Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone! Welcome to an elaboration of my imagination!!

Before we start — warnings! (If you didn’t check the tags):
There will be past and not detailed mentions of child abuse, rape and suicide attempt, I’ll put the right warnings in every chapter.

THIS FIC CONTAINS INCEST! It is especially built around Sirius x Regulus!
There will be a lot of sex and kinks! I have a list of things I want to explore, and I’ll update the tags with each chapter and keep a list below. Either way, I’ll include proper content warnings in every chapter, so if you’re into specific things — or want to avoid others — you can still enjoy it safely.

There will be BDSM, written as well as I can.
It’s a slow burn, but every chapter will have smut.

Also, a quick note: English is not my first language — I’m Brazilian, and this fic is one of the (very fun) ways I’m using to practise it!
So if something sounds a little off, it’s probably me trying to translate something that makes more sense in Brazilian Portuguese.
Feel free to correct me or point anything out — I’m always learning!

Updates every Tuesday!

Enjoy the reading, and have fun! 💖

I will write a lot about:

Petplay
Ageplay (Teacher/ Student and Daddy/Little)
Watersports / Omorashi
Crossdressing
Body Worship
Incest
Size Difference

I want to write about:

Scat
Diaper
Spanking
Praise Kink
Bondage
Collaring
Humiliation
Exhibicionism / Voyeurism
Public
Three(or more)some 

I would like to write about:

Foodplay
Overstimulation
Double Penetration
Somnophilia
Sensory Deprivation
Free Use
Orgasm Denial
Chastity Belt
Massage
Breathplay
Feet

Chapter Text

Early autumn, 2010

Late at night in 12 Grimmauld Place, the wind howled at the windows like ghosts singing songs in the ears of Regulus Black, who hid himself in his heavy blanket, trembling. It wasn’t for the cold, but for his growing fear of monsters hidden in the dark, luring him with their voices, to peek behind his safe protection and scare him to death. Too afraid, he curled himself into a ball, not leaving a single curl of hair outside.

Until he heard his door open.

Regulus embraced himself shaking, praying in whispers to not be kidnapped by the ghosts, the monsters or any creature of the night who entered his room.

The weight of his blanket slowly was pulled away from him and he prayed harder.

“Are you ok, Reggie?”

The soft voice of his brother Sirius immediately dispelled his fears, bringing him the warmth and clarity that Regulus needed, turning on the lampshade in his nightstand. He smiled, feeling the comfort of Sirius’s presence, who knew his little brother would be scared by the coming storm.

With their usual intimacy, which does not require the use of words, both of them sat in the bed, looking at each other like looking at a mirror. Regulus was only two years younger than his brother and they used to look very alike, but when the older one started experimenting with new hairstyles and clothing, he became very different from Regulus in appearance.

Something began to change that last year, when Sirius turned 11, and that transformation has continued ever since. 

They had the same black curls as their father and mother, but Sirius’s was longer than his little brother, enough to make a small bun. He was taller and started to gain muscles, which he proudly showed off by walking around the house without a shirt or wearing tank tops that left his strong arms free.

Even though their appearances no longer perfectly matched, like the “are-they-twins?” they used to get, looking at each other was still like looking in a mirror. 

Looking at an extension of oneself. 

Looking at one’s own mind.

Not just because they looked very much alike, but Regulus thought his brother was absolutely beautiful, to the point he often lost himself in the sight of him.

Like in the public library of their neighborhood, when he was supposed to be studying, but only could see Sirius, reading his own books. Like when they walked home in the reddish light of the sunset, with Sirius’s confident gray eyes looking at him. Like when Sirius was talking to him and Regulus couldn’t understand a word, mesmerized by his older brother's beauty. 

Regulus loved his voice too, even if it was getting deeper each day and sometimes squeaky in a funny way.

He loved every single aspect of living in the same house as Sirius: their favorite places, their favorite games, their talks, their fights, their secrets— their entire world, just the two of them. He loved his brother's company, his stories, his hopes, his dreams, his feelings, his hugs, his kisses, his skin. They shared a safe place in each other, a place to run when a storm was coming.

“It’s scary outside, Siri,” Regulus complained, whispering. “It’s too dark.”

“I’m here for you, mon cœur, nothing bad is gonna happen,” Sirius promised.

His hand searched for the younger brother’s curls, and at the soft touch, they both relaxed. Regulus snuggled into his palm like a cat, lying there as if it were a pillow, caressing Sirius with his fingers, guiding the touch just below his jaw. He let him touch his face with his thumb before getting close to his brother to kiss him.

When their lips touched, they didn’t separate quickly as they usually did but lingered, sharing warm breaths. That was another thing that had changed since last year: their kisses had become something more. Something Regulus desperately pursued.

They moved their mouths, opening and closing, like tasting each other’s sweetness, making wet noises that made them both shiver with joy, with love. Regulus moved closer, almost sitting in his brother’s lap, eager for more of the taste of his mouth. Instead, he held himself with a hand on Sirius’s thighs, feeling him tangle his fingers further into the younger brother’s black curls.

The kiss was so soft, so deep, and so desperately needed.

Just like their love.

“What are you two doing?”

They parted, matching eyes full of fear.

Their moment was cut short by an intruding voice and the bedroom light turning on.

Regulus sat back on his heels, watching their mother approach with an unpleasant expression.

“So? I’m waiting for an explanation,” she said, standing in front of them, arms crossed.

“Regulus was afraid of the storm, mère,” Sirius explained, protecting his little brother as always.

“And how does this justify your mouth on his?”

They could tell their mother wasn’t that angry, because if she were, Sirius would have gotten a slap for not answering her properly the first time.

“Siri was comforting me, maman,” Regulus tried, trusting that his mother had taken her happy pills that night and wouldn’t punish them.

And he was right, she gave him a soft, adoring smile before squeezing one of Regulus’s cheeks gently, her fingers careful not to poke him with her long nails, like affection.

“That’s not how your brother should comfort you, Regulus,” she said calmly, lecturing them. “Come, lie down.”

He did as he was told, lying with his head on the pillow, just as before the wind began to make creeping noises outside. Their mother sat at his side, and Sirius moved closer, looking attentive.

“If your brother wants to comfort you, he can kiss you on the forehead, moving your curls to the side, or he’ll end up eating some of your hair.”

Regulus laughed a bit before their mother bent down to kiss him on the forehead, just as she had said. When she pulled back, Regulus admired his mother, who looked a little tired but comfortable and relaxed enough to give him some attention. He wished so much that his mother would never sober up, to always have that motherly love from her.

“Or… he could go for a dangerous option and kiss your cheeks, but they are so biteable that it’s difficult to resist.”

She bent down again, kissed him on the right cheek, and blew a raspberry on the left, making Regulus giggle and Sirius smile widely.

