Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: train_tracksFrom: sabetheaTitle:
If The Snow FallsCharacters/Pairings:
Incest, guiltOther Warnings/Content:
Sirius has a promise in his mind. If it snows at Christmas, he will stop. If the day comes when he can look up and see white flakes dancing in the skies, he will know it's time. Time to leave. Time to stop touching his brother in the most unbrotherly way of all.Author's Notes:
Many many thanks to my lovely beta. Dear giftee, I hope this works for you.
“We shouldn't do this.”
Sirius says that almost every time. Hands all over Regulus, mouth nipping at his neck and ear. “We shouldn't do this.”
Regulus has tried arguing, tried persuading, even tried holding Sirius tight against his body, against his hard, painful cock in the hope that his brother will forget his scruples. But the one word – please – works better than all three together. Sirius hates to hurt Reg, hates to let him down. Regulus knows he shouldn't take advantage of this, but how can he help himself? How can he stop? Especially when he knows that Sirius wants this as badly as he does.
As badly or more.
Sirius has a promise in his mind. A get-out clause. An offering, if you want, to fate or destiny or gods. He makes it every year.
If it snows at Christmas, he will stop.
If the day comes when he can look up, out of his window at Grimmauld Place on Christmas morning and see white flakes dancing in the skies, he will know it's time. Time to leave. Time to stop touching his brother in the most unbrotherly way of all. Time to move forward, move away
from the awful temptation which is Regulus.
“Please,” Reg whispers again, and Sirius's face is crazy with need as he rips his brother's clothes off. “Please,” Reg says one more time; then he is on the floor, Sirius between his legs sucking his cock so hard it's almost painful. Sucking so hard Reg thinks he'll come, or die, or both.
As if Sirius can read his brother’s thoughts, he gentles his assault, long tongue swirling round Reg's cock, mouth warm and sensual. Reg groans, arching his back to push himself further into Sirius, his legs curling round his shoulders.
Sirius has forgotten everything but his need, as he always does; Reg murmurs a spell to lock the door. Their mother would never forgive them – never forgive Sirius
, the older brother, the one to blame for everything that went wrong – if she saw. If she knew.
Sirius hurts with the need, physically hurts. At school, it's so difficult – stolen moments, when his eyes meet his brother's and a silent message passes between them: I need you. I need you now
. They both know what it means, where to go. That deserted classroom in the basement of the castle, after everyone's asleep, when no one will see them and wonder.
And at home... oh Merlin, at home. Regulus there, right in front of him, morning, noon and night. The longing in his brother's eyes, which he knows is reflected in his own. How can he resist - Sirius, who has never learned to resist taking anything he wants? Even his own brother.
Oh yes, especially him.
“You're sure?” Sirius asks, lifting his head from Reg's cock, one lubricated finger already probing his brother's arse.
Always asking. Always checking. Reg wonders what Sirius would do if he said no – if Sirius really would be able to stop, or whether it's just a form of words, a last sop to Sirius's conscience.
“Yes,” he says.
“You're so fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Sirius spits the words out almost like an insult, as if he hates Reg for it. And perhaps he does.
“Fuck me,” says Reg.
Regulus lying on the floor. Regulus begging to be fucked. Regulus Regulus Regulus Regulus. Nothing else matters.
Sirius's finger crooks inside him, and Reg takes a sudden hissing breath. There, Merlin, there. Two fingers, three. There is an expression on Sirius's face that Reg can't read. Hunger, desire, and something else – something so desperately sad that Reg closes his eyes. He doesn't want to know. He won't
Reg pulls his legs backwards, and Sirius pushes inside him. The heat, the pain – it's been months since they last did this, and Reg seems to tighten so quickly between times – the heat, the pleasure. Reg whines, can't help himself. He reaches down to touch himself, but Sirius gets there first. Sirius knows what he wants, what he needs. Sirius would pull the moon from the sky for his brother, and Reg knows it.
“More,” he says.
And how can Sirius refuse? How can he, when he wants this so much? Regulus's mess of black hair and sprawling pale white body. Regulus's eyes closed tight even as his mouth makes noises so sensual, so right, so wrong
that Sirius can think of nothing else.
He pushes deep inside his brother, feeling first the give and then the tightness as Regulus's body clings to Sirius's cock, as if it can't let go. Sirius's hand clasps round Regulus's cock, holding him firm and sure. Feeling the last sticky wet drips of saliva from when Sirius was sucking him. Sliding fingers, forming a fist around Regulus's erection. Regulus is moaning something that Sirius knows means “more, more” - and why is this wrong when it feels so very right?
“I must, god help me, I must,” Sirius murmurs.
He is thrusting in over and again, as if Reg's arse is the most wonderful thing in the world – as if Reg is all that Sirius has ever wanted. Perhaps there are a few seconds of burning discomfort: Sirius is too needy to take things slowly tonight. But Reg likes – loves – needs
this from his brother and rather than pull away, he pushes his hips up towards Sirius.
“Okay?” Sirius asks again.
“Yes, Sirius,” Reg pleads, arcing his back off the mattress in his need.
The rhythm is fast, uncompromising, almost punishing in its vigour. Sirius's breathing is heavy, warm air fanning Reg's face on the out breath. Reg knows his brother is close; knows too he won't orgasm until...
“Come, Reggie,” Sirius pants out – the only time he (the only time anyone
) calls Reg that.
And Reg can do nothing but his brother's bidding, his cock spurting semen across them both, just as Sirius throbs and comes inside him.
Afterwards, Sirius cleans them both up, and Reg doesn't need to be a legilimens to know the thoughts in his brother's head – the thoughts that are always in Sirius's mind afterwards.We shouldn't. It's wrong. How could I... He's a kid. Merlin, what am I doing?
Sirius doesn't say it out loud any more, but he might as well: the wave of guilt rolling off him is tangible. Reg could reach out and touch it.
Sirius leans over and kisses Regulus gently on the lips. It is Christmas Eve: tomorrow will be Christmas Day. Sirius has had his present early, and he loves and hates it in equal amounts. They should stop. They must
stop doing this.
“Happy Christmas, Regulus,” he says quietly, drinking his brother in with his eyes.
“Happy Christmas, Sirius.” Regulus's eyes are shining in the dim light. “And look – it's snowing! Snowing at Christmas!”
“I love you,” Sirius says abruptly. It might be the final chance to say it.
“I love you,” Sirius has said; but Reg feels confused, as if Sirius's words make them further apart rather than closer.
“I love you too.”
They kiss again, gentle tender kisses which Reg isn't used to from Sirius. His brother looks sad but peaceful, as if he has finally come to terms with himself and with what they do. Finally, Sirius sits up, dressing quickly before leaving Reg's room with another smile and a last kiss. Reg thinks things will be better now, now that Sirius has finally found peace. The clock chimes midnight, and Reg sleeps with a smile on his face.
Sirius stands alone at the window in his room, looking out at the white flakes swirling dizzily, making beautiful the usually grimy London vista.
The snow is falling. It's time to leave.