Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

James really hated being dumped.

Not that he got dumped a lot, that is.

Rain pelted down around him like bullets, battering against the top of his umbrella that he was slowly losing his grip on, watching the supposed love of his life walk away as if the last four years of their relationship had never happened.

Well, technically, it wasn’t Lily’s fault, though.

Throughout college, James had been absolutely enamoured with Lily Evans — beauty queen, absolute genius, and apparently, secret lesbian. She hadn’t known at the time, of course. It wasn’t until they were both in their third year of university did Lily begin to question her sexuality, and badabing-badaboom, Lily broke up with James in the rain like some sort of cheesy Hallmark movie that was supposed to end with their happily ever after. Happily married. In love. With a kid and a dog. Perhaps a Dalmatian.

James wanted to be upset. I mean, that was the right reaction for this type of situation, right? To be upset? But all James could think about was how proud he was of Lily figuring that part of her out, even if it meant that all those ways he’d tried to win her over in college had been for nothing. He’d really pulled out all of the stops for her back then: flowers, balloons that spelt out her name (that had been expensive), mixtapes, all sorts. James had even copied Heath Ledger’s iconic grand gesture in ‘10 Things I Hate About You.’

Maybe next time, James thought to himself solemnly.

But was there a next time? James had thought that Lily was ‘the one’ that all crazy romantics talked about in their love poems. His soulmate. Twin flame. Call it what you want; James thought that was what his relationship with Lily had been like. Lily Evans was, well… Lily Evans. I mean, they had been happy, hadn’t they? He’d made her happy, right? She seemed happy, but maybe—

He had to stop. He was going to drive himself crazy.

When Lily was far enough away that the drizzle hid the flames of her hair and the swish of her pleated skirt, James turned and walked the other way, his red converse slapping against the wet pavement and his heart aching with every step. He needed to understand the strange concoction of emotions in his chest since he couldn’t understand them himself.

His feet took him to his apartment, which he shared with his beloved mates: Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. Also known as Wormtail, Moony, and Padfoot, respectively, nicknames given to their ragtag group of marauders.

As soon as James stepped into the apartment, shaking his wet umbrella and hanging it by the front door, he’d thought that maybe he would find them all getting along. Oh, but noo. Remus and Sirius were arguing.

Again.

“That was my last bar of chocolate, you bastard!” Remus yelled, his Welsh accent still prominent even after all those years at boarding school surrounded by posh snobs (James, included), and James heard something crash and thud in the other room.

“I was hungry, Moony. Sorry that I wanted something sweet to eat and you hoard all the chocolate in this damn place,” Sirius argued, and another crash swiftly followed his words. “Can you stop throwing shit at me?!”

Another crash.

James sighed. He didn’t want to deal with the lovebirds squabble once again. Like he had done so for so many years.

Honestly, the sooner they finally got their heads out of each other’s asses and shagged, the sooner James could finally get some damn peace. He thought he had been insufferable pining over Lily, but those two took the damn cake and cherry on top.

Entering the living room, James watched as the two of them chucked anything they could at each other from across different sides of the room — books, cushions, Peter’s coffee mug, empty pizza boxes that Sirius should have taken out days ago. Peter sat on the sofa, watching the entire ordeal with a bored expression, and directed a ‘Can you believe these idiots?’ look at James.

James returned it with, ‘I grab the gun; you get the shovel?’

Sirius finally noticed James’ presence in the room and rushed over to him, narrowly avoiding a hit to the head from a candle Remus threw at him, and hid behind James, clutching his soaked jacket. The chains that hung from Sirius shivered as if he were actually afraid of Remus and his ridiculously bad aim.

“Protect me, Prongs. Moony is on a rampage,” Sirius squealed with all the dramatics that made up the one and only Sirius Black. Then he leaned in and whispered loudly in his ear, “I think it’s his time of the month again.”

“I can hear you!” Remus yelled, throwing another book at him.

Sirius shrieked, ducking to hide behind James. James, needing the good distraction, turned to wrap his arms around Sirius in a proper bear hug, smoothing his wild, obsidian hair like a tender mother. “Don’t worry, my love. I will protect you,” James declared theatrically. “Get back, foul beast. Stay away from my maiden.”

Peter snorted from the sofa. Remus shot him a death glare.

“Oh, my hero.” Sirius swooned in James’s arms — full on pretending-to-faint, hand-on-forehead type swoon. James had to tighten his grip on Sirius before he hit his head and gave himself a concussion or something.

Sirius wrapped his arms around James’s neck and peppered his face with loud, smacking kisses that made Remus grimace and roll his eyes at the both of them. As if he and Sirius hadn’t been aggressively flirting with each other since their fourth year in secondary school.

Were they just oblivious idiots or something?

“Whatever. I’m going to pop to the shop. Mind if I use your bike, Padfoot? Cheers, mate,” Remus said and hobbled out of the room on his walking stick.

Sirius gasped and raced after him, shrieking, “Don’t you dare lay a hand on my baby!”

James just stood there, laughing at how ridiculous his friends were, and shrugged off his jacket. He chucked it onto the nearest chair and sat on the sofa with a loud sigh, slumping back until his head hit the wall behind.

The apartment they privately rented was nice. Modest. They hadn’t gotten into a posh school without having some money, except for Remus. The three of them had come from money, and even when Sirius’s parents cut off his family inheritance, they all managed to rent a nice place just outside of the university’s campus, with exposed brick walls and a view of the city so breathtaking, it blew James away sometimes.

A bookshelf full of Remus’s books sat beside the fireplace, littered in trinkets from the lads’ school years and various photos of their favourite pranks and friends. A few family photos, but they tried not to display many, what with Remus and Sirius’s detrimental relationship with family. Fairy lights hung like bunting from the ceiling, Peter’s dedication to the decor that would blink joyfully during parties or Christmas. And rubbish on the ground now, thanks to Remus and Sirius’s fight.

It was all so nice, but in some areas, James was harrowly reminded of the times he’d spent with Lily: kissing her senseless on the kitchen counter at Halloween, kissing her on the sofa where he sat, kissing her in his bedroom— okay, there had been a lot of kissing in their relationship.

“How did the date with Evans go?” Peter asked, snapping James out of his thoughts.

James cleared his throat. Right, the date. James had taken Lily to her favourite cafe on campus. It was definitely the sort of aesthetically pleasing spot Lily loved, with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon always clogging the air and cool indie music playing faintly in the background. There was also a cute, tubby tabby cat that Lily would go over and play with as soon as she arrived.

That day, Lily had gone to the cat, but she didn’t have as much enthusiasm as she usually would stroking the feline. James should have picked up on the dread on her face. He thought the date had gone well, but now with being dumped and all, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Good, good,” James lied, his voice squeakier than usual. Lying to his friends made his stomach knot and squirm, so he blurted out immediately afterwards, “We broke up.”

Peter choked on his own spit. It wasn’t that shocking, James thought. Sure, it had surprised James, but he’d never really been the perceptive type. It only dawned on him how severe the news must have been at the wide-eyed stare Peter was giving him.

“I’m so sorry, Prongs,” Peter whispered after he finally composed himself somewhat, a small, sympathetic smile on his lips that made James want to hide away. He didn’t need sympathy. He was fine. Maybe. Potentially. Eventually. “What happened?”

“Oh, uh…” Shit. James hadn’t asked Lily if it was cool to tell others about her sexuality. He probably should have done that before she walked away, but the breakup had hit James pretty hard. I mean, four years down the drain. But he was also proud of Lily for figuring things out. But also sad. Anyway! “Just didn’t work out, mate. It doesn’t matter. She deserves happiness, and there’s plenty of fish in the sea, right?” He responded with a casual shrug of his shoulders, stretching his arms above his head.

Except the ache in his heart wasn’t casual at all. Nor the voice whispering in the back of James’s mind that he would never find anyone like Lily Evans again.

Peter sighed and grabbed his textbook from the coffee table, which had luckily survived Sirius and Remus’s row from earlier. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would. Proud of you, Prongs.”

James wanted to ask what Peter had meant. Better than he thought he would? Did that mean Peter had prophesied the breakup or something? What the fuck???

But before he could question his childhood friend, Sirius burst back into the apartment, strutting right up to James and shoving his phone in James’s face. “Lily Evans is a lesbian?!” He exclaimed.

And yep. That was Lily Evan’s Instagram profile. The profile picture was James’s favourite picture of her: Lily donning a flowery summer dress and floppy sun hat, hair blowing in the breeze, bright and sunny, and showing off all those curves James drooled over. Or rather, used to drool over. The missing J+L from her bio made his heart crack just a bit more, just a bit deeper, but underneath where it used to be was an emoji of the lesbian flag.

Ah. Guess that meant he could tell them, then.

“Yeah, dude. She’s into girls,” James replied, shrugging his shoulders again.

Sirius just gave him an offended look, nose wrinkling up and lips curling back like a rabid animal. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“She just came out, Pads, and I didn’t know if I was allowed to tell anyone. I’m not going to out Evans. Or anyone for that matter,” he argued with a furrow between his brows.

“Oh, that’s why you broke up,” Peter mumbled beside him, chewing on the end of his pen.

“You guys broke up?!” Sirius squawked.

God, save me now, James thought as he slumped back against the sofa, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“Yes, Sirius. We broke up. I can’t date someone if they’re not attracted to me,” James explained slowly, as if he were talking to a child. He wondered how Remus put up with all of their dumbassery without pulling a gun on them all.

Oh, wait. He definitely had.

Sirius exhaled long and hard, putting his phone back into his pocket and perched himself on the arm of the sofa, the leather of his jacket squeaking. “Sorry, buddy. I know it’s hard,” he said, rubbing James’s shoulder soothingly. Then a ridiculous grin crossed his face. “How about we finally hook up now that Evans is out of the picture?”

He shoved Sirius playfully, causing the latter to stumble off the sofa with a chuckle. “You know I see you like a brother, dude,” he answered with mock disgust. Not to mention your raging homo crush on Moony, he wanted to add but kept silent. He’d kill me.

As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Remus tottered into the apartment, obviously lying about going to the shops earlier just to piss off Sirius. Sirius stopped laughing as soon as he spotted Remus’s grandpa sweater and heard the tapping of his cane against the floorboards. He followed him with his eyes like a lovesick puppy, completely entranced and obviously in love to the point it was sickening. James and Peter shared the same knowing look they’d been doing since secondary school.

“My condolences, Prongs,” Remus called out from the kitchen. The tinkle of teaspoons against ceramic and the rumble of the kettle boiling mixed with the drilling of the rain outside.

“Nobody has died, Moony. And how’d you know James and Evans broke up?” Sirius questioned. He crossed his arms over his chest and stalked towards the kitchen doorway, ready to be a nuisance, before Remus came out. He set two cups of tea on the coffee table and a bar of chocolate.

Classic Moony. Obviously the cure to every problem was tea and chocolate.

Or, you know, violence.

“Because obviously they can’t date if Lily isn’t even attracted to him anymore. No offence, Prongs,” Remus explained and shot James an apologetic look. He snapped a square of chocolate off and popped it into his mouth. Then he added, “Also, she came out to me ages ago. It was only a matter of time.”

James groaned.

“What?! Does no one tell me anything nowadays?” Sirius guffawed and dramatically fell into the loveseat, huffing and puffing like a kid about to have a tantrum.

Remus simply rolled his eyes in response and moved to pat James on the shoulder. “Sorry, mate. I would have told you sooner, but I wasn’t going to out Lily like that. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you,” he said in a soft voice, the scars that stretched across his face pulling taut as he smiled at him. “Plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

“It’s fine, Moony,” James reassured him, patting Remus’s hand. He was getting real sick of that phrase. “I’m really proud of her for figuring herself out. She deserves to be happy.”

Do you? The voice in his head betrayed him.

Remus patted his shoulder in an overly fatherly gesture and far too roughly than what anyone would expect of him. “Good for you, dude,” he said and grabbed the other cup of tea, leaving the living room and disappearing down the hall, probably to nap or read or study. Or maybe all three somehow.

“Besides, we both know Prongs here has a whole line of admirers waiting to get a piece of his hockey ass,” Sirius joked, springing up from his moody outburst and leaning over to ruffle James’s curly hair.

He swatted his hand away with protest.

But then James decided to do the worst thing possible: he grew serious.

“I don’t know, Pads. I really thought Lily was ‘the one’ or something. I don’t know how I’m going to get back into dating after so long,” he admitted. James hated the raw honesty in his voice. It made him feel like someone had peeled away his skin and allowed a whole audience to stare disgusted at his innards.

“You only dated for four years. It’s not like you guys were married and had eighteen babies,” Peter pointed out before diligently returning his attention to his textbook.

“Thanks, Pete. Makes me feel so much better,” James mumbled sarcastically.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, resting his chin on his crossed arms on the loveseat arm. “He’s right, you know. But you also don’t need to get into the dating game immediately. Take some time for yourself, do some self-care, find a hobby, blah blah blah. What’s something else Moony would say?”

“Eat some chocolate. It’ll make you feel better,” Peter quipped.

The two of them laughed, and James rolled his eyes. They were right, of course. It had only been a four-year relationship. But what none of them could understand was that Lily had been James’s everything. He didn’t know what he was going to do with himself if he couldn’t take Lily on a date every Saturday or kiss her senseless on the kitchen counter at every holiday party.

God, he was going to miss kissing her. A lot.

“Oh! I can finally be your wingman, Prongs!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, tugging on James’s arm as if he was going to tug him all the way to the nightclubs in town. James knew it was his favourite spot to be in. As if he didn’t have a perfectly fine dating option right next door to his room — not James, of course.

“Maybe not right now, Padfoot. Later, I promise. I’m just really tired right now. It’s been a long day,” James muttered, brushing off Sirius’s relentless tugging and standing up from the sofa. All James wanted to do was curl up in bed, eat tubs of ice cream until he was fat, and cry pathetically at rom-coms and chick flicks.

“Also, if you go out right now, you’ll catch a cold,” he continued while walking down the hall to his bedroom.

“Moony is rubbing off on you!” Sirius called out after him.

“I wish!” James shot back.

Sirius’s choked gasp reached his ears before James slammed the door shut. He slipped out of his soaked shoes and fell face-first into his bed like the pathetic mess he was. Everywhere reminded James of Lily. His heart ached like a rotten tooth — annoying and consistent, making him want to yank the damn thing out of his chest and crush it in his fist.

With a huff, James rolled onto his side. Just as he thought, the pictures of Lily tacked on the wall laughed mockingly at him. Reminded him of all the plans he’d made for their future. All the good times they’d shared. Even the bad times would have been better than this shit.

He’d take them down eventually, of course. James wasn’t going to continue mooning over Lily Evans. He wasn’t that pathetic or stalkerish. But for now, all he wanted was to be the classic and iconic Elle Woods from ‘Legally Blonde’ when Warner broke up with her (good riddance).

Grabbing his laptop from the nightstand next to his bed, he sat up criss-cross-applesauce and opened the illegal streaming website he used. Now, before the judging starts, James knew he had more money than he knew what to spend with it. His parents were rich, after all. He should have been able to afford a Netflix subscription, and he did, but they didn’t have the specific movies that James needed to cry his heart out to until Remus yelled at him to shut the fuck up.

And the 2006 sports rom-com ‘She’s the Man’ was really calling his name right about now.

James started typing in the search bar and clicked enter on his keyboard, only for it to redirect him to some other stupid website. Honestly, why were all good illegal streaming sites consumed with sex ads? James knew there were desperate sluts in the area. He was one of them. He didn’t need reminding.

He was about to click out of the site and try again when he noticed something – the url. Cammy-boys-love-you.net.

Do they now? James thought.

From a first glance, the site looked like just another porn website, with video titles like ‘Slutty husband in the kitchen’ or ‘Fuck me harder, I’m begging for it’ and all sorts of other nonsense that made his head spin. But James realised it wasn’t like a normal porn site. They were all recorded on webcams, some live streams and others just pictures of different men.

James was no stranger to porn sites. He was twenty-two years old, for Gods sake. He’d been lonely before Lily came in and rocked his world. But nothing had intrigued him more than these cam boys.

And hey, what was the harm? Maybe a few viruses, but James was curious now. He had to investigate.

Scrolling through the website, James was met with an assortment of different images and videos that he’d never seen before. Men of all types were laid out in different exposing positions, stuffing toys in different orifices, wearing either lingerie, costumes, or nothing at all. Some had views in the bloody thousands or ten thousand, and little icons on the videos showed just how many tips these cam boys made.

James continued to scroll mindlessly when he saw him.

There was no face. The guy had been smart enough to stay out of view, unlike a few of the other cam boys on the website. Constellations littered his pale, lithe body – black against white. His collarbones looked fucking biteable, his neck and fingers long and slender as he kneeled on grey cotton bedsheets. Twin pink scars lined under his pecs, a dusting of hair below his belly button that trailed down south, and a terrifyingly big dildo between his legs that he bounced on almost gracefully.

James’s laptop was on mute, but he was certain the guy would be making the sweetest noises imaginable, causing James’s mouth to dry and a heat pool in his stomach.

Without even realising what he was doing, James clicked on the profile.

Étoile.

The banner was a simple cluster of stars and nebulas that Sirius would know all about – his family was huge on astronomy and all that shit. There were a bunch of different videos of this Étoile doing various acts, each one more erotic than the last. Sometimes, the thumbnails showed a guy wearing a mask, concealing his face from the audience, and others, it was only his body.

His bio read: ‘Transman. He/him. Pay for your wildest fantasies to come true.’

His wildest fantasies?

James had always been a pretty vanilla man. Lily was never into the kinkier side of sex. Most people (Sirius) would say that was boring and not exciting, conversations they would have whilst drunk, but James thought it was sweet. Almost romantic. He’d always enjoyed it, but evidently Lily hadn’t.

Watching this Étoile guy doing all sorts, apparently at the request of other viewers who had paid him to do those things, potentially an obscene amount of money, James felt… curious. Fascinated. Fucking charmed by this lithe boy with stars littered across his ribs. Enchanted. Every damn word in the fucking dictionary. That was James Potter.

Suddenly, James jumped up from his bed and locked his door. He didn’t need any of his mates walking in on him, especially not Sirius. He’d never live it down. Once the lock was secure, James grabbed his headphones, settled back onto his bed again, and scrolled down to Étoile’s first video from two years ago.

The background in this video was barren, as if Étoile had only just moved in. The grey cotton bedsheets from his later videos were nowhere to be seen, and without Étoile in the way, he could see the plain white walls of the room.

Étoile — well, him from the neck done, that is — appeared a few seconds later, wearing an oversized shirt that practically blended in with his pale skin and covering his crotch area. But James still salivated from the long legs that climbed onto the bed, dark leg hair stark against milky flesh. Étoile kneeled in front of the camera, soft and hesitant. It must have been his first time as a cam boy. He seemed almost… Shy. So unlike the man that had first charmed James.

He wrung his shirt in his hands, slowly inching it up perfect thighs and hips until it revealed a thick, cotton thong.

“Do you like what you see?” A soft, masculine voice whispered into James’s ears, words tilted with a slight French accent that made a bolt of lightning shoot up James’s spine and cause his hair to stand on end.

His jaw fucking dropped.

He could picture Étoile moaning in his ear, all dirty words in that sweet accent of his, those plump thighs wrapped around his hips, nails scratching down his fucking back, and God, he was going mad.

Suddenly, James watched as the views spiked up. The video had started with none. When Étoile appeared, it had spiked up to a dozen. Now, with Étoile sliding his fingers into the thong and pulling it aside to show succulent skin and dark hair, the views rocketed to a thousand. Just like that.

It was like witchcraft. James couldn’t believe how easily Étoile garnered this much attention just by showing some flesh. Although it had worked on him, hadn’t it?

Étoile leaned towards the camera, probably grabbing something offscreen, and James leaned in as well. As if he could catch a whiff of Étoile’s scent or reach out to touch him through the screen. He stayed close to the screen when Étoile leaned back into view, keeping that damn shirt on to hide those beautiful curves, and held up… A buttplug?

It was silver and small, shaped almost like a teardrop, and James caught the faintest flash of a red gem at the base.

Like a damn succubus, Étoile turned around and hiked his shirt up to reveal the two roundest cheeks James had ever seen. They were pale and full like a moon, and James could imagine taking a bite of them, teeth sinking in, marking Étoile like a damn dog. Étoile’s fingers hooked into the thong again and pulled it aside, bending over just enough so the audience and James could catch a flash of pink.

The views were climbing into the ten thousands now.

“If you want to watch me stick this in there,” Étoile whispered lustrously through James’s headphones like a tease and gestured to the buttplug still in his hand. “Then I better see some tips coming in.”

As if hypnotised by the temptress of a man, which was completely fair because so was James, the little jar in the corner of the screen started filling up with green immediately. It was shocking how quick it came — people paying hundreds of pounds just to watch some stranger online stick in a buttplug, but James couldn’t judge — he would do the exact same thing. But not just any stranger. Only Étoile.

Étoile laughed, low and rough. “Good job. Wasn’t that easy, hm?” He whispered — did he live with other people? Lucky bastards, being surrounded by perfection all day — and pulled his shirt out of the way. Then he grabbed a handful of his cheek and pulled it to one side, showing James that tight ring of muscle, loose and ready.

James’s eyes couldn’t look away as the buttplug slid in. It fascinated him to no end. Even if the apartment was burning around him, he’d still be stuck with his eyes glued to his laptop screen. He was utterly under Étoile’s spell.

The next forty-five minutes of James’s life were spent watching Étoile slowly grow with confidence, teasing the audience and moaning delightfully — dirty noises that shouldn’t have sounded so saccharine. Every so often, he’d coax his viewers to pay more so they could watch him bounce on a purple dildo, slender fingers wrapped around the base, or to even take the thong off but never his shirt, and every time, the jar on the corner of James’s screen would light up with green in seconds.

When it ended, James had never been so hard in his life.

He couldn’t deny the effect Étoile had on him, despite a dark part of his mind telling him he shouldn’t have felt that way towards a man. It’s not right, the fiendish voice would hiss, but James still found himself clicking on the next video and then the next, watching every single one until he had nothing else to watch.

It was fucking torture.

James had to fight with himself not to just reach into his boxers and let Étoile’s voice guide him. He couldn’t. Lily had just dumped him; he was supposed to be watching chick flicks, and James Fleamont Potter wasn’t supposed to be attracted to men. Especially not some cam boy from a porn site.

But before he even understood what he was doing, to think about it more rationally and use some of his brain cells, James made an account and instantly followed Étoile.

This was going to turn into a very bad obsession.

‎

Chapter Text

Regulus really didn’t want to spend his Tuesday evening in some pub. The tables were sticky from decades of spilt beer, drunk old men were yelling about the football game right in his ear, and his damn brother hadn’t shown up yet despite the fact that he was the one that organised this whole mess.

Fucking typical.

It had been years since Regulus had seen his brother. Nine, to be precise, but technically ten since Sirius very rarely spent the holidays at home after he got into that posh boarding school and made all of his new friends. God, what pricks they must have been. Regulus could imagine them all around some glorious dining table, getting the boyhood Regulus fucking yearned for.

So yeah, Regulus hadn’t seen Sirius in a very long time, and he had been planning on never seeing any part of his family again until fate decided to intervene. As always.

He’d been on his way to a lecture when some arrogant prick bumped into him, laughing too loudly and arm wrapped around some other guy’s neck as he leaned heavily on his walking stick. Regulus was ready to rip the guy a new one when the arsehole turned to face him and the drunken grin he’d been wearing fell away.

Nine years might have passed, but anyone could recognise Sirius Black. His hair might have been longer, trailing down to his shoulder blades, and he might have swapped his blazers for a leather jacket and skinny jeans like he was some rockstar and had the confidence of one. But Sirius had haunted him every day of Regulus’s miserable life whenever he looked in the damn mirror or heard his surname. They shared the same genes, the same dark hair and pale complexion, and shared the same trauma hidden under their false shells and bravados.

Sirius had been blowing up his phone ever since, asking to meet up, to catch up, whether his jeans made his butt look big, far too eager and excited like some dumb dog. He had changed, but Regulus could see it was a good change annoyingly. He wasn’t the same boy that would protect him from their parents’ wrath. He’d just grown up into a taller, scrawnier version of that boy.

That didn’t change the fact that he had abandoned Regulus.

A jingle of the bell above the pub door cut through the rowdy atmosphere, and a flurry of black stumbled in: black hair, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. Regulus didn’t have to look up to see it was Sirius. He could just tell, like some weird psychic power Pandora was always ranting on about.

“Reggie!” Sirius drawled, arms spread out wide as if ready for a hug, and squeezed through the crowd before plopping into the chair opposite. “Good to see you!”

“You’re late,” Regulus stated bluntly, swatting Sirius’s hand away when he tried to ruffle his hair.

Sirius flinched, but the boyish grin on his face remained. “I know, I know. Traffic is crazy right now. The football is on, so every fucker in the area is swarming towards the pubs,” he explained.

Those same fuckers roared at a goal two seats away from their table.

Looking away, Regulus huffed in agitation. He wondered how long the two of them could act like everything was normal between them. As if Sirius hadn’t abandoned him a decade ago.

As if sensing the bitterness, Sirius asked, “Is it still cool to call you Reggie? I know you’re trans and stuff, and I completely support you, but I just wanted to know so I don’t mess things up and—”

“I go by Regulus now,” he interrupted, cutting his gaze back to Sirius. “But Reggie is fine,” he added after a moment.

Sirius nodded his head and tucked his lips in thought. “And your pronouns?”

Brownie points to Sirius; Regulus thought begrudgingly. At least he was trying. The same couldn’t be said to the rest of their family. They’d just shunned him away and called him a disgrace to their once high expectations of him.

“He/him,” Regulus replied, and his voice softened somewhat. “I’m guessing you haven’t changed yours.”

Sirius laughed, but not the full-bellied laugh like he had with that other guy. A friend, maybe. Possibly a boyfriend. They had been giving each other goo-goo eyes that day. “I did some exploration back in college, but no, I am strictly he/him. I do look fucking fabulous in a dress, though,” Sirius boasted, fluttering his eyelashes like some overzealous model.

Same old Sirius.

“Anyway, how’s life been?” Sirius asked, shifting in his seat and getting comfortable, crossing his arms over the other on the sticky table.

Regulus grimaced. He really hated that question. It was so impersonal, just a way to fill in silence that occurred during laps of conversation, and when you actually answered it truthfully, everyone just shies away from it as if they hadn’t asked it in the first place. It was a waste of breath, honestly. So, not wanting to go into his whole life story from the past ten years, Regulus settled on a meagre “Fine.”

His brother frowned. So that was the wrong answer as well. “You’re so boring, Reggie. Come on,” he whined. “Tell me what you’ve been up to. Any dark secrets you want to tell me? A secret lover, perhaps? Go on, tell big brother Sirius.”

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Regulus resisted the urge to punch him. Or roll his eyes. Or both.

“No dark secrets. No secret lovers,” he answered, as pathetic as it was. “My life has been as boring and in solitude as a monk.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but also not the whole truth. He wasn’t sure how Sirius would react if he told him he was a popular cam boy online.

With a long, drawn-out groan that caused a few heads to look in their direction, Sirius leaned back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. “Why can’t someone just give me some drama these days?!” Sirius exclaimed, and if he kept that up, Regulus was sure they’d be kicked out soon. He dropped his head to stare at Regulus with narrowed eyes. “We go to the same university. What do you study?”

“Astrology.” It made the most sense to him. Regulus could name every constellation in the sky, and it had come easily to him ever since he was a kid. “I wouldn’t really picture you as a student, to be brutally honest,” Regulus admitted.

Sirius placed a hand over his heart with offence. “How dare you? I am just as intellectual as Einstein and all you other nerds,” he countered.

“Go on, then. What do you study?” Regulus challenged, cocking one eyebrow.

“Mechanical engineering,” he boasted.

To be fair, it was something… different. Regulus had expected a course that was more artsy, like music, but the unexpected respect he had for his older brother died when he added, “I’m going to create the first flying motorbike.”

Oh, for fucks sake…

Sometimes, Regulus really wondered how on God’s green earth they came from the same womb.

“Sirius, that’s impossible, and even if you could do it, you’d need some sort of… magic or something. I don’t know,” Regulus pointed out.

But did that dull Sirius’s spirit? No, of course not. A fire of determination lit up his stormy eyes. “Just watch me, Reggie. I’m going to construct it even if it kills me, and when I’m soaring in the skies on a killer Harley, you’re all going to look real stupid,” he proclaimed in a loud whisper, leaning over the table towards Regulus. “Trust me.”

“What about you, then?” Regulus blurted out before Sirius could go on a whole tangent about flying motorcycles. God, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Dark secrets? Lovers I should know about?”

For the first time since entering the pub, Sirius closed himself off. He leaned back in his seat and looked down at his fingers as if his chipped black nail polish had become the most interesting thing in the entire universe.

“You do,” Regulus murmured.

“I don’t!” Sirius argued. More heads turned their way, shooting glares at Sirius that he didn’t even notice. “I’m an open book. I wear my heart on my leather sleeve. I have no dark secrets I need to share with my little brother.”

Regulus ignored the way his heart clenched at those words – little brother, little brother, he called me his little brother – and squinted his eyes at Sirius. “But you do have a secret lover.”

Pink bloomed on Sirius’s cheeks. “I don’t,” he insisted, but it was weak that time. More hesitant.

Regulus took that as his answer. “Then you won’t mind me asking who that pretty guy you were with the other day was. The one with the walking stick you were practically draped over, drooling over, like some hormonal teenager—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Sirius yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

All eyes turned to Sirius, but he was too busy cutting Regulus with his gaze, possessive and furious. Regulus knew he’d riled him up, that it was wrong; he had his answer now, though. Whoever that man was the other day, Sirius was balls deep in love with him.

“That’s it. You two, get out!” The man behind the bar shouted.

Not even ten minutes into seeing each other, and already they were being kicked out. That was a record.

Sirius cursed under his breath. Regulus stood up, grabbing his jacket from behind his chair and folding it over his arm. The scrape of their chairs and the jingle of the bell were too loud in the absence of chatter, which only picked up again when the two of them were outside in the biting cold.

The sky outside was draped in an inky dark despite it being relatively early. White fog formed in front of their faces with every puff of air, the chill cutting through Regulus’s turtleneck and into his very soul. He couldn’t see any stars tonight.

Click. Sirius lit up a cigarette beside him. The orange ember at the end lit up with his inhale, and he stuffed the lighter away in his pocket, pinching the stick between his fingers. “Want a puff?” he offered.

Regulus shook his head. “I don’t smoke,” he explained.

The tension between them was heavy. Regulus knew he should have apologised for getting them kicked out, but the words lodged into his throat like thick taffy, along with all the other things he wanted to say. Ten years of visceral arguments he’d had with Sirius in his head, and all he could was stand at the pavement next to his brother, watching cars go past and wrinkling his nose at the stench of nicotine.

It was pathetic, honestly. Regulus held himself with as much snobbiness as Sirius’s friends must have been at that boarding school. His chin was always raised high, his posture straight, and his clothes were sharp and clean. But inside, Regulus was nothing but a mess. A storm that threatened to break at any moment.

“So,” Sirius began with a puff. Smoke crawled in the air like albino snakes. “Where did she send you?”

She. Their mother. The horrible demon herself. Regulus looked down at his shoes, scuffed them on the pavement, and listened to his mother’s disgusted hiss in his ear — You will never be like them!

“A Catholic school in France. All girls,” he muttered with no infliction. No emotion. He couldn’t get hurt by the memories if he pretended he’d never been hurt in the first place, right? “I met a friend of mine there, so it wasn’t too bad. I bet Hogwarts was better, though.”

Regulus watched as Sirius flinched in the corner of his eye like a physical blow. Good, he thought. That was meant to hurt.

“I…” Sirius sighed and took another puff of his cigarette, using the prolonged lapse to collect his thoughts. “If I could have brought you with me, Reggie, I would have, but I couldn’t exactly stuff you into my suitcase and drag you the whole way there on the train.”

“You could have come home, though,” Regulus countered. He looked up at his brother, his profile sharp against the streetlights, gazing at the street opposite. Or maybe nothing. Or maybe he was lost in the sea of the past. “You didn’t need to stay there during the holidays. You could have come home, and we could have dealt with them together. Like we used to. But instead, I had to step up.”

“Can’t you understand?” Sirius suddenly snapped, turning towards Regulus and causing him to stumble back on instinct. Anguish clouded his eyes. “I couldn’t live there, Reggie. Not when I’d tasted freedom for the first time. Going home during the summer was bad enough. I wasn’t alive until I was kicked out of that house and went to Hogwarts.”

His hands curled into fists by his sides. “You still left me. I had to face it all by myself. It was torture without you by my side, Sirius,” he retorted.

Sirius dropped his head and scrubbed his free hand down it. As if he had any right to be tired. Sirius got the easy way out. Regulus had to stay and suffer because of him.

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” Sirius whispered. His voice broke around the words like it tore him apart, tearing his insides and soul into pieces, reducing him to nothing but a cracked voice and ash.

Regulus huffed out a harsh breath and forced his hands to relax. They were miserable in that place, even when they were together, but it had been more bearable — the two of them against their parent’s fury. Without Sirius, Regulus had to conform to his mother’s expectations and ideals and went through school as another version of her, cold and brutal. He was still that way sometimes. The pain would become too much to handle, and he would slip.

But then he’d found Pandora. She had helped him deduce the storm in his chest and mind, helped him into the light, comforted him when his parents kicked him out as well, and cut off the family inheritance.

You are not my daughter anymore; his mother had screamed at him.

Regulus wished he’d had the balls to say he’d never been to her face.

Swallowing his pride, Regulus lifted his hand to Sirius. He stared at it wide-eyed, glancing between it and Regulus, with the streetlights making the tears in his eyes glisten.

“Truce?” Regulus offered in a rough voice.

A grin broke across Sirius’s face. His hand was rough against Regulus’s palm, shaking too firm and too forcefully than what was required. “Truce,” he echoed.

Understanding forged between them. The pain wouldn’t go away; they both knew that, but they were old enough to move past it. To grow as better people, not the bitter wraiths their parents had been. To not be shackled by the past mistakes they’d made. Possibly with time, the two of them could be as close as they had been ten years ago.