“Or… he could kiss your button nose… or your long eyelashes… or your small fingers,” she said, kissing each one of the spots. “But never your mouth—or anything below your jaw.”

“Pour quelle raison?” Regulus asked in a formal manner, pouting.

“Sirius, can you answer this to your brother?” she looked at him, a small tone of intimidation in her voice.

“Non, mère,” Sirius answered, lying.

Their mother didn’t express any emotion, just looking at him, in cold calm.

“You should know, Sirius,” she said. “Your brother is only 9; he’s still a baby and doesn’t understand.”

“I’m not a baby…” Regulus complained, feeling sad at the way his brother was getting sad.

“Yes, Regulus…” their mother agreed with a smile, not giving much credit to her youngest son. “But, you, Sirius, you’re 11, almost 12. You should know that it’s wrong to kiss your brother that way.”

Regulus felt his heart break at the look of guilt and disgust his brother wore. Not directed at him, of course, but at himself, which was unfair considering Regulus was the one who started this. 

Not just that time, but ever since they started kissing on the lips so many years ago. From the very beginning, Regulus had asked for the secret kisses, and that’s why he felt he should be the one scolded for it.

“Kisses and touches in parts below your jaw, and especially below your bellybutton, are only for your future fiancée,” their mother explained. “If someone tries to touch you in your private parts, you must scream ‘stop’ and run to tell me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a stranger, a teacher, or someone from our family, n’est-ce pas?”

Understanding that it was something important, he agreed, but a doubt was still in his head:

“What if I want to marry Siri?

Their mother laughed with adoration in her eyes, caressing his cheek and shaking her head.

“You don’t know what marriage is yet, but Regulus, when you grow up, I’ll tell you,” she said. “But do you remember what maman said about two men getting together?”

“It’s a sin, and an abomination,” he replied, correctly.

“That’s right, Regulus. You’ll understand better when you grow up.” And then she moved toward the door. “But Sirius, you’re at the right age for this conversation... But I’ll leave it for tomorrow. You’re both way past bedtime. Let’s go to your room, Sirius.”

Looking into his brother’s eyes, that same beautiful and sad gray as his own, Regulus didn’t want to let him go. The storm outside wasn’t scarier than seeing Sirius lost in thoughts that brought him to the verge of tears, staring at their mother with betrayal.

“C-Can Siri sleep here? S'il te plaît, maman?” Regulus asked, trying to get his mother to pity him.

He usually didn’t get any mercy from her, but that was a lucky night, and maybe she had taken a few more pills than usual. Their mother nodded, giving her two sons a kiss on the forehead while she tucked them under the blankets, together.

“This will be the last night you two sleep together,” she announced, turning off the lights. “Sirius is becoming a man; he’ll need his space, just like when he stopped showering with you last year, Regulus. You two will understand better when you grow up, and we’ll laugh about it.”

“Oui, maman,” they both said obediently.

“Goodnight, mes fils,” their mother said goodbye, closing the door.

At the exact moment they were alone, Regulus wasted no time in turning his face to his brother and giving him a long kiss on the lips, trying to take away his sadness. Normally, a single one was enough to make his older brother relax and melt into a puddle, but this time it took a little more effort from Regulus to make Sirius happy.

Back in their own world, he hugged him, feeling his brother’s strong arms pull him impossibly close. The heat of their mouths and the racing of their hearts made the blanket unnecessary.

Too late, his brother broke away, turning his face and laying on his back. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat soaking his gray tank top, making Regulus think  that he should take it off.

“You listened to what mère said, we shouldn't do this,” Sirius said, clearly trying to hold himself.

“But you never follow maman’s rules…” Regulus complained, resting his head on Sirius’s chest and listening to his agitated heartbeats.

“It’s wrong, Reggie… You don’t even know how much.”

“But I love you, Siri,” he confessed, pouting.

After a long moment of silence and a few deep breaths, Sirius answered:

“I love you too, mon cœur, but we can’t keep going like this. I can’t do this…”

Regulus raised his head, eyes opening in shock and sadness.

“You’re gonna leave me?!”

“Non, sweetie, I will never leave you,” Sirius promised, caressing his younger brother’s face. “I fucking love you too much for that.”

“AH! You said a bad word!” Regulus gasped.

“Désolé, mon cœur,” Sirius laughed, looking deeply at him, seeing and analyzing something deep within. “I love you, and I will never let anyone hurt you, hurt your heart, or your bright future, not even myself. It’s not a hard job. I would never lay a finger on you, I promise.”

“What does that mean, Siri?” Regulus asked, his confusion growing.

“It means you’ll have my pure and sincere love, that’s all,” Sirius said. “As mère said, soon you’ll grow up and understand, and I don’t want you to regret it, or be embarrassed, or hate me.”

“I would never!” Regulus promised.

“I’m older, and I should know better,” he repeated what their mother said. “But I promise you, Reggie, I will be good, I’ll be the older brother you deserve. I might be condemned, I’m a sinner, but you’ll always be pure.”

“Toujours pure?” Regulus mumbled, sleepy.

“Toujours pure, mon petit frère.”

…

After 13 years of that night, Regulus knew clearly what his brother promised, why he did it, and why he wasn’t able to keep it.

Sirius loved him, more than he was supposed to.

Maybe not exactly “more,” but in a way that was condemned by society.

His brother loved him like a lover, something forbidden for two men, according to their family. Even worse in their situation, because they had the same blood running through their veins, grew up in the same house, dealing with the same abusive parents. They were brothers, and he wasn’t supposed to feel that way about his Regulus.

When Sirius realized this, he promised that even though he was already in love with his younger brother, he would try to suppress his feelings, so he wouldn’t lose Regulus in the future.

Because he believed Regulus wasn’t as committed to their love as he was.

"He'll get over it," Sirius might have thought. "That’s why I have to stop it now, so when he grows up, he won’t be embarrassed by the memory of spending his childhood and adolescence kissing his older brother."

But it didn’t work out the way he wanted, because Regulus’s love grew to match Sirius’s.

When they were kids, they lived in that dynamic of love and hate, as brothers do, playing together, fighting over a toy, crying and screaming, apologizing and starting everything over again. When they grew a little older, they became aware of their parents’ behavior and had each other to support. To warn when père was drunk, to be nice when their mère was on drugs, to hide when things got out of control between them. To share homework questions and gossip about their friends at school, to talk about books, music, TV shows, and new interests, to be there to listen to each other.

And when they became teenagers, they almost lost that connection — shut away in their own heads, placed in different grades and separate corners of their boarding school. But they weren’t meant to be apart. They reconnected, talking about the depth of their feelings, their fucked-up family, their amazing friends, the scary future, their dreams. About each other.

