mutterings of a music history major (thescarletwoman) wrote in scarletdreams, @ 2008-01-15 01:08:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 2005, rated: r, regulus black, regulus/sirius, sirius black |
[FIC] Sirius/Regulus -- Of Lockers and Points (R)
Title: Of Lockers and Points
Author: thescarletwoman
Pairing: Sirius/Regulus
Rating: R
Summary: After the last Quidditch match of the season, Regulus catches up to Sirius in the lockers and apologises for the Slytherin win.
Disclaimer: JRK owns them both, I'm simply borrowing them for a while.
Warnings: Incest
Author Notes: The last of my long belated fics that had to be posted. But now that I have a computer back, expect more ficcage from me. XD Thanks oh so much to starrysummer for her awesome (and super fast too) beta job, even if I'm a t00b and didn't post these for forever and a day. ><
Originally Posted: August 2005
Ten. Ten bloody points was all that had separated them from the Quidditch cup this year. Sirius was thoroughly upset over the turn of events, not only in that it had been his final year to win the Quidditch cup, but that it gave his mother one more bloody reason to send him an owl and gloat.
It didn't matter that she had disowned him, burned his name off the bloody tapestry and all that rot. No, she'd take every opportunity she could to make his life a living hell. And as soon as she found out that her perfect son had shot a goal just as Rosier caught the snitch? It would be too much for the old coot. If she didn't die of happiness first, tomorrow morning's would be absolutely wonderful.
"Chin up, Padfoot, it's not the end of the world."
Sirius turned to look at his best mate and captain as he passed by him on the way to the lockers.
"Speak for yourself. You weren't just beaten by your younger brother and you don't have a mother whose singular goal in life is to make yours a living hell."
James slung an arm over Sirius's shoulder, their brooms jostling together awkwardly, hitting Sirius in the head with a dull thud. Sirius threw James a dirty look that went completely unnoticed.
"You haven't heard a bloody fecking word I've said, have you?" Sirius asked, unable to keep a hint of annoyance from slipping into his voice.
"To say 'bloody fecking' is slightly redundant isn't it, Padfoot?" James asked, amusement evident in his voice, yet he made no move to answer Sirius's question.
The lack of an answer only infuriated Sirius more and the vision of bludgeoning James to death with the handle of his broom suddenly danced across Sirius's mind's eye.
"So we lost," James said, turning to Sirius at last. "And your mother is pissed as hell," James added before Sirius could get another word in edge-wise. "We did what we could about the first and you knew the second would result and there's nothing anyone can do about the second."
Sirius's jaw hung open. James Potter did not take losing lightly, especially when it came to anything Quidditch related. Losing a Quidditch match was roughly equivalent to the ending of the world. Thus, the apocalypse should be happening in roughly forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds ticked by and Sirius still didn't hear the sound of galloping hoofs. This had to mean only one thing.
"Prongs, did Evans finally agree to a shag?"
The grin James gave Sirius could only be described as shite-eating. Sirius knew the grin well. It was his trademark.
"Why Prongs, you old devil."
James continued to grin as he pulled a jumper on over his head, running a hand through his hair once in a vain attempt to flatten it. After several attempts he simply gave up as he always did. "Forgive me if I don't shower here, but I have a date with a beautiful woman."
Sirius cocked a brow. "You're going to her all smelly and dirty?" He snorted. "She'll rethink her decision."
James ran a hand through his hair once again, and Sirius could have sworn it was even messier than before (if that was even possible)."And that's where you're wrong again my dear Padfoot. The lovely Miss Evans has been standing guard outside a place known as the Prefect's Bath since the game ended." James's grin turned almost lewd. "I think we underestimated that girl."
Sirius threw a sweaty sock at James who easily ducked the projectile. With a wave, the Head Boy joined the last of his team as they exited the locker room, leaving a half-dressed Sirius alone with his thoughts.
"...Sirius...?"