Regulus wouldn’t count on it, though.

When Sirius got to the end of his cigarette, he flicked it away, and the two of them began to walk side by side. Sirius, with his hands stuffed into his leather jacket, and Regulus holding onto his jacket even though it was far too cold to not wear it.

The Black brothers, walking alongside one another once again. Just like old times.

“His name’s Remus,” Sirius suddenly said after a few long minutes of walking. The words had jumped out of his mouth. He wouldn’t meet Regulus’s eye, keeping his attention on the wet pavement beneath him. It was the first time Regulus had seen Sirius so bashful. “The guy. He’s, uh… We’re not dating.”

Regulus arched an eyebrow. Colour him intrigued.

“Is he straight?” He asked. That seemed like the most logical explanation, but the way this Remus fellow had been staring at him… There was not a straight bone in that man’s body.

Sirius confirmed Regulus’s suspicions with a shake of his head. “He’s had a boyfriend before. Back in college. Teddy, his name was,” Sirius explained, voice dropping into a possessive growl. Regulus wouldn’t have pegged him as the jealous type, but what did he know? Ten years changed quite a lot.

“And you’re not dating because…?” He questioned.

Shooting Regulus an incredulous look, Sirius exhaled sharply and said, “Because he’s not into me like that. I mean, you saw him. He’s… God, he’s gorgeous, Reggie. He’s beautiful and smart and a pain in my ass sometimes, sure, but I want him to be a pain in my ass—”

“Ew.”

“— And he’s just so perfect,” Sirius continued. “He’d never go out with a sad sack like me and my emotional luggage. Oh, and his accent, Reg? You should hear him talk. It’s like pure honey. The first time I heard him speak, I didn’t understand a fucking word he said, but he’s just so.” Sirius made a complicated sound — a mix between a grumble and a groan — and hooked his fingers in the air as if he could materialise the words out of thin air. “You know?” He asked, shooting a desperate look at Regulus.

Regulus, in fact, didn’t. He’d never loved someone like Sirius so clearly did. He’d never had anyone feel such a complicated amalgamation as Sirius did about this guy. Love and romance were things Regulus tended to stay away from.

Sex, though? He’d had his fair share of hookups, that was for sure.

“It’s none of my business what you do, but Sirius, seriously, just shag him,” Regulus sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Sirius choked on his spit, floundering around for a moment and opening his mouth to protest with whatever sad argument he was convincing himself with before Regulus butted in. “You two were practically fucking each other with your eyes the other day, and I’d never met the fucker in my life. He clearly wants you. Just go for it and see what happens.”

A groan rumbled up from within Sirius’s chest. He tilted his head back up to the stars — none lit up the sky thanks to the light pollution in the city. Sirius looked sort of like an angelic statue, Regulus realised as he watched him, hands stuffed into his pockets, cotton-white skin bit into by yellow streetlights and neon bar signs.

Sirius Black wasn’t an angel, though. Far from it. Neither was Regulus. In their parent’s eyes, they were fallen angels. Reincarnations of Lucifer Morningstar.

“You really think it’s that easy?” Sirius questioned. “Just walk up to him and be like, ‘Hey, Moony. I’ve had a fat crush on you for seven years now. Let’s shag!’” Sirius put on some silly voice before dropping his head and wailing, “That’s so stupid.”

“It worked on some of my friends. Like Barty and Evan. Now they can’t keep their hands off one another,” Regulus pointed out with a shrug of his shoulder, grimacing only slightly at the thought of his friends probably shagging as they were speaking. Gross.

Sirius seemed to think about it until they reached the end of the road. He stopped, lips tucking in thoughtfully. But whatever he was contemplating about — Shagging Remus — stopped when Regulus went to cross the street.

“You live on campus?” Sirius questioned.

“Yeah,” Regulus responded. “They cut me out of the inheritance.”

Sirius scoffed, scuffing his boots against the pavement. “Fucking figures. Complete arseholes,” he muttered disdainfully. Regulus silently agreed. “Well, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“I’ve got it all sorted out, thanks,” Regulus interrupted curtly.

The two stared at one another for a long, tense second. It felt almost like one of those moments in the cowboy movies Barty was obsessed with for ‘entirely straight reasons’. A tumbleweed could have blown past and it would have made the most sense, even in the middle of England.

He was not about to accept his older brother’s pity. He was doing just fine. More than fine. Not that Sirius needed to know the details.

“Well,” Sirius finally spoke, breaking the silence. “It’s good to see you, Reggie. We should do this more often.”

What, get kicked out of pubs and bond over secret lovers?

Regulus didn’t hate the idea as much as he wanted to.

“And answer my texts!” Sirius yelled while walking down the straight, pointing an accusatory finger at Regulus, and just like that, he was gone. Regulus watched, frozen in place, even as Sirius’s figure turned down a street and he disappeared from view.

He would not be answering his brother’s texts, that was for sure. He had better things to do.

When Regulus got back home, the first thing he saw were Barty and Evan on the sofa, sucking on each other’s faces. Just as he had predicted. Regulus grimaced at the moaning and the sound of their jeans rubbing together, wanting nothing more than to claw out his eyes and block his ears with wax.

They were grabbing at one another, frantic and messy, until Regulus walked over and pushed Evan off of Barty. “Hey!” He protested, falling onto the other side of the sofa and glaring daggers at Regulus.

“Get a room,” he told each of them, deadly and sharp. “You can’t just hump one another on whatever surface you find. Other people live here, and we like to sit on the sofa sometimes without finding your disgusting germs on it, so if you don’t mind…”

While Evan’s cheeks grew as rosy as his name, Barty just laid back on the sofa, legs spread wide and a cocky grin on his face, completely undisturbed by the fact that Regulus was getting an eye full of the tenting in his trousers. He probably liked it, the sick bastard. “Why don’t you join us? We can make it a threesome.”

Regulus scoffed. “As if I’d go near your one-incher ever again,” he muttered with disdain and stormed away.

Barty gasped, clutching his heart. Evan cackled so hard that he fell off the sofa, and then Barty was the one laughing at his boyfriend.

Regulus rolled his eyes, moving towards the hallway before Pandora stopped him in his tracks. Despite the hundreds of crystal bracelets that dangled from her wrists, clinking together like a wind chime, she was as silent as a ghost, and it freaked the fuck out of Regulus sometimes.

“How did it go?” She asked, watching him with her too-big, too-all-knowing eyes, cradling a cup of tea in her hands like she always did. With the same mug as well. The one Regulus had brought her back in college, with poorly painted cats on it and multicoloured swirls inside. Only the swirls had dulled to a murky colour, and the cats looked… not like cats anymore.

“Fine,” he answered with a casual shrug. “He’s the same prick as always. We’ve called a truce and talked about some guy he’s in love with, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“And got kicked out of a pub,” she added.

Regulus didn’t question how or why she knew that part. Some things about Pandora were better left unquestioned. “Yes, we did. That was my fault, though,” he muttered reluctantly.

Pandora hummed and took a long sip of her tea, glancing over Regulus’s shoulder. The cackling had died down, and Regulus cringed at the creak of the sofa. Pandora, however, seemed unaffected, simply shaking her head. “Animals,” she mumbled.

That's an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m going to make my escape now before their clothes start coming off. We’ll catch up in the morning,” Regulus said, kissing Pandora on the cheek as he walked past. “Goodnight, Panda.”

“Night, dear. Sweet dreams,” Pandora replied, but when Regulus looked back over his shoulder, she’d vanished into thin air. It was so creepy, but Pandora had always been that way, even during their years at Beauxbaton Academy. She’d given the nuns more of a fright than Regulus had.

He shut his door just as Evan began to moan like a pornstar, which always meant the two of them would be distracted for a good few hours. Regulus was glad; he needed to work tonight with no distractions.

The room he had was small, but that was to be expected of a university hall. The plan had been to stay in the halls in his first year and possibly rent an apartment in his second with Pandora, but then he found out he was stuck with the fiendish Barty Crouch Jr. and his boyfriend, Evan Rosier. And well, despite his and Barty’s history together, Regulus found himself getting attached, as much as he abhorred it, and now he was stuck with those horny beasts for another few years.

With walls painted a bone white, the rest of the room followed with neutral colours, with his grey bed sheets and the black tapestries he hung from the wall with constellations and moon cycles painted in white. His desk was neatly organised with textbooks and completed assignments — not a single hair out of place — except for his laptop angled towards the bed.

Regulus hung his jacket in his wardrobe with precise movements. Next went his shoes, beautiful oxfords that he’d found at some charity shop for dirt cheap (suckers), and the rest of his clothes: his trousers, turtleneck, and lastly, his boxers.

Pulling on his favourite hoodie and cotton thong, Regulus perched himself on the edge of his bed and opened his laptop. He was greeted with the sight of thousands of messages on his last post that morning, all about how gorgeous he looked and how creepy men online wanted to do disgusting things to him.

He seriously hated those kinds of men. The ones who thought it turned him on to hear about how they’d steal him away to be their own personal slave or some shit. Regulus was already a slave to his mind and body; he didn’t need to be some perverts slave as well. He deleted the messages instantly.

Not all of the messages were bad, though. Especially when they came with requests and hefty amounts of cash waiting for Regulus to pinch in his DMs.

Regulus hadn’t started the cam boy business for the cash. It had been a nice perk, sure, especially when he realised just how much people were willing to spend to see him do something their wives couldn’t even fathom. But no, Regulus had started his secret career because of his parents. For revenge.

If they thought Regulus being trans was enough of a stain on their precious family name, it was going to kill them when they found out he was the most popular cam boy on Cammy-boys-love-you.net.

Not his proudest achievement, but oh well. That was Étoile’s problem, not Regulus’s.

The requests were easy enough to deal with. He only accepted requests when they never went past his own boundaries, but other than that, he tried to fulfil as many people’s darkest fantasies as he could. Sometimes it was a simple strip tease, sometimes a video of him with a gift someone had sent to him, but mostly, these fanatics of Regulus’s wanted to watch him come apart.

If only they all knew he was a great actor.

Once that was done and a few extra bucks were in Regulus’s bank account, he moved his camera to hide his face and set up a livestream. It was the easiest way to make as much green as Regulus usually did, and with no other plans for that night, Regulus was bored enough to comply.

As soon as it went live, flocks of desperate people clicked online, and Regulus was glad his face was hidden. Otherwise, they’d all see the smug smirk on his face. He had all of them eating out of the palm of his hand.

Regulus pulled his hoodie off as seductively as he could manage, revealing yards of spectral skin speckled with moles and the two scars on his chest — the scars he’d been most afraid to show. It had taken almost a year for Regulus to take his shirt off live, but the cash that had flooded his account afterwards was completely worth it.

Kneeling on his bed, Regulus thumbled with the straps of his thong, hoisting it up to sit snugly on his hips. “What are we thinking about today, hm?” He hummed, keeping his voice down so no one else would hear him. Barty would cause a riot if he found it — and probably insist on joining in.

Sick bastard.

Messages flooded the chat instantaneously, each one more laughable than the last:

‘Ride that dildo and cum for me.’

‘Sit on my face, pls pls pls!’

‘Be a good boy and take it up the ass.’

‘Let me fuck your brains out like the good pup u are.’

Each one left Regulus feeling… ashamed of himself. Disgusted at humanity. That his body was nothing more than a sexual pleasure for his viewers, but he couldn't complain. He got good money exploiting the horny people of the internet, and he could quit at any time. Regulus knew that. But he was spiteful and wanted his parents to suffer, so he had to follow through. He’d repent later.

He hummed lustrously, leaning close so he could read the chat more clearly, tapping his chin in thought. “Let's see some green first, and I might just reward you all with a treat,” he whispered.

As the money jar icon in the corner of the screen started filling, Regulus noticed a particular message in the chat. It wasn’t like it was special or that he was particularly drawn to it, but something about it made Regulus pause and just read:

‘You’re so gorjus.’

Regulus almost laughed. The spelling was atrocious, but not the worst in the world, and whoever this Seeker fellow was didn’t seem to care to correct his mistake. He must have been new — Regulus couldn’t recall seeing anyone in his previous streams with such a peculiar username.

And what do you seek, Seeker? He thought to himself.

“Seems like someone doesn’t know how to type with one hand yet,” he teased, unable to stop himself.

Another message popped into the chat. Seeker again.

‘No no. It’s a fact. You’re so pretty.’

Right… Not strange at all… He thought.

Regulus was about to ignore the message and carry on when another message popped into the chat, quicker than the last.

‘You’re beautiful. Like the night sky. Gorgus. Very very pretty.’

Many more chats followed, the guy trying to correct his spelling mistake hastily, and Regulus really couldn’t hold in the laugh that time. It was just so… pathetic. What sort of guy could spell ‘beautiful’ correctly but not gorgeous? Though Regulus really didn’t tend to judge.

He also couldn’t help but be compelled by this stranger. No one had ever described him as the night sky before — not in the real world and certainly not online. No, people were too busy, either taken aback by Regulus’s coldness or demanding some sexual act from him, lusting over his body like he was some sort of god.

But not Seeker. It could have been that he was really into praising his partners or something kinky like that, but… Regulus didn’t know. He was intrigued, to say the least.

“How about you make me see stars, then, Seeker?” Regulus purred, leaning close to his laptop. The screen only showed Regulus’s chest and the peak of his nipples.

It wasn’t even two seconds later before another message came through: ‘Dinner and a movie first?’

Regulus was taken aback, even more glad that the camera didn’t show his face, because if it did, this Seeker guy would see the wide-eyed stare of shock he was giving the chat. For the first time since joining the website two years ago, someone wasn’t treating Regulus like some object.

And yeah, that was horrible; he understood that. Sad, really. To find someone that didn’t objectify him and use his body as sexual gratification and pleasure was a rare thing to find on the internet, so Regulus believed he was completely within his right to be shocked and a little sceptical. It was the internet, for fucks sake.

He didn’t try to let it get to him, though. Seeker could have been a stalker, like his username hinted at, or possibly a serial killer. Either way, whatever Seeker was, Regulus didn’t care. A few nice words weren't going to throw him off his game.

However, he couldn’t help but retort, “Come and seek me out then, Seeker.”

If Regulus was found dead in his room two days later, it was entirely his own fault.

‎

Chapter Text

Come and seek me out then, Seeker.

Those words shouldn’t have thrilled James as much as they did.

Étoile could have just been teasing him. That made the most sense. He was a popular cam boy — he dealt with hundreds of desperate loners every other night and had been for the past two years. He was an expert in teasing people online. But James was heartbroken and didn’t have anything to do with his Saturday now that Lily was less of a figure in his life.

But James wouldn’t call it stalking. I mean, could it really be called stalking if it was all on the internet?

Remus worked on Saturday mornings at a local bar and wouldn’t be back until later that night; Sirius either spent the time going to said pub to annoy Remus or procrastinating on some project that was due soon; Peter did… whatever Peter did on his weekends, so James had the entire apartment to himself to again not-stalk.

Lounging across the breakfast bar with a large cup of hot chocolate (with marshmallows, of course) and his laptop open, James set to work scowering through every social media platform he could think of for Étoile: Instagram, Facebook, Twitter (or X), Tumblr, even fucking Pinterest.

Nothing.

From the looks of it, Étoile didn’t exist except on the random porn site James had stumbled upon. He’d even put the name into Google but only found images of stars — apparently Étoile was French, which James didn’t know — and a random Animal Crossing character. Étoile was a ghost in every sense of the word, but maybe that was the point. No one in their right mind would use their real name on a website like that and have their parents stumble upon their popular cam boy career.

Unless, of course, Étoile didn’t have parents, but that was a depressing thought James didn’t want to think about.

It was only an hour later, and James was fishing semi-melted marshmallows from the brown sludge at the bottom of his second mug when the front door slammed open. The clomp of leather boots bolted towards him, and Sirius showed up a half-second later. From the looks of it, he was pissed.

Sirius began rummaging through the kitchen cupboards in a frenzy behind James, not giving him so much as a chance to speak before he pulled one down and snatched a bottle next to it. The amber liquid hadn’t even settled in the glass before Sirius threw it back and hissed at the sting.

“Fucking hell, Sirius. What’s got you in a mood?” James exclaimed, setting his mug down on the breakfast bar and swivelling around to face him.

Sirius’s brow was set in a firm line — almost a complete monobrow. The scowl he wore was vicious, and he reached for the whisky again. James leapt up and set his hand on Sirius’, gently guiding it away before he drank himself into a coma. “Come on, Padfoot. What’s wrong?” James tried again in a softer voice.

After a moment of deliberating, Sirius exploded, “It’s Moony! That bitch just can’t take a hint to save his fucking life.”

James’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He wanted to point out that the both of them were as oblivious as rocks — had been for years — but decided that would make the situation worse.

“Right…” James muttered, hoping that would be enough to prompt Sirius to continue.

Instead, Sirius whirled around on him. “Why aren’t you surprised? I literally just told you I want Moony, and you’re acting like this isn’t even news to you!”

An upset Sirius was hard to deal with. James had enough experience with his mood swings and chaotic nature from all those years at school to know how to handle them, but this seemed worse. It was like Sirius was hanging on by a thread, ready to topple into oblivion — a tornado about to demolish an entire city. He was out of his comfort zone for this.

James made a very unconvincing noise, trying to decide whether or not to tell some iteration of the truth, but Sirius took that as his answer.

“Are you kidding me?!” He exclaimed and threw his arms up in the air.

“Look, I didn’t want to say anything. You and Moony are my best mates, and I knew you guys would figure it out eventually.” James just hadn’t anticipated that it would take roughly six years. “What changed now?” He asked.

Sirius sighed, scrubbing his hands roughly down his face. “I got tired of waiting. I never did anything because I was scared I’d ruin our friendship, but then I spoke with my brother the other day, and he said to just go for it. So I did,” he explained. “I asked Moony if he wanted some company tonight. He reminded me it was movie night, so there was no point according to him. He’s just— an oblivious twat!”

The silence afterwards was pregnant. James waited for Sirius to continue, thinking there was more to the story, but when he stayed silent, James blurted out, “That’s it?”

“Yeah?” He replied, puzzled.

Why do I have such an idiotic best friend? James wondered to himself.

Dropping his head and rubbing his temples as if a migraine was about to form, James sighed. “Sirius. My lovely friend. My buddy. My pal,” he began, pressing his hands together in prayer and inhaling a sharp breath through his nose. “That is not how you ask someone out on a date.”

“I know that,” Sirius argued, leaning back against the counter and looking away as his face heated up in an obvious sign. “But Moony’s smart. Surely he should have guessed by ‘company,’ I meant that I wanted to take him to my bedroom and—”

“Ah! No! I don’t want to hear it,” James interrupted. He did not want that image in his head.

Also, when did James become the pinnacle of advice? Lily had dumped him not even a week ago, or had Sirius forgotten that about him?

With another, heavier sigh, he took Sirius’s hands in his. He was going to need it. “Sirius, Moony may be smart, but he can’t solve all of your cryptic messages. You can’t expect that of him. Just be upfront about it. Ask him out on a date. Don’t just go straight to shagging because, knowing Moony, he’ll take it as a casual, friends-with-benefits situation.”

“But I don’t want it to be a casual, friends-with-benefits situation,” Sirius countered. His bottom lip jutted out in a full-on pout.

“And Moony isn’t going to think that unless you communicate.”

“Communicate,” he parroted at the same time and rolled his stormy grey eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’re actually starting to sound like him. Have you been going to therapy or something?”

No, James hadn’t. He didn’t need to. He was healthy and happy despite the breakup. He’d found a particular cam boy to obsess over, to think about constantly, even if it meant he needed hundreds of cold showers and guilt, which, when he thought about it like that, didn’t sound that healthy.

James wasn’t a therapist, though, so it didn’t matter.

“Ask Moony out on a date,” James ordered firmly yet gently, squeezing Sirius’s rough hands before letting go. “This will be better for both of you.”

For a moment, Sirius seemed conflicted. The struggle of not wanting to ruin their friendship was something James knew intimately. It was the same thought he’d had to wrestle with before he asked Lily countlessly to go on a date with him. It was hard, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes, it was better to take that risk.

Did James regret asking Lily out on a date all those years ago? No. Even though they hadn’t worked out in the end and James didn’t get the happily ever after he’d always dreamed of with her, James didn’t regret a single second. And if it wasn’t for him, Lily may have never realised she was a lesbian — that thought helped James the most when his heart was feeling particularly heavy at night.

“What if it ruins everything?” Sirius asked.

“Some things are worth it,” James countered.

Sirius chewed on his bottom lip for a long time until it was pink and raw. “Where would we even go?” Sirius asked. His voice was suddenly soft and worried, so James took that as a good sign that he was taking the risk as well.

James stepped back, settling down at the kitchen island again. “What about the museum downtown? They’ve got a new fossil exhibit opening up soon, and you know how much Moony loves all that bollocks.”

Sirius chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so,” he mused and wandered back to James’s side, peering over his shoulder at the laptop screen. “Ooh, what are you doing?”

Shit.

The laptop screen was cut in half, with one side showing all the different tabs James had opened up trying to search for Étoile, and on the other was a very naked Étoile for all eyes to see. Luckily, he was wearing a blue lacy thong, but it was still incriminating. He’d completely forgotten to close it when Sirius entered.

James slammed the laptop shut. Sirius turned to him, and the mischievous grin on Sirius’s face showed that he’d seen the image.

Who wouldn’t? Étoile was beautiful. All pale skin and freckled ribs like the night sky; long arms that would lay across his bed in tantalising poses or shake when he really lost himself in pleasure; soft, hairless legs that would be so easily bruised if James ever got a taste of him.

Down boy! James could not get hard when his best friend was standing right next to him.

“James Fleamont Potter,” Sirius began, voice stern but grin wide and cunning. “Would you care to explain why there was a naked man on your laptop screen while you’re sitting in our kitchen?” He settled a hand over his heart. “Are you cheating on me?”

A bark of laughter choked him. “Technically, you’re the one cheating on me since you’re going on a date with Moony,” he pointed out. James grabbed his empty mug so he had something to do besides stand under his best friend’s scrutinising gaze and left it to rot in the sink. “And I wasn’t doing anything. Just… looking.”

And a little bit of stalking, but did it really count? Étoile was an enigma.

Sirius cackled. He threw his head back and unleashed the true evil witch inside of him. “I can’t believe this! You’re looking at cam boys, and it hasn’t even been a week since Lily broke up with you!”

Which, ouch. That made it seem like James was doing something wrong, but he wasn’t. He didn’t think so. Was there a certain step-by-step plan that everyone followed after being dumped? Did he have to wait a certain amount of time before starting the cycle again? It’s not like he wanted to date Étoile. Just… Look. Fantasise a little bit.

Also, why wasn’t Sirius questioning it more? James was looking at a man. Obsessing over a man. James wasn’t homophobic — he lived with two gay guys, for fucks’ sake, and Peter was asexual — but he’d never really thought of himself as… that. Liking men. That wasn’t part of his future.

Except, Étoile had sort of swooped into James’s life when he was at his lowest and gave him the best thing he could ever ask for to counter the heartbreak: a distraction. An outlet for his emotions. Even if that meant jerking off in shame when he couldn’t fight his urges anymore.

“You act like I’ve committed a crime, Pads. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything,” James argued. “And it’s really not any of your business who or what I do in my spare time.”

“It does when I eat my breakfast where you’ve been furiously jerking it to some guy online,” Sirius deadpanned.

“I didn’t—” James spun around to see Sirius’s wolfish smirk and sighed. He was pulling his leg. As always. James was still ashamed of himself, though. “Just don’t tell the others, okay? I need this to be a secret between us.”

Sirius must have detected the mortification in James’s tone since he stalked towards him and rested his hands on James’s shoulders. “You know no one cares about that, right?” He asked.

James stared at the furrow between Sirius’s eyebrows and the sharp cut of his lips as they curled into a frown. He could remember holding Sirius when he first came out to him, sobbing profusely into his shirt while ranting about how his parents would kill him if they ever found out. The Black family couldn’t have a gay son, not when he was the heir of the family business.

He had held Sirius all night, ignoring the tears and snot on his shirt, and whispered that James would always love him. That he was family to him — the brother he’d never had. That he could live with his family that summer if Sirius needed to.

He never went home after that. That had been for the best as well since Sirius’s parents found out and kicked him out of the family, yelling a bunch of slurs at Sirius down the phone.

James had always hated Sirius’s parents, but if he could have, he would have killed them for making Sirius feel disgusted for who he was.

But James… James wasn’t like that.

“I know,” James agreed, forcing a smile on his face. “But I’m not.”

Sirius arched a fine eyebrow at him. “Are you serious, Prongs?”

“No, you’re Sirius. I’m James,” he countered, a smile bursting into a grin.

He sighed again, rolled his eyes, and looked solely disappointed at James’s amazing joke. “You know what I mean. It’s not very straight to be staring at some naked guy on your screen,” Sirius pointed out.

James wanted to argue, but technically, that was true. It wasn’t straight of James to do that. Or to do some questionable acts to himself while imagining Étoile’s hand around his dick, pumping slowly with long, articulate fingers, thumb brushing over the head to collect the small drop of precome at the top before his mouth plunged—

Nope! Not a thought he should be having.

“Can’t a man appreciate another man without having to question his sexual orientation over it?” James joked, brushing off Sirius’s hands and collecting his laptop from the breakfast bar. He needed a cold shower now.

“Prongs,” Sirius whined, even stomping his boot on the floor. “Come on. You helped me with my Moony situation. Let me help you navigate the strange world of sexuality,” he said, jazz hands and all.

And that would have been a sweet offer if there had been anything to explore. Which there wasn’t. James was straight. That’s what he’d always been. He liked women, would marry a woman, have kids with a woman, and grow old with a woman. That was his life planned out for him.

Étoile was a man. Trans or not, he was a man, and James wasn’t gay like that.

“Get ready for your date with Moony,” James rebuffed while he walked down the hall to his bedroom. He turned his head just in time to see Sirius’s eyes widen in panic, hands patting himself down before huffing and puffing about outfit choices and flowers and shaving.

James closed the door and sighed, leaning against it heavily.

Everything was fine.

The shower felt blistering hot against his skin after being out in the cold for so long. Practice had been… Well, practice. There was nothing more brutal than hockey, and if anyone ever deemed it otherwise, they were clearly a moron.

Rivulets of water darted down dark skin and hair, bruises blossoming where James had taken one too many tumbles on the ice. Luckily, he hadn’t hit his head. The last time he’d done so, James was a miserable git for a week. He couldn’t scroll through his phone or watch pointless reality TV like the Kardashians. Remus had nearly killed him for breaking the spines on his books, but even then, James was too bored to read.

He shivered. He did not want to repeat that ever again.

Turning the shower off, James wrapped a towel around himself and walked through the crowd of his sweaty, naked teammates. Arms wrapped around necks, bodies pressed too tightly together, asses in full view for the world to see, loud conversation ringing in his ears. James had always heard the horror stories of locker rooms online, and while he had to agree the stench was horrific, James hadn’t seen the ugly yet.

But he knew it was lurking around the corner. Everyone knew. One wrong look or comment, and that was his hockey career over. One rumour, and James’s scholarship would be tarnished.

Hockey had been James’s escape during school. While it wasn’t a sport a typical British posh school to have, James had obsessed over it, to the point where his parents bought him all the gear and equipment and got him into the local team so he would shut up about it. It was his first love.

James dropped his towel and hurriedly pulled his boxers on at the bench he’d situated his bag at. His forearms ached, sides stiff from the amounts of checks he’d received, and James knew he would have to grab another cold shower that night. He was surprised he hadn’t caught hypothermia or something with the amount of cold water he’d been under in the past week alone.

“Nice work today, Potter,” one of his teammates praised, slapping James on the back as he passed by.

A shudder coursed through him.

“Thanks, man. You too,” James replied with a forced cheer.

Not that he was repulsed by other people’s touch. Quite the opposite, actually. James loved physical touch, especially when it came with the people closest to him. James would occasionally cuddle with his best mates in a platonic bro-manner. But… Actually, James didn’t understand why his teammate’s touch had unnerved him so much.

Probably because he was surrounded by naked men. Yeah, that had to be it.

James ignored his thoughts and pulled on the rest of his clothes. The quicker he was out of the locker room, the faster he could save his nose.

“Hey, did you hear?” The goalie whispered loudly, trying to keep his voice down, but even through the chaos of post-practice, James could hear the guy’s words loud and clear from a few feet away. “There’s a gay guy on the other team.”

“What?” His friend exclaimed, horror colouring his words. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I ain’t. I heard he's got a boyfriend and everything.”

“Don’t these fags know that hockey isn’t their sport? Do his teammates know?”

“Yeah,” the goalie replied.

His friend gagged. Audibly gagged. Nobody turned around, too busy with their own conversations or cleaning away the sweat and grime off their bodies to glance his way. “If I found out there was a gay guy on our team, I’d go ballistic. I bet he checked out what everyone was packing. Fucking gross.”

Not even two seconds later, two of James’s teammates slapped each other’s asses.

James couldn’t breathe. His ribcage was caving in on him, ribs plunging inwards into vital organs, piercing through and snapping at the bone, blood climbing up his throat to strangle him. James couldn’t breathe. His hands shook. His head was spinning, the world blurring around him, breaths puffing out of him.

Barely tugging his shoes on, James grabbed his duffel bag and sped out of the locker room. He was sure no one would notice, especially since they’d also heard what those guys had been saying — who couldn’t? — and did nothing about it. He didn’t want to think of his teammates like that, but that’s all James could think now: his career was in the hands of homophobes.

And why was James panicking? There was no need to. They were just arseholes, not knowing what they were saying. Except they were aware. The guy had even said a slur. The only times James had heard that word was from Sirius, and he had used it in an empowering way when they were all drunk and decided to go bowling. But hearing it from someone else’s mouth, used in a derogatory way, made James want to throw up, his stomach twisting into a rollercoaster of knots and ties. Or punch the fucker in the face. Possibly both.

James paused outside of a bus stop. He was panting, acting as if he’d run all the way there, and maybe he had. James didn’t exactly remember leaving the ice rink or walking past his coach, which he must have done, but James had been in such a daze that he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t realised the darkening sky or how goosebumps littered his arms despite how sweaty he was.

The bench was wet when he sat down, seeping into his sweatpants. The strap of his duffel bag slid down his shoulder, and James stared at his shoelaces, undone, and the tongue of his trainers sticking out.

“You alright?”

James jumped. There was another guy there at the bus stop James had also missed seeing, wearing a sleek black turtleneck underneath a coat that trailed down to his calves — the one detectives wore in those old movies. Or Doctor Who. Puffy black hair curtained his face in waves and loose curls, and James would have looked more if he wasn’t consciously aware of what a gaping fish he was.

“Yeah. Just fine,” James answered, breathless and dazed, and dropped his head again. A hand ran down his sweaty face and smoothed over the hair above his top lip.

The guy fell silent. James tried hard to focus on his breathing, far too aware of how loud he was being and the fact that he hadn’t had enough time to smooth his clothes out correctly. The cold whipped across the small of his back like a whip where his shirt was riding up, and not wanting to look more of a mess, James tugged a hoodie out of his bag and pulled it on.

Minutes passed by in silence. No bus came. They were in the quieter sections of London, which was hard to believe existed with the general chaos that encapsulated all of London life, but even on dead days, a bus should have come by.

James felt awful. He felt like it was his fault somehow. Maybe if he had woken up earlier that day, he would have had more energy for practice and then more energy to beat up those homophobes in the locker room — teammates or not, they didn’t get to speak like that to people who didn’t deserve it. Or maybe if he hadn't bolted out of the locker room like a coward and confronted them, the bus would have arrived on time.

God, James was so stupid. The universe didn’t revolve around him. He should have just stopped thinking so damn much and—

A cigarette appeared in his peripheral image.

“Want a smoke?” The guy asked, somewhat strained. James’s hood was up, so he hadn’t seen the guy approach him, and James flinched. But as he stared up at the guy, he realised he was quite… pretty.

Ivory skin. High cheekbones. Rosy lips, the same tint that stained his cheeks. Stormy eyes. The guy looked fucking ethereal — a fallen angel or something. The fingers holding the cigarette out to him were long and bony, nails painted black.

James shook his head. “No, thanks, mate. I don’t smoke,” he answered. The only time he had, Sirius had made fun of him for an entire month afterwards, coughing whenever James was near. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t want his lungs to rot!

“Me neither,” the stranger muttered and leaned against the shelter again, perching the cigarette between his lips, which were pulled into a smirk like he was thinking of some inside joke of his.

James snorted and looked away.

The guy took a long drag of his cigarette, and James counted the seconds in his head. Anything to keep his mind away from his panic earlier. The smell of smoke drifted his way, but James didn’t recoil like he used to. Remus and Sirius were heavy smokers, so after living with them for years, James got used to the smell. It even helped him focus.

His phone pinged in his pocket. James pulled it out, surprised he’d had enough consciousness earlier to grab his phone. Then again, it was basically like a fifth limb to him and everyone else in the world. He typed in his passcode and squinted at the message on his screen.

Padfoot: Oi when u home?

James’s thumbs tapped away a reply as a bus pulled up — not his. Turtleneck guy stomped his cigarette out and climbed on board, but not before James glanced up and met his eye. His lips pulled into that line people flashed strangers awkwardly. The guy turned away.

Prongs: 20 mins

Bubbles appeared on the screen and then disappeared. On and off again. It happened a few more times before Sirius finally texted back.

Padfoot: Going on date with Moony 2nite!!!

The text was followed by a lot of eggplant, moon, and water droplet emojis. James groaned. He really didn’t want to know what sort of plans Sirius had with Remus that night. He just had to hope they’d be quiet and not fuck on the sofa. Oh, and have a good date as well. That too.

Prongs: Good luck!! Wear protection

The ticks beside James’s message turned blue, so Sirius had read the message, but he didn’t respond with anything. He was probably busy, so James decided to spend his time waiting for the bus to do a bit more internet searching.

The horrible dive into Reddit left James scarred for life when the bus finally pulled up. He got on, skilfully remembering his duffel bag before he left it at the bus stop, and squeezed into a window seat. The stench of the public bus invaded his nose, and James shrank into himself, hoping he could shield the assault on his sinuses. Honestly, what was with England and its horrible smells?