When they were kids, they shared small kisses and tight hugs. When they grew a little, their kisses became more intense. That’s when Sirius told them to stop, for the sake of their future relationship as adults, but neither of them wanted to. They became frustrated teenagers, eyeing each other in the hallways of their house, thinking, wanting, and finally teasing, from Regulus’s side, when he couldn’t take it anymore.

He lusted over his older brother, thought about the most obscene things with him, made scenarios to try to get Sirius to lose his self-control, begged to be touched, to be kissed. “Only one more time,” “I will never ask you again,” “Please, Siri, I need you,” Regulus knew that his older brother was weak to his pleas and to his own desire.

Regulus was the one who wronged, who indecently dove into sin, tempting his older brother like the devil whispering in his ear.

It was Regulus’s fault that Sirius ran away from 12 Grimmauld Place soon after finishing school, leaving him behind.

Regulus made Sirius break his own promise.

And he had the punishment for that.

But he was a new man.

Regulus was a new person after walking through hell.

He had a new life, a new family, a new surname, and a new name.

To forget the past and to never sin again.

…

Saturday Morning, 2022

During the nearly four years that James Potter had been working as a gym instructor at his family's sports club, he always saved his energy early in the morning to stay active until the end of the day, ensuring he was in top form for dinner with his best friends. He would go straight to work in his car, drink a good coffee to wake up, do minimal stretching before heading to the club's gym, ready to teach his scheduled cross-training class and then help and instruct gym-goers until it was time to leave. A solid routine that kept James comfortable for years. That was, until he met Arthur Crouch.

He woke up on that sunny Saturday morning, still haunted by a very inappropriate dream about that man, and took a long shower, jerking off while thinking about him.  James ate his breakfast, still not feeling very refreshed, caught up in his imagination and guilt, though at the same time, he was excited to see him again. After putting on his trainers and picking up his backpack, he went to the park for a quick workout before heading to work, hoping the run would drain some of his energy and prevent a boner in the middle of class.

James headed straight to the office, greeting his co-workers and regular club-goers. He checked some paperwork and grabbed his classroom keys before heading to the gym to prepare for his class.

On the way to the staff lockers, he spotted some black curls on very pale skin, and immediately turned his face away, his heart racing. 

It was going to be a long fucking morning, and he would love every second of it.

Because he missed his beloved Art all week.

When that absolutely stunning man approached him with a downcast gaze and trembling hands, clearly nervous about his first cross-training class, James went crazy for him. He was the peak of beauty, a true cherub from Renaissance paintings, but in an adult size and sports clothing. He was so pretty, so cute, and so perfect that he attracted the gaze of every single person who passed by, although he didn’t even notice.

Even though it was a little embarrassing to admit, his new student reminded him of his best friend (and former fling) Sirius Black, but in a younger version, like when James momentarily fell for him—more petit , with shorter hair, without the beard, the tattoos and the earrings, and without his usual attitude.

His new student was introverted, managing to spend the entire class without exchanging a single word except for a simple "good morning," but he wasn’t submissive—he had a sharp tongue and an arrogant attitude, especially toward James’s small attempts at flirting.

“You’re an instructor. You shouldn’t ask for my number, asshole,” he said once.

“I was just asking to put you in the Saturday student group chat,” James feigned innocence.

He backed up his lie by saying it was a good way to send exercises for the week or notify students if he needed to cancel, speaking professionally to disguise his adoration for his new student’s cheeks turning red from embarrassment over assuming things about his instructor. But he was right... in every possible way.

James had never flirted with any of his students. Although he had found some of them beautiful and interesting throughout his career, he always knew the line he couldn’t cross as a professional. 

It was wrong and inappropriate. 

Years earlier, he had gone on a long tirade against the 'perverted and depraved' personal trainers who hit on their clients. But all that changed when Arthur Crouch started attending his cross-training classes every Saturday morning.

Things changed DRASTICALLY when he accepted James’s proposal to stay after class and do some exercises on the gym equipment, under his mentorship.

And so, James became the perverted personal trainer.

But he couldn’t say he hadn’t tried to escape the initial attraction, to avoid becoming the morally corrupt person he had so often criticized. During the five months his beloved student had been taking lessons, James did everything he could not to desire him.

He spent weeks reciting mantras, practicing breathing exercises, and delivering his best performance to hide his thoughts, fearing that his desire would become obvious and make him quit the lessons. The last thing James wanted was for his student to feel uncomfortable—especially when he saw his progress in the exercises, and the new sparkle in his eyes. He began to radiate vitality and joy on Saturday mornings, which led James to offer him personal training after class, despite his improper thoughts.

James fell for his own lie, convincing himself that if he spent more time working on exercises with his student, he could keep things professional. But that only served to make him get to know him personally, hunting for every little piece of information like an animal stalking its prey. The man was difficult, reserved, and quick to put up barriers during their small conversations, never allowing James to get closer. But James loved a good challenge.

Every small piece of information was a victory. Every fleeting smile that his beloved student let slip brightened James’s day. Every sharp reply excited him. Every tease, every light insult—James loved spending time with him. And suddenly, what had started as overwhelming physical attraction had turned into a real need to understand him.

James fell in love with him.

Somewhere along the way, he had searched for ways to stop feeling so attracted to Arthur Crouch, but in that last month, he gave up, realizing that, one way or another, his beloved student was reciprocating.

James stepped out of the staff lockers and into the classroom where he usually held his cross-training sessions, greeting the students waiting outside with a radiant smile.

It was a group of adults of varying ages, from young people of 19 to elderly individuals in their 80s, each with their own challenges to overcome, always respecting their limits and their bodies. James knew each of them by face and name, and, glancing around, he saw that there were no new students that day, which meant he could push them a little harder.

As he searched among the faces, his eyes landed directly on his most beloved student, who was approaching slowly, with the cautious and endearing demeanour of a cat, ready to take James’s breath away.

His strikingly strong yet angelic face was framed by well-defined black curls, long enough that he had to tie them back to stop them from falling into his eyes while training. James felt himself unravel every time he imagined gripping that hair while taking him from behind.

He had stunning light grey eyes, like silver, watchful and deep, framed by long dark lashes and a rounded brow that made his gaze even more striking. He had a button nose and full lips with a well-defined cupid’s bow, so reminiscent of cherubic paintings. His skin was incredibly fair, dotted with freckles scattered across his face in kissable spots, like the corner of his mouth and beneath his left eye—spots James was sure extended across the rest of his body.

If only he could see his body…

Since they had met, he had never seen any skin beyond his face—perhaps that was why imagining him naked was so tempting.

He always wore high-collared dry-fit shirts beneath loose sports tees, along with leggings under his shorts, leaving everything to James’s imagination. That modest, almost virtuous appearance ignited a devouring urge in James—to strip him bare, peeling away every layer of purity, pride, and dignity along with the clothes that kept his skin hidden from greedy eyes. All consensually, of course.