Sirius whirled around, nearly knocking himself off the thin bench in the process. He had thought he was alone at least and the voice certainly didn't belong to any of the members of the Gryffindor team; that much Sirius was sure of. Flinging a hand out to steady himself on the locker to his left, Sirius turned in the direction of the voice. His pale eyes widened slightly when he saw his younger brother standing in the aisle between two rows of lockers. Instantly, Sirius's eyes darted around, looking for another member of the team. If he hadn't heard Regulus enter, was it possible there were other Gryffindor team members still in the lockers? That simply wouldn't do.
No one else could see him consorting with the enemy.
'Consorting? So that's what they call it now…' Sirius's inner voice chided.
"Don't worry, everyone's gone. I wouldn't put you at risk." Regulus's voice had taken on an almost reverent quality. Sirius smiled, his hand dropping from the locker as he turned slightly; back now leaning against the locker. His legs spread just slightly showing the beginnings of an erection beneath the soft fabric of his Quidditch trousers.
Funny how much his younger brother revered him, and for all the wrong reasons.
Regulus flushed slightly under his older brother's scrutiny but soon seemed to come out of his trance-like state. The change was slow, almost as if Regulus was waking from an extended dream. Sirius watched, amusement playing about his lips as the slight haze in Regulus's eyes dissipated, leaving only cold grey behind. Regulus shifted slightly, leaning against one of the lockers, trying to give off an air of sexuality that Sirius seemed to exude naturally. Sirius could pull it off; with Regulus it seemed forced somehow.
"Glad you were so... thoughtful," Sirius purred, pulling himself into a sitting position at last. He turned, straddling the bench and looked up at his brother, his eyes all but beckoning.
One didn't have to tell Regulus twice.
He pushed off from the wall, licking his lips subconsciously. Regulus sat down on the bench opposite Sirius, mimicking his brother's current position. With one quick movement, Sirius slipped his hands under his brother's knees and pulled him up and into his lap. Groin rubbed against groin and for once, Sirius was thankful for the thin material of his Quidditch trousers.
"I'm sorry you lost," Regulus mumbled against Sirius's lips. "I tried to keep them from winning, but they're so competitive..."
The finger against Regulus's lips kept him from saying any more on the subject. For as angry as he had been not five minutes before with James, it seemed insignificant now. Sirius removed his finger and replaced that digit with his lips, forcing Regulus's lips open with his tongue. Regulus's kisses always seemed to remind Sirius of innocence and youth. The youth he could understand, but the innocence... he had seen to the loss of Regulus's innocence personally. Through all that Sirius had corrupted, he was amazed there was still innocence to be found in a kiss.
Regulus's hands tangled in his hair and Sirius ceased his internal monologue describing the taste of Regulus's kisses and kissed Regulus forcefully, his tongue leaving no area unexplored. In the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen if Prewett returned, forgetting his beater's bat.
'He'd see what it looked like when two brothers snogged, that's what he'd see.'
It used to be that Sirius made all the overtures in their sexual escapades. Regulus was too scared to do anything but lie there as his brother fucked him. But now... Sirius could help but smile as Regulus moved his legs on the bench back to his leaning position; slightly spread-eagled and leaning back against one of the locker.
"I'll make it up to you," Regulus murmured, kissing along Sirius's clothed thigh, his elegant fingers deftly popping open the button of his trousers.
"Don't have to," Sirius replied, knowing damn well Regulus would anyway. And if Regulus backed away, Sirius would force his head back to where it belonged.
Long fingers closed around Sirius's cock and Sirius hissed in relief. Regulus smiled to himself, watching each of his brother's reactions, the methodical rubbing of his thumb across the pre-come slicked head (which drew a particularly low groan from Sirius) earned a near smirk from Regulus.
"Oh but I want to. I owe you ten points," Regulus said, his mouth descending on Sirius's cock.
Sirius's soft moans filled the locker room as he slowly fucked his brother's mouth. He'd get an owl in the morning. He lost the Quidditch match by one capture of the snitch and his brother's ten point goal.
But as he came, his fingers tangled in hair as dark as his own, what did ten points really matter?