips increase in volume and obscenity.
“Fuck, fuck, Reg. Reg, yes, yes, oh god, oh fuck”, Sirius utters as he comes all over his hand. The bliss and ecstasy that fills his body is indescribable. This feeling is what makes it impossible to stop, Sirius has never had this before. Sure he did enjoy his orgasms before but the ones he gets by thinking of Regulus are out of this world.
And for a moment he just lays there on his bed breathing hard, recovering from his orgasm. The images of Reg are still clear in his mind, with seemingly no intention of leaving him alone. Although Sirius has no intentions of leaving the images alone either.
What a waste he thinks to himself, looking at the cum on his hand, he shouldn't need to come over and over again on his hand like this. His cum would be so much better spent in Reg’s ass, filling him up.
But he can’t not yet. He lets out a frustrated sigh even though its only been two days since he sent the messages, he is desperate for an answer. But he should be getting one any day now, so all he can do is wait. Wait and sneak glances at Regulus. Storing them away for later use.
Sirius looks at the clock on his nightstand, 2:17 am, and realises he will not be able to fall asleep anytime soon. He lays on his bed, rain pattering violently on the windows and thunder interrupting his thoughts once in a while. But as a particularly loud rumble shakes the house he suddenly remembers something.
A bucket of memories are playing simultaneously in Sirius' head, of Regulus and him together on nights like these. Sirius had always found them cosy, feeling safe enough from the lightning, but Reg had always been terrified. The thunder and terror made it impossible for him to sleep. They had sat together, Reg in Sirius’s arms trying to find comfort and burying his head in an attempt to keep the storm’s sounds away. Another thing lost to the past. Reg insisted that he wasn’t scared anymore but Sirius didn’t believe him for a second. Regulus probably only got better at hiding it, as he did with all of his feelings, keeping them far away from Sirius and anyone to see.
So, maybe, Sirius thought, maybe…
As soon as the idea hits him he is up from the bed, putting on sweatpants and out the door of his room.
Sirius steps are not aimless nor unsure as he makes his way to the library. One of Reg’s places of refuge and filled with books, tapestries, and all sorts of things that dampen any and all sound. Sirius opens one of the doors to the library, and immediately realises he was correct. The sounds are not as sharp in here when the door closes behind him and there is a sweet smell coming from Reg's usual spot, a smell that he recognises as camomile tea.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” He hears Reg's voice ask unsure, he must have heard the door closing.
“Yeah, it’s only me so don’t be too disappointed,” Sirius answers as he makes his way along the shelves and finds Regulus in his usual spot. Not carelessly sprawled across the sofa, but huddled in one of the corners under a blanket. And a cup of still steaming tea on the table. Definitely camomille.
The way Regulus is sitting leaves way more space on the sofa than usual, and before Sirius can change his mind he sits down. The sofa is big enough so they don’t touch but if Sirius reached over they would be. Close enough he tells himself.
Sirius looks over at Regulus who is studying him closely “I couldn't sleep,” Sirius says, “and I didn't feel like staring at my ceiling anymore,” he offers as explanation.
“Oh, okay. Me neither” Regulus says.
The tension in his body is evident in every little movement, in the way he turns his head and holds his shoulders. Regulus' eyes dart around the room and eventually find his teacup. A thunder strike spurs him into action, reaching, racing for the cup. Too fast, Sirius notices, way too fast and the tea looks hot still, not something you want all over you.
“Reg, wait!” leaves his mouth in a high pitched sound, as he simultaneously reaches for the cup his hand colliding with it, grabbing the cup and spilling tea all over the floorboards.
“What the fuck Sirius!? What are you doing?”
“Stopping you from pouring hot water all over yourself!” Sirius failed to consider that in grabbing the cup he would spill the hot water all over his hand. And it’s burning hot. He must have let out a sound of pain cause Regulus is now shouting at him:
“Put it down! Put the damn teacup down now you idiot!!” Pain and concern stark on his face.
Sirius puts it down quickly, “Fuck that hurts”, he mutters.
Regulus grabs him by the hand and then they’re racing along the shelves, well Regulus is racing, Sirius is stumbling and being dragged behind him.
Regulus stops at a bathroom and slams the door open, dragging Sirius inside, putting his hand in the sink and starting the cold water. As the water hits his hand Sirius lets out a hiss, pulling his hand out of the water but Reg is there guiding it back.
“Don’t be a baby Sirius” Reg says and looks at him pointedly, a smile in the corner of his lips.
Sirius’s mind catches up to him and he slumps against the wall, hand still under the faucet and it hurts.
“Well, that was dumb”, Reg says
“You were about to pour all of your tea on yourself Reg, and you’re calling me dumb?”
“So you were what? Saving me from the tea?”
“Well, I guess?” Sirius mutters almost to himself.
He meets Regulus' eyes and apparently it’s ridiculous cause Regulus starts laughing. The bubbling sound echoing on the bathroom walls. Sirius is grinning and soon they’re both laughing, Sirius bent over the sink and Regulus holding onto the wall. It's one of those laughs when you can't stop, that shakes the body and makes breathing hard. Everytime they lock eyes it starts all over again, the situation so ridiculous that all they can do for a while is laugh.
Sirius tries catching his breath, flexes his hand under the running water and turns it off.
“You good?” Reg asks
“Yeah it’s all good, let’s go back to the sofa.” And before Regulus can answer Sirius grabs him by the hand and starts walking.
The tea on the floor is gone, cleaned up by Kreacher most likely, so Sirius sits down dragging Reg down beside him. They are so close, but neither of them move away. And they sit like that for hours, and if Regulus leans closer with every thunder strike Sirius doesn't mention it.
Eventually they must have fallen asleep, because when Sirius wakes up sunlight is coming from the window, the storm long gone. Regulus is nowhere to be seen, but on the table sits the owl he sent to Remus with a letter of reply. Sirius opens it immediately and there it is, written in the elegant handwriting of Remus,
the sleeping spell.