They greeted each other with polite smiles and entered the room, each taking their usual spot—James at the front near the speaker and his beloved student at the back.

Another temptation.

It was a room with three drywall walls and one glass wall, where the door was located, at the back of the space. Situated in the middle of the gym, people often paused to watch the class, curious about what was happening inside. Especially those using the leg extension machines, positioned directly facing the glass—like their own personal television. Every Saturday morning, there were a few recurring spectators.

What would his beloved student do if he realised how the people on the leg extension machines watched him through the glass? How would he feel if James gave him exercises in compromising positions for the strangers to enjoy the show?

James longed to put his student on display once he had made him his—like a prized trophy on that glass shelf. He would command him to tease those strangers, to make them envy the man who had the privilege of owning Art in his bed.

He took a deep breath.

"Come on, everyone! Today’s session is going to be dynamic, and I’ll be doing it with you, alright?"

With any luck, I'll be so knackered that my cock won’t even twitch at the filth I’ve been fantasising about , he thought.

After a warm-up, several sets and brutal rounds of squats, push-ups, planks, and more, he’d burned off some energy—and damn near killed his students, judging by the murderous glares they shot at him. That always left James deeply satisfied; when they wanted to strangle him, it meant the training had been effective. He justified himself by praising their improved posture and execution, which needed fewer corrections and allowed him to push them harder.

To wrap up, he gave them a few minutes of relaxation, helping them recover their arms, shoulders, legs, and calves, ending the session with applause from the students, who smiled despite their exhaustion. Among them, a pair of bright silver eyes—like morning stars in the Saturday sky—were fixed on him.

Saying goodbye to each student at a leisurely pace, James took his time to comment on their progress and check in on any aches or discomforts. Eventually, only he and his Art remained in the room, which was filled with a comfortable silence as his student smiled at him.

"You’re sweet."

He stood there with his arms crossed, and James couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

"Thank you…?" he replied, confused.

"I mean it. You’re a great professional," he clarified, heading towards the door.

If you knew what I was fantasising about just now, you wouldn’t be saying that , James thought, merely resting the door ajar so the cleaning staff could do their job before the next instructor took over.

"I do my best," James said.

"You really love what you do."

James let a foolish grin slip. After all, this was shaping up to be the best morning of his life since the Christmas when his parents gave him his first bicycle. His beloved student was praising him.

"Do you need a towel?" he asked gently.

James had been so mesmerized, thinking about him all morning, that he had forgotten to bring his towel — again. But his Art had brought two.

Taking a small red towel from his backpack, soft and clean as if brand new, James doubted his beloved student had even owned it before last week, let alone considered using it.

"You forgot yours last week too — almost got sweat in your coffee because you refused mine," he said, pretending not to care. "This one’s clean. You can keep it."

James had to hold back a wild grin so he wouldn’t embarrass his Art further. This little gift — another one of his quiet gestures — made James believe, just maybe, his feelings were returned.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it," James said, delighted, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Refusing his Art’s towel last week to avoid falling into the scent of him had been pointless — and yet, strangely effective. Because this new towel now carried that same sweet and spicy fragrance that drove him mad… and this time, it was his to keep.

They made their way to the cafeteria, James feeling like he was walking on clouds, while beside him, his Art strode with his chest open and a confident posture, looking as gorgeous as ever in an oversized dark green hockey jersey with a snake on it. It hung off his frame, swallowing him up in fabric, which only made James even more obsessed with what lay beneath—how small his waist really was, if his thighs were thick enough to bite into, if his arse was full enough to grab and slap.

He took a deep breath.

For a few weeks now, James had managed to convince his student to join him during the break between the class and his personal training session, so they could grab something to eat at the gym’s café. In truth, his Art never actually ate—he only drank the protein shake he brought from home and never let James pay for anything, which had been his original idea when suggesting they go together. At the very least, James got to talk to him for a while before he was rendered speechless by the heavier exercises—and before James lost his own breath just watching him.

"I don’t think I’ve ever asked—what do you do for work?" James asked as they sat down at their usual table.

"I work in school administration, sort of a jack-of-all-trades."

"That’s cool! Do you like kids?"

"Not exactly. I prefer the bureaucratic side of keeping a school running," he explained simply. "My mum is a headteacher, so I’ve been around it since my teenage years."

What a blessing! We’re talking about family now! James thought, thrilled.

"I get that completely. My dad’s a teacher, and he used to bring home exams for me and my mum to mark," he shared, earning a sigh in response.

"Don’t even get me started. End-of-year exams are coming up, and it’s going to be a nightmare…" He rubbed his forehead. "At least summer holidays are around the corner, and things will quiet down at school."

Diving so deeply into his student’s personal life, James hoped he could keep the radiant gleam of joy in his eyes under control—to avoid looking like a complete weirdo. Unfortunately, he realised too late. His student’s expression flickered with mild bewilderment, but thankfully, no rejection.

His Art flushed slightly, idly playing with the strap of his bottle.

Too bloody adorable for his own good , James thought.

James called the waitress over to make his order, as usual, asking his beloved student if he wanted anything, even though he knew he would decline. He ordered just tea, knowing that if he had asked for coffee, his body would absorb a stimulant it didn’t need at that moment. That didn’t pass his Art observant gaze:

“No coffee today? Are you ok? Does your stomach hurt?”

“Yeah, just not feeling like coffee today. But thanks for the concern," he replied briefly.

"Oh… that's unusual," the comment came with a slight pout — and James nearly died from the cuteness.

As he tried to think of a subtle way to keep the conversation going, his Art asked:

"Do you work here every day?"

He’s interested in me! James thought, feeling increasingly happy.

"Yes, from Monday to Saturday, I’m here!"

"With the summer holidays coming up, I’ll have less work to do, so I won’t have to stay so late… I was thinking of coming more often," he initially commented shyly, but quickly got agitated and added: "Not for more personal training! I don’t think that would even be covered in my plan, and I don’t want to take up your time; you have other things to do, other students to attend to… but I just wanted to… because if you were here… I… oh…"

He began to murmur, stringing sentences together, desperately trying to correct what he had said. Perhaps he was afraid of what James might think, unaware that his instructor was loving every second of that conversation, thrilled to realize his Art was slowly giving in, ready to be entirely his.

James’s imagination was almost palpable, thinking of his little house in the countryside, holding hands with him like a husband, surrounded by children, grandchildren, cats, and plants.

"My dear, if you call me, I’ll drop everything to come to you," James couldn’t hold it in.

His beloved student’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and he discreetly bit his lower lip — sending James straight to heaven and hell at once. He only managed to look away when the waitress brought his tea, which he drank quickly, trying to keep himself in check.

"Careful not to burn yourself," he warned, worried, though embarrassment colored his voice.