He tried not to lurch as much as the bus drove on. With the duffel bag between his feet and his phone in his hand, James clicked onto Étoile’s profile. The profile photo glared at him — a picture of some constellation James didn’t know the name of, unsurprisingly. It judged him, told him what he was doing was wrong; all James knew was his obsession, the need for a hit of Étoile.

James read the bio for the umpteenth time.

‘Transman. He/him. Pay for your wildest fantasies to come true.’

What was his wildest fantasy?

James was a relatively vanilla guy; he knew that. But this was a temptation. The Forbidden Fruit in James’s Garden of Eden — not that he was religious, of course, but it still stuck with him. Or maybe Étoile was the serpent, hissing in James’s ear to take a bite.

And, well, James had too much money than he knew what to do with. Lily hated being spoiled and abhorred every gift he gave her if it wasn’t for some special occasion that James started making up a few. He wanted her to have everything she ever desired, even if that meant it wasn’t him. And now that Lily wasn’t part of his life as significantly as before, the money was just collecting dust in his bank account. James would be smart with it, of course, but…

Surely a little nibble wouldn’t hurt.

But the thing was, what did James want? The entire world was at his disposal. He could ask for the sickest thing, and Étoile would have to obey it within reason. James would watch as Étoile played out his wildest fantasy, whatever that was. He could make him wear one of those vibrating egg toys and watch him squirm through a screen; edge him with his voice until Étoile demanded to come; or even let Étoile have the reins for once. To dominate James. It would be so much better in person, but this would have to do.

But Étoile did that for possibly thousands of men online nearly every night. James wouldn’t be surprised if it was his only source of income. It would take a lot of time to be a cam boy, James assumed, but it did pay well from the looks of his donations during streams alone, and even though it was silly, James wanted to stand out. For Étoile to see him differently than those other men.

He wanted to be special to Étoile.

When the bus finally stopped, James got off and sent Étoile a DM along with two hundred and fifty pounds straight to his bank account.

‘How’s this for seeking u out?’

‎

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?” Barty yelled in his ear, causing Regulus to drop his phone on the sticky floor.

“None of your business, dickhead!” He shot back, bending down to retrieve it. Barty took the opportunity to slap his ass, which Regulus paid in kind by punching him in the chest. The ‘oof’ sound Barty made pleased Regulus severely.

“I’m just having a little fun. Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Barty whined, draping himself over his boyfriend. Evan huffed and wrapped his arms around Barty, whispering something in his ear that immediately caught Barty’s attention with the mischievous smirk he suddenly sported.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “There’s this thing called personal space, Bart, and minding your own damn business.” When Barty clearly wasn’t listening anymore, Regulus directed his attention to Evan. “Can you tell your pet to stop it?”

The multicoloured lights washed over Evan’s blonde box braids while Barty smoothed fingers through them, making them shine in a kaleidoscope of colours. Barty sucked a dark bruise on his neck. Evan, completely used to Barty’s horny antics, replied in a surprisingly steady voice, “I’ll keep him distracted for you.”

“Thanks,” Regulus hissed and watched as the two of them started making out right in the middle of the club. Like a couple of horny teenagers. He gagged. At least Barty wasn’t annoying Regulus, though. That was one good thing. “Do you think those two are never not fucking?”

Pandora hummed beside Regulus. “No, they’re on each other all the time. They’re animals,” she answered, far too creepily for Regulus’s liking. “They better calm down for a bit, though. Evan is running out of condoms again.”

“Gross,” Regulus mumbled into the lip of his cup.

Somehow, Barty had dragged them all out for a night of drinks and clubbing, despite the fact that Pandora hated drinking and Regulus didn’t do socialising. It made him break out in hives at the mere thought. The two animals, though, nearly went out every Saturday night. Regulus was surprised they could even get drunk anymore. Their livers must have been completely eroded.

Swinging back the rest of his drink — some sort of vodka and Coca-Cola blend that was definitely watered down — Regulus wiped away the sticky residue on his screen and peered down at his bank account balance again.

Yep. It hadn’t changed.

In bold old text that glared at Regulus with vengeance, it declared that someone had gifted him two hundred and fifty fucking pounds.

And that someone was the one — and only — Seeker.

Most of the money Regulus got from requests was always in the ten or twenties range. Early on in his career, he had even accepted some for only a fiver. But two hundred and fifty was extortionate. He’d never been given that much money just from his camboy service in the two years he’d been working it. Ever.

And, despite his better judgement, he was terrified. Regulus knew he could deny whatever insane scenario the guy had planned with that amount of money. He never accepted requests that went against his own boundaries, but two hundred and fifty pounds. It blew his damn mind. It could mean literally anything.

What does Seeker want from me? He couldn’t help but ask himself.

A guy walked up to Regulus, the crowd practically parting around him as girls and guys alike gawked at him. For a sickening moment, Regulus thought, Is that Seeker? But then again, Seeker could have been a sixty-year-old man living in his mother’s basement. Seeker could have been anybody, and Regulus truly realised how daunting that was. That the strangers online that drooled over him could be standing amongst Regulus without him even realising it.

The guy leaned against the wall next to Regulus, one arm holding up his weight too close to Regulus’s head. He flashed Regulus a bright smile that seemed to reflect the flashing lights of the club like a mirror. “Hey, beautiful,” the guy purred.

Regulus grimaced. “Nope,” he interrupted whatever hook-up line the guy was about to spew out curtly and grabbed Pandora’s hand, dragging her away from the guy.

On a good day, Regulus would have hooked up with any guy that paid him enough attention and fooled around with them for a few hours before inevitably being kicked out, but the guy seemed too perfect: clear skin, straight teeth, good fashion sense. All things considered, he seemed like just a typical white guy that went to the gym. It gave Regulus the chills. He resembled Patrick Bateman too much, and Regulus wasn’t looking to be cast in the gay version of ‘American Psycho.’

“Hey! I was just trying to flirt,” the guy called behind Regulus’s back, and he was so glad that his radar for weirdos was better than most people’s. “Cocksucker!”

“You’re just mad I didn’t want to suck yours,” Regulus retorted because he just couldn’t help himself. He even threw a wink over his shoulder and watched as the guy huffed before moving onto his next victim.

That was the worst thing about guys nowadays. They didn’t actually care about anyone unless they had their lips wrapped around their dick.

Regulus had always resigned himself to a loveless life — there weren’t a lot of guys willing to date trans men. There were two options in the world: the guys who fetishised trans men, seeing them merely as femboys or just masculine girls; and the heartthrobs online who were the makings of fantasy, promising to love and adore their partner no matter what.

The latter Regulus had little experience with. The former, way too much.

Pandora guided Regulus out of the way before he crashed into someone, avoiding ruining his favourite turtleneck, and they tucked themselves into a corner, watching as the crowd jumped to some shitty song that was more noise than anything else. Tremors shook the marrow in Regulus’s bones and jostled his heart, rattling his brain in his skull.

“You should go home,” Pandora told him. The smell of raspberries wafted into his nose as she leaned in close. “It’s late; you have work to do, and I can see you’re getting uncomfortable already.”

Regulus smiled down at her. He wasn’t sure how Pandora just knew things, but he appreciated her uncanny wisdom nonetheless. “What about you?” He asked, raising his voice to be heard despite them being mere inches from one another.

“I’ll leave the animals to fuck in the corner and head to the library in a bit,” she answered, lifting one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. The tiny strap of her silky vest slipped down, revealing more dark skin with clusters of paler spots. It added to her supernaturally beautiful image. “You need the apartment to yourself.”

He flushed. Pandora was right. He needed to follow through with Seeker’s request — whatever that may be — at the earliest opportunity. It would save Regulus the trouble of worrying about it and potentially getting caught with Barty and Evans in the apartment as well. It just unnerved him how she knew that.

“Thanks, Panda. Be sure to tell Barty and Evan before you leave, and if anything happens, call me. I’ll see you later,” he said and pressed a quick, platonic kiss to her cheek, probably getting glitter on it.

Pandora simply shooed him away, and after nudging his way to the doors, Regulus sucked in a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in hours. Well, as fresh as the air could get in London. It smelt of smoke and piss and street food outside, but that had always been London. Dropping his empty cup in the trash, Regulus walked down the busy streets.

Beauxbaton Academy had been built in the country, with ancient, looming towers and no heating for the dorms, so Regulus and Pandora always had to huddle together in blankets to stay warm. The air had smelt fresher out there, even when Regulus smoked nearly a pack a day to keep the stress at bay. The nuns had found him once — the sting of the belt had felt raw and bloody for weeks afterwards.

Sometimes, Regulus would wake up and think he was still there, hiding under a mountain of blankets and covers, keeping the chill from claiming his toes; having to be called a girl and she all day because that’s what God had made him, right? That’s what Regulus should have been, but he wasn’t. The thought of ever having to be that thing again made him feel nauseous. The girl his parents had raised him to be wasn’t Regulus, and it never would be, no matter how much guilt he felt for being a sinful creature.

Because Regulus was a multitude of things. He was created from contradictions. An abomination to God. A strange halfling, neither a real man nor a real woman. A self-made man; he had read that in a novel once. Regulus had taken his mortal flesh and sculpted it to the best of his abilities with the money he’d stolen from his parents, but it wasn’t enough. There would always be a part of Regulus that he harboured with disgust — the original creation. God’s clay masterpiece turned rouge.

A shiver ran down his spine as he neared the halls of residence on campus. There weren’t a lot of students out, especially at such a late hour, but the few that were were either drunk or returning from the library. Regulus paid them no mind and entered the little shared home, shrugging his jacket and shoes off at the door. He locked up behind him and shuffled to his bedroom.

The absence of noise was broken by a car driving past every so often while Regulus undressed. Barty had texted him a quick message, simply saying, Boo, you whore. He had ignored it since Barty would be thoroughly distracted by Evan once again.

Regulus pulled off his turtleneck jumper and struggled out of his trousers, throwing both into the hamper by the wall before dressing in an oversized shirt.

He didn’t know why, but the perverts that consisted of his audience adored Regulus in baggy clothes. It was probably because it made him look more petite than he already was, and Regulus thought that maybe Seeker would appreciate it as well. He’d probably have to take it off soon anyway, considering his line of work.

The DM stared at Regulus on his laptop. How’s this for seeking you out?

Regulus knew he shouldn’t have taunted him. He knew it had been stupid, but sometimes Regulus didn’t think before he spoke. It was a skill he’d mastered over the years, but in certain situations, the filter between his mouth and his brain vanished. Now, Regulus was stuck with a pit of anxiety in his throat and two hundred and fifty pounds in his account.

He took a deep breath. His fingers twitched on the keyboard.

‘Are you free right now?’ Regulus messaged Seeker.

The thought of having to go to bed and ponder Seeker’s request any longer made him squirm with unease. He knew it would haunt him, his mind conjuring all sorts of nasty images of what Seeker wanted to do to him. It would be a nightmare for Regulus to sleep through it.

The reply came only a minute later: ‘YES’

He snorted an amused noise. “Eager, are we?” Regulus whispered and dragged his cursor to the stream button.

Regulus never really did private streams with donors. Then again, no one had ever given him such a lavish amount of money before, so Seeker was definitely an exception. It only took a few minutes to set up, and Regulus waited a little longer to get this Seeker guy sweating before he started it.

For a moment, there was only silence. He waited for the sound of raspy, heavy breathing through a microphone or the sound of something wet and putrid, but there was nothing. The camera was angled down towards Regulus’s chest (he never showed his face), but he had secured a mask on just in case.

Here goes nothing.

“Hello, Seeker,” he whispered and hoped the microphone didn’t pick up the anxious waver in his voice as his stomach dipped. “It seems you took me up on my offer. Feeling lucky tonight, are we?”

Again, Regulus waited for Seeker to speak, but instead the chat opened up.

‘Lucky to have ur attention, yeah.’

Regulus exhaled through his nose. It seemed Seeker was too embarrassed to speak, but Regulus could deal with it. He was good at adapting on the spot.

“I see,” he purred. Crawling back onto the bed, Regulus kneeled in sight of the camera and balled his hands into his shirt. It lifted just enough to reveal the top of his boxers. To entice Seeker since that’s what he wanted, right? An hour of Regulus’s — or Étoile’s — time to play out his fantasies. That was what Regulus was there to do. “What is it that you want to do then, Seeker?”

The moment stretched as if Seeker was debating his choices, trying to think of the dirtiest request he could.

A ping and another message popped into the chat.

‘Tell me about yourself.’

… What?

It took an embarrassingly long time for the message to articulate in Regulus’s mind — he just couldn’t believe it. Seeker’s dirtiest fantasy was… Getting to know Regulus? Or, well, Étoile. It seemed so silly to him, but then again, maybe Seeker needed an emotional connection before he could start getting into the sexy parts. To establish trust. Regulus could understand that.

Slowly, he sat down on the edge of his bed and crossed one leg over the other, arms braced behind him and his head cocked to the side, even though Seeker wouldn’t see it. “You paid two hundred and fifty pounds just… to chat?” Regulus asked. Just for clarification. “You know that’s crazy, right? I could make your wildest dreams come true, and the only thing you want to do is get to know me.”

‘That is my dream,’ Seeker confirmed a second later.

Regulus laughed despite himself, dropping his head. He couldn’t help it. It was just… a little strange to him. “You’re an idiot,” he stated, glad his mask hid the smile on his face.

‘I know.’

Maybe it was a bad idea to insult his clients, but Seeker took it with pride, and Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was one of those golden retriever types that Twitter went crazy about.

“Just making sure since I’ve never gotten a request like this before,” he admitted, and God, why did Regulus sound almost shy about it? Étoile didn’t get shy. Regulus didn’t either. Just because someone wanted to get to know him didn’t mean Seeker wasn’t a perverted old guy that didn’t wipe his ass.

“What do you want to know, then?” Regulus made sure to curl his words in that lustrous voice again — he had a reputation to maintain, dammit.

And Regulus wasn’t stupid. Maybe this was some way for Seeker to steal all of Regulus’s private information and dox him or steal his identity or something. Although he didn’t think anyone would want to steal the identity of a trans man. Still, he’d keep his wits about him.

‘How old are you?’ An innocent question at best, and Regulus noted the surprisingly lack of typos.

No longer typing one-handed now, are you? He thought cruelly.

“If you’re asking if I’m underage, then no. I’m twenty-one if it matters to you so much,” Regulus answered and uncrossed his legs, only to cross them again but the other way: left leg over the right.

Regulus knew the kind of freaks online who only saw trans men as sweet babies. If Seeker was going to infantilize him, Regulus would be quick to boot him out and block his ass.

‘It does matter,’ Seeker replied. Then, a second later, ‘If you were underage, I’d have to end this session, moonshine.’

Ah, so he wasn’t that much of a creep. Regulus was glad, but he didn’t relax just yet.

‘What do u like to do?’

Regulus tapped on his chin as if in thought, humming to himself. “Besides making creeps like you cum on the internet, nothing much. I spend most of my time working or reading. I don’t have a lot of free time outside of that.”

‘I’m not a creep!’ Seeker protested instantly, and Regulus laughed.

Leaning into the camera, Regulus watched as the screen slowly filled only with the sight of his neck and shoulders. The shirt was so big that it showed off his collarbones — a speck of a mole here and there, like splatters of black ink. “Honey,” he drawled, “you’re currently on a private stream with the most popular cam boy on this website. You… are a creep.”

Maybe Seeker was into degradation; Regulus couldn’t help wondering. He certainly knew a few of his clients who were requesting videos of Regulus moaning about them being bad boys or pretending to punish them. That only happened rarely, though. Most of the time, Regulus portrayed himself as some defenceless bottom. Maybe Seeker was different.

His laptop pinged with another message in the chat. ‘I’m not like the others. I’m not asking u to do anything weird!’

Yet, Regulus thought darkly.

Then another message: ‘Cut me some slack.’

Regulus had to admit, Seeker was behaving a lot better than the other clients who had pursued Regulus. It was a little jarring and strange, but that didn’t mean Seeker wouldn’t turn around and ask for something else. With the amount of money Seeker had given him, Regulus was surprised the guy hadn’t asked for a meetup or something.

“Are you sure you don’t want something a bit more tasteful than a conversation?” Regulus asked, leaning back and pulling the collar of his shirt down again to reveal more tantalising skin for Seeker to drool over. “That was a lot of money. Or are you just a rich dilf looking for a new plaything?”

Honestly, that didn’t sound too bad, but Regulus wasn’t the type to be a gold digger.

‘I’d spend every penny on you.’ Regulus pretended that the message didn’t make his head spin a little bit and read the next one Seeker sent. ‘And I just want to get to know you. I didn’t know how much money to send.’

“So, you are a rich dilf?” Regulus teased and rested his hand in his lap, not bothering to fix his collar.

‘No, just a lonely guy looking for a distraction.’

A distraction from what? Regulus wanted to ask but held his tongue. That seemed too personal. Regulus really didn’t want some stranger to dump trauma on him; he hated it. So much.

“How about I distract you some other way?” Regulus suggested and ran a hand up his thigh. It inched closer to his core, hidden by his crossed-over legs.

It was a test. To see if Seeker cracked under the pressure. Regulus didn't wholeheartedly believe that some stranger on the internet who’d stumbled onto his camboy profile would genuinely want to know Regulus beforehand. That seemed like the stuff of a romance novel, not Regulus’s life.

The moment stretched out so much that Regulus started to believe that Seeker had caved in when his laptop pinged again.

‘What do you like to read?’

Once again, Seeker had surprised Regulus. He’s really adamant about this, huh?

Regulus decided to drop the figurative mask and sat up a little straighter on the bed. “Anything that catches my fancy. Mostly classics, but I do indulge in the occasional young adult novel from time to time. You know, for some representation.”

Even then, the amount of books with trans characters in them startled Regulus. When Regulus was younger, introduced to the strange world of transgenderism by Pandora, he had felt alone. Lost in a vast world. There was nothing out there about people like him, their experiences, or how they navigated the world of intimacy and romance, so Regulus just went with the flow. He allowed people to use and hurt him because they couldn’t accept he was trans, and if they did, they never saw Regulus for who he was.

Maybe that’s what Seeker was doing. But the thought was too ostentatious for Regulus to even consider for more than half a second, so he banished it to the back of his mind.

‘My mate loves classics,’ Seeker replied.

Mate.

Unless Seeker was secretly a part of some weird Omegaverse club, that meant the man was British. Regulus filed the information away for later.

“Then they have good taste,” he commented.

Regulus inched closer to the edge of the bed, closer to the laptop, and made sure his mask was in place. It was a simple white mask he’d grabbed at his local craft shop, unnerving to find randomly in his closet (Barty had given him shit for it), but the audience fucking loved it. Apparently, it added to the mystery.

“This wouldn’t be a proper conversation if I didn’t ask you questions, Seeker. So, may I?” Regulus asked. He made sure that his voice was sickeningly sweet.

‘Yes,’ Seeker answered immediately.

A grin spread across Regulus’s hidden face, and he cleared his throat. “What about me drew you in?”

Curiosity killed the cat, some would say, but Regulus needed to know. Was it because he was trans? Or was it some other characteristic about himself? He wanted to know what made him so special that thousands of people online went crazy for his body.

‘Your moles.’

Regulus blinked.

If Seeker was some pervert that was only interested in his genitalia and content, surely he wouldn’t be shy about it. But Seeker had thrown Regulus through a loop once again, and Regulus didn’t like it.

‘They look like stars, and they’re so pretty, and you’re just really pretty and handsome,’ Seeker added after a moment of silence that Regulus hadn’t even realised he’d lapsed into. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.’

“You really are different,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

His laptop pinged. ‘I try to be. I don’t want to be like those other guys. You’re not just a piece of meat to ogle over.’

Regulus’s torso fucking concaved. How dare Seeker just casually say — or type in this case — that so casually?! How dare he be a decent human when the entire population knew that the internet was just full of sickos waiting to rip a part of you with their teeth like starving wolves to a sacrificial lamb?

“Sorry to break it to you, sweetie, but that’s my job. People like you come onto this website to watch me in the throes of pleasure and desire.” Even if that pleasure was faked. “If they didn’t, I’d be broke right now.”

It was a horrible reality, but one at that. The amount of money Regulus earned just for selling himself online was disgustingly more than the minimum wage of a good, hard-working job. Regulus hated himself for it, but this wasn’t for the money. This was so much more than money to Regulus.

It was revenge.

‘You deserve more,’ Seeker responded, and fuck, Regulus fucking hated him for it. For saying things like that.

He wondered if it was all a ploy. Like those guys online who pretended to be worshipping, doting boyfriends but secretly talked shit about their girlfriends or partners behind their backs. It reminded Regulus of an anglerfish; the light was the perfect image they made for themselves online, and hidden behind in the shadows was the ugly truth of themselves.

Was that what Seeker was doing? Trapping Regulus in the cage of his teeth, distracting him with a pretty light?

“What I deserve doesn’t matter. I chose this career, just like you chose to send me two hundred and fifty fucking pounds,” Regulus argued. Did his voice break? Shit, he couldn’t show emotion to a stranger like this.

Taking a deep breath, Regulus tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. He just needed to get through the stream, and then he could run over the entire conversation in his head like some obsessed teenager — dissect it and examine it like a pathologist. “Do you have any more questions for me, Seeker?”

As if ignoring the coldness that had crept into Regulus’s voice, Seeker asked, ‘Do you like hockey?’

A huff of bewildered laughter escaped him unexpectedly. Regulus was glad for the change of subject. “I’ve never watched a game, but I’m guessing you’re either a fan or you play it.”

‘Play it,’ Seeker confirmed for him. ‘Scholarship and everything.’

Regulus’s eyebrows pinched together. He wasn’t going to pretend that he knew anything about sports or hockey — Beauxton Academy focused only on their religious teachings to their young, impressionable students — but a scholarship meant that Seeker was a student, right?

“How old are you?” Regulus blurted out.

The ping seemed to take forever to sound out. ‘22.’

Perfect age for university, Regulus thought. So far, Regulus had found out that Seeker was rich, around his age, possibly British, and a hockey player with a scholarship.

But it was all just a coincidence. God wouldn’t be so cruel to Regulus as to put Seeker in the same damn place as him, right? Not after the shitty cards he’d already been dealt with: abusive parents, his brother abandoning him, Catholic school, being trans and gay, and staggering mental health issues.

Surely not.

But of course, Seeker could also be lying. That was a notorious notion among people on the internet and in real life. People lied to make themselves look good. That was just life. Hell, Regulus had lied to his brother the other day. People weren’t saints, and neither was Seeker.

“Huh. I never knew I attracted anyone outside of the sixty-year age range.” Regulus chuckled and tilted his head to the side. At the top of the screen, his chin just about poked through, pale like white marble. “You might be my youngest client.”

‘Why do you do it?’

The question caught Regulus off guard. He froze, staring at the text on the screen, wondering if it was too late to turn the stream off and just send Seeker the money back. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

The message popped through a short time later. ‘What made you become a cam boy?’

Because I want my parents' reputation to burn. To become even more of a disappointment in their eyes. To show that I could choose to be a fuckup, Regulus answered in his head.

However, he very much couldn’t say that out loud, so instead, he settled for, “The money, of course, sweetheart. I’m young and attractive. Thousands of people need someone to make their fantasies come true, and that’s where I come in. For a price, as you know.”

Never for two hundred and fifty pounds, though.

Regulus didn’t care if Seeker thought of him as some cheap whore on the internet. Regulus didn’t even care if his roommates found out. Honestly, Barty would beg to join in. Seeker was nothing more than a stranger online hidden behind a screen, but as he waited for Seeker’s message, something twisted in his guy. Almost like apprehension.

However, the reply never came. Instead, Regulus’s phone vibrated on his desk. Carefully, he leaned over and opened it, expecting a text from Pandora or something, but instead, he found more money in his bank account. Two hundred and fifty more.

“Why are you sending me more money?” Regulus questioned as he turned to his laptop once again. “I’m not some poor orphan boy who you need to throw money at to make yourself feel better.”

‘I’m sorry,’ Seeker replied. ‘Do what you want with the money. I don’t need it. I just thought it would make you feel better.’

Regulus huffed in annoyance, tempted to send the money back. He wasn’t a gold digger. And once again, he was baffled that Seeker was literally throwing hundreds of pounds at him like it was nothing. As if he could afford to spend millions on him.

“You know, I’m not that easy,” Regulus said and leaned in close to the laptop. His eyes narrowed at the screen, which showed everything below Regulus’s nose. “You’ll have to try harder than that, Seeker.”

With his cursor over the end button, Regulus whispered, “Have a good night.”

The stream ended.

Regulus groaned and threw the mask off after making sure the camera wasn’t on anymore, finally able to breathe properly. He threw himself back on the bed and stared up at the eggshell-white ceiling above him.

What was Seeker’s issue? Did he really expect Regulus — or Étoile — to just drop to his knees for a bit of money? No, that wasn’t how Regulus worked. He knew that everyone had an ugly side, and Seeker’s would come out eventually.

But Regulus also didn’t understand why he was so annoyed. Was it because he was done being used? Finished with the whole game? It had been two years. Surely, he had enough of a presence online to start the timer now on the figurative bomb.

Time passed before Regulus’s phone vibrated in his hands.

Seeker: You haven’t sent back the money.

Regulus was tempted to do just that to spite Seeker, but he couldn’t find the mental energy to do it just yet. Or maybe he just couldn’t. If Seeker really was willing to just fling money at him, wouldn’t it be stupid to not stash it? It wasn’t a crime, after all. Regulus would hate himself for it, of course, but what else was new?

His phone vibrated again.

Seeker: I’m sorry if I offended you. I really did want to get to know you, and I know that’s different from what you’re used to. Sorry, I stink at words. I’m not trying to be weird or make you do anything you don’t like, so… Forgive me?

And… Fuck, Regulus really couldn’t be angry at him. Not when he could picture a small golden retriever boy on the other end, desperate for some sort of recognition amongst the crowd of creeps that consisted of Regulus’s audience. Who could blame Seeker for trying a different strategy to get Regulus’s attention?

Before Regulus realised it, he was typing out a response.

Étoile: How far are you willing to go to get my forgiveness?

A nasty smirk crossed Regulus’s lips at Seeker’s reply.

Seeker: To the ends of the earth, moonshine.

Suddenly, the dynamics had changed between them for the first time. Instead of the client being in charge, Regulus found himself with the reins in his hands, and it made him cackle with glee. He would be the one to dish out the punishment, the watcher instead of the watched, and while Regulus never classified himself as a sadist, he was going to have some fun with Seeker.

He was going to have a lot of fun.

‎

Chapter Text

James avoided practice like the damn plague.

He knew he couldn’t afford to skip much with the game that was coming up soon, but even the thought of it made a sinkhole appear in his stomach. It was terrifying. James never usually struggled with anxiety, but as he stepped closer to the locker rooms, he felt it tighten its hold on him until he choked.

The fear that he’d hear more homophobic slurs controlled James like a marionette. He thought it was silly, but there was no reasoning logically with anxiety. All he could do was hope. For what? Even James wasn’t sure. The problem wouldn’t disappear unless James dealt with it, but what could he do? It wasn’t like he was gay himself. He didn’t hold any power with his position on the team. And he doubted that the coach could do anything about it himself — or that he cared about James’s little feelings getting hurt.

Either way, it was a huge mess, but James couldn’t avoid it forever. He’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

However, those hours of worrying seemed for naught when James stepped into the locker room and found two new faces chatting with the rest of the team. The goalie and his mate were missing. James reasoned they were hitting the showers before practice began until the captain came up to him.

“Potter, these are the new guys, Smitty and Oake,” he said and nodded over to the new faces James could see on the other side of the locker room. “Smitty’s the new goalie. Make sure to say hey when you can.”

“Wait, what happened with Mac?” James asked, brows pinching together in confusion.

“There was an incident last time. Some of the guys heard Mac and George talking some homophobic shit. We don’t tolerate that ignorance on this team,” the captain informed him. He even had the gall to shrug his shoulders nonchalantly as if James hadn’t been shitting bricks thinking about that event all week.

James felt the sinkhole fill itself, vanishing with a breath of relief that spread through his limbs like a wildfire. He was glad to know that his entire future didn’t hang in the balance of those homophobic arseholes anymore. James couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll say hey when I can.”

The captain patted James on the back twice. “Thanks, Potter.”

Pulling on his protective gear, James felt like a new man. Well, not a new man, but like he’d been reborn. A phoenix rising from the ashes. The anxiety that had plagued him was gone, and with the weighty press of his protective gear settling on him like armour, James felt prepared for the day ahead.

Like his captain told him to, James went over and talked to the new guys. Smitty was a big guy with a Russian accent, slightly intimidating at first glance, but James had a knack for opening particularly rough walnuts, and Smitty turned out to be a sweetheart. Oake, on the other hand, was the exact opposite: short and sweet-looking, but overly protective, swinging an arm around Smitty’s waist when James got closer.

They were definitely together.

The two were cute, all things considered, and James was glad to have other gay guys on the team. Not that James was gay. No, he just liked the inclusivity. Hockey was already deemed a homophobic sport, what with all the horror stories online, and it was about time that things started to change.

When James stepped out of the locker room with his skates in hand, he felt like he was floating on a damn breeze. He sat down at a bench, feeling the cold prick into his skin even through the protective gear and uniform, and tugged his feet into his skates. A pair of white sneakers came into his peripheral, but James ignored it, lacing his skates.

“James?”

His heart stopped.

Slowly, James lifted his head. Lily Evans herself stood before him. “Lils,” he breathed, feeling flustered, which he shouldn’t have felt.

But God, she looked like a dream. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into an intricate braid, one of those little French hats on her head, and she was wearing a skirt underneath her zipped-up jacket. James ignored how he had the perfect view of how her plump thighs tried spilling out over the top of her thigh-high socks. The same thighs that would smother him; the same thighs he would kiss and bite and lick like a piece of juicy steak; the same thighs that Lily was always so insecure about but which James adored so much.

He looked away quickly.

“What are you doing here?” James asked, snapping out of the fantasies his brain had tugged him into. He had to remind himself that they weren’t together anymore, and it was for the best. Lily was a lesbian, and James was getting over her. He was. With every day that passed, he felt a little less like he’d crumble under the weight of his heartbreak.

“I just wanted to ask if we were still good,” Lily answered. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets, but James would bet anything that she was fidgeting with something in them. Probably picking at her nail polish. “But I can wait for us to talk after practice if you like.”

“No, no!” James was quick to blurt out, standing up. “Coach won’t care. It’s just practice.”

He looked over, and Coach was glaring at them, arms crossed over his chest, but James paid him no mind and turned back to Lily. Standing at his full height, James remembered how tall he was — or at least, how short Lily was. She barely even made it to his shoulders, which had always made James grin, but now it felt like a power imbalance.

He sat back down slowly.

“So… Are we?” Lily asked after a moment of stilted silence.

Nodding quickly, James said, “Of course! We’re still friends. At least, I hope we’re still friends. If you don’t want to be, that’s your call. I am the one that sort of swooped into your life. But if you’re worried about me harbouring any bad feelings, I don’t. I’m sure you’re not worrying about that, but still. I’d say we’re still friends. If you want to be. I don’t mind. Well—”

And James was rambling again.

Lily sensed it and settled a hand on James’s shoulder. James shut up immediately. “We’re still friends, James,” she reassured him, and James exhaled, a sense of ease settling over him.

It felt good that they were friends still. While it would take time for James to move on completely — Lily had been his everything, after all — he was sure it wouldn’t take as much time as everyone suspected. He had Étoile now to fixate over, and James was immensely happy for Lily. He wouldn’t want her to stay with him if there was nothing between them.

“Awesome,” James exclaimed with a grin on his face. “Are you coming to my game next month? I can still get you tickets if you need me to.”

“Of course.” Lily removed her hand, stuffing it back into her pocket, and shrugged her shoulders. “And you don’t need to pay this time. I’m bringing a friend with me.”

Oh? James raised an eyebrow at Lily, and her freckled cheeks flushed. Ah, it was that kind of friend.

“Don’t. It’s not a date. Just a casual meetup,” Lily argued. Whenever she was annoyed, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and James thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Mind your business, Potter.”

James laughed, and it felt good. He’d worried so much that things wouldn’t be the same between him and Lily, but nothing had changed. Nothing significant, anyway. They weren’t a couple, and James couldn’t kiss her or hold her anymore, but they were the same people. James still loved Lily, but in a tamer, more platonic sense.

“I hope you have fun,” James said and stood up once again, scrubbing a hand over Lily’s little French hat. “It’s good to see you, Lily.”

“Yeah, you too,” Lily replied. She batted James’s hand away and stepped away, ready to make her leave. “Get out there and do hockey stuff. Throw that puck. Get a point. I don’t know.”

James laughed. Lily had never understood ice hockey. “Bye, Lils!” He called out, watching Lily’s back as she walked away, and unlike that day in the rain, he didn’t feel so awful watching her fiery red hair fade away. He felt lighter. More free.

Maybe getting dumped by Lily Evans hadn’t been too bad.

Music was playing when James stepped into the apartment.

He wasn’t even two steps into the door when the sound of Ziggy Stardust blasted into his ears — one of Sirius’s favourite albums. He’d brought a record player simply so he could listen to it on vinyl. Sirius only ever played it on special occasions, which James thought was a waste of money, but he wondered what the occasion was. Something good, hopefully.

Slipping off his shoes and jacket, James shot Peter a little wave when he stepped into the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, a book in his hands that he wasn’t reading. Peter smiled at him and then nudged his head over to the kitchen, where James watched as Sirius and Remus danced together.

And honestly? It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Sirius’s arm was wrapped around Remus’s waist to keep him upright, their hands interlocked in the air as they shuffled from side to side. Remus’s cane was propped against the kitchen counter. Some days, Remus didn’t need it to move around, but those were very rare days and getting more rare with winter coming in. It was his biggest insecurity — that and the scars on his face.

“You stepped on my foot again,” Remus complained in his subtle Welsh accent, brows tugging down over his eyes, but the grin on his face betrayed him. And the look in his eyes. It was as if Remus’s pupils had changed into little love hearts just for Sirius.

“Get your damn foot out of my way, then!” Sirius had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. His lips were stretched wide, showing off every tooth to Remus, and he immediately belted out the lyrics to the song that was playing: “Don't fake it, baby! Lay the real thing on me. The church of man, love, is such a holy place to be.”

