InsaneJournal

Never Forgiven, nor Forgotten

                "What are you doing?" he whispers into the air, but he doesn't get an answer. "Reg, what are you doing?" he stiffens, feeling his brother's entire body press up against his through the protection of the duvet.

                "Don't talk," Regulus insists.

                "Like hell I'll let you tell me what's what in my own bed! I'm going to—"

                "Shh!" Regulus hisses. "Shut up, for once. You'll bring Kreacher in here. Is that what you want?"

                Sirius pauses, weighing his options.

                "I'll give you a clue, Sirius, it's not what you want. I think I know what exactly it is that you desire, though. Exactly what it is," he says more softly.

                There's a pause. "Not bloody likely," Sirius retorts in a hiss.

                "You want a boy."

                "A boy?"

                "For sex." This statement shocks Sirius, and his eyes widen, and all of a sudden Regulus is rolling off the bed, lifting up the duvet, and sliding right in again. "It's true," Regulus insists softly. "You want a prick in your hand—someone else's prick in your hand."

                "No I don't!"

                "Oh don't you?" Regulus lifts his nightshirt and presses a semi-erect prick against Sirius's bare stomach. Sirius's eyes couldn't possibly get any wider. "Don't you?" Regulus taunts in a gentle, self-assured murmur.

                "N-no," says Sirius, and he pulls away. "No," he says more firmly.

                "Are you sure? Hm. Perhaps you're just shy."

                Sirius snorts at this. Of the two of them, Regulus is undoubtedly the shy one.

                "Are you sure you aren't shy? I can do all the work."

                "What work?" hisses Sirius. "There is no work. You are my brother, Regulus, and I hate you, so, if you would, get out of my fucking bed before I call Kreacher myself!"

                "Three things," says Regulus.

                "What?"

                "I have three things to say in response to that. Firstly, did you just call this a 'fucking bed'? How astute." Sirius hisses warningly, but Regulus continues. "Secondly, I couldn't help but notice you said that I was your brother, indicating that if I were not, in fact, your brother, you may well have jumped at the offer right off the bat. Thirdly, this work," Regulus says, and Sirius is startled to realize that all Regulus's talking was merely a distraction and that now quite unhesitating fingers are wrapped around him, and he stiffens and tries not to respond.

                "This work," repeats Regulus. "Just this. And more, if you want."

                "Wh-why the fuck are you doing this?" Sirius grits out, crossing his arms almost as if to hug himself, staring blankly at Regulus, who keeps touching him like that with those fingers.

                "Boredom laced with curiosity," says Regulus honestly, and he traces one of Sirius's pretty cheeks with the forefinger of his unoccupied hand.

                "Great. I'm a potions experiment," mutters Sirius, but his breath hitches as Regulus begins to prove he's rather adept at getting a bloke off with his hands, twisting his hand in a glorious way and all sorts of rubbish.

                "Probably taste better, though," says Regulus gently, breathing the words into his ear, making him shiver.

                "I don't know, some potions taste really—Oy! Why'd you . . . ."

                "Why did I stop?" Regulus quirks a brow in that way that's always infuriated Sirius. "I'm taking you up on that offer."

                "What offer?"

                "I'm tasting you."

                "No!"

                "No?" Regulus pushes the duvet down, staring up at Sirius, leaning in over the hard prick, giving his lips a lick meant only to entice Sirius.

                "Don't," he says, more quietly.

                Regulus leans in and draws his tongue up the entire length of the prick, from the base to just below the head. He glances up again. "Don't?"

                Sirius groans. "I'll never forgive you," he warns, gasping.

                "I don't care," says Regulus. He leans in again and repeats the action. Eventually he takes pity on his brother, who is arching up against his will—or so he claims, but Regulus knows better—and flicks his tongue across the head. The cry Sirius gives is satisfactory, and Regulus laps at him a bit more enthusiastically.

                "O-okay, just do it," Sirius groans, and he gasps as those soft lips part and accept him in, because it's wet and warm and about ten times as shocking as the licks were.

                Regulus's dainty fingers grasp his hips and gently stroke his bollocks, and then one fingertip brushes over the opening to his body that he's certain has never been brushed over before, and he's surprised at the nerves he has there, and his hips rock a bit, and his fingers lace in Regulus's clean, silken hair, and he grips at the hair tightly so as to ignore how delicate and lovely it really is.

                Regulus hums around him happily, pulling him in so deeply he brushes against Regulus's throat, and he cries out, yanking at the hair as he bites his lip, and he finds it impossible to hold off much longer (and he's not sure he wants to, considering it's still Regulus), and in his mindless state, he moans and the word he calls as he comes hard is "Incest!"

                Regulus swallows it all like a pro, and Sirius moans again at the fact, and then Regulus pulls off and kneels up on the bed, stroking at himself, working furiously until he comes all over Sirius's face and chest and stomach.

                "Eurgh!" Sirius looks completely scandalized, sitting up, wiping the stuff from his face, looking as if he might cry.

                "I'm supposed to be the baby," mutters Regulus, and with a swish of his wand, Sirius is clean. "You looked much better before you made me whip this out. You should walk around with come on your face all the time, Sirius. At least consider it, yeah?"

                Sirius just glowers at him, expression stony, posture rigid.

                "By the way, I don't think you taste bad at all."

                "Shut up." Sirius sighs, collapsing back onto his back, attempting to ignore Regulus.

                "All things are forgiven in time," Regulus whispers. He makes as if to touch Sirius one last time, but then thinks better of it.

"Not all things," Sirius murmurs back, staring at the ceiling in the almost-dark.

"No big loss, really, though. You never liked me anyway."

"Get out."

"I am leaving."

Sirius looks up to see that it's true. "So go, then."

Regulus leaves after one more glance back, and he leaves the door wide open. He looks smug, his gait more of a strut than his usual dawdle. Sirius wishes he felt more disgusted with himself about what just occurred. He slept with his younger brother. Or, rather, his younger brother very rudely seduced him.

God, he hates Slytherins. Slytherins, he knows from experience, are always trying to bring out the worst in others. And, on top of that, whenever they say anything at all, it's always a bloody contest, and they always have to win it. They just always, always have to be right. And, in Sirius's experience, they always are. They always fucking are.

No, he'll never forgive.

Then again, he's not sure he'll ever forget it either.