Regulus's little shove slipped a bit of air between his mouth and Regulus's neck, but James's hold of the other didn't permit him to be much removed. When the pressed in again, his lips were soft and damp against the warm indents his teeth had left. He liked leaving little reminders on Regulus's skin. He liked finding them, still there, a few days later. Not that Regulus had ever seemed to make much of a habit of letting them linger. Understandable sort of precaution, especially when one had to frequently undress in the locker room.
But here? It wasn't as though James thought Regulus was getting undressed in front of anybody here. Then again, it wasn't like Regulus lived alone.
Oh.
Right.
He really didn't.
Mouth climbing back up Regulus's neck, James asked, "Where's Remus?" as one of his hands began circling around the buttons of Regulus's shirt-- the question more designed to determine when Remus would be back.
James certainly got off on the idea of getting caught. (We shouldn't and anyone could catch us here were pulsing through his veins like an intoxicating mantra.) But better than getting caught, of course, was not getting caught. It may have been purely impulsive, the way he'd just grab Regulus at Hogwarts, but Hogwarts had been his domain. He knew where people were, where was safe. He didn't have to plan at all, he could just make it up on a whim. The same as nicking things from Filch's office. The same as sneaking into the Hufflepuff common room to charm a tutu onto their badger.