Sirius wasn’t the best singer, and Remus rolled his eyes, acting all annoyed by the entire ordeal before Remus’s lips moved slightly, singing the lyrics quietly enough that only Sirius could hear.

He dipped Remus, and he squawked with laughter.

If James had the ability to, he would have travelled back in time, grabbed younger Sirius by the scruff of his damn neck, and showed him the tooth-achingly sweet scene just to prove that he was worth something good. That some risks were worth taking for the right people. James used to hold Sirius in his arms, listening to his drunken ramblings of how much he loved Remus.

Remus had never been the type of guy to be as vocal about his feelings — maybe it was a Welsh thing — but James would catch the lovesick look he’d shoot Sirius when his back was turned and he thought no one was looking. James had never been an observant person, but anyone could have spotted how much those two idiots were hopelessly pining for one another.

And now, there they were: happy, in love, dancing and singing to David Bowie.

He was so damn proud.

With the two of them lost in their own little worlds, James went to disappear into his room when Peter stood up from the sofa and grabbed James’s arm. “You’ve got a package!” Peter had to yell over the music, and he nodded his head to the breakfast bar.

Sat on it was a brown parcel. James didn’t remember ordering anything online — it was too early for Christmas shopping just yet — but James just nodded his head and said, “Thanks, Wormtail!”

Peter jabbed him in the side while James scrubbed his head and retreated back to the sofa. Not wanting to intrude on the saccharine moment, James retrieved the package as stealthily as he could, but Sirius spotted him.

“Prongs! Come join us!” Sirius yelled over the music — seriously, why was it so loud? The record player was right next to the two of them. Sirius turned to Remus, still wrapped up in his arms, and teased, “You don’t mind making this a threeway, do you, my Moony?”

Ugh. My Moony. God, the two of them made James sick to his stomach.

Remus shot Sirius a blank look. “You’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Sirius cackled, hiding his face in Remus’s curly, light brown hair. “I was only joking, baby,” he protested. Then Sirius gave James a fake sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Prongs. The missus said no.”

Remus stomped on Sirius’s foot. Sirius cried out. Remus just snickered smugly.

“Hey, if you want, my bed’s always free,” James joked and winked at Sirius, ignoring the slightly murderous gleam in Remus’s eye. Who knew Remus Lupin would be so possessive? Actually, that made complete sense.

“Wait, no! Don’t leave me with this beast!”

Leaving the two of them to get back to their moment, laughing and singing Bowie, James went to see what the strange package was. Even with the door closed, the music was only slightly muffled, and James set down the parcel on his bed, staring at it with narrowed eyes and hands on his hips.

Was it a bomb? Surely not. James didn’t have any enemies that he knew of. Or maybe it was a prank bomb from Marlene. How she got James’s address — he wasn’t sure.

The package was just a square box, sealed up with sellotape just on the tad side of excessive. There was no return address, and on further inspection, James realised that the sticker didn’t have his name on it. Above his address was instead a singular word written in blocky handwriting: Seeker.

James’s heart skipped a beat.

Étoile had asked for his address so he could send something — So you can make it up to me, his message had said. James, knowing it was utterly ridiculous to trust a stranger online he’d only spoken to once privately, had given him a friend’s address instead.

What if it really is a bomb? James wondered, but if it had been, surely it would have blown up by now.

And a small, pathetic part of James really didn’t want to believe that the enchanting, mesmerising, ethereal Étoile would ever want to harm James. Not yet, at least. Étoile seemed to have a short temper, and James loved pushing buttons, but murder seemed too much so early on in their… friendship?

Apprehensively, James grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut along the edges of the box. The flaps opened up easily, and after gathering his courage and sending a quick apology to his parents for raising an idiotic son, James peered into the box to find… a shirt. A simple, white T-shirt with no logo or label on it.

What the fuck?

James lifted the garment into the air, pinching it between his fingers. The fabric was soft and clearly been in the wash several times; well-loved. It was also huge. The shirt would have been slightly big on James, but on Étoile… It must have swallowed him whole. James could picture long, pale limbs wrapped around the soft fabric, the hem trailing down smooth thighs, hiding the treasure underneath.

It was Étoile’s shirt. Étoile had sent James his shirt.

Gingerly, he lifted the shirt to his nose and took a whiff. It smelt clean, like vanilla, but there was a sharper tang to it that James couldn’t place the name of. Something woodsy, he thought, but not like pine. Something unique that was entirely Étoile, and James realised that he was smelling Étoile’s scent on Étoile’s shirt, clasped in James’s hands. He now owned something of Étoile’s.

His head was swimming.

James was a simple guy, he would say. He didn’t think of himself as weird in terms of kinks or anything. Everyone had their preferences, and James knew he liked a few things, and smells was one of them. Whenever James would get a whiff of Lily’s perfume, no matter where they were, he’d pop a boner. It was humiliating in the first few stages of their relationship until Lily started using it to her advantage.

But James really wished at that moment that Étoile had tried any other day to send him something that smelt so uniquely of him.

His nose pressed against the soft fabric, and he breathed it in heavily, practically gulping the scent down his throat and infusing it in his lungs. He realised that the woodsy smell was eucalyptus, and the knowledge made his head spin even more than it already had been. It was dangerous for him to keep being stood up, knees threatening to buckle underneath him, so James settled on the edge of his bed.

The cotton of his boxers stuck to his erection. It was painful, straining already and filling so rapidly that James was scared he’d die of blood loss; he couldn’t stop smelling Étoile’s shirt, though. He couldn’t stop imagining himself laying in those grey, cotton sheets on Étoile’s bed, wrapped around a petite frame, hair tickling his face as he smothered himself in Étoile’s scent.

Why would he send James his shirt?

Pulling himself away for just a moment, James grabbed his phone and sent Étoile a photo of his shirt in James’s face, the tip of his nose poking out at the top. He sent a message along with it, typing one-handed while the other kept the shirt pressed to his face. There was no way he was going to stop smelling Étoile, even if it killed him.

Seeker: Wad this a mystake?

The spelling mistakes were atrocious. James couldn’t care.

The reply only took a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity to James. He perked up as soon as the message arrived, his dick twitching in his boxers.

Étoile: Was* and mistake*, and no, it wasn’t a mistake.

James rolled his eyes. Of course Étoile was the kind of guy to correct his mistakes. It was adorable.

Étoile: Are you… Smelling my shirt, Seeker?

His face flushed with a wave of heat, and James wondered how Étoile would react to knowing how much his shirt had affected him. How painfully hard James was.

But no. Wasn’t the plan to not be like those creepy guys online? James couldn’t say that to Étoile and then get hard over the smell of vanilla and eucalyptus. He was a hypocrite. But knowing what Étoile smelt like and imagining the brush of the soft shirt against his snow-like flesh made James fucking feral.

He needed him. He wanted him. He craved Étoile. James was utterly obsessed.

Seeker: No.

The reply only took a few seconds that time.

Étoile: You are. I can clearly see your nose in the photo, Seeker.

Yeah, maybe James should have thought about it more before he sent it to Étoile, but he couldn’t think straight with Étoile’s scent clogging his brain with cotton and making his cock ache like no other.

Étoile: You like my gift, then?

James wanted to say that he fucking loved it, to show just how much he loved it, but he wasn’t a pervert, even if Étoile was convinced he was. And wasn’t James supposed to be earning Étoile’s forgiveness?

Seeker: Yeag, but why did yit sebd mr it?

It was hard typing with one hand. He could practically hear Étoile’s little amused huff, the little chuckle that would escape him sometimes, and James groaned, low and gruff.

Étoile: How much do you like it, Seeker?

Oh no.

Étoile knew.

Somehow, Étoile knew, and instead of being horrified or embarrassed that he was so pathetic, even the smallest huff of his scent got him straining in his boxers; it only sent a wave of desire through him. His dick bucked up, desperate for attention.

James was a pervert.

His phone vibrated in his hands again, and the words on his screen made James groan and bury his face in Étoile’s shirt.

Étoile: Show me.

His breaths were punching out of him, which had the undesirable effect of sucking in even more of Étoile’s scent, and that just made him harder, and James had to stop. His plan was to be different from those creeps online, not join in.

Seeker: I dobt want to be kike those creeps. I’m different.

The spelling mistakes were getting worse as James’s head spun more, and he was worried that Étoile wouldn’t understand him and make him type with two hands, which James really didn’t want to do — that meant taking Étoile’s shirt away from his face.

Étoile: You are different.

Oh, and James could cry. Those words made his entire body jitter with a strange mixture of relief and pent-up anticipation.

Étoile: I don’t send anyone else gifts but you. I’ve never done a private stream with anyone else but you. You are different, Seeker, and I am ordering you to show me how much you like my gift.

James stared wide-eyed at the words. I am ordering you. James never realised he liked being bossed around so much, but something about Étoile’s words made his stomach flip and a click switched in his brain. He didn’t even care that his best mates were on the other side of the unlocked door.

His stomach tightened with arousal.

In a flash of movement much quicker than he realised he was capable of, James settled back against the headboard and tugged his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. He didn’t care. James was in a hurry, hands full, so it was harder than he thought. His dick sprang up, a stream of pre-cum already leaking from the head that was so swollen and dark, and James reluctantly let go of Étoile’s shirt to grip the base.

A groan escaped him. James leaned his head back and stroked a hand up to the tip, fingers slippery, and pleasure sparked deep into the marrow of his bones. He was being loud, gasping into the fabric of Étoile’s shirt after he fixed it over his mouth and nose. The fear of suffocating didn’t even flash through James’s mind.

Making a cage with his fingers, James slid his hand back down slowly. The pre-cum made it slide smoothly, and he felt ready to burst. A one-pump chump, his mind supplied sardonically, but he was too worked up to give a shit. It wasn’t like he had to impress Étoile or anything. All he had to do was show how much he liked Étoile’s gift, and he loved it. A lot.

James’s fist flew over his cock, moans muffled by the loud music blaring in the kitchen and Étoile’s shirt over his face, and it was only when his phone vibrated in his hand that James remembered he was supposed to be doing something. Not furiously jerking off.

Étoile: Seeker.

His words were brimming with authority through the screen. James moaned, picturing the majestic man above him, his mask in place to hide his features, but the disapproval would be clear in Étoile’s eyes. His arms would be crossed over his chest as he watched James writhe around pathetically on his bed, begging for release. Or for Étoile’s touch. His mouth. His fingers. Everything.

Something was clearly wrong with James.

Before Étoile could get more annoyed with him, James opened up the camera app. He had never done something like this before. Nudes and explicit messages were never something he and Lily exchanged — which made a lot of sense now. James didn’t know whether there was an art to it or if he needed to get a certain angle to make it appealing for him.

None of that mattered in his lust-fogged mind, though. He hit record and watched as his phone captured the beads of pre-cum that welled at the head of his cock, the glide of his fingers, the way his thumb swept over the slit, and made him shudder with an airy moan.

Étoile would watch the video, James realised. He thought back to those old streams he’d watched, enraptured by the way Étoile would bounce on a dildo, the way his hips would move, and the phallic toy being encased in smooth, wet warmth that would taste heavenly. The videos of Étoile using only his fingers to pleasure him, the shake of his thighs as he got close to the brink, his voice turning thready and needy, mewling out soft curses that would make a sailor gasp.

Would Étoile sound like that riding James’s dick?

Would he come like James had done to his videos?

The only warning he received was the tightening of his lower back. His balls hugged the base of his cock, and before James even realised it, thick jets of white were pumping out of him. His entire body went rigid, and he threw his head back, sucking in the aroma of vanilla and eucalyptus, letting it cushion his fall as he came back to earth. Round after round shot out of him until James was spent.

He stopped recording and sent it to Étoile without watching it. Instead, he lay there, cum drying on his favourite university jumper and his dick softening in his grip. He let it go with a muffled whimper. James knew he had to clean up, but he was still jittery with aftershocks after the most explosive orgasm he’d ever had. His breath felt hot and muggy from Étoile’s shirt laid over his mouth still.

Lily had never made James come that hard, so how had Étoile?

Eventually, the paranoia of having Sirius or even Peter — not Remus — come into his room without knocking and seeing the absolute wreck that James was got too much, and he scrambled off the bed, tugging his jeans back on and throwing his jumper in the hamper in the corner of his room.

Étoile’s shirt stared at James, where it was left on his bed. Would the smell eventually fade? When it did, James wasn’t sure how he’d cope, but for now, he shoved the garment underneath his pillow and threw the empty box into the bin. If the guys asked what he’d got, he’d tell them it was a late gift for Lily — that would shut them up real quick.

His phone vibrated on the bed. James fucking lunged for it, knocking the air out of his lungs. What if Étoile was suddenly disgusted by him? What if the video was too disgusting for him to even watch? What if James fucked it all up?

Before he read Étoile’s message, James watched the video back. His hand had been shaky, but it wasn’t so bad that it left James’s dick for more than a second occasionally. The sound of Ziggy Stardust played faintly in the background as it was still doing, but what startled James the most was the sound of his own moans. They were loud and breathless, on the side of desperate, which made sense. James had been desperate. For Étoile. But did James always sound like that?

No wonder Lily was a lesbian.

When the video ended after James’s explosive orgasm, making his balls tingle with the memory, James clicked out of the video and braced himself for Étoile’s response. Or the message that James was forever blocked.

Étoile: You’re forgiven.

Seriously? James blinked at the message, a little shocked. That was all it took for Étoile to forgive James for offending him?

Shit, James must have been the luckiest guy on earth.

Seeker: Did you like it?

Étoile: Shut up.

Yeah, maybe James was pushing his luck, but he felt like an overjoyed puppy. Étoile had forgiven him, and now he had something of his. Something that still smelt like him, and James was going to abuse that power as much as he could.

It didn’t even occur to James that he’d just jacked off to some guy’s scent until too late. It crashed down on him like a cartoon hammer. James wasn’t gay, but he was jacking off to some random guy online, getting hard over his scent, and now that same guy had a video of James pleasuring himself.

Something was wrong with him. Something really, really wrong with him. James couldn’t be attracted to guys.

But instead of worrying about it like he should have done, James settled back on the bed and tried imagining what Étoile did with the video he now had of James. Whether Étoile used that video to pleasure himself as well, those long fingers sinking into warm heat, and the sweet moans that would tumble from his lips. The smell of sex on pale, star-dusted skin.

James ignored the tenting in his pants.

It was going to be a long night.

“Hey, did you hear something?” Sirius’s voice rang out from the other side of James’s door, the doorknob jiggling a bit, and James realised suddenly that he couldn’t hear the music anymore. “Prongs, you’re not touching yourself, are you?”

“Get the fuck out!”

‎

Chapter Text

The last pew on the left was Regulus’s sacred place. Spires of ancient Catholic architecture echoed the sweet hymns like the souls of millions before them were singing from the walls where they were trapped. Shafts of light shone down on the priest as he led the service, shining with the brilliant light of God’s Will while Jesus, hung on the cross, peered down at Regulus with hatred in his eyes. The angels that watched him, forever etched on the walls, turned to eye Regulus scornfully.

He kept his head down. Sin hung heavy over his head like a twisted halo, his body a wretched amalgamation that went against God’s design, and his fingers stained with lust as they tried to stop shaking. His phone sat like a stone in his pocket, filled with the wretched material of his desire; carnal and mortifying. A pang of pain shot through him, a punishment for the thing that he was.

For weeks, Seeker and Étoile had played a game. Seeker would pay for private streams with him, chatting and getting to know each other beyond the professional mask Regulus would have liked to sustain. That was fairly normal, but the reason for his visit to the cathedral was what came next. Regulus would send Seeker clothes, toys, and any scrap of himself that he could, and Seeker would, in return, show how much he liked those gifts of his.

The first time that it had happened, Regulus didn’t know what to do with himself afterwards. He’d been sent hundreds of videos of dicks before, each one as appalling as the last, but Seeker was… different. He’d been transformed from a decent guy to a machine of desperation, singing as holy as the crowd around him. Not to mention that his dick had looked mouth-wateringly delicious, thick and heavy, veins throbbing beneath dark skin.

Regulus hadn’t been more turned on in his life.

So, they continued the twisted game of theirs. Instead of Étoile being the one who was watched and lusted after, Seeker had taken the role for him, and he was brilliant at it. Regulus’s camera roll was crammed full of hundreds of saved videos of Seeker lost in his pleasure, begging for Étoile, cumming over the smell of his damn shirt, and a few pictures Seeker had sent with him wearing it, the caption reading: How do you manage these huge toys, and I can’t even handle a butt plug?

That had cost Regulus a few sleepless nights.

Regulus should have ended it. He should have snipped the temptation from the start, blocking Seeker after that first private stream. He wouldn’t have felt as guilty as he did now, sitting in the pew and listening to the songs of the holy and the Lord; His judgement was weighing on Regulus’s shoulders. But Regulus hadn’t stopped, and he had to repent for being the sinful creature he was.

As the hymn ended, silence filled the cathedral, and Regulus squirmed in his seat. He had never been overly religious. Even going to Beauxbaton Academy, Regulus had abolished the religious teachings, going out of his way to show what a waste of time it all was and how none of it made sense. The nuns had hated him for it, and Regulus had spent most of his time in detention or dealing with the lashings on his ass. But as he grew and Regulus started to discover the truth of his identity, the weight of God grew worse. It plagued his mind and every breath, whispering to Regulus that he was the abomination his parents and the nuns had warned him of: the Devil’s servant.

Sometimes, the burden of his sins grew too heavy, and Regulus would pay a trip to the cathedral. To remind himself how moronic the religion was and that he didn’t fear Hell or God. Regulus didn’t care where his afterlife would be spent — if there was an afterlife, of course — even if secretly, Regulus was fucking petrified.

A low rumble of noise started up, and Regulus jerked up, realising that people had started to leave. He’d been so caught up in his own head, he hadn’t realised. Regulus shot to his feet, piling his coat in his hands despite the chill seeping into him, and left the pew as quietly as he had arrived.

The chimings of a bell rang out above him. Regulus wrenched his coat on as a gust of wind shook through him, and he walked calmly away from the cathedral building, each step making the tangle of guilt in his stomach slowly loosen. Maybe the true way to repent was to finally enter the confession booth, but Regulus had never dared, not wanting the priest to hear the true tonnage of his sins.

With the end of the year so close, London started peppering itself with decorations, lights twinkling in shop windows dotted around the university campus and tinsel rustling in the breeze, even if it was quite some time before the holiday even truly began. That meant everyone was busy preparing for the end-of-year exams or making plans over the break.

Not Regulus, though. Not only was he fully ready for his exam, which would be a piece of cake for him, but he also didn’t need to make plans for anything. Regulus Black didn’t have a home. He had been kicked from the house he had been raised in and left to pick up the pieces. The only place he could even call home was the shitty shared accommodation where he’d spend his winter break creating new content for all the sick, perverted fans online.

Oh, how Regulus loved his life.

The pub Regulus walked into was packed, too many bodies crammed together making the air hot and muggy. A low-level chatter filled his ears while he walked to the bar, a group of older men huddled around the TV and cheered at some goal or whatever. Regulus didn’t care for sports. He ordered himself a glass of red wine, and once the bartender handed it over, Regulus made his way to the shock of black hair he’d spotted earlier.

“Reggie!” Sirius exclaimed and jumped up from his seat, wrapping his arms around Regulus in a too-tight hug. Regulus faltered and tried not to spill his wine, but Sirius quickly pulled back. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Regulus mumbled, dusting off the front of his coat. His eyes slid over to the other man sitting at the booth, and a smirk curled on his lips. “You must be the man my brother is enamored with. Regulus, pleased to meet you.”

Scarred skin flushed. The man was handsome, with light brown hair cropped close to the sides of his skull, a proud nose, and three scars that stretched across his face that only added to the man’s allure, from his cheek to temple, hiding underneath his bangs. When Regulus held his hand out, the man took it in a firm grip and shook. “Remus Lupin. Nice to meet ya too,” the guy replied, a hint of Welsh in his voice.

“Yeah, this is, uh… the guy I was telling you about before,” Sirius mumbled, sitting down next to Remus again. A dopey grin stretched across his face as he gazed at Remus and said, “My boyfriend.”

“Yes, the guy you wanted to shag,” Regulus drawled dryly and sat down opposite the lovebirds.

When Sirius had offered Regulus to finally meet the man who’d made him all heart-eyed, Regulus hadn’t wanted to at first. He had his own problems to deal with, but of course, his brother had insisted. According to Sirius, he was the last family member he had left, and Sirius had really wanted Remus to meet him.

So, Regulus was now stuck with these idiots.

“Wow. Is this true, Padfoot? You’ve been tellin’ your little brother about how much ya want to shag me?” Remus tsked, shaking his head. Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but then Remus was directing his attention back to Regulus. “Absolute drama queen, he is.”

Regulus snorted, ignoring the strange nickname Remus had called Sirius. What the fuck was a Padfoot?

“Tell me about it. He’s been like this ever since he was a kid,” Regulus agreed and shrugged out of his coat. It was too damn warm in the pub to keep it on anymore. “He could accidentally bump his finger across something like a table or a fly and have a crying fit about it for hours.”

“That’s not true!” Sirius burst out, and Remus snorted, giving Sirius a smirk that was dripping with amusement.

“Are you sure, Padfoot?” Remus questioned, resting his cheek on his palm and raising a fine eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you have a fit the other day because you banged your elbow against a kitchen cupboard?”

Sirius huffed. “That’s different. My elbows are sharp and pointy, and James forgot to close the damn thing, too enraptured by something, so it’s not my fault! And it bloody hurt as well.”

“Sure, it did, honey.”

Regulus took a long sip of his wine as the couple bickered and looked around. The pub was stereotypical of one in London. The surfaces were sticky and reeked heavily of yeast. The walls were draped in old photographs of back when the pub first opened up, dusty curtains pulled back from large windows to let the gloomy sunlight in despite the lights in the pub being on still and it being the middle of the day, and tinsel hung from the ceiling and around the doorways.

At least the wine was good. Regulus imagined he was drinking the blood of The Lord, washing away the sins from the inside, purging his organs from the decrepit disease that infected him. From the pain that shot up from his lower belly.

“Sorry to interrupt this riveting conversation,” Regulus blurted out and set his glass down on the faded coaster once he’d grown bored, “but what is a Padfoot?”

Remus was the first one to recover. He seemed to be the calm, collected one, perfectly balancing out Sirius’s naturally wild, chaotic nature. “It’s all nicknames we made up for each other back in year seven,” Remus explained. “Sirius is Padfoot, I’m Moony, and our other mates are Wormtail and Prongs.”

Sirius winced and looked away. Remus didn’t seem to notice, but Regulus had, staring at Remus’s handsome face for a long few seconds. So, Sirius was dating the guy he’d abandoned his brother for. He was still friends with the same people he’d run away from home for, leaving Regulus to take the brunt of the abuse.

A sick twist tightened in Regulus’s gut, but he stayed calm, raising his eyebrows politely at Remus. “You all went to school together?”

“Yeah, we all went to Hogwarts. I met our mate Prongs on the train, and then somehow all four of us got into the same dorm in Gryffindor House, so we’ve been friends ever since,” Remus explained, obviously not noticing the weird tension in the air. Or maybe he had, since his eyes darted to Sirius, who wouldn’t look at Regulus at all.

Good, Regulus thought wickedly. He should be fucking ashamed of himself. Asking his brother to meet the man he’d left him behind for? Who was that much of an idiot? Sirius fucking Black, apparently.

But it was all water under the bridge now, wasn’t it? Regulus had forgiven Sirius, but that didn’t mean he’d ever forget the sting of the betrayal he felt when his brother had never come home one summer.

Sirius looked over at Remus, shooting him a look that seemed to say, I’ll explain it to you later.

Remus nodded, taking a large gulp of his beer. “Where did you go to school, Regulus?” he asked after a long, tense moment.

“An all-girls Catholic school,” Regulus answered with no inflection in his voice, but the tension only weighed down on Sirius even more, causing him to wince again. He supposed there was no safe ground for them to talk about, not with their past.

If Remus was confused by the thought of Regulus — clearly a man — going to an all-girls school, he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply nodded. “Are you religious, then?” he asked and turned to Sirius. “You never mentioned anything like that before.”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, tugging on the sleeves of his leather jacket that he seemed to always wear. “I’m not, but Reggie and I were raised to be Catholic. We always rebelled against it, though. Our birthers would take us to church every Sunday and all of that nonsense.”

Birthers? Regulus gagged, not wanting to think about his parents giving birth to either of them. That was a horrible thought to pop into his head.

“You don’t pray, then?” Regulus asked, glancing up at Sirius from over the rim of his wine glass.

Sirius’s eyebrows pinched together as if he was confused by the entire sentiment. “Of course not. Our birthers—”

“Please, stop calling them that,” Remus groaned.

“— only took us to church to incite the fear of God in us. It was just another way to control us, Regulus. We never believed in that bullshit when we were kids, so why would I start doing that now?”

Regulus stared down into the depths of his glass. The crimson liquid was dark, but not as dark as blood, which had an almost black tint to it when it was pooled into something as large as a glass. He swirled it around gently, watching the red stain slip down the inside of the glass, but Sirius took his silence as an answer.

“Reggie,” he whispered and reached for Regulus’s hand.

He flinched back, pulling his hand away quickly and hiding it in his lap. Remus stared at him wide-eyed, so Regulus schooled his expression, placing the blank mask over his face. Calm down. Be Regulus. Be the unemotional, cold, uncaring man they know you to be.

“It was just a question,” he replied, tilting his chin up defiantly as if he were taller than both of them. He very much wasn’t. “No need to get so strung up by it. Of course, I don’t believe in God, but if there was something out there, I certainly think it’s foolish to anger them, don’t you think?”

“Not a man of science?” Remus asked, tilting his head at him.

“I am.” Regulus took another sip of his wine and shrugged a shoulder easily. “But I’m also an astrology student, so do with that as you will.”

Astrology wasn’t the most scientific subject, he knew. It was more about charting the stars and talking about the zodiac signs than he’d first realised, but Regulus aced every exam, so it would have been foolish to drop out.

“I’m a Classics student,” Remus told him. “So, a man of science, an astrology student, and a man who prays to God,” he muttered. A curious gleam lit up his coffee eyes, darting them over to Sirius for a moment. “You’re a contradiction, Reggie.”

He bristled at the use of the nickname from a stranger’s mouth, but instead of correcting him, Regulus shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’d rather be the most confusing human being alive than be a boring one, sticking to one path and following it forever.”

Sirius groaned and rolled his eyes. “You two are obviously getting along better than I thought. I’m getting a beer,” he said and stood up, all long limbs clad in leather and tight jeans. He brushed a hand through Remus’s hair, cupping his ear. “Want anything, Moony?”

“No, thank you, love,” he replied with an easy smile and watched as Sirius easily walked through the crowd to the bar.

Regulus gagged into his wine glass, and Remus darted his eyes back to him, an amused laugh escaping past pink lips. “What?” he questioned.

With a sigh, Regulus set his glass down on the coaster again. The stem of the glass felt ridiculously fragile between the pinch of his fingers. “You guys are just disgusting. If I’d known my brother was this down bad when in love, I would have told him to stay hopeless forever,” Regulus lied.

A snort came from Remus. “So, it was you who told him to shoot his shot. Thanks for that, by the way. If it weren’t for you and Prongs, I don’t think either of us would have done anything. We’d be in the exact boat we’d always been in, dancing around each other,” Remus admitted a bit too honestly for Regulus’s liking.

He swallowed and looked away, making a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. “I didn’t do anything, honestly. My brother has always been a bit of an idiot.”

“Yes, he has,” Remus agreed, nodding his head and watching Sirius at the bar.

He leaned in close to Regulus suddenly, dropping his voice to a low whisper as if Sirius would be able to hear him from over the chatter in the pub. “What was with that tension earlier?”

Fuck. Regulus really didn’t want to explain the whole family drama to Remus. That was Sirius’s job. Remus wasn’t Regulus’s boyfriend — he was brutally, unfairly handsome, though Regulus could give him that. He wouldn’t mind if Remus turned out to be one of his fans online.

Clearing his throat, Regulus glanced over his shoulder to make sure Sirius was busy. He was chatting at the bar still, so Regulus turned back to Remus. “When Sirius got into Hogwarts, he was leaving me behind with our abusive parents. He used to get the most of it, but with him gone, I had to step up, and it sort of broke me, especially when Sirius never returned home. I’ve resented him for it for years,” Regulus explained. “But that’s, uh… Everything is fine now.”

Sadness clouded Remus’s chocolate brown eyes. Regulus had been expecting anger or something, especially since it wasn’t Sirius’s fault for leaving him behind, but the longer Regulus looked, the more he realised it wasn’t sadness for him. It was for both of them. Regulus wanted to squirm under Remus’s gaze.

“I’m sorry you guys had to go through that,” Remus muttered and shot another glance over Regulus’s shoulder at Sirius. “He’s never really been open about what happened in his childhood, but I’ve always known it was bad. He did miss you, though, Regulus. I know that much.”

And fuck, Regulus would have cried if he hadn’t been in public. His brother had missed him? The thought had never crossed his mind before. Regulus had always just assumed Sirius would forget all about him, and Regulus had been fine with that, even if a part of him yearned for the friendship he and his brother used to have back when they were younger.

But then again, Sirius had been the one to reach out to him, hadn’t he? He’d dragged Regulus out to meet him, to meet his boyfriend, so of course, he’d miss Regulus. And Regulus had missed him too, begrudgingly.

“Well.” He sniffed like a haughty noble and leaned back in his seat. “Thank you for taking care of my brother all these years. I wasn’t lying earlier. Sirius seems utterly enamored with you.”

Pink dusted Remus’s cheeks, and he looked away, feigning indifference when he shrugged his shoulders, but Regulus could tell that he felt anything but. “Thanks.”

“I will kill you if you hurt him, though,” Regulus drawled. “And him if he hurts you. I know how to hide a body.”

Remus laughed, a bit more nervously that time.

It was only a few seconds later that Sirius returned. He carried a large pint with him, the bubbles on top spilling over his ring-adorned fingers, and he set down a pack of Mini Cheddars in front of Remus. When Remus gave him a look, Sirius just shrugged and sat back down. “You haven’t eaten yet, and the food here is expensive,” he explained. “As much as I love you, Moony, I am not spending ten quid on a shepherd’s pie for you.”

Remus and Regulus shared a look with each other. Typical Sirius.

That evening, Barty and Evans were out on a date, no doubt doing some weird sex thing they wanted to try, like public sex in a park or out at a glory hole or something, and Pandora was at the library, preparing for her exams. It was the first time Regulus would get the place to himself for once and not have to listen to Barty and Evans fucking through the thin walls.

It was also the same evening he planned to have a private stream with Seeker. With every interaction he shared with the guy, the more intrigued he was, and the less apprehensive Regulus felt around him. If Seeker was the true sexual deviant that Regulus was convinced he was, he’d given him enough opportunities to do so, and every time, Seeker always retaliated with that he was different; that he wasn’t like those perverts. Regulus was convinced Seeker was a good person.

Which was… bad. Regulus couldn’t afford to get attached to some stranger online, but he couldn’t help but look forward to talking with him, watching his reactions to the gifts he’d sent him.

Regulus dressed in his usual style whilst presenting as Étoile, with a large, oversized shirt that seemed to completely engulf him and the blank mask he wore to cover his face. He’d switched the thong for shorts, though, especially as his stomach ached with cramps.

He fucking hated his period.

Positioning his laptop on the coffee table, Regulus grabbed a cushion from the couch and sat on it, clicking onto the camboy website. As was typical for Regulus’s new routine and the fact that it was shark week, Regulus ignored the various DMs yearning for Étoile’s attention and clicked on Seeker’s.

Étoile: You free right now?

Seeker didn’t disappoint him. He messaged back only a few minutes later.

Seeker: Ofc!!!

His phone rang with a message from his bank, even though Regulus had told Seeker to lower how much money he was spending on him. Seeker didn’t listen.

Regulus huffed a small noise of amusement and started setting up the private stream for Seeker. He adjusted the camera upwards so it didn’t point straight at his chest for once and fixed the blank mask over his face. His black hair was stark against the white paper, and he was sure Seeker would enjoy getting to see more of Étoile for once.

He invited Seeker into the stream and waited for his message to pop up into the chat that sat in another window.

‘Hey, beautiful!!!’ Seeker messaged. Regulus got the impression that Seeker had actually meant it, unlike other creeps online who wanted to praise Étoile for one thing only.

“Hey there, handsome,” Regulus purred back, tilting his head at the camera. He placed his elbows on the coffee table and rested his chin in his hands, the blank face of the mask peering eerily back at him on his laptop screen. “Want to try something different tonight?”

This was the test Regulus put Seeker through every time, and every single time without fail, Seeker would always decline. If the day came when Seeker would finally agree, Regulus was prepared to block him. He doubted that day would ever come, though.

Just like always, Seeker replied with, ‘No thxs! How was ur day today?’

Stupid, considerate, beautiful Seeker. He was still an utter mystery to Regulus. He could admit that he was curious about him. Maybe a bit more than what was considered healthy.

Regulus dropped the act and leaned back, shrugging his shoulders. “It was fine. I went to church before meeting up with my brother and his new boyfriend, which was… odd,” he admitted.

‘Ur religious??’ Seeker replied before another message popped into the chat: ‘How was it odd?’

“No, I’m not religious. I just like going to church every once in a while.” Although like was too strong of a word. Sirius’s words flashed in his mind, and he grimaced behind his mask. He was appalled at the thought that his parents had incited the fear of God into him so strongly that it still affected him by twenty-fucking-one, but that’s exactly what had happened, hadn’t it?

“And it was odd because I’ve never seen my brother so happy before,” he added. “Not that it isn’t good. I am happy for him, but the guy he loves is the same one he left me behind for, so, you know…”

When had Regulus started being so honest with Seeker?

If it was anyone else, Regulus would have hidden away in his little shell, hissing at whoever tried to open it. Regulus wasn’t a sociable person, but Seeker had pried him open somehow. He’d trusted Regulus — or Étoile, at least — to be the object of his desire, to show an intimate part of himself, so in Regulus’s mind, that meant they were closer, even though Regulus showed his intimate parts to strangers online and still fucking despised every single one of them.