The hot liquid slid down his throat, doing nothing to cool the heat building inside him. And if James’s skin weren’t so dark, he would’ve been just as flushed as his student — blood rushing to his head and down to somewhere far more dangerous.

"I’m fine," he replied after swallowing.

"And don’t call me my dear — I’m not yours," he scolded, clearly struggling.

Not yet , James thought. To hell with professionalism, I’ve never been ethical anyway. I got the job through nepotism, I work for fun since I could live off my inheritance. I decided to give him free personal training, lied that it should be covered in his plan, made him go to the secretary to ask for information while I messaged my employee to tell him it was covered in his plan and that he could have my personal training. There’s nothing ‘professional’ or ‘ethical’ in my actions, and that’s so inappropriate, so low, and so exciting at the same time. It’s wrong, guilty, and so hot.

He made the lamest apologies possible, knowing he had a list of pet names he wanted to call his student, and "my dear" was the mildest of them.

Finishing his tea, reciting his mantras, and trying to distract himself from the arousal, James ended the break and was ready to return to the gym to start his favorite student’s free personal training.

By the end of May, it was unnecessary to explain to him how to do the exercises, considering they had been working on that same program for an entire month. But James always showed him how with his own body, explaining how the biceps, triceps, quadriceps, and other parts should work.

Receiving his student’s gaze on his physique was a way of secretly trying to seduce him with his well-trained muscles, the result of many years of study, training, and balanced diet, ready to be caressed by his Art whenever he wanted. Also, when he did the first repetition, James could indulge in a bit of his own depraved desire to touch him, correcting the movement by touching mostly his arms, always asking for permission to do so.

"Remember to take care of your back," he advised as his student was doing Barbell Bent Over Rows. "Can I help you?"

With a nod, James asked permission and placed his hand at the base of his spine. His Art shuddered under his touch.

"Don’t let your back round, retract your shoulder blades, okay?"

"Okay, it's hard to remember," he said, struggling. "In ballet, it's the opposite — you have to protract them."

"Oh! You do ballet?!" James asked, surprised and clearly delighted by the revelation.

"I'm trained in ballet," he smiled. "It's been years since I’ve set foot in a studio, but my cousin always encourages me to keep practising — it’s just a bit tricky…"

"Wow, that’s incredible! I noticed you were already strong when you came to your first class."

"But I was clumsy…"

That, James couldn’t deny — the majestic figure of his beloved student hadn’t quite suited cross-training at first. But he was improving, persevering, and progressing in everything he was asked to do.

James watched the exercise closely, counting the reps and encouraging him to continue, knowing that he had already mastered that sequence, finishing without even breaking a sweat.

"Ah! But that’s too easy!" he joked, smiling widely. "Next month, we’ll increase the weight on all the sets!"

"No…" he whimpered, also joking.

They moved on to the next exercise, one that would allow James to tease him a bit, to find out deep down how much his beloved student was interested in the gym training (or in the instructor himself):

"So, you’re thinking of coming to train during the week too? That’s great!"

"Yes, the exercises have been doing me good…" he revealed.

"I can tell, you’re looking much better than when you first came here, both in terms of your physique, strength, balance, and mental state. You seem happier."

Noticing his student’s lowered gaze and somber profile, James realized he had touched a sensitive subject, one that he thought would make him build that typical barrier and make the conversation difficult between them. But that didn’t happen.

"I do feel much better, actually…" he explained. "I started training on medical recommendation because I was underweight, but I didn’t feel good about my body in any way. Now I’m a little better, as I’m gaining muscle mass."

Better than anyone, James understood what he meant by that. It wasn’t hard to tell how his student avoided looking at the gym mirrors as if his reflection would turn into a monster from a horror movie. Feeling his heart race, James immediately associated the many layers of clothing his beloved student wore with an attempt to cover what made him insecure. The thought created a sense of urgency in James, almost overwhelming.

More than ever, he wanted to strip his beloved student, to touch every part of his body in an almost religious way and show him how he could love him. James wanted to kiss and mark every inch of his skin as if it were a blank canvas, painted red while telling his Art how beautiful and perfect he was. James wanted to adore him and take away every insecurity about his appearance.

He would do that. More than ever, he was determined to win him over.

"I completely understand. When I was a teenager, I had a real complex about my body, and I went to some extreme lengths to try and achieve the impossible result I wanted," he confessed. "But as I got older, I realised it wasn’t the right approach, and with exercise, proper nutrition, and guidance from health professionals and a psychologist, I began to improve."

His student had finished the sequence and was watching him with a deep sense of admiration, which made James feel even more invigorated. He wasn’t used to opening up about his past struggles, but he was glad he had, and in some way, he’d touched his student’s heart.

"I’m following the right guidance now, and I can really feel the progress," he smiled. "I'm glad you're a part of it and can see it too, coach.”

‘ Coach ,’ said with a teasing tone, made James feel a jolt of desire, wondering how he had allowed someone to get so deep into his head and mess with his mind the way his beloved student had. He was used to receiving only scraps of intimacy offered by him, never full meals of deep emotions and psychological revelations. James relished that small freedom Art had given him, the care and intimacy in his eyes, lost in euphoria as he moved on to the next set of exercises.

Neither of them commented on anything further, and James thought that was more than enough; his day was already perfect. He continued through all the sets and exercises, until the final one: the Dumbbell Bench Press. It was the one his student struggled with the most, so they always saved the hardest for last. It was also one of James’s more challenging exercises to watch, seeing him lie back on the large bench, his hair spread around his face, and his expression already weary from the previous workouts.

It was very difficult for James, because sometimes his Art would moan during the exercise, and it drove him crazy. 

These weren’t the exaggerated grunts of the show-offs trying to prove they were lifting heavy weights, but rather small, low sounds that sometimes escaped in the middle of his breath, almost as if he were frustrated with himself for what he was doing.

These soft sounds would escape very spontaneously at other times, but especially when his Art was doing the Dumbbell Bench Press. His eyes would squeeze shut every time he lifted the weights, and he would let out a small, exhausted moan, almost like James's fantasy of what his student would be like underneath him when he was fucked hard.

Even though he had momentarily lost himself in thought, James was alert when he saw his Art’s arms tremble during the penultimate repetition, and he was quick to grab the weights when he could no longer hold them up. James guided them above his head, into the empty space of the bench, to avoid injuring him or causing any harm. It was a blow to James’s sanity.

His Art's fingers were squeezing the weight too hard to let go, leaving him with his arms above his head, trapped under James’s touch. His breathing was heavy, his entire body was sweaty and his face was flushed from the effort, his lips were red and moist from biting so much, as if he had had an orgasm.

James felt his dick twitch inside his shorts.

"Just one more," he commanded, waiting for the last repetition so they could finish.

"No..." he groaned in a whiny tone. "It’s too much."

"Just a little more, I’ll help you..."

