Barty Crouch Jr/Regulus BlackRating:
love, kissing, candlesOther Warnings/Content:
BDSM, painplayWord Count:
He loves this; he loves Barty – the way he feels and smiles and the way he worships him with pain and pleasure all at once. Author's Notes:
Hi! I'm new here. It's a pleasure to be joining you all <3
He hisses as hot wax drips onto his chest. He arches and twists, but the silk ties around his wrists keep him restrained. Above him, Barty grins. He’s straddling his hips with a candle in hand, completely nude and already half-hard. He likes seeing Regulus struggle; likes causing enough pain to make him writhe – and Regulus… He likes it too.
Barty’s wrist tips again. Regulus watches as wax builds beneath the flame, swelling until it spills over the edge, dripping down the length of the candle and onto his chest. He can’t stop the cry that escapes him as his back arches. The heat of the wax seems to sear straight down to the bone. He can feel his skin tightening as it dries, hot and tender. He shudders. He bucks as more lands, tracing a path across his chest to his left nipple. Above him, Barty shifts, pressing back against Regulus’ hardening prick. The extra stimulation has Regulus crying out again, and Barty laughs softly.
“You’re so pretty, Reggie,” he coos. “All for me.”
Regulus laughs at that – little more than a huff of air and a twitch of his lips, but Barty seems to get it, at least. He holds the candle away from them both as he leans in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the pain he enjoys so much. He’s always been like that: sweet and cruel and loving and vicious. Regulus opens his mouth for him, closing his eyes and kissing back with all he has. He loves this; he loves Barty – the way he feels and smiles and the way he worships him with pain and pleasure all at once.
There’s wax on the sheets when Barty pulls back, lips swollen and eyes dark; if they didn’t have magic then they’d probably be ruined. Barty brings the candle close again, and droplets scatter over Regulus’ skin. He whines, rolling his hips up against Barty’s weight. When wax hits one of his nipples, he screams. His breath is coming in soft pants and he’s achingly hard, but all he can see is the smile stretching Barty’s features.
He’s not the only one who’s beautiful when they’re like this.
He loses himself in the rhythm of it. The sting and burn of wax and the slow grinding of Barty’s body against his own. There are patterns in the wax-drips. Barty is sketching out runes over his belly, alchemic signs below his navel, arithmancy along his ribs. “Sowilo,” Regulus murmurs under his breath. “Mercury and gold. Eiwaz. Fuck - ah
- berkana, Barty, you jerk
“Does it hurt, darling?” Barty shifts his hips – lifting and pressing back so that Regulus can feel the lubricant smeared between the cheeks of his arse.
Regulus shudders. “You know it does,” he whispers.
“Okay?” Barty asks. The shift of his hips has the head of Regulus’ cock catching on his rim. Regulus’ breath catches – his hips jerk – and he watches as Barty’s eyes close with bliss.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Barty.”
Barty sinks down on him slowly. He moans at the stretch, mouth falling open, and Regulus has to force himself to keep his hips still until he bottoms out. It’s tempting to thrust up and fill Barty in an instant, but he much prefers feeling pain to causing it. Besides, Barty is just so perfect when he’s flushed and panting like this. His cock is completely hard now, red and dripping precum. Droplets of it are mixing with the cooling wax on Regulus’ stomach. The candle is still tilted, spattering him with wax leading in a trail from the symbol for iron up, over his chest and his nipple, to score through the equation for the Cruciatus Curse. Regulus barely even feels it; Barty is too tight around him, his body hotter than the fire trailing over him.
It takes a moment for Barty to adjust. He holds the candle out to the side once more as he leans down to kiss Regulus again. Deep and slow and wet; Regulus feels him relax as their tongues stroke over each other. He gives in to temptation, rolling his hips just to feel Barty gasp into his mouth. Their kiss breaks when Barty grins, and Regulus huffs another laugh into the space between them.
Sex with Barty has always been easy. Not always comfortable, but easy. Everything
with Barty has been easy, from first friendship on the Hogwarts Express to falling in love to this. Barty is his everything, and there’s a ring tucked away in his bedside drawer to prove it.
Barty kisses him again, quick and darting, before he sits back. The movement leaves them both gasping, and Barty’s spine arches as Regulus is pushed deeper into him. His head falls back, and for a moment, Regulus is treated to a perfect view of the freckles across his shoulders and the long line of his neck and jaw. Barty’s chest is heaving, his breathing ragged, but Regulus can still hear the steady dripping of the candle onto the sheets. He squirms, tugging his arms against his restraints again, and Barty must feel it as his head lolls forward and he peers down at Regulus from under his lashes. He keeps his gaze locked on Regulus’ face as he raises himself – so deliberately slowly – and sinks carefully back down. He’s grinning still, taunting Regulus even as he keeps moving steadily, rising and falling; his thighs are trembling where they bracket Regulus’ hips.
He brings the candle back over Regulus’ chest. They’ve been at this a while and there’s not much left; Barty must be able to feel the heat of the flame getting closer to his fingers. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He keeps smiling even as he drips more wax over Regulus’ torso – onto wax already there and over skin still bare. Regulus whines as it hits him. With Barty riding him so carefully, and with so much wax already there, he feels oversensitive and overheated. He’s dizzy and desperate and wants nothing more than to stay here forever.
Barty, his beautiful Barty, is radiant. Light from the candle and the late afternoon sun that’s filtering through the curtains is catching on strands of red in his pale hair. There’s a gleam in his eye and the flush in his cheeks is spreading down his neck to his chest, obscuring the freckles in its path – oh, and that smile
. There’s little Regulus wouldn’t do to have Barty look at him like this; the ring in his drawer and the Mark emblazoned on his arm are stark reminders of that