Well, except Seeker. Seeker was alright.

A ping sounded from his laptop. ‘That makes sense, but it’s in the past now.’

Regulus made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat and swept his hand over his hair. “Yeah, I know that. It’s water under the bridge. I shouldn’t care about it anymore. At least he’s happy and in love,” he muttered. “Anyway, how was your day, Seeker?”

The little bubble popped up that showed Seeker was typing before his message appeared, a little ping sounding from Regulus’s laptop along with it. ‘Better now that I’m talking w u!!’

“You’re a dork,” Regulus shot back, rolling his eyes at the camera, even though he knew Seeker wouldn’t be able to see it from the dark holes of his mask. The lighting in the living room wasn’t good either, a singular lamp in the corner on and washing the room in a warm glow.

Regulus was about to speak again when a cramp shot through him. It sent electricity shooting through his veins, his body tensing up at the wave of lancing pain, as if someone had taken a dagger and dug it deep into Regulus’s belly, twisting it around viciously. Regulus clamped his mouth shut to not make a sound as he breathed through the pain.

He knew he could have prevented this from happening. There were a few types of birth control that stopped his period altogether, and if Regulus really wanted to, he could have booked a doctor’s appointment to talk about starting HRT, but Regulus hadn’t. The long list of health problems that came with birth control honestly frightened him, and the waitlist for HRT was extortionate.

But Regulus could handle the pain. It wasn’t anything new. He just had to fucking breathe.

Seeker must have picked up the heavy breathing through his microphone, despite how much Regulus had tried to stay quiet, because when he opened his eyes again, there was a message already waiting in the chat for him to read.

‘Are you okay??? What’s wrong?’

Damn, no spelling mistakes or abbreviations. Seeker must have been extra worried about him.

“I’m fine,” Regulus answered out of reflex. He swallowed down the strain in his voice and forced himself to sit up straight, but he pressed a hand to his lower belly instinctively nonetheless, praying it would ease the pain. “There’s nothing to worry about, Seeker.”

Seeker didn’t believe it, though. Of course, he didn’t. Regulus was a great actor, but he couldn’t hide his period pain as well as he thought he could.

‘Grab a hot water bottle and press it to your stomach. If you don’t have one, wrap yourself in a blanket or heat up a towel, but be careful and don’t burn yourself. Grab yourself a glass of water and dark chocolate. Have you had any painkillers?’

Regulus huffed and rolled his eyes at the message. Was it that obvious what Regulus was going through, or did Seeker just have a lot of experience with period pain? Did he have a girlfriend, or at least someone who was also assigned female at birth?

Why did the thought make his stomach twist with a new type of pain?

“This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. I can handle myself perfectly fine without your help,” he shot back. Though, he was sort of glad that Seeker cared enough to send him such a long message. Was he that worried about him?

‘Have you had any painkillers?’ Seeker repeated, and even through the screen, Regulus could feel the firm, authoritative tone he would use. And oh. Regulus kind of liked that — seeing sweet Seeker suddenly order him around.

But then was not the right time to start getting aroused.

“No, I haven’t,” Regulus relented, looking away like a petulant child who was getting told off. “Usually, they’re not that bad that I would need to, so whenever I do get my period, I don’t immediately guzzle paracetamol.”

‘You shouldn’t do that anyway!!’ Seeker replied, and Regulus breathed a small laugh. ‘Go take some painkillers.’

With a small groan, Regulus climbed off the floor and went into the bathroom to swallow down a couple of paracetamol. He grabbed a glass of water and a hot water bottle like Seeker had ordered, and when he returned to the living room with his haul, he sat back down and wrapped a blanket around him.

“I couldn’t find any dark chocolate in the house, so this will have to do, your majesty,” Regulus teased, probably looking like a right dork to Seeker as he dipped into a bow.

‘U look cute,’ Seeker replied.

Regulus didn’t look cute. He looked like a dumbass, wrapped up in a blanket that had a wolf on it that Evans had jokingly brought Pandora a few years ago, covering everything from the neck down. His ass was getting numb from sitting on the floor for so long, even with the pillow underneath him, and the mask was hot and stuffy from his breath.

“I look like an idiot,” he countered. “Stop trying to make me feel better, Seeker. I will be fine.”

Seeker was quiet for a moment, and Regulus started to worry that his cold tone had driven him away. He didn’t know why that worried him so much, but it did, and he almost started to blurt out apologies — completely unlike him — when the bubble popped up in the chat.

‘I can do something else to make you feel better.’

Regulus raised an eyebrow behind his mask in intrigue. If that message came from another pervert on the internet, Regulus would have gagged and reported his ass immediately. But Regulus did enjoy it when Seeker tried to make him feel better.

He could still remember the first video Seeker had sent him. The one where he was pumping his dick, moaning so lovely with music blaring in the background, the shaky way he held the phone as if he couldn’t control himself. Regulus had, enviously, watched the video a lot. And come because of it. A lot.

So, yes, he was definitely excited to see what Seeker had planned.

“And how would you do that, my dear?” He inquired, leaning forward despite how much his numb ass protested the movement. He tilted his head, watching as the mask cocked on his laptop screen.

With anticipation clenching up his stomach, Regulus waited for Seeker’s message to appear. ‘You live in London, right?? I have a game coming up soon, and I wanted to know if ud like to go. Don’t worry if u can’t! No biggie! Just wondering! I can oay for the tuckets and everything if you’d like, but if u don’t want to go, don’t even worry abot it.’

He stared at the message for a long time. Regulus knew for a fact that he should have denied the request. It wasn’t a meetup, but it sort of was. Seeker would be expecting Étoile to go to his game and potentially meet him afterwards. Or maybe…

It wouldn’t hurt. Regulus would be careful like he always was, and finally getting to see Seeker out on the ice, even if he wouldn’t know which player he was, excited Regulus. It would be like a game to them, and Regulus had always been fond of games.

“Send me the tickets. I’ll be there seeking you out,” Regulus promised with a hint of dark mischief lilting his voice.

Chapter Text

Across the ice, drowned out by the roaring of the crowd and the starbursts of flashing lights, Severus Snape sneered at James Potter and mouthed, “Cocksucker.”

Usually, James didn’t give a shit about Snape. He’d been a thorn in his side since secondary school, sure, but the worst he had done was try to steal Lily from him — ineffectively, of course, and it wasn’t like it mattered anymore with Lily being a lesbian. But relatively, Snape had just been annoying, and James hadn’t cared about the fucker enough to pay him much attention after he’d successfully won Lily over, even though Snape had made it his mission to be a nuisance in James’s life.

Not to mention that ice hockey has never been a very accepting sport. While his team seemed relatively good now — James hadn’t heard any other homophobic remarks since the other two players were booted off — that didn’t mean that other teams were as… progressive. And clearly, Snape had decided to join the bandwagon of homophobia.

The words wouldn’t have so pissed James off. He’d heard worse. He’d probably said worse once upon a time. It wasn’t even Lily’s presence hiding in the crowd that triggered his reaction since he’d never really cared about that when she was around. No, it was Étoile. Somewhere in that crowd was the stranger James had been obsessed over for weeks, and Snape was just ruining the monumental moment with his words — his entire presence, honestly.

He’d skated onto the ice, thrumming with renewed energy with the knowledge that Étoile would be watching him, and immediately, he’d scanned the crowd. It was all a large blob to him, faces blending together and features running like a watercolour painting on a rainy day. James had spent the previous night wondering what Étoile really looked like. Pale, obviously, with black hair that looked almost like silk. He was thin — almost too thin — and probably not too tall. James had fantasised until the wee hours of the morning before jumping into a shower to get ready. For him, Étoile’s face was nothing more than a blank canvas, ready to be moulded into being. But he knew without a doubt he’d be gorgeous. It was just fact.

He hadn’t spotted him in the crowd, though, nor anyone that could have looked like the image in his head, which had already dampened his mood. He hadn’t been able to spot Lily either, but he knew for certain that she was in there somewhere with her date.

And now, Snape was sneering at him as if James was shit under his shoe, souring James’s mood even more.

By the time the whistle blew, James was about ready to be sent into the box for the entire game. He knew he shouldn’t, mostly because he wanted to impress Étoile with his skills, but it seemed he didn’t need to worry when the captain barged into Snape, sending him crashing to the ice and his stick flying through the air. It tumbled to the ground with an audibly loud clatter.

“Whoops. Sorry,” the captain muttered demurely with a shoulder shrug before racing off for the puck.

Snape scrambled up to his elbows, red in the face, and screamed at the referee about the move. The referee argued that he hadn’t seen anything, and suddenly, James felt even lighter than before when he rushed past Snape. He needed to buy his captain a drink sometime.

The rest of the game went somewhat smoothly. James was only sent to the box once for something that was entirely not his fault — despite what everyone else believed — and he spent that valuable time not focusing on the game as he should have but on the audience instead. With the adrenaline pumping through his system, it was even harder to concentrate on the faces, but he eventually spotted Lily, cheering his team on. She was standing next to a Black woman, her arms linked with Lily’s by the elbows.

Just a friend. Yeah, right. James would believe that when Sirius made his flying motorbike.

But no matter how long he looked, he couldn’t spot Étoile. Which, yeah, duh. James had no idea what the guy looked like besides dark hair and pale skin, but he tried anyway. He was determined, dammit. The guy he was obsessed with was possibly in the same building as him, and James couldn’t stand being in the unknown.

Eventually, he was called back out onto the ice, and the game continued. They won, of course, because Snape’s team was ass. Snape didn’t help them at all through the game. Whenever it was possible, he’d bump into James, steal the puck from him, and even smack his stick away just to get under James’s skin, even if it cost his team points.

The teams left to shower, Snape getting his ass chewed out by his captain for being a complete dunce all game, and James felt anticipation roil in his gut while he scrubbed himself clean. His teammates were cheering, still jittery from the excitement of winning, and chanting as one of them brought out a keg. Where the fuck did they even get a keg from?

“Ready to celebrate with us, Potter?” One of the defence players asked, slapping James on the back as he got changed as quickly as he could. “We’re going down to the pub. Drinks on coach.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” the coach yelled from outside the door.

Ignoring the unease from the guy’s touch, he stepped away, hoping his teammate hadn’t noticed. “Not tonight. I’ll celebrate on my own this time. Make sure you drink in my name, though.”

The guys cheered. The coach yelled at them to get their asses out, and before the captain could make a speech about how well they’d done in today’s game, James slipped out of the changing rooms. He pulled on a hoodie and swung his duffel bag over his shoulder when he bumped into someone. He glared at Snape, who just sneered back.

“We’ll get you next time, Potter,” he hissed through clenched teeth like a serpent, his voice the same nasal tone it had always been since secondary school.

“You wish,” James shot back with a disbelieving scoff. Admittedly, if Snape wasn’t on their team, they’d probably do well. But he never voiced that thought out loud. It was practically a sin.

He pinched his nose and waved a hand through the air as Snape stormed away. “Maybe you should focus on taking a shower instead.”

Snape’s face was tomato red when he turned back to James, his body tense and his fists clenched by his sides. He went to stomp back over to him and probably pick a fight with James despite him being a lot scrawnier when a familiar head of hair lunged at him. “James, you were amazing!” Lily cheered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Snape stared longingly at Lily before walking away.

“Thanks,” James replied, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to Lily and her ‘friend.’ Lily was beaming at him like she always did after a good game while the other lady stood to the side, a kind smile on her face and hands pushed into her pockets. “I didn’t really do much, though. You know that.”

Lily rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She gestured over to the other person, who stepped to stand beside her. “James, this is Mary,” Lily said and shot him a glare. “My friend.”

James nodded his head and looked Mary over. She was a bit taller than Lily, which really wasn’t hard to do for most people. Her curly black hair sat about shoulder length, and when she held her hand out for James to shake, he noticed that all but two of her fingers were acrylics with the tips painted pink.

Interesting.

“Mary Macdonald,” she introduced herself. “Big fan.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” He asked and took her hand, shaking it politely.

“Oh, yeah. When Lily told me about you, I had to beg her for tickets. I’ve been dying to come to a game for ages,” Mary explained, a light blush dusting over the apples of her dark cheeks. She looked over at Lily and said, “I’m really glad she did.”

The two girls beamed at each other, and James suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, it was kind of obvious how smitten the two of them were with each other already, and James should know. He used to look at Lily exactly how Mary was doing. That seemed like a lifetime ago, though.

“Ready to celebrate?” Lily asked after a moment, snapping out of their little trance. She held an arm out for him to link his arm through despite how much shorter she was.

After every game, James would get stupidly drunk with his teammates, and then Lily would have to drag him home and nurse his hangover the next morning. But James didn’t feel like doing that. Partly because Lily was obviously on a date with Mary and he didn’t want to impose, but mostly because he wanted to text Étoile and see if he’d come, what he thought of the game, and if he had even bothered to show up even though James had already sent him the tickets and everything. Étoile had promised, but what if something had come up? James hadn’t checked his phone yet. Maybe he had been teasing James.

“Nah, not tonight. I’ve got my own plans.” James shook his head and ignored the very intense urge to rummage through his bag and check Étoile’s messages again. “You guys—”

“Seeker?”

James’s heart stopped. He froze, mouth hanging open as the words clogged in his throat. Maybe he had heard something else, his delusional mind making the voice appear, but he had heard it loud and clear. A clear, crisp voice had said the name no one else knew about.

Swallowing the nerves in his throat, James slowly turned around. By the changing room doors was a short yet lanky guy, dressed in a posh-looking sweater and a trench coat that nearly reached the floor, his legs adorned in trousers that made him look a lot taller than he actually was. He was pale, his black hair parted down the middle so his bangs swept back from his face stylishly in waves, and he was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand while the other was pressed against the changing room doors. He must have just been about to enter before he spotted James.

When James finally dragged his eyes to the guy’s face, he was struck by just how beautiful he was. He was the most gorgeous man James had ever met. Stormy eyes peered back at him with a slight darkness that shadowed underneath them, encased in long, lush eyelashes. He had ivory white skin like marble, with a few moles dotted about as if ink droplets had dripped onto his skin. His pink, plump lips were set in a frown, his dark eyebrows pinching together in the middle when James didn’t respond.

He looked kind of familiar, James realised absently.

“Does anyone go by Seeker in there?” The guy asked again, nodding his head to the changing room, and James felt his insides twist and squirm with exhilaration. He had said it. It hadn’t been James’s imagination.

It was like the air had been knocked out of him, and he was suddenly sucking in a sharp breath, taking a step towards him before he even realised what he was doing. “Uh… yeah,” James answered, breathless and his hands shaking, wanting to reach out.

He was like a fallen angel, all dark yet bright at the same time. Dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, but there was a certain aura around him. Otherworldly and ethereal. Like moonlight dancing across a black lake.

James quickly cleared his throat, realising he was acting like an idiot in front of this stranger, but he couldn’t help it when a low simmer of hope bubbled inside of him. “Why are you asking…?”

Smoky eyes darted behind James, and he suddenly remembered Lily and Mary were still there, watching all of this. But James couldn’t care less when the guy turned back to him. “I’m just a friend of his,” the guy answered easily. “It doesn’t matter. Is he in there?”

The guy’s voice was cold, but it made James’s heartbeat skip and prance around. His grip had tightened on the colourful bouquet, fingernails painted black and chipped slightly at the tips. Like Étoile’s, his mind supplied. He could vividly recall seeing those fingernails and slender fingers wrapped around the suction cup of a dildo.

It all hit him in a dizzying rush.

“Étoile…?” James whispered.

The man visibly stiffened. Those eyes widened, revealing more ashen colour for James to stare into, and his rosy lips parted. Colour bloomed onto his cheeks like a watercolour painting.

They stood, trapped in the moment for a very long time. James couldn’t believe his eyes. He was standing in front of Étoile — the Étoile — the man he’d been obsessed with for so long. He was real and in front of James, and his eyes darted over James’s body in a way that made him want to stand up taller and puff his chest out in pride, especially when the flush darkened on Étoile’s pretty face.

“You really fucked up the pronunciation,” he finally said, his hand dropping from the changing room door. Then, in a smooth French accent: “It’s Étoile.”

James didn’t give a shit about the fucking pronunciation. He was standing in front of Étoile. Finally! He’d been hoping for the day, prepared for disappointment, ready to deal with the heartache when he eventually moved on, but no. Étoile was there, in front of James, and he had been right.

He was stunning. Breathtaking. Every damn synonym for beautiful in the dictionary.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” James asked in a breathless rush. “You’re actually him.”

“Well, if you’re actually Seeker, then yes,” the guy replied, shrugging his shoulders and arching a fine eyebrow at James that made his toes tingle. “I am him.”

“James?” Lily’s voice broke him out of his stupor, and he turned around to see that she and Mary were staring at the two of them in confusion. Lily’s eyebrows were furrowed so tightly that they nearly turned into one line when she asked, “Who’s this?”

His heart jumped out of his chest. Shit, how was he supposed to explain this? Oh, don’t worry, Lily. This is just the camboy I stumbled upon after you broke up with me, and I’ve been drooling over him ever since. No, no. That was so stupid.

Luckily, Étoile jumped in before him. He stepped towards Lily and Mary and held his hand out, an easy smile on his lips. “I’m a friend of, uh… James,” he said, and god, the sound of his name from those pretty lips nearly made him pop a boner right then and there. Honestly, anything from those lips enchanted James instantly. “Étoile, nice to meet you.”

“Why did you call him Seeker, then?” Lily asked, taking Étoile’s hand. They shook politely, solidifying to James that this was real. Étoile was really there, and James wasn’t just dreaming this on a hospital bed after an accident on the ice.

“It’s his gamertag. We play online together,” Étoile lied far too smoothly. “Like mine is Étoile. It’s just a silly name.”

Lily didn’t look convinced — probably because Étoile didn’t look the type to be a gamer; more of an academic — but before she could interrogate him, James quickly ushered them away. “Well, it was very nice to see you both. Thanks for coming. Have fun on your date!”

“It’s not a—” Lily’s protest cut off as the door slammed shut at the end of the corridor, leaving James with Étoile.

Alone.

His heart was thumping too loudly in his chest when he turned back to the angel and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. That’s my ex and a friend of hers,” he explained.

“Your ex?” Étoile repeated, cocking an eyebrow at him. His eyes darted back to the closed door and over James again. The look would have reminded him of a teacher silently scrutinising him if it weren’t for the fact that it was Étoile who was looking at him like that.

He needed to calm down before he actually did pop a boner in front of him. That would be a horrible first impression.

“Yeah, it’s a long story. We’re okay now. Like I said, she’s on a date with her friend right now, so…”

“I see,” he drawled, dropping the subject.

James stared at Étoile, taking it all in again. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he admitted on a breathy exhale. “I mean, I know I sent you the ticket, and I’d been hoping you’d show up, but I never thought you’d actually… I mean, you’re here.”

Étoile nodded and swallowed, looking away for a moment. “It was sort of an… impulse decision. I wanted to give you these,” he said and gestured to the bouquet. “Maybe just hand it to someone and hope it was given to the right person, but, uh…”

So, Étoile hadn’t actually planned on James meeting him just yet. It was pure luck. Pure fucking luck. The same luck that had shown James that ad and he stumbled onto Étoile’s camboy profile. The same luck that Étoile hadn’t turned out to be some douchebag. The same luck that they’d both lived in London.

“I can’t believe it…” James repeated dumbly. He was utterly speechless.

“Me neither,” Étoile replied, his eyes roaming all over James. He was a fair bit taller than Étoile, and when his head craned back so their eyes met, revealing all of that lovely skin and the long lines of his neck, James’s heart stuttered to a stop.

A smile cracked on his face. “Your real name is James?”

He laughed airily, ducking his head in embarrassment, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “James Potter. And your real name isn’t Étoile?”

A huff of amusement escaped him, and he shook his head. “Of course, it isn’t,” he answered, rolling his eyes in a way that James found himself wanting to get addicted to. He loved it. “It’s Regulus. Regulus Black.”

Huh, James mused in his head. How many people in London have the same last name? That’s a funny coincidence.

Before he could think any more of it, though, Étoile — Regulus, what a pretty name — held the bouquet out to him. James took it, breathing in the floral scent that washed over him. It was just a standard bouquet from a shop, but not a cheap one. There was baby’s breath added to it, and it wasn’t wrapped in plastic but parchment paper.

A little note was tied around the stem, and after adjusting the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, James read the curly handwriting:

To Seeker,

You played brilliantly today. I can’t wait for you to see your surprise later.

E x

James glanced up at Regulus, who was inspecting the wall like it was the most fabulous thing in the entire world. “My surprise?” He asked, lips curling up slyly.

Regulus cleared his throat. He could practically see the mask he set upon himself, trying to act all indifferent. He even crossed his arms over his chest, which was just adorable to James. “Yes, I was planning a surprise for you later. A very special stream, but that’s been ruined now,” he explained. “I even left something in the bouquet for you.”

Peering into the flowers, James discovered a little tassel bag buried in the stems. He pulled it out carefully, not wanting to damage any of them, and was glad that Lily and Mary had left and that they were alone when he opened it to find a pink egg device. He choked on his own spit.

“Do you like it?” Regulus asked after James finally composed himself from his impromptu coughing fit. He stared up at James from underneath his long eyelashes, lips pulled into a grin that just… James was going mad. This boy was ruining him.

“You’re a little minx,” James teased and looked back into the bag. “What is it?”

“A vibrator.” Regulus was completely undisturbed as James went into another coughing fit after choking on his spit again, doubling over. “Not one of mine, of course. I bought this one especially for you. I was going to text you instructions later when you had to join the stream.”

James' mind was blank when he recovered once again. Étoile — Regulus — had taken the time to buy a vibrator and a bouquet, come to James’s show, plan to give him the gifts, and then perform a special stream for him that night. It blew his mind. James was nothing special, but he really hoped he was. He had to be, right? Regulus wouldn’t do this for just any fan.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” James whispered, gesturing to the bouquet. “You didn’t even need to come to my game. I was just happy you gave me a scrap of your attention, honestly. That’s enough for me.”

Something complicated flashed across Regulus’s face that James couldn’t decipher before he casually shrugged his shoulders. “Well, once I realised you weren’t like those other creeps online, I had to give you a chance. Plus, you did really well today. You deserve a reward.”

James’s heart fucking burst. All he’d ever wanted since stumbling upon Étoile was to be apart from those other perverts who called themselves his fans. He wasn’t like them, and Regulus saw that. He knew that now. James had proved himself, and he felt filled to the brim, ready to burst.

“Sorry for spoiling the reward.” James wasn’t sorry, though. He was the least bit sorry. “But this is a lot better. I’m so glad I get to see you, Éto— Regulus.”

A shiver ran up Regulus’s spine, and James beamed, but Regulus tried to pretend he wasn’t affected and just lifted a shoulder again. “Wasn’t my doing. Blame it on the universe or luck or whatever.”

“Destiny,” James declared. He felt like it was his fate to stumble upon Étoile. There were just too many coincidences for it to be luck. Life just wasn’t like that. It never worked that clumsily.

Something passed through those ashen eyes. Regulus turned away, waving a hand carelessly. “Whatever. It was good to meet you, Seeker. Have fun celebrating.”

Panic made James’s limbs lock up, and before he knew what he was doing, he lunged forward and grabbed Regulus’s wrist. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Don’t go. Not yet. We can just hang out for a bit. I was going to go home and text you about the game, anyway, so why not do it in person?”

Regulus turned around, features pinched. James understood the dangers, of course. He was a stranger online, and taking Regulus back to his apartment could send him a lot of red flags. He was completely understanding of that, and he would have been happy to just hang out at a pub somewhere or even go back to Regulus’s place, for fuck’s sake. He just— he couldn’t give this up. Not now. He’d finally seen Étoile in person.

He didn’t care if he was crazy or obsessive or even delusional. He couldn’t care anymore. He was finally getting something he wanted, and nothing could stop him now. Not even the thoughts in the back of his head telling him how sick he was.

“I just want to get to know you. The real you. In person,” James whispered.

Unexpectedly, after a long moment, Regulus nodded. “Okay,” he replied, turning back to James. “I kind of want to meet your friends, anyway. What were those nicknames you gave each other? Paddle, Moon, Tongs, and Wormy…?”

James laughed, not letting go of Regulus’s wrist just yet. It was so dainty, like porcelain. Delicate. “Padfoot, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail,” he corrected with a light laugh.

“That’s what I said,” Regulus protested, pulling another laugh out of him. When he finally calmed down, Regulus sighed. “I know how stupid it is for me to agree to this, so just don’t make me look like an idiot and murder me or something. I’d like to keep my record of always being right.”

“I promise,” James agreed immediately. He would never hurt Étoile or Regulus. Quite the opposite, actually. He wanted to shield him away, protect him from all the creeps in the world and whatever pain he came from. He wanted so much, yet he knew he couldn’t have any of it. Not yet.

Clearing his throat, James dropped Regulus’s wrist and took a step back, his face flaming with heat. “The worst that might happen is that you might get interrogated by Padfoot, but he’s honestly not that bad. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Regulus laughed as he followed James down the hallway. James wanted to bottle up the sound like a seashell and press it to his ear whenever he felt upset. It was beautiful. Everything about Étoile — Regulus — was gorgeous.

He was the luckiest man alive.

When the two of them finally entered the apartment, James was honestly ecstatic. He hadn’t felt so excited in a long time. Not even after winning a game like he had today. No, that was nothing compared to the thrill of finally meeting Étoile in person.

“Sorry about the mess. You can take your shoes off here. I’ll take your coat,” James said as they stepped inside. They both respectively slipped their shoes off by the front door, James’ in a messy pile while Regulus kept his sleek Oxfords neat and pressed against the wall out of the way.

When he turned around, James fumbled to put the bouquet and his duffel bag down to help slide off the impressive trench coat from his shoulders. He was struck by how domestic it felt, but that thought was batshit even for him, so he quickly squashed it down as he hung his coat up by the door and picked up his stuff again.

Instead of being greeted by the sound of Remus and Sirius fighting — because yes, the lovebirds fought even through the honeymoon phase of their relationship — or the familiar sight of Peter hunkered down on the sofa with a textbook in hand, James grew worried. Even if James had joined his teammates for a drink at the pub or a party somewhere, his mates should have been at home still. He didn’t remember them saying anything about any plans today, though he had been a little… distracted lately.

“Nice place,” Regulus murmured from behind him. James spun to watch as Regulus rolled the sleeves of his posh jumper up to his elbows, exposing long forearms dusted with fine hair that made him salivate like a dog for a bone.

He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts immediately, and turned back to the apartment. “Thanks. It is pretty nice. You can thank Moony for the decor and stuff. He’s the one who really spruced the place up a bit. If it were me, I would have just left it how it was. Maybe add a plant in the corner or something.”

Regulus chuckled and followed James as he wandered into the kitchen, peering behind the kitchen island to see if any of them were hiding behind it. But that was stupid. Why would they be hiding?

He left Regulus to look around whilst he filled up a vase for the flowers, stashing the drawstring bag with the vibrator into his pocket. I mean, it would have been rude to not accept the gift after Regulus had gone to all the trouble of buying it for him. He set the flowers into the water and left them on the side for Remus to fiddle with later.

As he walked back into the living room, he watched as Regulus’s fine eyebrows scrunched up in confusion when his eyes fell on the bookshelf in the room. It was crammed with books — Remus’s fault — but there were a few trinkets here and there, as well as a photo of all of them back in college.

James went over to explain as such when the front door suddenly burst open. There was a cacophony of sound suddenly, Sirius’s voice rising above the chaos.

“No, sweetheart, I told you, and my answer is no. I really don’t suit the colour orange at all. It clashes with my whole aesthetic and—” Sirius suddenly paused as he stepped past the doorframe, eyes landing immediately on Regulus. His arms were full of shopping bags for some reason, bulging with what looked like hundreds of bars of chocolate.

He tensed up beside him, but James ignored it, rushing forward to explain. “Sirius, this is—”

“Reggie!” Sirius squealed, dropping the bags he had been carrying and wrapping Regulus into a bone-crushing hug.

Remus hobbled in after him, leaning heavily on his cane, and nodded at Regulus, who stood shell-shocked in Sirius’s arms. “Hey, dude.”

James’s eyes darted around the room. “What the fuck is going on?” James mumbled. How did Sirius and Remus know Regulus? Why was Sirius hugging him?

But before James could question them any further, Sirius spun Regulus towards James and grinned. “Prongs, meet my baby brother, Regulus.”

… What?

Chapter Text

Regulus knew he’d heard that name before.

Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d completely missed it. Probably because he’d been dazed from actually meeting Seeker for the first time. Somehow, Seeker — James — lived with his brother and his brother’s boyfriend, the guys Sirius had left Regulus for. The guys Regulus had secretly loathed for years without even knowing who they were. The guys who, until recently, Regulus had deemed as his superiors. The ones Sirius had chosen over him.

The universe was a cruel fucking mistress.

Sirius had no idea, though. He was completely oblivious to Regulus’s turmoil, chattering endlessly to James about his ‘amazing little brother’ and how they should ‘totally spend Christmas together.’ At the same time, Regulus sat on the sofa, wondering what the fuck he was meant to do.

Because obviously, he was fascinated by Seeker. He hadn’t planned on meeting him so soon, but he also couldn’t be mad at the turn of events. He was just sort of shocked to learn the truth and to have his brother there in the apartment where Regulus had planned on sucking his best friend off only ten minutes ago.

Yeah, that was definitely not something he would admit out loud.

Seeker — James — looked dazed himself. Which was fair. He’d been friends with Sirius for years, and suddenly, he’d found his little brother on a cam boy website. The man he’d known for years had a little brother who he’d been secretly jacking off to for months now. It would have been fucking hilarious if Regulus wasn’t living in that reality. His life couldn’t get any better.

“Wait.” Sirius suddenly paused his erratic rambling, turning to Regulus, his hands on his hips. “What are you even doing here?”

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Regulus glanced at James, seeking a believable answer from him — and no, the pun was not lost on him. James simply stared back at Regulus, stood by the kitchen island, eyes wide and panicked. He would be no help.

“We’re friends,” Regulus lied. Though, was it really a lie? They were definitely something, but Regulus wouldn’t call them friends. Or more. Honestly, Regulus had no fucking idea what they were. “I came over to hang out and didn’t realise you guys knew each other. Or live together.”

“Huh,” Sirius mused.

Remus snorted as he leaned against the arm of the couch, his grip tight around the handle of his cane. “Weren’t the same surnames and similar features a big enough hint to you?”

He had directed the question to James, and Regulus watched in fascination as a blush stained dark cheeks. “Well, uh… I just thought it was a funny coincidence,” Seeker (James, James, James) admitted and rubbed the side of his neck.

Really? Regulus thought. That was it?

At least that put some of his worries at bay that James had secretly known. That he’d sought Regulus out because he knew his brother and was ready to spoil his great, devious plan of family humiliation. Spoiling the prestigious Black name. But the honesty in his voice and the flush on his face convinced Regulus it was the truth. He really hoped that it was all just an accident.

Sirius snorted. “This is more than just coincidence. It has to be—”

“Don’t you dare say fate,” Regulus growled at his brother.

Remus cocked a brow at him. James (Seeker, Seeker, Seeker) watched him carefully, studying him like a lost puzzle piece that suddenly fit into the image.

It wasn’t fate. Or destiny. Or whatever romanticised bullshit they thought it was. But Regulus didn’t want to believe it was God’s will either. His holy plan. Or maybe he did believe it, but he was too scared to admit it, even to himself. He didn’t know. His head was spinning, and there were too many people in the room, and he just wanted out.

He dropped his head into his hands and fought the urge to groan.

The silence was almost agonising. Regulus knew he had to fill it. To say something. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, though. Too heavy and weighing him down. Words escaped him.

How had things gotten so complicated?

“Padfoot,” Remus whispered, and the click of his cane echoed on the floorboards like droplets rippling over a lake as he stepped towards Sirius. “Maybe we should leave them be.”

Regulus didn’t lift his head, but he could picture the offended look on his brother’s face. The urge to argue and stay by his brother’s side, but after a while, he heard a sigh of defeat.

“We need to go out and buy…” Sirius scrambled for an excuse, which was completely unnecessary, and Regulus lifted his head to see the slightly panicked look in his eyes. Then, he blurted out, “Chocolate!”

“You have an entire bag filled with chocolate by the door,” Regulus pointed out, which was stupid. He shouldn’t have said anything, but when the need arose, he had to be a sardonic arsehole.

Remus shot him an incredulous look, like Regulus was an idiot, before grabbing Sirius’s arm and turning for the door. “We’ll be back in an hour. Have fun, you two.”

“Wait, why would they be having fun? James, you’re not banging my—” And then the door slammed shut before Sirius could finish.

Silence descended upon the apartment. Regulus’s heart raced in his ears, echoing the prayer in his head. Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your—

James sat down next to Regulus on the sofa, and the prayer died instantly. It was like he was the devil — sin incarnate — gracing him with his presence. On the outside, he was innocent, but the mere few inches between them felt hotter than the fires of Hell.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered, and his voice was as sweet as angels’ song, but it ignited heat in Regulus; damning heat. “I didn’t know. I should have used my head and connected the dots, but…” He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I really didn’t know, Regulus.”

“Why are you sorry?” Regulus asked. He turned himself towards James, his brows dipped in concern because James’s face was pinched in guilt.

The beautiful curve of his nose was scrunched up, and his honey eyes were full of turmoil. His lips pulled into a flat line before he sighed again. “Sirius told me what his parents were like. He ran away to live with my parents, which… you already know, of course. I knew it was hard for him to leave his brother behind, and I’m sorry he did that. I’m sorry you went through hell and—”

“I forgive you,” Regulus whispered. James turned to him in shock, but Regulus looked away at the floor. “I mean, I still don’t know what I’m forgiving you for, but it doesn’t matter anymore, James. Sirius and I escaped. We lived. And I’ve already forgiven him for abandoning me, but I’m glad he did. I’m…”

A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down, powering through. “I’m glad he went to you.”

When he lifted his head again, the guilt from James’s face wasn’t gone. It had relaxed slightly, giving way to relief, but there was a trace of it in the pinch in the corner of his eyes. “I wish I knew you back then. I could have saved you too.”

And wasn’t that just heart-wrenching?