He wanted to say, ‘ Be good for me, baby, you're doing so well, you’re handling me so well’

His Art nodded, never opening his eyes as James helped him with the last repetition.

Good boy, so good for me

"Are you okay?", ‘Angel’,  he didn’t say. "Stay there for a moment to recover."

"I hate you," he replied, covering his eyes with his forearm.

"I know you love to hate me," James smirked.

He turned his back to his student lying on the bench, putting away the weights while trying hard to calm his body, failing miserably when he saw the bulge in his shorts, making it clear to anyone who wanted to see how hard he was for his Art. James shifted uncomfortably, trying to be discreet in a way to hide it, because he still needed to say goodbye to his student and be a fucking professional all day.

James took a deep breath.

"That's it, you're doing really well, achieving great results," he began to say. "Make sure you come during the week as well; it will be wonderful to have you."

When he turned around, his Art was already standing, busy cleaning the bench he had been lying on, giving James just enough time to find a way to cover his erection. He spotted a weight out of place, just the right size to temporarily hold in front of his body. It was ridiculous, but it was the best he could do.

"Alright, I'll try to come by this week," his student promised, extending his hand to shake his. "Thank you so much, coach, it’s been a wonderful day."

James said goodbye, feeling his cock pulsing inside his underwear, desperate for some relief. His Art left after receiving a polite smile, which dropped as soon as James saw his beautiful figure disappear into the gym. 

Never in all those months he had been so desperate.

He tried to distract himself by looking around to see if everything was in the right place, but he couldn't feel any better, so James went straight to the staff lockers to do something very unprofessional under a cold shower.

The sports club his parents owned had something against doors in the shower room. Even though there were divisions between the showers, the inside was visible due to the lack of a door. However, this wasn’t an issue since the staff lockers were empty at that time of day, and a long wall with white tiles separated the area from the entrance, the lockers, and the bathroom cubicles, so he was safe to relax. James grabbed his towel, placing them on the long bench in front of the shower stalls.

Once he stripped off his clothes, James adjusted the water to the coldest setting it could go, still hoping it would help calm him down. But it didn’t worked.

His body was so hot that it felt like the water was boiling as soon as it hit his skin, evaporating and creating a fog in his eyes. James felt dizzy, thinking about his Art, not fully forming those fantasies at first but experiencing the same sensations he did. If he dove deep into his thoughts... it would be so wrong... so inappropriate... and yet it would feel so good.

"Jerking off at work, thinking about my student... Oh, my Art, what are you doing to me? What am I getting myself into?" he mumbled.

He grabbed his erection, making slow movements, still denying himself the pleasure, but soon completely giving up any self-control, knowing that the heat wouldn't go away if he didn't come right then and there. 

James surrendered to his fantasies, mixed with the vivid images of that morning, of his student's sweaty body, of his expression after a long exercise, how he could get that same expression from him in another way. Of the clothes he wanted to take off his Art, of the devotion with which he would leave his skin full of hickeys, of how James would suck him with desire, to show the willingness with which he would kneel for him.

“Good boy, so pretty, so good for me”, he whispered, closing his eyes, moving his hand faster, rubbing the spots that he liked most.

He stroked up and down, slow and than faster, making wet noises, letting his moans call for his Art while picturing his lips parting around his erection, sucking him until his pretty face became covered in his cum. James fantasized about doing this in his classroom, in front of that glass wall, with the gym-goers as his audience, desiring his Art just as he did. 

Along with them, James could imagine Sirius and Remus, his best friends, watching the show while masturbating.

James was so close and he opened his eyes, immediately noticing someone looking at him at the open shower stall.

His Art was there.

Standing in only a white towel around his chest, just like a girl, just like James’s fantasies.

Pale white sink exposed, his bare feet, legs, and thighs full of display for him. His private part should have been covered by the towel, but his erection formed a tent, showing it almost completely. 

His beloved student was enjoying the show, but had an uncertain expression on his face, full of desire, but scared. It looked like a dream.

But it was real.

James couldn't stop with the most perfect vision of the world in front of him, the most tempting of all, so he accelerated the stroking, until he was consumed by that euphoria and the feeling of a small death, cumming hard on the shower stall, only for his Art to enjoy, moaning and calling his name, calling some of those pet names he loved to think.

“Oh… yes, Art, so good for me… sweet thing…”

He rested his light head against the wall behind him, lost in pleasure, savouring the true relief after months of feeling only half-satisfied. Of course, he wanted more than just to give his student a fleeting display of his desire, but this was the best he had in weeks. 

For a few seconds, not a single coherent thought crossed his mind as he remained under the gaze of his Art, who trembled with unmistakable yearning. 

James knew that if he didn’t say something, he would run away, but he could barely manage anything better than:

"Please, baby, come here with me."

Much to James’s surprise, he did.

Shaking and unsteady steps approached cautiously, eyes tracing every inch of James’s completely naked body, lusting over him in a way that was impossible to deny. He allowed himself to admire the shoulders of his student, small yet defined with accentuated collarbones, and his arms, firmly holding his towel around his chest, as if they were locked in place. With the care of someone moving delicate china, James guided his Art to rest his back against the stall’s wall, but he didn’t apply any pressure; he just wanted to be a little closer.

"Art…”, James began slowly.

“Don’t call me that,” he interrupted abruptly. “Call me anything, but not that.”

“May I call you ‘baby’?”

“...Yes,” his student replied in a shy tone.

“Can I touch you?” he asked boldly.

“… Yes… but I…” his baby struggled for words.

“What? You can tell me. I won’t do anything to hurt you,” he thought, not yet, not like this .

“It’s filthy… I’m filthy” he explained, shaking.

James understood what was going on inside his head, the way he wanted it so badly, but at the same time denied himself, preferring to suffer. He probably had some religious trauma, some imprinted idea of what was right and wrong—one that hurt him, because his desires didn’t fit what was considered "right."

“It’s not a filthy, baby. We’re adults, capable of wanting and denying,” James said, trying to save him from the sad life of deprivation. “Love and desire are beautiful, it doesn’t matter the gender, and I’d love to show you how this isn’t filthy.”

Gently, James ran his hands over his baby’s, watching closely, giving him the space to pull the towel away slowly, searching for any signs of disapproval, hesitation, or discomfort. But his beloved student was patient with him, allowing himself to be undressed, revealing the fine fabric before granting James the full view of his body. It was so perfect that he could have cum again just by the sight

His baby was beautiful, with an hourglass shape and a tiny waist that fit James’s hands perfectly. He was very thin, yet with defined muscles beginning to grow and take shape all over his body. He had a delicate chest and sensitive-looking pink nipples, hard from his body’s desire. Looking a little bit down, his erection was just the right size to perfectly fit James’s mouth, without causing him problems, his student was already dripping from excitement, just waiting to be taken.

