For just an instant, Regulus thought that James was going to do as he had suggested. It wasn't exactly sure why James had decided to call him a tart, but his tone sounded very favorable indeed. Regulus could feel the vibrations from the noise James had made all throughout his body and when James tilted his head to the side, Regulus let his mouth found his skin. He pushed his lips over James' pulse before parting them and beginning to suck - too roughly, but he didn't care. It was James that would have to contend with if he had left a mark and it was James that had started this despite Regulus' protests, so there they were. He knew it was a childish, almost selfish thing to do. It was the sort of thing that James would do.
Unfortunately, his own thoughts were beginning to bleed away. He rocked up unsteadily into James' hand as he adjusted his grip on him. His feet were sinking further and further into the sand with every motion and Regulus found that he couldn't really bring himself to care. It had been forever since someone besides himself had touched him like that and Regulus found that everything felt far more sensitive than he had initially remembered. It was like the first time all over again, but, he knew if he came that fast again, James would never let him live out. Regardless, he let out an almost startled sounding groan against the side of James' neck.
And, oh, James was still talking. James was talking and moving - and Regulus could barely make out the words that James was saying - but he could make out enough to realize that James was going to fuck him. He was going to fuck him in the middle of what had to be the most open beach on the planet. Regulus' entire body shuddered as James' fingertips slipped down, fingertips that were far more familiar than they had any right being. He shut his eyes and took in a slow breath, able to smell the salt from the ocean. He tried to concentrate on that, but it wasn't nearly enough to calm him down. He bit down roughly on his own lower lip.
"I don't know," Regulus said in a jumble of words without really thinking about it. He was waiting, waiting for those nimble fingers to push into him. He knew that even they were going to burn, because it had been too long.