Regulus instantly shook his head. “There’s no point worrying about it,” he dismissed. “What’s happened has happened—”

“You didn’t deserve that pain. You don’t deserve any pain,” James argued fiercely.

He drew back in shock. The weight of his words crushed Regulus’s chest until it was tight, tight, tight. It was worse when he used to bind his chest with anything he could find pre-top surgery: bandages, sports bras, makeshift binders made out of pillowcases. It ached and surged and threatened to wreck him worse than God’s wrath.

The day had been a whirlwind of chaos, and Regulus needed something good. Damn God, damn Hell, damn it all. He could repent later.

Powered with the pain in his chest, Regulus leaned forward. His lips brushed against James’s, and they were so soft. A little dry and cracked from the cold air of the ice rink earlier, but still so sweet and nice. The aroma of something spicy wafted into his nose.

James froze, and Regulus was afraid he’d done something wrong. Sure, James had masturbated for him and watched hundreds of hours of Regulus on his camboy website. But there was a distinct difference between sex and this.

He pulled back, a pit in his stomach. “Sorry—”

James didn’t let him finish.

Suddenly, he was kissing Regulus, and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t the soft brush like Regulus had kissed him with, but an all-consuming ache. It was hellfire and brimstone, and Regulus was being burnt alive. He loved it. He embraced the flames and closed his eyes, hands cupping James’s face so he didn’t miss a single lick of heat.

A hand found its way to Regulus’s hips, then two, and then Regulus was being pulled into James’s lap, his lips coaxing his open. A soft gasp escaped him before James’s tongue prodded at his bottom lip. A silent question. A plea. More?

Regulus was a weak, weak man.

The fear of God should have repelled him from this. But Regulus had never been a good Christian like his parents had wanted. His religion only went bone-deep. The longing and need inside of him ran so much deeper. In his soul. He knew he’d never get into heaven, not with the monstrosity that he was, and he knew he shouldn’t have been kissing his older brother’s friend, but Regulus was his first. In his head, at least.

He opened for James, and then his tongue was sliding against his — all wet heat and longing. The noises were absurd, loud in the empty apartment, and Regulus heard the rustle of clothes before he realised he was squirming in James’s lap. His fingers ran into chestnut hair, dark and silky and glorious. He held on tight, and James groaned, his fingers biting into Regulus.

“Reg,” James breathed when he pulled back. His eyes were half-lidded, his dark face flushed, and Regulus licked his bottom lip to keep the taste of him in his mouth. James’s eyes flared. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Regulus ran his fingers through James’s hair until he reached the nape of his neck.

“This.” James’s voice was scratchy and marvellous. A little strained, as if he was holding himself back. “This isn’t just sex to me. It’s never just sex with you. Not that I don’t want to; I do, but I don’t want you to think that’s all I see you as. Because I don’t. I never will. And I can wait for when you’re ready.”

Regulus sighed and leaned back, hands planted on James’s broad shoulders. “James, who is in your lap?”

Confusion made his eyebrows dip. “You are…”

“And if I didn’t want to be, I would have gotten off by now, right?”

“Right.” James didn’t sound so certain.

He leaned forward again. His nose brushed against James’s. There was a bump in the bridge that Regulus had the urge to bite. “You have to trust me on this. If I don’t want this, I’ll let you know. But I do. I want you, James,” he whispered and ran his hands over James’s heaving chest.

Hockey players were all big guys, but James was beautiful. His pecs flexed under Regulus’ hands, and as they travelled down, over his sides, they tapered to a slim waist. He felt a belly, muscle-padded, and when his hands dipped under James’s hoodie, he felt hair brush his fingers. James’s breathing picked up.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve come just thinking about you. Thinking about that pretty cock of yours,” he admitted, and Regulus was almost shocked by himself. When did he get so verbal during sex? Well, foreplay, really. “I want to see you come apart. Do you want to see me?”

A choking sound erupted from James’s throat. His hands shot out, gripping Regulus’s wrists in a steady hold. Not firm or bruising. Regulus' heart dropped before he felt James’s nose bury itself in his hair, and he sighed.

“Not here,” he rasped out. “Sirius is going to kill me for this, but I’d rather he did because of you and not because we did it on the sofa.”

Regulus laughed and climbed off his lap. “As if Sirius and Remus haven’t fucked here themselves.”

“Ew,” James whined.

With James’s fingers still wrapped around his wrist, he led Regulus down a hall and to a door on the right. It was a standard room, a little messy, with a bed tucked into the corner, a wardrobe and a desk on the other side, and a window draped in white curtains that overlooked London. Regulus glanced around, snorting a little at the ice hockey posters pinned to the wall before an arm wrapped around his waist and James’s lips were on his again.

His back hit the mattress, and James braced his arms over Regulus’s head so he didn’t crush him. The kiss turned sloppy, nothing more than the both of them panting into each other’s mouths as James rolled his hips onto Regulus. The rasp of denim on cotton filled the room, and Regulus felt the hard press rub against him deliciously before James pulled back abruptly.

Regulus caught him before his hands went to his belt. “Why don’t you get ready for me?” he purred.

James’s eyebrows were cute when they scrunched together. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and raspy and sending a tingle up Regulus’s spine.

Slowly but deliberately, Regulus watched James’s face while his hand travelled down his back and to his ass. It was firm and sculpted, and Regulus squeezed, delighted when James gasped and realisation dawned on his face.

“Get squeaky clean for me. I’ll be waiting,” he ordered in a firm yet gentle tone before pressing a chaste kiss to James’s lips.

Regulus had never seen a man rush to the bathroom faster. He laughed and sprawled out on James’s bed, arms above his head.

He knew he should probably undress and get ready for James as well, but for a moment, he decided to look around the room again. One wall was exposed, cherry bricks poking out against white paint. The bed sheets were scratchy under Regulus and a deep crimson colour. Actually, there was a lot of red in James’s room. On the walls, the posters, and even the clothes that dotted the ground. It was probably his favourite colour.

Regulus turned his head and buried it in James’s pillow. The spicy scent was stronger, and Regulus curled his body around it. His mind was traitorous and imagined waking up in James’s bed, sunlight beaming in through the window and dancing across tanned skin; one honey eye peeking open to gaze at him while the rest of his face was buried in the pillow, a small curve of his lips.

His arms wound around the pillow to hug it, to breathe it all in, and to ground himself before he was lost to the mind-numbing, heady sensations. He felt something soft and familiar, though. He sat up and pulled the pillow away to find a shirt — the shirt Regulus had sent Seeker a while ago now — tucked under the pillow. It was creased to shit, and Regulus snorted a laugh. He couldn’t believe James would hide his shirt under his pillow.

Before he could find more secrets, James returned. He’d abandoned his jeans somewhere, and Regulus gulped at the very prominent bulge in his boxers — boxers which had little hockey sticks and pucks printed on them.

“Cute,” Regulus whispered.

“Says you.” James shot back and prowled towards the bed, tugging his hoodie over his head. It hit the floor with a little thud.

James was beautiful. Not just because of his body either. Regulus was practically drooling over it and the dark hair that trailed south from his navel, but also because it was James. The man who’d taken the time out of his days to show Regulus he wasn’t like the other perverts online. The man who’d invited Regulus to his game despite them never meeting before; who’d exposed himself before Regulus; who was always so ready to give and never take.

The same man who paused when he noticed what Regulus had discovered under his pillow. “Oh, uh…”

“Like I said,” Regulus drawled and got off the bed, leaving the pillow behind. “Cute.”

James huffed and shook his head. An embarrassed blush spread over his cheeks, and Regulus cupped his face, turning it towards him again. He wanted to see every look on James’s face.

His hands dipped under the waistband of his boxers. James stiffened against Regulus as his fingers ran over his ass, the cleft, and found their way to his hole. He pressed against it, expecting resistance but found none. It was slick and warm. “You stretched yourself for me, baby?” Regulus whispered. “What a good boy.”

The words sort of slipped out without much thought, and James moaned, gripping Regulus’s jumper tight. His head dipped, burying in Regulus’s hair, and he breathed in, practically sagging against him.

Regulus pulled back despite James’s obvious disappointment from the whine he let out. “Where’s your surprise?” he asked, a dirty little idea forming in his mind.

It took a moment for James to come back to himself. “Hoodie pocket,” he answered.

He bent down to retrieve it, and Regulus accepted the drawstring bag. He pulled the pink egg out, and the honey colour of James’s eyes was nothing but black now, flaring when Regulus ordered, “Get on the bed.”

James obeyed easily. He climbed onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, watching Regulus like a hawk while he pulled off his trousers and jumper. It felt only fair if they were both exposed. James’s breath hitched when Regulus kneeled on the bed, and he grabbed James’s ankles. He tugged James down, and he laughed.

Grabbing the pillow, he tucked it underneath James and retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer when he asked for it. The bulge bucked when Regulus’s fingers went to the waistband. His eyes darted to James, a silent question in them.

James nodded, looking about ready to break and plead for Regulus to hurry.

A devilish smirk crossed his face.

He pulled down and nearly gasped when James’s cock popped out, smacking against his belly. The videos James sent him never served him justice. The head was flushed an angry colour, already beaded with precum, and Regulus felt his insides hollow from the size and girth. It was big — not overly so, but enough to make Regulus’s heart pound faster.

“So pretty,” he whispered and pulled the boxers off all the way. It landed with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

Regulus ran his hands over muscular thighs that were dusted with dark hair. James watched with a hunger in his eyes, taking all of Regulus in while he did the same. He wasn’t muscular like a gym bro, with a somewhat soft belly and a cluster of stretch marks on his hips that Regulus couldn’t help but trace delicately.

He was, for lack of a better term, beautiful.

When he told him so, James just groaned and planted his feet on the bed, spreading enough for Regulus to see his hole. Like the rest of him, it was dusted in hair, thick around the root of his cock, and Regulus couldn’t wait to feel it rasp against his skin. But not yet.

“You like praise then, baby?” Regulus cooed. He grabbed the vibrator where it had been discarded on the bed and nudged James’s legs to spread out further.

“I guess so.” James’s voice came out shaky, and from the looks of it, he was nervous. Regulus wondered how far he’d gone with sex. He wanted to show him all the wonders of it. To explore it together.

He leaned over James and pressed a kiss to his belly. “Do you want this, James?” He asked and rubbed his thigh with his free hand.

“Yes,” he practically whined.

“Then I’ll need a safeword from you. A word that will tell me you want to stop immediately or need a break. Something completely unrelated to sex, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” He pressed another kiss before he pulled away to give James time to think.

He blinked his eyes a few times, the glassy film over them retreating a little. He licked his lips and rasped, “Puck?”

Regulus snorted. Of course, it was hockey-related, but he couldn’t fault the man.

“Good boy,” he whispered and was about to continue his plans when James grabbed his arm.

“What about you?” he asked, brows dipping once again but not in confusion.

And Regulus’s heart squeezed in his chest. He was always so worried about him. Focused on him. Regulus was overcome with the desperate desire to kiss James silly, to make him stop being so selfless and concerned about him, even if it was just the bare minimum. He didn’t care. He didn’t need to be psychoanalysed.

“Cherry,” he answered.

James nodded and took a deep breath. After a moment, he leaned back on the bed and lifted his hips slightly, and Regulus was instantly distracted by the sight of his hole clenching around nothing. Enticing Regulus in.

With a kiss to his knee, Regulus slicked the egg in lube and pressed the blunt end of the vibrator to his hole. James gasped, his fingers clenching around the sheets underneath him, and his chest rose up and down, faster and faster.

“Bear down for me, baby,” he instructed.

There was no resistance. The toy was sucked in until only the thin tail stuck out, and James breathed deeply, getting used to the sensation. After a moment, James nodded, and Regulus turned the vibrator on.

James lurched up with a cry. It was a surprised and abrupt sound before melting into pleasure. His back arched, toes curling and fingers grasping desperately to the bedsheets.

Regulus shushed him and pressed a frenzy of kisses up James’s inner thigh. He did the same to the other thigh before he was nestled between James’s legs. He twitched and writhed, and Regulus heard the muffled noise of the vibrator buried inside of him, pressing against his prostate.

“Okay?” He asked.

James nodded his head frantically. “Fuck, Regulus! So fucking good. So good. Can barely think,” he babbled.

An airy laugh breezed out of his lips, and James moaned from the brush of air against his sac. Regulus wore a smirk as he pressed a kiss to the seam before moving up, hands kneading his thighs until the head of his cock was just a breath away.

There was a pool of precum on James’s belly. A vein wound up the underside of the shaft, and Regulus couldn’t resist the urge to trace it with his tongue. He dipped the point of his tongue into James’s slit, and a salty taste exploded in his mouth. James whined and bucked his hips up involuntarily, but Regulus pushed them down.

“Be good for me, and you’ll get a reward,” he ordered. Regulus’s voice dipped into a low and sultry tone, and he was startled. He’d never been dominant in bed. The few times he was ever intimate with someone, Regulus had taken the submissive role because that was expected of him.

James brought out a side of him he never even knew about.

“What kind of reward?” James questioned through panting breaths. His eyes kept darting from Regulus to the tip of his cock, which was so close to Regulus’s mouth. All he had to do was lean forward and…

Regulus pulled away. James let out a pathetic noise and reached out for Regulus. That was beginning to be a problem. He grabbed James’s hand before he could grab him and raised his eyebrows like a stern parent. “James,” he warned.

“Regulus,” he moaned and arched his back again, grinding against nothing. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and Regulus wanted to lick it up. “Please. I can’t— I need—”

“You’ll get what you need, James,” Regulus promised and climbed off the bed. He felt like a god above James. Not the God, but one of them. All-powerful. All-knowing. He pulled the belt from the loops of his trousers and whispered in a softer voice, “Is this okay?”

James’s eyes darted from the belt to Regulus. Back to the belt. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow before he nodded his head. “Do whatever you want to me, baby.”

“Safeword?” Regulus climbed back onto the bed, hovering over James’s lap. He heard the slap of his cock against his stomach when he leaned over and grabbed James’s wrists in one hand, lifting them over his head.

“Puck,” James answered.

The belt wrapped around James’s wrists. It wasn’t a restricting grip. Regulus didn’t want to cut the blood flow from his hands, and knotting a belt was a surprisingly difficult task, but it would have to do. It wasn’t about actually binding James, but the power of it. The control. It gave Regulus a heady rush he’d never experienced before.

“That’s my good boy,” Regulus purred and kissed James.

It was meant to be sweet, but James was desperate. He moaned and squirmed restlessly underneath him like a pack of snakes, his tongue pushing into Regulus’s mouth forcefully. His hips ground up into the air, seeking friction against his prostate, and Regulus hummed.

He loved this. Adored it. James was nothing but a mess for him. Because of him.

Taking pity on the poor soul, Regulus finally slipped off his boxers. It was an awkward shuffle, but they hit the ground eventually, and James’s eyes immediately snapped down to his smooth skin. He moaned, lifting his arms to reach out, but Regulus fixed him a fierce look, and he dropped his bound arms again.

“You’re so fucking stunning, Regulus,” James breathed. He lifted his hips, and Regulus shivered at the slide of his cock against his cunt. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. So pretty. My pretty boy.”

A ball formed in Regulus’s throat when he suppressed the urge to whine. He planted his hands on James’s chest, his dark nipples like diamonds against the palm of his hands, and rubbed himself against James. A quick snap of his hips. Ecstasy lit up in his body.

He was desperately hard against Regulus. He could practically feel the blood pumping through his cock. The same quick beat that echoed in Regulus’s core.

“You want this?” Regulus asked. Uselessly, of course. He could feel how much James wanted it — needed it. “You want your reward, baby?”

James nodded.

Regulus laughed airily before leaning over to retrieve a condom from the same drawer he’d found the lube in. After rolling it on and discarding the wrapper in a bin next to the bed, Regulus gripped the base of James’s cock and tilted it up.

The head poked against his hole, and Regulus wanted to moan. He could feel it bubbling up as he relaxed and slid down tentatively. James arched his back with a drawn-out cry. Regulus memorised the long lines of his neck, the bump in his nose, the heavy lids of his eyes, the cupid’s bow of his lips, and the arch of sweat that tracked down his face while he worked himself on James, slowly sliding down inch by agonising inch.

When he was finally to the hilt, Regulus couldn’t breathe. It was like all the air had left his lungs and he couldn’t find it anymore. There was no oxygen in the room, and he leaned over to breathe in James’s fast exhales. The angle change finally drew out the moan in Regulus’s throat.

“You feel so good, baby. So good,” Regulus breathed. He pressed the palm of his hand against the bed until his wrist ached and lifted, slamming back down. James cried out. Regulus mewled and felt his eyebrows pinch together. “Ah, fuck, James. I love this cock. Feels so good.”

He lifted his hips until only the head was still inside and slammed back down again. And again. He built up a rhythm until he couldn’t keep leaning over James anymore and sat up, fingernails leaving crescent moons in James’s skin. His thighs burnt, and sweat glided down the knobs of his spine, but it was too fucking good for Regulus to stop.

That was until James started bucking up into him, and Regulus could do nothing but hold still and take it. Skin slapped against skin, and every punch of James’s hips left Regulus wailing and drawn out. His skin felt too tight, bones threatening to break through, head tipping back with pleasure as his hand found his clit.

Every moan on camera was fake until it came to Seeker (James, James, James). Now, it was all he did while James fucked into him, harder and faster, gaining back the control Regulus had taken. That was fine, though. Just as long as James kept fucking him like this.

“Imagine how it’d feel when I do this to you,” he rambled. He didn’t even know if he was making sense, but Regulus kept talking around moans and whines like a dog in heat. “Oh fuck, I want to fuck that pretty hole of yours so bad. Want to make you scream out on camera, hundreds watching you. I want them to know what a good boy you are for me.”

“Fuck, Reg,” he groaned through gritted teeth. His jaw dropped open on a silent scream, and his arms bulged around his restraints, even though James could have easily broken them by now. The fact that he hadn’t made the pressure in his core tighten.

And then he was tumbling over the edge. A ringing invaded his ears and head as the pressure broke all at once, and he was coming on James’s cock, all tight and tense and then loose and warm seconds later. Lightning burst inside of him, and he wondered if this was what the forbidden fruit tasted like. Like James Potter.

As the cloud faded from his mind, he heard the girlish moan from James as he came apart as well.

He bounced on James’s dick to draw out the orgasm. His legs shook, breaths punching out of him, and James groaned from overstimulation eventually. Regulus was up and off his cock, collapsing next to him, and he felt hollow. Empty. He wanted James to bury himself inside him again. Over and over until Regulus was nothing but a puddle. Or James. Either one would do.

“Regulus,” James whined. It was only a second later that Regulus remembered James was bound — not really — and he unwrapped the belt from his wrists, dropping it to the floor and switching off the vibrator.

“You did so well, baby. What a good boy. I’m so proud of you,” Regulus whispered and peppered James’s face in kisses. He pulled the milky condom off and tied it before dumping it into the bin. “Did you like that?”

“I swear, you’re magic,” James whispered, and Regulus laughed softly. His voice was all drunken and slurred, eyes shut to bask in the glow of his orgasm, but his arms still skilfully wrapped around Regulus to press him to his side. As if he’d always belonged there. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say that. It makes it sound like a favour or something,” Regulus complained and scrunched up his nose.

The laugh that punched from James’s lips was bright and delightful — Regulus wanted to hear it always. To feel it vibrate against his face as he laid his head on his chest. For it to breathe past the shell of his ear. It was like a thunderclap, and Regulus’s fingertips buzzed with it. “You’re right, but still. Thank you.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to his chest.

They stayed like that for a while, with James on his back and Regulus curled against him until James moved. Then they were both on their sides, a pair of quotation marks. James’s fingers were calloused but soft as they traced every line of Regulus’s face, and Regulus let him.

Was this what it was like to be touched by God? If it was as delicate as James was treating him. Like a flower about to break. He used to hate it, but well…

James was different. He’d shown that from the first moment they’d met. He wanted to stand out, and to Regulus, he did. Even in ice hockey, he did. Without even knowing who James was to Regulus, he’d been drawn to him. He would have easily abandoned God for him.

It wasn’t fate or destiny because that made it sound like Regulus didn’t have a choice, but he did. He’d chosen to let James in, and he was grateful for it. He’d make the choice again. Life was about decisions and free will, and the universe wouldn’t take that away from him. God wouldn’t. It wasn’t kismet or written in the stars or whatever.

It was just James.

“Do you have plans this Christmas?” James blurted out, breaking Regulus away from his thoughts.

His honey eyes were on Regulus already when he lifted them, and Regulus felt splayed open like a frog in a science lab. “Not really. I’ll probably just stay at home and go to church in the evening,” Regulus answered with a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care if it sounded lonely, which it did. Terribly lonely.

James swallowed around nothing, and Regulus pressed a finger to his Adam’s apple to feel it bob. Imagine his teeth wrapped around it. “Well,” he began and licked his lips nervously. A quick peek of a pink tongue before it was gone again. “I usually spend the holidays with my parents. They live in the country, and you’re welcome to join. All of us go. Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail. You’ll be welcome there as well.”

Regulus tried to imagine it. He hadn’t had a Christmas with his brother in years, not since they were kids, and even then, they were miserable. It was less about the holidays and more about being trapped with their parents, forced to smile and attend audacious parties. Regulus felt the phantom sensation of itchy dresses and shivered.

But then it wouldn’t be like that at James’. He imagined a cute cottage nestled in the countryside, surrounded by white rolling hills and fields; a warm fireplace crackling and popping, sending an orange glow to the room. His brother would be smiling into the cup of wine while Remus stood by him on his cane. He didn’t know what Wormtail or James’s parents looked like, but he imagined smiling and laughter and cheers.

He imagined James in an ugly Christmas jumper, coaxing Regulus into the room. He wouldn’t belong; he knew that, but he could pretend. He could find a space on the puzzle to slot himself into. He could curl into James’s side, snuggled in a warm blanket and stuffed from dinner, and pretend he deserved that happiness.

“What would I go as?” Regulus asked stupidly.

“My friend,” James replied, his eyebrows dipping in the middle, and Regulus couldn’t appreciate how cute it was as his heart fell out of his ass.

He shouldn’t have persisted. He should have just accepted it and moved on to enjoy the moment while it lasted, but he found himself saying, “Why not as your boyfriend?”

It was such a stupid question to ask. Regulus should have kept his stupid mouth shut. He might have been a dumbass with romance, but he knew James wouldn’t want to go out with him. They hadn’t even been on a date yet; this was the first time they’d ever met in person, and Regulus couldn’t just—

“Well, because I’m not gay.”

And oh.

Oh.

Regulus’s face fell as the words echoed in his ears.

I’m not gay.

His fears started screaming at him like bloody murder. James (Seeker, Seeker, oh Seeker) didn’t see him as a man. All he saw was a confused little girl. An ugly little girl. A girl. Of course, he wasn’t gay. Gay men didn’t sleep with trans men. Regulus was an abomination. Of course—

Regulus scrambled off the bed.

“What’s wrong?” James asked as he pulled his clothes on as quickly as he could. Fuck, why couldn’t he wear clothes that were easier to put on in a hurry? “Regulus, what did I say? What did I—”

James’s hand reached out for him, and Regulus backed away instinctively. The look of horror on his face scared Regulus. The worry in those gorgeous eyes, framed by thick lashes, made his heart ache. As if James didn’t know the fucking pain he’d caused him. As if he didn’t realise what he’d done wrong.

Tears pricked his eyes, but he pushed them down. What came back up was anger.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me,” he hissed.

Regulus couldn’t move fast enough. As soon as his trousers were on, he grabbed his jumper and dashed out of the room. He tugged it on, ignoring James’s pleas to slow down and tell him what’s wrong, what’s wrong, Regulus, talk to me, please, what did I do?

Grabbing his coat at the front door, he shoved his feet into his shoes and pulled the door open just as Sirius went to grab the doorknob. Worry bloomed across his face at the dishevelled sight of Regulus, trouser buttons still popped open and hair a mess, tears in his eyes, and he couldn’t fucking stand it.

“Reggie, what’s—” Sirius reached out for him.

“Regulus, wait!” James called out.

Remus mumbled, “Oh, and that’s Prongs’s cock and bollocks in my face. Great…”

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

Regulus ran. He ran away from his brother and his brother’s best friend and his brother’s boyfriend, feeling his heart split in two.

He should have known better. Good things never happened to Regulus Black. He was an abomination to God for a reason.

Chapter Text

And the reward for the world’s biggest idiot went to James fucking Fleamont Potter.

Sirius made sure to remind him of that every single day for an entire week by not speaking to him. It was the longest the two of them hadn’t spoken since a prank Sirius had pulled on Remus back in secondary school. He hadn’t spoken to anyone else either, and slowly but surely, it was killing him.

Remus wouldn’t look him in the eye; either because he got a face full of his birthday suit or because of what he’d done, he didn’t know. After Peter got the rundown as to why the apartment was eerily silent, he didn’t speak to James either, spending all his time in his room studying. The girls didn’t talk to him, too busy with packing up for the holidays and out of solidarity with Sirius and the situation at hand.

It was the worst torture he’d ever experienced, and the most horrific part was, James knew it was deserved.

He hated himself for what he did. It had taken him two restless nights of going over the entire conversation before James realised what he’d done, and by that point, he hated himself some more.

He was the biggest idiot in the damn universe.

The words had just slipped out. They were true; yeah, James wasn’t gay. But that was the worst thing to say after shagging a trans guy. It was dreadful, and James tried explaining himself; he really did, but it didn’t matter. Regulus didn’t respond to the series of messages he had sent.

Seeker: Hey, I’m sorry

Seeker: Reg, respond pls

Seeker: I didn’t mean what I said

Seeker: Ur ignoring me and that’s fine, I understand, but just know that I really am sorry

Regulus hadn’t uploaded anything on his profile either for a whole week. No new livestreams. No photos. No explanation to his followers as to why his account died after two whole years of posting nonstop. Nothing. His profile picture was nothing but a black screen where it had been a beautiful nebula, mocking James every time he checked his account.

The silence was unbearable by the eighth day, and James snapped.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, okay?” He begged like a pathetic dog, following him around the apartment as he packed his bags. Even with the new no-talking-to-James rule, there was a quiet understanding that they’d still go to James’s parents place for the holidays like they always did. It was tradition, after all. “Can you just talk to me for two fucking seconds?!”

Sirius broke the silence.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, James?!” He exploded, whirling on James in a tornado of exasperation. “You were fucking my little brother behind my back. You hurt him, James!”

He flinched and stumbled back. “I didn’t know he was your brother until that day,” James argued, but even he could hear what a pathetic excuse that was. He’d still done it, even after learning the truth. “And I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt him. I-I’d just—”

“No,” Sirius interrupted. His face pinched together in pain, and he sucked in a sharp breath before releasing it slowly. “James, I love you like a brother, but I’m not the one you should be apologising to. I don’t even know what you fucking did for him to run out like that.”

Shame swirled in his stomach like a pit of snakes as he explained, “I… I said I wasn’t gay.”

The absolute disgust on Sirius’s face broke James, but he knew it was deserved. It shifted, the anger fading into defeat as Sirius took another deep breath like Remus had taught him. “Why the fuck would you say that, James?”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Why was he asking Sirius? He didn’t know. Only James knew. He wasn’t gay.

He wasn’t.

“James…” Sirius drawled, sounding pained until Remus hobbled over and squeezed his shoulder placatingly.

“It’s not for us to say,” he heard Remus whisper, and what the actual fuck? They were acting like there was some big secret going around that James had no idea about, and as much as James denied it, he knew what it was about. Anyone could tell.

Remus still wouldn’t look James in the eye as he turned and said, “Let's just get through the holidays.”

“Have you heard from him?” James blurted out when Sirius and Remus turned away.

Sirius sighed, long and heavy. “No, James.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Maybe he could visit Regulus before they left for the holidays. Regulus couldn’t ignore him if he showed up at his door.

“No, James.”

“How do you not know where your own brother lives?” James argued.

“Because, James.” Sirius rounded on him again despite Remus’s restraint on his arm. “He’s only been in my life for the past few months. I haven’t heard from him for years until he showed up again, and now, because of you, I’ve lost him again!”

And oh.

This was all James’ fault. All of it.

He should have stayed away. He shouldn’t have clicked on that website. He should have kept his nosy ass away from Regulus and out of his life instead of barging his way in and wrecking everything. He knew that, but it hadn’t dawned on him what a terrible idea it had been until that moment. James was facing the consequences of his actions, and he fucking despised it.

The silence continued as they took the train to the country. James didn’t utter a word as the four of them crowded into the seats and watched London whip away from outside the window, the towering buildings turning into rolling fields of green and white. A patchwork of farmland and sporadic cottages, like granny squares knitted together to create a blanket of countryside.

The little village where he grew up was the same as it had always been. Narrow roads with even smaller paths, too small for cars to pass through; houses crowded together and old enough to lean on one another for support as if a hurricane had forever tilted them; bunting hanging criss-cross in the air, and the chatter of townsfolk all around, greeting one another with familiarity.

The wheels on his suitcase rattled on the cobblestones as they walked, passing by shops James and Peter used to ransack and wildness they used to explore together, creating little made-up stories of princesses and dragons. Coldness nipped at his red nose, even as James burrowed his face into his scarf. They all walked through the little village until they reached the edge, and there, on a small hill, surrounded by a dullness that only England could achieve, was his parent’s cottage.

It looked monochrome, even with the little fake flowers his mother had planted in the flowerbeds at the front. As if winter had sucked up the colours of the world. The curtains were drawn back, giving James a peek into the warmth that always permeated his parents’ place, full of love and familial joy.

“James!” His mother cheered when she opened the front door, swinging her arms out wide. She bundled him up in her arms, kissing his cheeks in that sickeningly sweet way only mothers could, and sprouted out the same words she always said whenever he visited. “You should call us more often, Jamie. We’ve missed you. Oh, and you’ve brought your friends. Hello, Sirius.”

Sirius was her next victim, treating him the exact same way as if he were her own son. It felt like that sometimes.

Euphemia Potter was a small woman. Stout, with a wiry bundle of hair on her head and swimming in cardigans that hung from her hands, always cradling a cuppa. She was the light in the home, the warmth of fire in the hearth and the smell of chamomile, while James’s dad, Fleamont Potter, was the foundation. The sturdy structure that could withstand a storm.

“James,” his father greeted as they all moved into the house after getting kissed to death by his mother. He was sitting in his armchair, newspaper in hand. There were new greys at his temples that hadn’t been there before, and his glasses glinted in the light as he smiled at James. “You’re looking well.”

He hadn’t looked in the mirror for nearly a week. He couldn’t stand his reflection, too disgusted by himself to take a peek, so James wasn’t sure if he really looked well or not, but either way, he nodded and said, “Thank you, sir.”

Once all of them had been greeted and hugged and kissed some more by James’s mum, she ushered them away, calling out, “Get settled, boys! Dinner at eight.”

There was a strangeness to walking into his childhood bedroom. He used to enter and feel nothing except a sense that he was home, thinking nothing of it, but being away, all he felt was nostalgia and exhaustion. A bone-deep ache that had settled after being away for so long.

His parents had kept it the same, with an array of JellyCats piled on the bed, ice hockey posters on the walls, his old kit left to rot in the corner, and the smell of hormonal teenager in the air. The bed creaked as James flopped onto it, somehow smaller than the last time he’d visited his parents well over six months ago, and he groaned into his pillow.

It was going to be a long holiday.

Sirius kept up the silent treatment.

He would go out of his way to ignore James, instead speaking to anyone else in the room and straight up just leaving if it was only him and James left alone. For the first time in their friendship, they hadn’t spoken to each other in what felt like years, and James was terrified things would never be the same.

His mother noticed the tension, of course. She would ask James about it in the silent hallway while everyone else played Mario Kart on the TV, but he’d always dismiss her, saying that everything was fine and asking if she wanted a cuppa instead — she never refused.

It wasn’t like he could explain the situation to her. His poor mother would have a heart attack before he’d even truly begun.

‘Padfoot isn’t talking to me because I shagged his younger brother, whom I met on a camboy website.’ Yeah, no. That was never going to happen. Though, he had told her about Lily, which went surprisingly well considering how old his mum was. She just smiled sympathetically and patted James on the shoulder.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, dear,” she had said.

The problem was, there was only one fish James wanted, and Regulus wasn’t talking to him.

The days leading up to Christmas were long and harrowing, like most things in winter. The sky was always grey, snow falling in small clumps along the driveway that never truly settled. James helped put out the Christmas lights and the tree in the corner of the living room, and he’d stare at the blinking white lights at night, watching them wink at him as a cup of tea scorched his palms and burnt his tongue.

Days were spent bundled in blankets and jumpers, occasionally popping to the village for food shops and gift buying. The evenings were usually for complaining about the cold, the slice of scissors cutting through wrapping paper, and the hot food that his parents always prepared heartily. No wonder James had been such a big baby.

Despite everything, it was good to be home. To be surrounded by the pictures of his parents as they smiled at the camera, either at some tropical retreat or with a chunky James with them. To look at his mother and watch her laugh at some dumb botanical joke Peter said and not have to wonder if it was his memory of her or not.

But even with the relative cheer around the holidays and the countless distractions, James checked his phone, staring at Regulus’s contact and praying for a message.

One never came.

On Christmas Eve, James was fed up. He slumped against the garden chair outside, tucking his hands into his armpits to avoid the chill. He really should have wrapped up better, but after seeing Sirius laughing with Remus, all cuddled up on the sofa inside, all he could see was Regulus and hated himself for the grief inside of his chest.

It shouldn’t have affected him so much. Regulus was just a guy. James wasn’t even gay, for fuck’s sake, yet he seemed so hung up over him. Over one guy that had made him more obsessed than anyone else ever could. The one guy in the entire world who had James wrapped around his damn finger.

It wasn’t that James was hung up over him because of his sex either. When he saw Regulus or thought about him, the word ‘girl’ didn’t flash in his head. It was just Regulus: his stormy eyes and the curl of his dark eyelashes; ivory skin and delicate hands; and those stars dotted around his body like he was a canvas and someone had splattered paint on him. Regulus was the prettiest guy James had ever seen, and he’d fucked up any chance with him he had, and James fucking hated himself—

Fleamont sat down in the chair next to him, interrupting James’s thoughts immediately. For such a big guy, he sure was silent.