After taking a good look, he grabbed his waist and pulled their crotches together

James breathed heavily.

He looked at both of his baby’s arms.

One large, ugly scar ran vertically down his left arm, from his wrist to nearly the end of his forearm, intersected by smaller, pale scars—the largest from an old suicide attempt, the others remnants of a recently broken pattern of self-harm.

Before his beloved student could panic about him noticing them, James gently brought his lips to his arms, kissing the scars with love, whispering against his skin:

“You’re so strong… so brave and resilient… so beautiful, baby. So perfect…”

"I’m unattractive, my body is ugly," he replied.

"Don’t lie to me. I want to get on my knees and worship your body right now," James announced. "Sounds good, baby? You’re ok with that?"

“Yes…” he whispered under his breath.

With his consent, James hugged him deeply, feeling how their bodies fit so well together, how his baby could rest comfortably with his head on James’s shoulder. He was only a little shorter, perfect for holding like that. He felt a kiss and a shy lick on his neck from his student, who was clearly eager to touch and feel, as if doing it for the first time, yet so afraid, fighting against his own convictions.

When James felt a small bite, he lost his mind.

Does my future pet like to bite? Lucky him, I love it too, he thought with joy .

But that was not the right time. His baby’s skin was a canvas, but not yet ready for James to do his art—painting it in red and purple, with hickeys, bites, and the imprint of his hands.

James moved away a little, just the right distance to fill him with kisses on his jaw and neck, going down to his throat and shoulders, showing him a little of the love and devotion he had held for those months he had inappropriately desired his student. He scraped his teeth lightly across the delicate skin, making it clear that he also knew how to bite. Much effort wasn’t needed—his baby was already lost in moans and deep breath.

His student was incredibly sensitive, squirting below James, dripping even more with the slightest rub of his thighs against his erection.

“When was the last time you did it?” he asked, leaning down to kiss his chest better.

“What?”

“Jerk off?”

“I don’t know... Maybe... 4 months,” his student answered uncertainly.

“Oh, you can go for 4 months without touching yourself? Is it like a game of chastity for you?”

“I don’t touch myself.”

Oh fuck, maybe he was into some of those strict religious dogmas, where he wasn’t allowed to do anything unless it’s for reproduction , James thought sadly, but with a devilish need to corrupt that.

“But I always have dreams about you, coach... and sometimes I wake up with moist sheets... I’m sorry.”

A smile painted James’s face as he felt his body regain its heat. He didn’t know if his baby was truly innocent, pretending to be, or just inexperienced, but he was loving every second of it, leaving for another opportunity the kind of teasing he usually subjected his partners to, offering only small glimpses of his usual game, and going straight to his main goal—satisfying him.

“Oh, bad boy, thinking dirty things about your coach,” he mocked, with so much love, kissing below his belly button. “I’ll make all your dreams come true, baby.”

Having said that, he took his baby’s entire length into his mouth, feeling him tremble. James took his time, letting him get used to the wet warmth around his most sensitive part, sensing that his student had no experience with this. He only started sucking after a while, moving his head slowly but taking him down to the throat with ease. His baby was perfectly shaven, which made it more comfortable to go all the way to the base without any discomfort.

After just a few quick thrusts, he came—far too sensitive to handle any more—filling James’s mouth with his cum and with the desire to truly train him to be his perfect pet.

Even from below, he managed to catch a glimpse of his beloved student during his orgasm—flushed and desperate, just as he had imagined that morning, yet even more adorable than he could have ever thought. It took him a while to come down from the euphoria, leaving James to support his weight as his legs grew weaker. Not that James minded; he loved the new feeling of his baby’s body nearly resting on his lap.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, gently lifting his lover’s chin.

His red lips were close, ready to be kissed, but James thought this wasn’t the right moment. He could wait to taste the sweetness of that cupid’s bow.

"Mmm… James…" his baby whispered his name—for the first time since they had met.

A shiver of happiness ran through James’s entire body.

"I’m here, baby, just for you," he whispered, holding him tight, running his fingers through the dark curls he adored. "I’m all yours."

"This is wrong…" his lover still fought against himself.

"I know, love. I should be more professional, but I just can’t resist…" James sighed. "Give me a chance, please? Just one chance to show you that I can be good for you."

"I… I want to, but… I’m not who you think I am," he said with a sorrowful expression. "I’m a messed-up, dirty person who doesn’t deserve your light."

"Oh, that’s not true." James refuted with certainty. "But if that’s what you think, at least let me get to know you and draw my own conclusions, okay? Let me know you?"

Chapter Text

Mid-winter, 2011

"Left, right, keep your back straight, watch your arm, one step this way, one step that way, don’t step on the girl’s foot, left, right, and left again, keep your arm steady so it doesn’t drop somewhere inappropriate, one step this way, one step that way, and smile! Pretend you’re having fun! Don’t make an unpleasant face."

Sirius listened to the words of his pretty little brother drifting out of the library of 12 Grimmauld Place on a Saturday night.

Even after his exhausting dance class with Miss Clark, Regulus repeated his dance teacher's instructions as he glided around the round table between the bookshelves, moving without music.

In the few seconds that Sirius spied on him through the door crack, he lost count of how many times his little brother had circled, doing a very bad job at his dance while chasing perfection—all because of one of those damned parties their parents were hosting next weekend.

Regulus was ten years old, the age at which he would be forced to dance with girls at their parents’ parties. All of it just to find a wife he did not want—after all, who still arranged marriages at a ball in this day and age? Only the Black family, with their horrid traditions, could put him through such suffering.

But if his little brother found a bride quickly, it would be easier for him to forget about Sirius and the things they used to do together. 

If he found a girl at one of those parties, his bright future would be guaranteed.

Seeing him grow more frustrated with the dance, Sirius decided to step in, pushing open the library door.

"What are you doing, Reggie?" he asked.

Regulus didn’t look at him, nor did he stop moving, still twirling around the table.

"Dancing with a ghost, can’t you see?" he snapped irritably.

"Then that ghost must be terrible at dancing to be leading you like that."

At the insult, Regulus got distracted and tripped over a raised nail in the wooden floor, nearly falling. He caught himself against the table on the other side, glaring at his brother as if throwing knives.

Finding it amusing, Sirius stepped away from the doorframe, shutting the door behind him. A teasing smile played on his lips, making it clear he was enjoying himself at Regulus’s expense.

It had been some time since his little brother had decided to become more rebellious, sharpening his tongue against his older brother, and Sirius could only find it amusing. There was no way he could take him seriously—watching Regulus glare and snap was like watching a kitten hiss, adorable and not even slightly menacing.

But it was also worrying, because Sirius wanted to provoke him more, to draw out more of those reactions, to push him further. And, in some twisted way, to tame his little brother like one would tame a wild animal.