“You alright, Mijo?” He asked, watching James carefully. He had the same dark skin as him, his beard dotted with grey and dark hair swept back from his face, flecked by snowflakes now. He’d obviously got his poor decision-making from him since his dad had chosen to come out into the cold without a coat as well. Only his ashen dressing gown and bunny slippers.

“I’m fine,” James answered automatically. He flashed his dad a small smile, and the corners of Fleamont’s eyes pinched together in concern. “Seriously, papá. Just… lost in thought, I guess.”

His dad didn’t look away, even as James did, staring out at the little garden his dad tended to religiously and the fenced-off garden, trees lining the back and birds tweeting in the distance. They didn’t say anything for a long time until Fleamont cleared his throat, settling back in his garden chair, which creaked in the still morning air. “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?”

James’s cheeks flushed. He wasn’t sure what it was from — the fact that his dad could so easily guess that he was strung up about someone or the fact that it wasn’t a girl at all.

“No,” he answered at length. “I… It’s not a girl.”

Warily, he glanced at his dad from the corner of his eye and saw the same pinched, worried expression on his face. James had always made a point to be honest with his parents, and they had done the same. He knew he was lucky to have such sweet, loving parents when he knew Sirius — and Regulus’ — hadn’t been. That he could have it a lot worse than he did.

But still, a pit of anxiety gnawed in his chest. It twisted and yanked at his belly button until he felt like he was falling down a dark pit, unable to come up for air. Like he was drowning and didn’t know how to swim.

“So,” his dad began hesitantly, “it’s a boy then?”

James made a strangled noise in his throat. “Papá, we really don’t have to speak about this.”

“Something is going on with you, James,” his dad hastily replied. He leaned forward in his chair, and the top of his head was dusted even more with snow as he rested his elbows on his knees. “You and Sirius haven’t spoken once since you’ve returned when you would normally be howling the damn roof off.”

“Dad,” he groaned.

“And you’ve been distant with your mother and me. You haven’t spoken once about hockey to us or anything about university. Is it about Sirius and Remus?”

“Dad!” He exclaimed and whirled round on him. But instead of judgement, his dad just looked… fretful. Like he did when James had scraped his knee on the ice or been knocked down by another player. That same parental look that always crossed his face whenever James was hurt.

He was worried for his son, and James… didn’t know how to deal with that look head-on. To make it go away.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed and scrubbed a hand down his cold face. “No, it’s not about them,” he said eventually.

“Good,” Fleamont replied, leaning back in his chair. A tense moment passed before he cleared his throat and added, “And you know, it doesn’t matter to us. Your mother and I love Sirius like he was a son to us. It doesn’t matter if he’s gay or bisexual or whatever you kids call it these days.”

James stared as his dad made a waving motion in the air — a gesture that was meant to come off as flippant, but James could see more from under the usual stoic exterior his father portrayed. The strong, undisturbed statue that had been his father figure for James’s entire life was somehow, against all odds, anxious.

It made James breathe a little easier as he asked, “So… You really don’t care about that stuff?”

“Well, it’s not that we don’t care,” his dad answered. “More so that…” He took a breath and released it slowly. “The world is a terrifying place, Mijo. It’s loud and huge and filled with monstrous things, but of everything, I had never understood why anyone would hate love so much. It is the one thing in this life that we can strive for. Not money or power, but to be loved and cherished as much as we love and cherish someone else.”

His head turned to look through the kitchen window. The glass was frosted from the heat inside, but James knew he was watching Sirius and Remus on the sofa. “Those two really love each other,” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” James hummed.

“And we love you, James,” his dad said and turned back to him. “Your mother and I. Sirius, Remus and Peter. We all love you so much. So tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Eyebrows pinched together, James stared at his fingers. They were starting to bleed red at the tips, stark against his dark skin, and they shook from the cold, but nothing could compare to the turmoil inside of him.

“I can’t be gay,” he whispered quietly. The birds sang and the trees swayed in the wind, bare fingers knocking together, and the world kept turning as James continued to let the words flow from his lips. “I don’t know why, but I can’t be. I just can’t. I was so happy with Lily. I thought I was in love with her, and then I met this guy, and he…”

The memory of pain on Regulus’s face flashed through his mind. He tried to hide from it by closing his eyes, like a child would hide under their covers from the scary monsters that lurked in the corners of shadows, but it didn’t work.

“I really hurt him, Dad.” Pressure built behind his eyes, but James pushed it back. “And I don’t know how to fix it. I want things to go back to how they were with him, but I don’t know if they ever could. Not after what I did.”

His dad sighed — one of those long, drawn-out ones. It wasn’t necessarily condescending, but James felt like a little kid as he waited for his dad to give him all the answers. To fix his mistake before it got even worse. Before he made it worse.

“That’s why you and Sirius aren’t talking?” His father questioned.

“Well…” James sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, features tightening as if he was in pain. Then, he screwed up his eyes and blurted out, “It’s his brother.”

“What?!” His dad exclaimed, and James buried his face in his hands. Fleamont sighed again — a sound that was growing far too familiar. “Oh, Mijo…”

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded solemnly. A little pathetically. All the energy had left him, letting his hands drop down and dangle between his legs as he rested his elbows on his thighs. He felt the embodiment of misery. The personification of despair. “Tell me how to fix it, papá, because I don’t know how to make things right anymore.”

James had felt like since entering his twenties, he was finally an adult. That the world wouldn’t seem so damn complicated anymore. That he’d have everything figured out and have all the answers, but that was merely a fairytale. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing half the time, and he started to think neither did his dad as they sat there in the freezing cold.

Was that just life? James wondered. Was it all about finally thinking you had things sorted out, only for life to throw a curveball at you and suddenly you realise it was all an illusion? That no one truly knew what to do? That we were all just living beings on a small rock in space, trying to get through each day and live?

“I don’t know,” Fleamont said over the hush of morning. The sun bathed his profile in grey murk as James watched his father. “There’s no right answer in life, no matter what other people tell you. But, as your father, I am telling you this now: it doesn’t matter what you are, just like it doesn’t matter what Sirius is. Who he loves and who you love, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”

Smile lines cut into his face as his dad turned to him. “And you clearly love him a lot, kiddo, so go to him. Apologise. If he can’t see what a catch you are, that’s his own problem. Just make sure you’re back in time for tea.”

The words were simple — not even a new declaration that had been bestowed upon James. He knew his parents loved him. He knew it didn’t matter, but somewhere along the way, he’d gotten muddled up, and the reminder was like fresh air to him.

A sense of urgency invaded James’s chest. His limbs felt like they were on fire, desperate to move, his toes curling in his slippers with the urge to run. But along with that urgency came a startling acceptance that felt too big to handle. Too big to acknowledge in the cold winter’s morning just a day before Christmas.

“Thank you, sir.” James sprang up onto his feet, heart pounding in his chest for some reason, and wrapped his freezing arms around his dad, who made a little surprised noise. “I love you. Tell Mum I won’t be long.”

“Go get him,” his dad whispered into James’s curls before he was gone, sprinting into the house.

Sirius’s head whipped around as James ran in, chucking off his slippers by the door and shivering in the onslaught of heat that pushed at him and fogged up his glasses. “Where are you off to in a hurry, Prongs?” He questioned — the first words he’d said to him in days. He would have found it ironic if he weren’t so antsy suddenly.

“I’m going to make things right!” James yelled back, skipping each second step while he climbed the stairs.

Soon, James was bundled up in his coat and booked it to the train station. He couldn’t concentrate on the world around him as he brought his ticket and settled onto a seat. He couldn’t watch the world go by past him out the window, as meadows and fields turned to grey cities and snow melted to slush underfoot. Not the buzz of crowds swarming around him, the chill of winter seeping into his coat, or the press of London on his shoulders.

The only things on James’s mind were distant words and pale skin, midnight-black hair, and stormy grey eyes. He had to make things right.

James had never been to church before. His parents had never been the religious type, always preferring a Sunday roast over dressing in their best outfits and going to a stuffy building to listen to some old man read from an ancient book. He learnt mostly about religion from school, but even then, he didn’t pay enough attention to really get much in except that some guy had died on the cross for sins or whatever.

But as James stood in front of the church, lit up inside and bright in the otherwise gloomy dark, he thought it was the most bewitching sight. Looming spires and glass that reflected the twinkling Christmas lights hung all about London. A stable sat out front, depicting the birth of Jesus with the three wise men, and they watched James as he took a deep breath, a cloud of white misting over his face.

Regulus had said he’d spend the evenings at church coming up to Christmas, but as James stood there, gaping at the sheer heavenly presence one building held upon him, he doubted his memory very much.

Maybe Regulus wasn’t in there. Maybe he was at a different church. Maybe he had just been pulling James’s leg. James didn’t know.

He’d spent most of the day rummaging through their apartment and on the internet, scrounging for Regulus’s address. That had made the most logical sense to him. To turn up at his door like he’d wanted to several times before, crumble to his knees, and beg for Regulus’s forgiveness. But, of course, like most things with Regulus, the enigma he was, James couldn’t find it. He couldn’t even bother the student council for his address since most of them would be at home with their parents. Like James should have been.

Which meant only one last option. One last test of fate.

James inhaled the icy air and stepped forward, pushing open the door.

The church was a spiralling mirage of high ceilings and peaks, glass windows and carved angels gleefully looking down at him as candlelight washed their pristine faces in warmth. A hush fell over him, an ever-present weight that he didn’t belong in the House of God when he didn’t believe. It was a strange feeling — one James didn’t like very much.

Over by the back wall were rows of candles, already lit underneath Jesus’s feet, and a stage where the pastor must have held his ceremonies or whatever they were called. Again, James didn’t know very much about religion. Empty pews flanked James on either side, the entire building deserted. James was about to head back outside into the cold when he noticed something to his left.

A head of black hair bowed down as the man held his gloved palms together in prayer. His hair hung in front of his face, a fiery sheen to it from the candles, blocking James’s sight, but he already knew Regulus like a lost limb. He could recognise him simply from the way he breathed or the slope of his shoulders in that familiar dark trench coat.

He hadn’t looked up yet — lost in his prayers — and a swarm of nerves overcame James as he walked over to the last pew on the left. The closer he came, the more he knew that the man was definitely Regulus. It was just instinct to know at that point.

Tentatively, James sat down, leaving space in between them to not crowd Regulus. But he couldn’t help but watch him; watch the way his lips moved as he whispered words James’s ears couldn’t quite hear; watch the way his chest rose and fell or the twitch of his eyebrows as he finally realised there was a presence in the lonely church with him.

James had absentmindedly prepared a whole speech for Regulus, a declaration of sorts, but the moment he lifted his head and Regulus’s face flashed with a mix of surprise and pain, the words flew out the metaphorical window.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus’s voice was hushed despite them being the only ones in the room, but James could hear the anger rising inside of him.

“I—” James cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders meekly, looking away before he got too mesmerised by Regulus. He had that effect on him. “You said you’d be here, and I just… wanted to talk.”

A harsh breath puffed from Regulus’s lips that made James’s chest ache. “Do I need to spell it out for you any more clearly? I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to see your face ever again, James. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Despite the harshness of Regulus’s voice, the sound of his name on his lips made James want to swoon. It was so divine and sweet, like the drip of pomegranate juice slipping down his chin, leaving a sticky trail on his skin, but he had to focus.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I need to apologise, Regulus. For what I said. For how I hurt you.”

When he looked up, Regulus’s face was pinched. From anger or pain, he didn’t know. They were too interwoven in the tightness around his mouth and the furrow between his brows. “Yeah, you did,” Regulus admitted disdainfully. “You said I didn’t deserve any pain, yet you hurt me, James.”

He had promised that. All those memories came back to James, making him hang his head in shame. The guilt was too gargantuan for him to handle.

“Was that all I was to you?” He suddenly questioned, voice hard yet fragile at the same time. “A little distraction. A fun plaything for you to mess around with. Just a confused little gir—”

“Never,” James interrupted, snapping his head up. He could never see Regulus like that. “You weren’t any of those things to me, Regulus. You’re a man, no matter what, and I would never think differently.”

“Then what was I to you?” His voice bordered on a plea, still so silent as if afraid God would hear them. His hands rested on his thighs, bunched together in fists as if to restrain himself.

The words pressed against the back of James’s teeth. “You were everything,” he confessed. “Like a light in my darkness. You still are.”

Regulus was quiet, watching James carefully, and he took the opportunity to continue. To say that speech. “I’m sorry, Regulus. I know what I said, and at the time, I thought it was true. That I wasn’t gay. I didn’t see how it would hurt you. But that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want to ruin what we were because of my own confusion.”

“Confusion?” Regulus repeated, and James winced in regret.

“Not like that.” He shuffled closer, holding a hand out like he could stop Regulus if he decided to flee. “I… I spoke to my dad and realised that maybe I shouldn’t be so focused on my sexuality. Whether I’m gay or not. I’ve always thought that all I could ever be was straight. To fall in love with a girl. But I see how wrong that is now, and I don’t care anymore. All I want is you, Regulus. Only you.”

He took a deep breath and sighed, settling back in the pew, his hand dropping to rest in between them. “But I understand if I have messed everything up for us. If you never speak to me again. It’ll hurt, yeah, but I understand. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry and to… at least try.”

There was so much more he wanted to confess — to tell Regulus how isolated he’d felt, how Sirius wouldn’t talk to him, how heavy his heart became whenever he pictured his elegant face — but the moment felt too much like glass to say things like that.

James waited. The wind howled against the tall, arched windows, and the fire flickered on the candles. When a minute passed, a solemn understanding overcame James. He had said his speech, and it was time to leave. He stood on shaky legs, but a hand shot up to stop him.

Regulus’s chest rose faster, his eyes wider with… fear. “Look, just—” Regulus tugged at James’s hand, and he went willingly, sitting back down again. Regulus shut his eyes and sucked in a breath, battling against some inner turmoil James wasn’t privy to understanding. “I knew you’d always hurt me, James. One way or another. I had accepted that. I knew that because of… what I am.”

And oh, James wanted to wrap his arms around Regulus and squeeze that insecurity out of him.

“I’ve come to realise that people like me don’t get happiness—”

“You do,” James argued fiercely. “You deserve it more than anyone.”

Regulus didn’t look at him, his eyes still shut, but the harsh lines of his face faded a little, smoothed out like charcoal. “I’ve realised lately that it’s better to forgive people. To stop holding onto grudges as much as I would like to,” he confessed.

Another breath, and Regulus opened his eyes, settling them on James. “If we try this again… I’ll have to learn to forgive you. To trust you,” he whispered, and it felt like James had been cracked open. That the clouds had parted and the sun was shining again.

“Anything,” James breathed and shuffled closer, desperate to get close. “I’ll do anything, Regulus. I’ll make you trust me again. I’ll do anything and everything for your forgiveness. Please. I just want us to be okay again.”

It was utterly pathetic, but James had no shame.

A tiny twitch from the corner of Regulus’s mouth — almost a smile but not quite there yet. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Seeker,” he mumbled.

James didn’t know what possessed him, but he was suddenly moving, kneeling between Regulus’s legs. The space was too small, and James was too big to really get comfortable; the floor was too hard against his knees, but he didn’t care. He settled his hands on Regulus’s knees, staring at him like he was an angel — the dark angel that had enchanted James from day one.

“Let me show you how much I need your forgiveness,” James begged.

Regulus’s eyes went wide, alight and glazed with warmth from the candlelight and something sharper behind them. His chest rose faster, harder, and his cheeks were flushed so gloriously — roses against an ivory backdrop. His lips parted, a tip of tongue flickering out to wet them. “James,” he breathed.

“Please, Regulus.” He ducked his head to press kisses to his knees, soft cotton instead of what James really craved.

His hands rubbed along Regulus’s thighs and then down to his calves, feeling the muscles bunch and tense underneath him. Fingers ran through his wet curls, ruined from the slight dusting of snow outside, and a noise made James look up through his eyelashes at Regulus.

So beautiful, he thought to himself.

Travelling slowly, James kissed along Regulus’s thighs and stopped only to give the other the same attention. When he got to his inner thighs, so tantalisingly close to where he wanted to be, Regulus’s fingers tightened their hold on his hair, and he looked up again.

Regulus glanced around as if expecting someone to appear at any second, and James waited. The thrill of getting caught made his blood sing and pump faster in his veins, heading southbound, but he could see the trepidation in Regulus’s eyes as he peered at the back wall where Jesus hung.

“We can’t do this in a House of God,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

“Then tell me to stop,” James countered.

Regulus stayed silent. A profound amount of satisfaction lit up inside of James, and he reached for the buttons on Regulus’s trousers. It took a bit of awkward shuffling to get them and his boxers down his long legs, left to bunch around one ankle, and Regulus hissed when the cold pew touched his bare skin.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” James whispered, smoothing Regulus’s thighs as he hooked them over his shoulders. “I’ll make this quick.”

“You better, or I swear—” His words were cut off by a strangled moan as James licked up a stripe across his slit. He slapped a hand over his mouth, head thrown back to expose the long lines of his salacious neck to the heavens. Muffling new prayers to God.

The adrenaline and lust coursing through James made him lick again and again, needing to draw out more of those delicious noises from Regulus despite the fact that they really couldn’t get caught. The head guy (pastor? priest?) would give them an earful each.

The mortification would be entirely worth it, though.

Feeling like a god, James sucked on Regulus’s clit, rolling the flat of his tongue around the little bundle of nerves. He tasted like passion fruit and the secret wonders of the world, like the collision of heaven and hell. He could carve a home in between Regulus’s thighs and stay there for eternity — not just for his carnal desire.

Breaths sawed out of Regulus, too loud in the silent church, and his fingers flexed in James’s hair. It was a beautiful ache, urging him to slide off Regulus’s clit and prod his tongue in his hole. Taste exploded in his mouth, and James couldn’t hold back his groan.

“James,” Regulus whined — beautiful and pornographic but far too quiet for James’s taste.

He shushed him, smoothing his hands on hair-softened thighs. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Let me show you my forgiveness.”

Obscene sounds came from him as he licked and sucked like his life depended on it, until Regulus’s thighs were shaking where they draped over his shoulders and itching to spread, to get more of James on him. And he wanted to as well, but it was probably more of a sin to fuck in a church than eat Regulus out. They would just have to wait.

His fingers grazed along his inner thighs, soft and delicate, while his tongue lavished and sucked up every drop of his lust. He sank a finger inside, and Regulus’s body curled into itself, groaning between gritted teeth.

James watched the heaviness of his eyes and the wet sheen across his bottom lip, and fire burnt inside of him. How could he have ever hurt such a beautiful angel? It was insanity, his cock twitching where it pressed uncomfortably against his trousers. He added another finger and preened while Regulus’s eyes flickered, his fingers tightened in his hair, and his breath hitched.

Latching back onto his clit, James thrust his fingers inside. It was so hot. More than hot. It was like a supernova inside of Regulus. He crooked his fingers, reaching that spot inside of him, and Regulus’s spine arched, jaw flexing with the need to moan.

With the fire burning in him, urging him to the edge, James moved faster and faster, uncaring how the wet sounds echoed like angelic singing.

“Oh God,” Regulus whispered. His breath hitched in his throat, and he spread his legs wider, boot pressed against the back of the pew in front. “James, I— Oh, fuck—”

It all happened so quickly. Regulus’s body bowed backwards, channel squeezing his fingers beautifully and thighs tensing. A strangled noise rose from his chest before the tension left him, and it was so gorgeous, James could only watch in awe, mesmerised and enchanted by the man in front of him.

His fingers were shiny when he finally pulled them back and sucked them into his mouth, chasing that secret yet tantalising taste. Regulus groaned from the sight, finally releasing James’s curls from his grasp and swept them through his hair, where it stuck to his forehead.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Regulus whispered. “In a church.”

“I can’t believe you taste so good,” James shot back, a grin stretching across his face for the first time in weeks. He pressed a kiss to his thigh, Regulus shivering either from the cold or sensitivity, and he stood up, ignoring the ache in his knees.

Before James could help him pull his trousers up, Regulus yanked at the front of his winter coat and tugged him down for a quick yet heated kiss, tongue sliding against James’s and tasting himself. His dick burst with a small bout of pre-cum at the thought, a rumble of a groan escaping him.

Regulus pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips curled into a smirk. “You look ridiculous,” he told him.

And James knew he did, with his messed-up curls and his erection straining against the front of his trousers, but he had no shame. He couldn’t, not even in a House of God. Not when it came to Regulus.

“You’re so pretty.” James pressed another brief kiss to his lips, unable to stop himself, and helped Regulus to his feet, pulling his boxers and trousers up for him. Regulus’s legs shook, so James kept a hand pressed to his side as he led them away from the pew after he tidied himself up. “Come on,” he urged.

“Where are we going?” Regulus questioned.

The night seemed brighter somehow when they stepped outside. The lights were shinier and the wind less bone-chilling. The oppressive silence that had weighed heavily on James slithered off him as they trudged further away from the church.

Dashes of white littered Regulus’s hair, and he asked again more resolutely, “James, where are we going?”

He stopped and turned to face Regulus, holding both of his gloved hands in his own. “Come to my parents with me,” he pleaded. Regulus’s face twisted with uncertainty. “Please. I know you don’t have plans, and it’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake.”

“James,” Regulus groaned.

“Sirius is there,” James blurted out. He wasn’t sure why he had said it, but the way that Regulus stopped protesting made him glad he did. “Please, Regulus. We need to talk more, and I… I’m scared that if we get split apart now, I’ll never find my way back to you, and I can’t stand that.”

Regulus’s lips pursed together. He looked kind of like an angry cat — a thought James kept strictly to himself — and his eyes darted around, settling on the cobblestone pavement one moment, the streetlights the next, and then somewhere off in the distance for the other before settling on James again.

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “I don’t want to impose,” he started.

“You won’t,” James reassured him. “I want you there.”

Instead of relief, Regulus’s expression twisted further. Eventually, though, he sighed and said, “I’ll need to pack some things.”

“No, you won’t. You can just wear my clothes and use my stuff,” James pointed out. He was so desperate for a ‘yes.’

“I’m not using your toothbrush, James,” Regulus protested with disgust. As if James hadn’t literally been inside of him before. It would have been funny, the way Regulus’s nose wrinkled up, if James wasn’t so damn nervous.

After a moment of contemplation, James conceded, “Okay, fine. But make it quick. I kind of promised my mum I’d be back in time for tea.”

A bright laugh burst from Regulus, and he swayed forward, hiding his face in James’s chest. James puffed it out unconsciously, grinning at the sweet, saccharine sound that he wanted to cherish and adore forever. To bottle and keep in his pocket for the years to come.

“Only you, Seeker. Only you,” Regulus whispered, shaking his head.

Hand in hand, the two of them started walking again, and James breathed a little easier.

Chapter Text

Regulus hated social gatherings.

“Are you sure this is okay, James?” He asked for potentially the umpteenth time that evening as they walked up the thin cobblestone path to a cottage at the top of a hill.

He was glad his legs had stopped shaking by the time they had made it to the train, but the sensation returned the closer they got to James’s parents’ place. It was late, a few stars winking in the inky darkness of the sky, and James had to use the flashlight on his phone to see a few feet in front of him.

“It’s fine,” James reassured him once again, squeezing his hand around Regulus’s gloved one. Even in the gloom, Regulus could see the small pinch of his mouth as he added, “Might be a little crowded with so many people there, but we’ll manage.”

Regulus sighed. Great.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t want to spend the holidays with people instead of being alone, or that he was particularly nervous. He had to begrudgingly admit that it would have been a nice change from attending church and watching shitty Hallmark movies with a bottle of eggnog clutched in one hand, his vibrator waiting patiently on the bedside table next to him. But if things were like the Christmas parties his parents would host when he was a kid, Regulus had no qualms about leaving immediately and returning to just that. His lonely normalcy.

Sirius is there. If it was like that, he wouldn’t be, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath as they walked past the black metal gate.

The cottage was like a beacon in the darkness: all flashing Christmas lights dangling from the roof and some even strung about the little flowers at the front, still in bloom somehow. There was a wreath on the front door, a dark forest green with speckles of red dusted in as holly, but what caught Regulus’s eye was the scene from the window.

A fireplace blazed a warm glow around the house, a ginormous tree standing guard by the window and swiping the glass with its branches. There was the faint sound of laughter as Sirius walked up to the tree with a bauble in hand. There was a grin on his face — not the usual boyish one he masked his pain with, but the genuine one that lit up any room he was in.

Sirius was the true star of the family. Bright and blinding, beautiful in every way, even if Regulus used to be jealous of it. Jealous of the way he could have been their parents’ perfect boy, but he’d chosen to rebel instead. At the time, Regulus hated him for it, hated the way he could so easily go against everything they had grown up into, but now, he was inspired by Sirius’s rambunctious — and even impulsive — nature. That he could be exactly who he wanted to be with no worries about other people.

The smile fell as soon as Sirius looked out the window, and Regulus froze.

This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come. He should have blown James off and told him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine, but it was too late as Sirius darted from the window. Two other faces poked through to stare at them — Remus and some blonde, chubby guy.

A moment later, the door swung open.

Sirius completely ignored James, who stood as stock-still as Regulus did, to stare at Regulus, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. His hair was a wild halo of messy, chopped curls backlit from the glowing warmth inside.

“Reggie,” he breathed in almost relief.

He stepped forward and threw his arms around Regulus in a crushing hug. It knocked the wind out of Regulus, leaving him utterly bereft for a moment.

It was rare for Regulus to be hugged. Even Barty knew to keep his distance because he never allowed anyone to touch him. But it was hard to break out of the cage of Sirius’s arms, and after a hesitant moment, he patted Sirius’s back, his bag slipping down his arm.

“Room for one more at the inn?” Regulus wheezed.

They parted, and Regulus pointedly ignored the tears in Sirius’s eyes, making them shine in the low light. Then Sirius turned and punched James in the arm — hard.

“Ow!” He whined, rubbing his arm. “What the fuck was that for, Pad?”

“Next time, fucking tell me what’s going on! Especially if you’re fucking my younger brother,” Sirius hissed, jabbing a finger into James’s chest. It was almost comical, what with James being a few inches taller and bigger than Sirius.

Then he turned to Regulus and said, “I’m guessing everything’s alright now, so if he hurts you again, I’ll kill him. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you say, homicidal maniac,” Regulus drawled with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the fondness in his chest. “Can we go inside now? I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

Sirius chuckled, back to his normal self now that that was over, and threw his arm around Regulus’s shoulders to lead him inside as if he were the one living there. It was a tight fit through the doorway, James trailing behind them, looking like a kicked puppy. Regulus simply shrugged his shoulders at him and slipped his shoes off at the door.

“We have an extra guest. Hope you don’t mind, Mum,” Sirius announced while dragging Regulus into the living room.

The whole place was cramped: a sofa pushed to the wall, a fireplace burning a heat so thick that Regulus was already starting to sweat through his sweater, and a dining table with a cream runner at the back of the room. An open doorway led into the kitchen, he presumed, and the air was thickly scented with cinnamon and spun sugar.

Remus and the other guy were still by the window, shooting Regulus small smiles and nods when he entered, and an older man with salt-and-pepper hair watched him from an armchair near the fireplace, his feet stuffed into… bunny slippers, of all things.

“Not at all!” A short (shorter than Regulus, surprisingly), older woman said as she left the kitchen, dusting her hands on her cardigan that practically ate her up. She smiled warmly at Regulus before sweeping him into a hug as well.

Huggers, the lot of them, Regulus thought dreadfully.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Regulus mumbled into her mountain of piled, wispy hair. “I’m, uh, Regulus. Sirius’s younger brother.”

“Oh, my dear boy,” James’s mum cooed, pulling away to squish Regulus’s cheeks and puckering his lips. “Sirius never mentioned having any siblings. Why, if I’d known, I would have whisked you away as quickly as I could.”

And oh. Regulus blinked down at her watery blue eyes, at her loving smile and wrinkles, and wondered if this was what having a mother felt like. Walburga had never been anything but a cold, almost imposing figure to him. A chapel of everything she wanted him to become: regal, elegant, and manipulating others to gain her way. There was no room for sweet words or hugs. To be comforted and coddled. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

No wonder Sirius had run away as suddenly as he had all those years ago.

“You’re very welcome to stay, dear. You’ll have to share a room, though.” Her eyes darted around before settling on the chubby guy near the window. “Peter, would you mind—”

“He can stay with me,” James interrupted, putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder and finally allowing Regulus to break free. His cheeks ached from being squished.

“Are you sure? It’s awfully small in your room, and we’d have to get the air mattress out of the loft—”

“Leave it, querida,” the older man in the armchair said. His eyes darted from Regulus to James before settling onto his newspaper again. Regulus briefly wondered if that was the face James would grow into when he was older. He certainly hoped so.

James’s mum sighed before turning back to Regulus, that warm smile slipping onto her lips again. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Regulus replied.

She waved him off. “Don’t be so polite. Mum or Euphemia is fine, dear.”

“Thank you, Euphemia,” he corrected himself, because there was no way he was calling her mum. Not like Sirius had.

Euphemia Potter retreated into the kitchen, coaxing Sirius to come and help her, which he did with a grin on his face, and James took her place. “I hope that’s okay,” he said, with that worrisome glint behind his glasses. “If not, we can figure something out—”

“It’s fine, James,” Regulus told him in a firm tone, reaching out to squeeze his hand. The affectionate gestures must have rubbed off on him, and he let go as quickly as he could and turned his eyes to the man in the armchair. “Is that your dad?”

James nodded his head. “He’s alright, don’t worry. He’ll probably just sit by the fire all night before heading to bed. You don’t have to talk to him. He’s not very… social.”

Regulus appreciated that fact the most. It wasn’t like he’d ever had a good relationship with his dad, so he had no idea how to talk to older men unless it was for sex. And as ridiculously handsome as James’s dad was, he was not about to start more drama. No way.

With a gentle hand to the small of his back, James led Regulus to the couch, where he sat down, setting his bag aside. He nodded his head in greeting at Remus as he hobbled by to join Sirius and Euphemia in the kitchen, and the blonde guy stuck his hand out to Regulus.

“Nice to meet you. We haven’t properly met yet, but I’m Peter,” he introduced himself, and Regulus took his hand, noting the scent of dirt that wafted off the person. Strange.

“You must be Wormtail, then,” Regulus guessed.

Peter grinned at the silly nickname and nodded his head, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Prongs has been talking about us, then?”

“Of course I have, mate,” James interjected. A ruddy colour had bloomed across his cheeks when Regulus glanced over at him, and a smile ticked at the corner of his lips. James glanced at him and returned the small smile. “How about I beat your ass in Mario Kart again?”

“James,” his father growled.

“Sorry, sir,” he yipped like a child who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Then the sheepish expression melted away as James turned to Regulus again. “How about you, Reggie?”

Regulus felt like a pinned butterfly for a moment, both of the boys looking at him eagerly. Regulus had never, in fact, played Mario Kart before. Video games were banned in the house when he grew up, and he’d never gotten into them later on in life, but he still sniffed haughtily and shrugged one shoulder. “If I must,” he grumbled.

Peter sat to his left while James wedged into his right, passing both of them a small, handheld controller each. Regulus pretended to understand what each of the little black buttons meant as the game loaded up on the small television screen.

He was sure he’d pick it up in no time.

Regulus did not pick it up in no time.

In his very limited experience of the game, Regulus could admit that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. He’d fallen off the track about a million times, swore under his breath every time he bumped into another player, and even after James gave him a brief explanation of the buttons and power-ups, which Regulus pretended that he already knew about, he didn’t get much better.

He lost every single time, and by the sixth round, Regulus knew without an inch of doubt that he hated Mario Kart with a burning passion.

Eventually, dinner was ready, and Regulus was whisked away to sit at the table. It was a little cramped — the table was just big enough to seat eight people, so James had to run around the house to grab himself a chair while Regulus reassured them he could sit on the sofa and eat.

“Absolutely not!” Sirius had squawked, face already stuffed with mashed potatoes. “It’s Christmas Eve, Reggie. Sit your butt down and eat immediately.”

Regulus didn’t dare to object after that. He stole James’s usual seat, squished beside Euphemia and Peter, before James set a stool right next to him and used the small corner to eat. Even though it looked horrifically uncomfortable, James didn’t complain once, shooting a blinding smile at Regulus whenever their eyes locked.

And Regulus… He didn’t know how he felt. Stuffed, for sure, especially with the quantity of food Euphemia had made for them: turkey, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, vegetables galore, stuffing, Brussels sprouts that no one ate, and finally, a Christmasy carrot cake dusted with icing sugar and a small snowman decoration on top.

But Regulus also felt… happy. He was surrounded by laughter and inside jokes, each of them cracking up, particularly at Sirius when he lamented his nonsensical idea of a flying motorbike that he’d been raving about since he was a little kid. Even James’s dad smiled once or twice. It was the most joy he’d seen from a bunch of people in a while, and Regulus couldn’t handle it.

He didn’t belong; he knew that much. He would never belong. Not just because he was trans, but because he’d never allowed himself to really enjoy the company of others. People got in the way, and Regulus only opened his heart up to so many people, like Pandora and Barty and Evans. But the people around him, connected not only by blood but by soul and heart, Regulus didn’t seem to mind being around.

He was happy, and Regulus was scared of that.

After the table was cleared and the dishes were left to dry, James dragged Regulus to his bedroom, leaving Sirius, Remus, Peter, Euphemia and Fleamont to watch a movie in the living room. His bedroom was just as Regulus thought it would be as he looked around, dropping his bag by the bed and chuckling softly at the ice hockey posters tacked to the walls.

“Did you always want to play ice hockey?” He asked, fingers teasing at the old edges of a poster. Dust clung to it like a vice.

James hummed from behind him. “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was maybe five,” he answered. “But then I heard it was difficult to get into and that you need to actually use your brain for that stuff, so I stuck with ice hockey instead. I’d even call it my first love.”

Regulus chuffed, but the noise stuck in his throat when he turned around to watch James pull his shirt off his head. His fingers itched to touch, to run over all that dark, lovely skin that caught Regulus’s gaze, all sharp angles and a full stomach. He wanted to step closer, to pull down James’s jeans while he fell to his knees and—

No. Regulus looked away as if he’d been burned. He wasn’t about to give in to temptation when his parents were in the house and the walls were far too thin for Regulus’s comfort.

As if that stopped James from eating you out in a church, his brain evilly reminded him, stirring the pot of heat that had accumulated in his stomach.

James fixed his glasses, which had gone askew on his nose, and looked over at Regulus with a pinch in his eyebrows. He quickly turned around, willing his damn heart to stop beating so damn loud. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen James naked before. He was just being silly.

“You’re really good at it. Ice hockey, I mean. Have I told you that before?” Regulus said and followed James’s initiative, pulling his jumper off and nudging it away with a socked foot when it hit the floor.

Arms wrapped around his middle, and a chin rested on his shoulder, scratching Regulus with stubble. “You could always remind me,” James purred in his ear.

Regulus stepped away as if he’d been zapped.

A startled, ugly laugh came out of Regulus’s mouth. He immediately winced, fiddling with his trousers before two large hands stopped him. “Hey,” James whispered, gently manoeuvring Regulus so they stood face to face. “You don’t need to pretend with me, Reggie. What’s up?”

The problem was, Regulus couldn’t just admit that he wasn’t even sure what was wrong. That he was silently freaking out because he was happy in a house full of practically strangers, and he was spending Christmas with Sirius for the first time in years, and he was pretty sure they’d committed the ultimate sin back in the church, and—

James’s hand cupped his face, stalling all thoughts. Their eyes met, and Regulus took a deep breath, mirroring the soft caress of James’s exhales brushing against his face. Finally, after gathering his courage, he murmured, “I don’t know.”

“You… don’t know?” He repeated.

“I’m not used to… this.” Regulus waved his hand about in the air. “Christmas growing up for me was like a play. We all had our parts to play. My parents were the successful stars; Sirius was their pride and joy, and I was left in the background. We’d play our parts well, but it was never a joyous time for us, so I don’t…”

He couldn’t understand how to be happy without putting on an act. That was Regulus’s entire life, from start to finish. He pretended to be a girl. To be the child his parents wanted after Sirius ran away and then acted like a sex object online, so he could bring his parents down.

“Okay,” James whispered. He looked away for a moment, eyes settling on something on the ground before looking up at Regulus again. “I’m not going to act like I understand what you went through. What you and Sirius both went through as kids. If this gets too much for you, I can always buy a train ticket for you—”

“No!” Regulus exclaimed. A flush crept up his cheeks, James’s eyebrows raising in shock, and he cleared his throat. “I want to stay. I’m just overwhelmed by how nice your parents are and the fact that I’m spending Christmas with Sirius again and how… happy I am.”

A grin spread across full lips. “Yeah? You’re happy?”

Regulus nodded his head. Settling his arms on James’s, he rubbed them up and down, feeling muscles glide under his skin in hills and valleys. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m happy.”

“Good.” James ducked in, and warm lips pressed against Regulus’s, slightly chapped from the cold. He melted instantly, as if every bone in his body had turned to jelly. Lips locked together, eyes shut, and the smell of spice in his nose, Regulus settled his hands on broad shoulders and squeezed.

Words were pressed into Regulus’s mouth. As if James was trying to force the words into Regulus’s body, to make him believe them. “You deserve to be happy.” A long kiss. “You’re allowed to be happy.” A lick of a tongue. “Let me make you happy.”

They stumbled into bed. Regulus straddled James’s waist, bare chests rubbing together and tongues tangling in a sensual dance. Heat gathered, and fingers mused through hair. It was only when Regulus’s arms ached from keeping himself propped up that he rolled to lie beside James.

Catching his breath, Regulus whispered, “We should probably talk about this.”

“About what?” James asked, turning onto his side to look at Regulus. He couldn’t muster up the strength to look back.

He didn’t even want to talk, not after spilling so much of himself already, but the need persisted.

“What you said back in the church.” The memory made heat flush into his cheeks, and Regulus forced it down to focus. “About trying this again, but I don’t even know what this is.”

Regulus had never been good with relationships. The last one he had was his casual affair with Barty, and that had ended in disaster. They’d gotten over it, of course, and he was happily with Evans now, but Regulus’s track record with dating was practically non-existent. He had been fine with that for a time — the loneliness, the constant envy of seeing couples online — but now…

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? That you wanted to come here as my… boyfriend.” The hesitation in James’s voice made Regulus want to squirm. He really didn’t need to be reminded of that night when everything went wrong or how stupid he had been back then. “We don’t need to be anything yet. I know I need to earn your forgiveness first, and I will. I’ll do anything to make you trust me again.”

Warm hands danced over the scars on Regulus’s chest. Regulus sighed, wanting to fuse himself to the mattress and sleep, but there was still a niggling in the back of his mind. “But why?” He questioned, and he didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but Regulus couldn’t help it. “Why do you want that with me? You know what I am.”

Out of the corner of his eye, James’s eyebrows scrunched together. He sat up, but Regulus looked away, staring into nothing. “What do you mean?” A second later, James added, “Because you’re trans?”

“Yes and no,” Regulus muttered. “I mean, all of me. I…” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Putting on his armour. “Being trans is like walking a tightrope. I can’t step anywhere except on the line, and if I do, I’ll fall. I can’t be feminine in any way, or I’ll be called fake. I have to take hormones and have all these surgeries, or I won’t be a ‘real’ trans person. And none of it matters really because either way, people online will always sexualise who I am and turn it into a fetish.”

That’s why Regulus had used it to his advantage. It made him feel sick, sure, but Regulus wasn’t against manipulating hundreds of perverts online for his own benefit.

That was at least one trait he’d picked up from his darling mother.

“It’s hard to deal with, James,” he continued. “But it isn’t just that. I’m an arsehole if you haven’t noticed yet. I’m an abomination in the eyes of God.” The words kept tumbling from his mouth with no inhibition. “I can’t do anything right, no matter how in control I am, and I can’t even be the daughter my parents wanted me to be. I can’t be the brother Sirius wants. If I can’t be any of those things, surely I can’t be the boyfriend you want either.”

James was silent, staring him down, and Regulus hated it. He hated how exposed he felt, as if he’d torn his ribcage open to expose the meat inside, pulsating and leaking. A cadaver on the operating table for James to peer into and scrutinise.

“None of that matters.” James’s voice was low and soft, but a certain edge to it made Regulus finally tear his eyes away from nothing to look up. “Regulus, you shouldn’t care what other people think.”

“I don’t,” he argued.

“You do,” James insisted. “You just told me you do. You care about whether people see you as actually trans, which is such bullshit. I might not know what it’s like, but I do know that doing all of that — the surgeries and hormones and the validation from strangers — doesn’t make you trans. They’re there for your benefit, for your comfort. I personally don’t give a shit what you do because it’s your choice. Only you can make that decision.

“And you aren’t an abomination.” James cupped Regulus’s cheek. It was so soft and warm, tender as a thumb brushed along his cheekbones. “Or an arsehole. You’re complicated and magnificent in every way, Regulus. I’ve known that since the moment you decided to take a chance on me. You don’t need to be perfect to be my boyfriend. I just want you to be you. I want to be with you.”

Regulus didn’t know how to do that — be himself. He’d worn masks for so long that he was sure it was his own face now, stitched into him. But despite how tall Regulus tried to make his walls be, James’s words cracked through them, and he couldn’t help the relief that followed.

“What about the camboy stuff?” Regulus whispered.

A complicated series of emotions played on James’s face before he finally settled on one question: “Well, why do you do it?”

The money. That’s what Regulus had said before, wasn’t it? That was his cover story. “You know how my parents are,” he said instead. “At least from Sirius’s side, you do. They care only for their reputation and image. If I and Sirius weren’t perfect at my parents’ Christmas parties or in public, we’d get punished for it. Severely. Sirius took most of the damage, really, and I’ve always resented them for it. Their greed to be quintessential members of society. I want to break that image. I want them and their stupid image to be tainted forever.”

James blinked as if he couldn’t believe Regulus. “And the only way to do that was to become a camboy online?”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “What’s more disgusting than finding out the child of a pristine family is actually showing themself online to perverts? Plus, the money is pretty nice.”

“But no one knows who you are,” he pointed out. “You don’t show your face in streams, and I’m not judging, but you’re hurting yourself by doing this. You do know that, right?”

Shame crawled into an inferno in Regulus’s stomach, and he gazed at James’s biceps. Anything but his eyes. “The plan was to cultivate a large enough following online and then upload a news article about me, exposing who I am,” he muttered.

“And this won’t affect you?” James queried. “What about future employers? Surely they’ll see it and reject you. Not that they should, of course. What you do is your own business, but you know what I mean.”

The urge to argue bubbled up inside of Regulus, but deep down, he knew James was right. Not only would it tarnish his family’s reputation, but Regulus’s as well — not that he had much of a reputation, but he would have preferred a career in the future. It was stupid and discriminatory, but so was life.

He had been so blinded by revenge that he had not considered the consequences his actions would have had.

“What should I do, then?” Regulus asked in a quiet voice, staring up at James as if he had all the answers to the universe.

Instead of giving any, he sighed. “I don’t know,” James confessed. “You deserve justice, but not in this way. Not by hurting yourself. Not by falling prey to the sick, twisted minds of perverts and their horrible fetishes. There’s always another way.”

Regulus didn’t think so, of course. He wanted scandal and drama, even if he insisted he wasn’t as dramatic as Sirius was. He wanted the purest kind of revenge and the relief he’d get watching his parents' immaculate pedestals obliterated; James was right, though. Regulus was just causing himself more pain.

He rolled and buried his face into James’s chest. His arms wrapped securely around Regulus instantly as if he’d anticipated the move, and a nose buried itself into Regulus’s hair. “We’ll figure something out,” was whispered into his ear, and Regulus truly hoped so. “Though, I have to admit that your evil side is super hot.”

“Thank you,” he piped up long moments afterwards, just as exhaustion had begun to dig its icy claws into Regulus’s consciousness. “For bringing me here, I mean. It’s nice.”

“Of course,” James replied. He shuffled down until his head rested against the pillow next to Regulus, glasses digging into his face. They slanted to the side, pressing against the bend of his nose, and Regulus couldn’t help but think, Cute.

“And,” he added, “thank you for chasing after me.”

A warm smile spread across pink lips. James pressed a meaningful kiss to Regulus’s forehead. “I’m going to mess up,” he said, which wasn’t what Regulus expected. “A lot. I hope you realise that. But I want to try with us. I’m serious about you, Étoile.”

Regulus snorted. “You still can’t pronounce right,” he pointed out. “And I’m serious about you, too, Seeker.”

The smile transformed into a grin, and suddenly, James’s lips were on Regulus’s again. It wasn’t a demanding kiss, seeped in the fires of desire and lust, but sweet and tantalising. Regulus could lose himself in the feeling — of having the fiery aroma of James around him and the press of his body against his, keeping him safe.

When the kiss broke, Regulus joked, “Let’s just hold off on sinning in church, hm?”

The laugh that broke from James was loud and bright. It shook his body, and his arms wrapped tighter around Regulus’s body. It was the best feeling in the entire world. “No promises,” James teased.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

James loved many things in his life.

He loved ice hockey and his team, especially after a win. James loved ice cream and olives—not together, of course, but he was willing to try them. James loved his friends and his family, who were interconnected and woven entirely to resemble the same crisscrossed blanket of love. James used to love Lily, and he still does, but in a more platonic manner.

But most of all — enough to fill the entire universe, really — James loved Regulus Black. He loved when he would get a little wrinkle in his nose when he tasted something awful, like olives; he loved the way he’d tap a pen against his bottom lip when studying, craving a cigarette but too proud to admit it; he loved the way Regulus’s eyes would light up when watching something or the way they’d grow hooded and a moan would fall from kiss-bitten lips; James loved Regulus’s soul. His heart and his mind.

James loved Regulus. Probably even too much.

So much so that the words kept trying to break free from his kiss-swollen lips with every slap of Regulus’s hips against his.

“You like that, baby?” Regulus’s voice was a sensual purr — soft and sweet — while his thrusts were hard and sharp, a contrast in character, tagging James’s sweet spot with unnerving accuracy. “You’re such a good boy for me, taking me like this. I told you I’d fuck this pretty, tight hole eventually.”

James muffled a pathetic cry into his pillow. Regulus’s words were pure ecstasy, making the iron pole of his dick twitch where it hung between his legs. If only Regulus hadn’t insisted on keeping James’s hands bound behind his back, using them as handlebars as he fucked into James.

“If only you could see how pretty you are right now,” Regulus whispered, and James groaned.

He had to be exaggerating. James felt like a wreck — a sweaty, desperate, twitching mess with his ass in the air and the most devastatingly beautiful man alive fucking him with silicone. The words still affected him, though, and he turned his head to peer back at Regulus for a second.

Regulus, with his black hair hanging in his face and lips drawn, watched the place where they connected, hips driving into James and carving himself a home in James’s heart. Not that he really had to try. He’d done it the moment he gave James a second chance.

The words bubbled up again, and James smothered his face into the pillow, drowning out his cries so Regulus’s flatmates wouldn’t hear him. They’d already gotten shit for fucking in the kitchen when Evans had walked in on them — as if he and Barty didn’t essentially dry hump each other at any given opportunity.

Pushing the thought of those two out of his mind, James begged, “P-Please, Reggie. I can’t do this anymore. I—I need…”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Regulus leaned over and pressed a kiss to James’s shoulder blades, which strained against Regulus’s grip on him. “Come on. Use that sinful mouth of yours for me. I know you can do it.”

The silicone strap-on was buried completely in James, making him feel stuffed to the brim. So full that he was sure he’d pop. “Need to cum,” he whined and arched his back.

A dark chuckle sounded from behind him. “Good boy,” Regulus murmured.

While one hand kept James’s wrists restrained, the other crept down to his front. Soft fingers danced over the precum that had leaked onto the charcoal bedsheets before they gripped James’s throbbing shaft tightly. James groaned, seeing heaven.

Regulus was relentless in his element. He stroked James with the same intensity as he fucked him, matching the pace so James’s head spun and his entire body stiffened with pleasure. He couldn’t breathe with every punch to his prostate, and his balls drew up tight, hugging his shaft as the cliff of oblivion drew nearer.

“Ah, fuck!” James cursed into the pillow. No amount of control could keep his voice down when Regulus was fucking him so thoroughly.

“What a dirty mouth,” he teased. The grip on his dick shifted their focus onto James’s head, and he jerked with an abrupt moan. “Cum for me, sweetie. You can do it. I know you can. Make me proud.”

And James couldn’t deny Regulus anything.

The orgasm hit him in a flash, blinding him as white ribbons burst from the cage of Regulus’s fingers, staining the sheets some more. James’s voice was hoarse, shaking as Regulus pumped into him some more to draw out each spurt.

It was pure fucking ecstasy.

With one final gush, James collapsed onto the bed, and Regulus pulled out, leaving James aching and empty once more. His arms collapsed to his sides, legs sliding down, not bothering to move away from the mess he’d created while Regulus straddled his back and pressed precious kisses along his spine and shoulders.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered — saccharine once more. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you. Did you like it?”

James could only mumble in reply. It felt like he’d been through the runner, sweaty and drawn out, but far too sated to really care. It was the best feeling in the world.

Regulus chuckled and slumped next to James on the bed, brushing his fingers through sweaty hair.

Turning his head, James peered at the soft lines of Regulus’s face, flushed from exertion and lips just as swollen as his. He reached out to draw an invisible line between the constellations — a habit he was making unconsciously. “Did you come?” he asked.

He gave a shake of his head. “Not enough stimulation,” he murmured and gestured down to the silicone dick he wore. It was held on by a strap around Regulus’s hips, and the tip glistened with lube. It had to be one of James’s best purchases so far.

James mustered up the strength in his limbs to push on Regulus’s shoulder and crawl between his legs. “Let me take care of it, then,” he murmured and fiddled with the confusing straps. How did Regulus put this thing on so effortlessly?

“You don’t have to,” Regulus argued.

“I want to,” James countered firmly and finally pulled the strap-on down hair-dusted legs.

Regulus had grown into himself over the past few months. It took some time, but he had grown the confidence he often wore as a mask in himself, and James couldn’t be prouder of him. His fingers lovingly crawled up the fine hairs until he reached Regulus’s thighs and pushed them open.

He looked good enough to eat. Delectable like the forbidden fruit, haughty and precious and so damn fine. Dark curls dusted Regulus’s pelvis, and his chest heaved as James pressed tiny kisses and nipping bites to the insides of his thighs until he reached Regulus’s clit.

Rolling his tongue on the sensitive bud of nerves, Regulus craned his head on the pillows and arched his back, mewling so delightfully that James couldn’t help but grin. “So sensitive,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Regulus hissed.

James chuckled against him and lavished Regulus’s hole. Sweet, syrupy warmth coated his tongue, and fingers yanked on his hair, pressing him closer, closer, closer. James always loved when Regulus got like this — too achy and lust-driven to care how rough he was being, as long as he got the pleasure he very well deserved.

His cock tried to make a valiant effort of stiffening up again, especially when Regulus moaned and clenched around his fingers as they joined his tongue. It just wasn’t enough, though, and James’s balls felt too drained to try again. This was fine, though. Regulus was the best meal he’d tasted in his life. He’d happily spend eternity between those thighs.

With one last kiss to his clit, making Regulus shiver, James crawled up. He settled a hand next to Regulus’s head, and Regulus’s arms wrapped around James’s head, keeping a tight hold on him like he’d fall if he let go.

“James,” he whined through clenched teeth. Spurred on, he moved his fingers, crooking them to reach the heavenly spot and thrusting them so quickly that the room was filled with the sound of squelching. Regulus cried out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hey. Eyes on me, baby,” James whispered and nudged his nose with Regulus’s. “I want to watch as you fall apart on my fingers.”

Regulus’s eyes stayed on James, fluttering whenever he lashed his thumb against his clit or threatened to close as James sped up. “Oh, f-fuck. Not gonna last,” Regulus warned, tightening his hold on James’s hair.

“Let go for me, baby.” James ducked down for a quick kiss that was more panting as Regulus’s body tensed up. “Look at you. Calling me a good boy when you’re the same. Fuck, I just want to bend you over and make you mine. Wanna fill you up over and over until you’re filthy and dripping with my cum. Do you want that, baby? Tell me you want that.”

A sharp cry and Regulus was coming. His back was arched and his toes curled into the sheets, a flood of liquid coating James’s fingers. It was beautiful — more than that, it was like a glimpse of paradise. James wanted to capture the moment and keep it locked away in a box forever. He wanted so much, words crawling up his throat, and he bit on his tongue.

Now was not the time.

“Fuck me,” Regulus breathed. James pulled his fingers out and popped them into his mouth, tasting citrus and Regulus and sweetness combined. He moaned, and Regulus whined, jutting his hips up as if begging for more.

“Oh, honey, I want to,” he replied and licked the last of Regulus off his fingers. “But we have that party to go to, remember? And I need to cool down before we go again. We all can’t come several times in a row.”

“What?” Regulus slurred as if he’d drunk an entire bottle of vodka, and he smacked his hand along the bedside table before he found his phone. James chuckled as Regulus blinked before panic set in. “Shit!”

He darted up, and their heads collided. Pain exploded in James’s endorphin-high mind.

“OW!” James rolled onto his side, clutching his forehead. It fucking hurt. James had dealt with concussions and broken ribs, but this? Ouch!

“Why didn’t you tell me that was the time?!” Regulus scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the blankets that snagged around his ankle and rushed to his wardrobe. Completely ignoring James, might he add. “Marlene is going to kill us.”

Ass still sore from Regulus’s ministrations, James crawled out of bed and pulled his boxers off the floor, stepping into them with a wince. He was pretty sure there was a lump on his head now. “She’s not going to kill us.”

“She is,” Regulus insisted.

Clothes flying through the air, Regulus fished through the wardrobe for the Halloween costumes they had ordered a few months back. The plastic bag hit James in the chest, and he arched an eyebrow at him as he complained, “Are we seriously going to the party smelling of sex?”

“Your fault, not mine. Hurry your ass up and get moving!” Regulus barked, pulling his costume out of his respective bag.

With a fond sigh, James hurried his ass up and pulled on the costume.

“You’re late!” Marlene barked as soon as she stormed over to the two of them. Her shaggy blonde hair had been crimped into a frizzy mess, and her sharp eyes were coated in such dark eyeshadow that it gave her raccoon eyes in the low, multi-coloured lights in the apartment.

“James’ fault, not mine,” Regulus argued once again and tugged at the sleeve of her maid costume. “Magenta, huh? Nice. Kinda suits you, Marlene. Where’s Frank N Furter?”

“Over with his Rocky.” She darted a thumb over her shoulder. Over by the drinks table, Evans, wearing nothing but a skimpy golden Speedo and white sneakers, was thrusting his tongue into Barty’s mouth while Barty did the same, neon pink gloves tangled in his blonde box braids. James glanced away before he got an eyeful of Barty’s ass encased in lace from the slit down his scrubs.

“Of course,” Regulus muttered and rolled his eyes at the PDA. As if he hadn’t been fucking James only half an hour ago. He grabbed James’s hand and pulled him along, shouting over the pulsating music, “Anyway, sorry we’re late!”

“Wha— Hey! I expect a better apology later!”

James glanced around as they moved through the packed apartment. Black bats hung from the ceiling, along with plastic blood splatters sticking to the walls, catching the light as they flickered from red, green, pink, blue, and more. There were several Jack O’Lanterns dotted around that the girls had carved into, some with spooky faces and others saying ‘Cunt’ or ‘Spooky Bitches’ and various Halloween-related puns.

“Who is Magenta, and why is Marlene in a maid costume?” James leaned into Regulus’s ear to be heard over the speakers blaring ‘Monster Mash’.

“Rocky Horror,” Regulus answered as if that made any sense to him. When James just blinked in confusion, Regulus groaned. “It’s this movie from the seventies. Super progressive for its time. I’ll show it to you in our next lesson.”

James snorted. Ever since they started dating, Regulus had been teaching James about the wonderful world of queerness and eventually helping James come to terms with his bisexuality. They’d even gone to Pride together and kissed while a drag queen sang a Lady Gaga song on stage, their flags wrapped tightly around them. It was a little overwhelming, to say the least, especially when Sirius turned up to the apartment one day in a teacher’s uniform — looking like Cameron Diaz straight off the set of Bad Teacher — to assign James a lot of queer literature (with Remus, of course), but he was getting there.

Did James still struggle with it? Of course. He had been dead-set on marrying a woman and having that picket fence future his entire life. The admittedly homophobic thoughts weren’t going to disappear overnight as he hoped, but he was learning to push them away. He was making progress.

Besides, why would he want anything else when he had Regulus Black?

Halfway through the living room that had been transformed into a dance floor, a body collided with his and forced him to stop.

“Prongs!” Sirius squealed in his ear and wrapped his arms around him. James grunted, wrapping his hands around lanky arms to help steady him. The stench of alcohol hit his nose immediately. “Looking good, man! Love the costume.”

“This old thing?” Keeping a hold on his drunk friend, James ran a hand down the slutty nun outfit he was wearing, kicking a leg up to show off the thigh-highs with a cross running down the length of it. It had taken a long time to find one that was his size, and even then, they’d had to make a few adjustments. “What about you? You’re…”

“Ziggy Stardust,” Remus supplied as he hobbled over on his cane. His shirt was unbuttoned to show off his chest, a loose tie hanging from his shoulders, and fluffy ears popped out of his head, a tail swaying behind him.

Sirius wrenched himself out of James’s grasp and spun to show off the multi-coloured jumpsuit. His black hair was dyed an electric red, and glitter shimmered on his cheeks. He stumbled, and Remus caught him with one hand as Sirius laughed obnoxiously loudly. “Sorry, he’s really drunk already. He invaded the drinks table as soon as we arrived,” Remus muttered.

Of course, James thought. Leave it to Sirius to get drunk before the party truly starts.

“Why don’t we go into one of the rooms, and I’ll let you ravage me, Mr Werewolf?” Sirius purred into his ear, not as quietly as James would have liked. “I’ll be your Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Gross! I’m right here,” Regulus piped up with that endearing wrinkle in his nose.

Remus shot James a look as if to say, I’ll be right back, and the two shuffled away, Remus leaning on his cane and Sirius leaning on him. James ignored the way they headed down the hallway to — fucking hell — ravage each other. Hopefully, they kept the noise down.

James jumped when a soft voice piped up from behind him, “Lots of couples here, huh?”

He turned to find Pandora standing next to Regulus, cradling a mug in her hand that smelt herby and not at all alcoholic. She was wearing an elegant, flowy dress that showed off her shoulders and a golden sun belt around her waist, and her snowy dreadlocks were pulled away from her glittery face in an intricate hairstyle.

Although, James was pretty sure it wasn’t a costume.

“When did you appear?” James blurted out, pressing a hand to his chest. He still wasn’t used to her appearing and disappearing into thin air act yet.

Pandora shrugged and took a sip from her mug. “I like your costume, Regulus,” she said in that weird, otherworldly voice of hers, and she ran her eyes over the green-and-black tie, black cape, and the plastic wand he’d stuffed in his pocket.

“Thanks, Panda,” he replied with a rare smile. “I like the oracle get-up. It suits you.”

It was a costume, then! Pandora shrugged, and the many rings on her hand glittered in the strobing lights as she waved away the compliment. “You two should keep an eye on the time next time before you fuck,” she said and then walked off, vanishing into the crowd.

A shiver ran up James’s spine. “How the fuck—”

“You get used to it,” Regulus interrupted. He wrapped an arm around James’s, tugging him along to the kitchen. “I thought she was on drugs for a long time when I first met her, but apparently, she was born with this ‘gift’.”

Right. Gift. Not at all creepy. Regulus’s friends were so bizarre.

Then again, it wasn’t like he had room to judge.

He’d been trying to spend more time around them. It was hard to avoid them, of course, since James liked to spend as much time with Regulus as possible. That usually meant he’d stay in Regulus’s student accommodation some nights and would have to endure Barty and Evan’s animal-like tendencies to fuck on everything and Pandora’s… Pandora-ness. They were good people, though.

Like the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was decked out in Halloween decorations, with white tape marking a corpse on the floor like at crime scenes and even more bats. Various bowls lined the counters, stuffed to the brim with onion ring crisps, Pringles, chocolates that were mysteriously almost gone, and bags of sweets. All super healthy, of course. A whole line of empty red cups had been left to rot by the sink.

Mary and Dorcas gave the two a friendly wave as they entered, wearing matching Daphne and Velma costumes from Scooby-Doo before they turned back to their conversation. Lily Evans, decked out in a cowgirl outfit, left Mary’s side to hug James.

“Hey,” she greeted, patting James on the back and stepping away to admire their costumes. “You two look great! Love the Bogwarts costume, Regulus, but I thought for sure you’d be matching tonight.”

“Reggie didn’t want to wear the devil costume I’d picked out for him,” James supplied, and Regulus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apparently it’s still too early to anger God like that.”

A softness overcame Lily’s face. Her olive eyes turned sympathetic, and while the smile on her face didn’t change, it shifted in that way James knew far too well. “How’s the therapy going?” she asked.

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. “It’s been fine. I’ve still got a bit to go, but McGonagall said I should expose myself more to handle all the religious trauma and whatnot,” he answered, tone dipping at the end to act like it didn’t bother him.

But James knew. He’d been there when they’d researched therapists one night after Regulus opened up about his views on God and himself. McGonagall was the best therapist in the area — according to Regulus and her website reviews — and now, Regulus had online sessions with her every Wednesday afternoon. James couldn’t be prouder.

“So, James dressing like a nun is helping?” Lily questioned slyly, quirking a thin eyebrow. Regulus made a noncommittal noise, turning away to hide the blush on his cheeks and picking a single Pringle from the bowl.

“I’m surprised you’re not matching with your girlfriend,” James spoke up before Regulus imploded from… embarrassment, maybe. He wasn’t quite sure.

Lily looked over her shoulder at Mary, a sweetness spreading over her face once again. There was such adoration in Lily’s eyes that James was knocked back for a moment. She’d never looked like that when they were dating — then again, that made sense. “She’d already planned with Dorcas, and I didn’t want to rain on their parade.” Lily shrugged her shoulders. “Anywho, want to see how the article is doing?”

That got Regulus’s attention. “You’ve uploaded it already?” He asked around the Pringle in his mouth.

She nodded and walked over to the little table in the corner of the kitchen. Marlene’s apartment wasn’t as spacious as James’s, so they just about managed to squeeze through, and she sat down, opening it up and swivelling it towards them.

On the screen was the title: ‘The Black Family Scandal.’ Above it was a family photo as the header, Sirius and Regulus wearing such miserable expressions on their faces that it broke James’s heart. He hoped they never looked like that again. Above them stood their parents, chins held high, looking like they belonged in the royal family or something. With their polished, practised faces and immaculate clothes and the shadows that clung to their frames.

“Holy shit. Twelve thousand hits already?” Regulus breathed, peering down at the numbers. “You think they’ve seen it yet?”

“Probably,” he replied.

It had been Sirius’s idea, of course. When he found out Regulus’s revenge plan — that had been the most awkward and humiliating conversation in James’s life since now his best friend knew the truth of how they met — he’d suggested compiling all of the evidence they had against their parents and bringing it to Lily, who was an aspiring journalist and had an entire blog online with a high following.

That way, Regulus wouldn’t be sacrificing his own image and comfort to bring down their parents. The cam boy profile was gone and deleted, wiped completely from Regulus’s computer, and for the first time, James believed Regulus looked lighter. Like the whole world wasn’t bearing down on his shoulders.

“You don’t think they’ll… do anything, do you?” Regulus whispered. His voice barely carried over the music in the living room, but James had heard it. He had noticed the slight waver, and for a moment, as their eyes met, he seemed so much younger than he was.

A protective shot hit him in the chest, and he wrapped his arm around Regulus, bringing him to his side. “Of course not. What will they do? You’re an adult, honey. They can try bringing this to the police, but we have enough evidence of their abuse through the years to shoot them down. They’ll only be incriminating themselves.”

Besides, if they did try something, James already had his parent’s lawyers saved on his phone. Just in case.

Regulus heaved a sigh and nodded his head. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered.

“You’ve done the right thing, Regulus,” Lily said, and with the timidness of a mouse, she settled a hand on Regulus’s arm. “After the pain they caused, they deserve whatever’s coming to them.”

Regulus nodded again, and James ran a hand through his black hair, pressing a kiss to the silky locks. He seemed to melt against James, and then he nodded again, a little stronger this time. “Fuck them,” he murmured with such conviction and fierceness that James’s heart skipped a beat.

There were no words to describe how utterly in love James was with Regulus Black. How proud he was and in awe of his braveness. He knew it had been difficult. James knew that by bringing this up, it brought along a lot of pain and darkness for both of the Black brothers — the ones he’d come to love so wholeheartedly. James had been there when he explained it all to his therapist, and he had held him through the tears and panic attacks.

Regulus was the strongest man James knew. Not only for standing up against his parents but for becoming the man he was, carving himself from clay into the beautiful dark angel he was.

“Fuck them,” he agreed, and Regulus grinned, evilly and so brightly that James wanted to swoon.

“Let’s celebrate,” Lily declared and snapped her laptop shut. “It’s Halloween, guys. Let’s drink until our livers explode.”

James laughed. “Maybe not that much. I don’t want to take this one to the hospital anytime soon,” he said, smoothing a hand down Regulus’s hair. “We’ll join you in a bit.”

Taking the hint, Lily grabbed her girlfriend and Dorcas, leading them out of the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly private or quiet, the party going on mere feet away from them, but Regulus still sighed as if he could finally breathe without others watching them.

He turned Regulus to face him, hands on his shoulders. “You okay, sweetie?” he asked gently.

Regulus’s head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, I will be. It’s just hard, you know? To not be afraid right now. I don’t know what my parents are going to do when they see the article.”

James pressed his lips into a thin line. He wanted to say he did understand, but James had been lucky to have good parents. Parents who didn’t abuse their children and force them to be perfect disciples for them. Parents who didn’t leave scars so deep that it marred Regulus’s beautiful soul and mind.

“I’ll be right here with you,” he reminded Regulus. His skin was so soft as James ran a hand down his cheek, mesmerised by him. “And so will Sirius. And my parents. And well, really everyone will be. You’re so brave for doing this, Regulus. I’m so, so proud of you.”

And so, so in love with you, his brain unhelpfully added. Now was not the time still. Then again, when would it be?

Regulus’s face pinched as if he wanted to argue. To combat the words with some snarky comment like how childish it was, but James wasn’t going to let that happen. He tipped Regulus’s face towards his by his chin. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do this if I were in your shoes, Reggie. I am so incredibly in awe of you and what you do every single day.”

He snorted, and thin fingers wrapped around James’s wrist, bringing his palm up so Regulus could kiss it. “Yeah, you say that all the time,” he whispered.

Lips pressed against his palm, James felt Regulus’s soft lips move, but he didn’t quite catch what he’d said. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked.

A dark flush bloomed on Regulus’s cheeks. “I said I love you,” he murmured, and oh.

James was pretty sure his heart just exploded. His mind had stopped working and he was dead because there was no way Regulus had said those three words. He couldn’t have. But as stormy eyes lifted, encased by dark eyelashes and reflecting the rainbow that flashed through the apartment, red and yellow and pink and orange, he knew without a doubt the words were true.

“I was supposed to say that first,” he blurted out like an idiot.

A huff and Regulus shook his head. “Well, I beat you to it, then,” he retorted and pressed another kiss to James’s palm. “I love you, James Potter.”

“I love you more, Regulus Black.” And James meant every single word.

“Don’t make this into a competition,” Regulus argued, but James wasn’t listening anymore.

Certainly not as he grabbed Regulus’s waist and pulled him in close. He ducked down, lips meeting his, and kissed Regulus with every fibre of his being. It still wasn’t enough, and it would never articulate the pure, chaotic depths of his devotion. It would always be lost in translation. But James would try anyway.

Hands crept up his chest, fingers tangling in his hair, and James had never felt so complete before.

“Oi! Stop kissing my little brother!” Sirius yelled, and James had to break away to laugh, cupping Regulus’s face so tenderly. So lovingly. And Regulus laughed with him, bright and carefree and like a thousand angels singing.

And probably for the only time in his life, James was glad he had clicked on a sketchy sex ad.