Regulus had started to grow up, developing not only his own personality but also his body—getting taller and, unlike the clumsy preteens their age, becoming more graceful with each passing week. He was struggling terribly with the waltz, but in ballet he moved with a mesmerizing elegance that extended even to the small acts of daily life. He was becoming more beautiful—prettier, in Sirius’s eyes—which was dangerous, considering the desires that were slowly taking root within him.

Damned day when their mother caught them kissing. Damned day when Sirius realised his feelings had been wrong all along. Damned day when his cousin Andromeda gave him a laptop. Damned day when he searched for content that was inappropriate for his age.

Sirius couldn’t hug his brother anymore without thinking about his wrong feelings. He couldn’t be in the same room as Regulus without being reminded of his twisted love and the small spark of desire that grew with his puberty. Sirius felt wrong all the time, but he couldn’t abandon his little brother, addicted to the safety he felt with him. Addicted to his new bossy and harsh way of acting.

"What is it, petit frère? Did the ghost step on your foot?"

"Tais-toi, Sirius..."
(Shut up, Sirius.)

Oh, he loved it when his brother was mean to him in french.

"Wow, you’ve gotten mouthy lately. What’s gotten into you?"

A crazy amount of emotions flooded Regulus's eyes in a second, even though he tried to keep his indifferent face. Rage, need, love, and pride, but it broke Sirius's heart when he seemed to wither with sadness, looking at anything but his brother.

"Leave me alone..." he murmured, turning his back and leaning against the table.

He hated so much seeing his little brother sad, and knowing that it was because of him made Sirius want to punch himself. 

It was obvious that breaking that pattern of long hugs and small kisses would hurt, but it was for the best—so they could be close in the future, without feeling embarrassed around each other. But all the changes were hurting both of them, as they needed the affection that they could only find in each other. Sirius moved closer to Regulus, but not close enough to satisfy the overwhelming yearning that kept him awake at night, coming up with an idea to offer just a little bit of comfort to his brother.

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Pardon?" Regulus asked.

"Do you want me to teach you how to dance?" Sirius repeated. "Come on, Reggie, I don’t like it, but I’m good at wal—"

"I accept," he cut in immediately, his eyes full of hope.

His little brother was just as eager as he was to share one more hug.

How long had it been since Sirius last hugged him? He couldn’t remember, because it felt like an eternity when he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his little brother’s back, his hand resting at the base of Regulus’s spine with a familiarity that not even thousands of years could erase.

They knew each other’s bodies, even with all the changes, and burned together in that proximity, like a spark on the verge of igniting a wildfire. Sirius had grown, was a few centimetres taller now, yet they still fit together perfectly—Regulus’s hand on his brother’s arm, their hands clasped. Their eyes met, and even without words, in that perfect connection between them, they began to waltz, as if Regulus had never struggled with it at all.

"Wait, am I being the girl?" Regulus asked after realising he was being led.

"Yes, you’re my little girl now."

The phrase, said without thinking, made Regulus's cheeks flush, and he opened his mouth, surprised—not angry, as Sirius had supposed he would be. He could see in his little brother's eyes that, besides learning how to dance, he had also just discovered the feeling called 'butterflies in the stomach'—and perhaps a hint of sexual excitement at being called a girl.

He looked away, startled by the new sensations, and Sirius knew he should stop. Even so, twirling slowly with his brother through the library, he couldn’t help but desire to see more of that reaction from Regulus. That strange feeling of making him embarrassed was so intoxicating that all Sirius could think about was asking for more.

“Well, Reggie? Are you going to be my little girl, then?” Sirius teased, his voice a low purr. “My sweet little bride? Will you marry me?”

“Stop it, Siri!” Regulus protested, growing more and more flustered.

“Will you wear a little dress for me?”

It was so wrong. Sirius knew that he was projecting his newly discovered pleasure from adult websites, with all their kinks, onto his brother. It was inadequate, it was impure, and yet Regulus looked at him with desire, as though he was feeling the same intoxicating rush through his veins, making his heart pound violently in his chest, pumping molten-hot blood to every part of his body.

It was as if they were sharing the same scenario, looking into each other's eyes, with Regulus in a dress before his brother. But what should have made him feel humiliated and wounded only fuelled the whirlwind inside him further. What should have made Sirius feel disgusted only aroused him.

Imagining lying his little brother on the library table, Regulus in a ballroom dress lifted to his waist, exposing everything hidden underneath to Sirius—being Sirius’s wife and doing what their mother had said happened between men and women.

Sirius leaned in, his warm breath brushing against Regulus's ear, sending shivers across his little brother’s body. He clung to him even tighter when he whispered:

"If I lift your dress, will you be wearing panties for me?"

Regulus didn’t answer with words—only with a soft, unbidden moan that slipped from his lips. His entire body melted into his older brother’s arms, barely holding himself up, as if he might dissolve at any moment. His skin was burning, even reaching his eyes, which glistened with moisture as they met Sirius’s.

Then, his gaze dropped to Regulus’s slightly parted lips. The taste was familiar to Sirius, but even without experience, he knew that kissing Regulus with this fantasy in his mind would be different. It would be desperate—like he wanted to consume him, like he was trying to extinguish that fire with Regulus’s very touch.

Every vein in his body burned with something new and sinful—pure, unadulterated desire for his little brother.

Sirius was breaking his promise.

He was so wrong.

Abruptly, but still gently, Sirius let him go, stepping backwards until he nearly collided with the bookshelves, realizing with horror what he was doing to his brother.

“Alright, you know how to do it now,”  he said hastily, heading for the door. “Keep practising.”

And then he was gone, leaving Regulus behind, going straight to his room with his head spinning.

Sirius cried, feeling as though he had lost his mind.

…

Being two years older than his little brother, Sirius had always carried the responsibility of looking after Regulus, even though their parents told him to focus on himself and ignore 'the spare.' They barely considered Regulus their son, but Sirius considered him his in every way—as if, from the day he was born, the two of them had been made for each other.

Sirius loved Regulus unconditionally, with a devotion almost religious in nature, filled with selfless adoration. To do good for his little brother, whom he wanted as a lover, was like doing good for himself. Sirius gave him a vast space in his heart, a space that would forever remain empty, as his brother would never return.

For so long, he had tried to avoid the disastrous future he now lived, without the presence of his little brother, making promises and vows, but in the end, his worst nightmare came true.

But it was clear—Sirius did not have a horrible life. At 24, he was at the peak of his happiness and freedom, living with his beloved Remus, seeing his dear friend James every day, living in his beloved home, working in the job he loved. He loved every day and night, but he could not overcome the guilt of ruining his brother on that fateful Saturday night of his high school graduation.

Every day, Sirius thought that if he hadn't given in to his bestial nature, he wouldn't have lost Regulus. He remembered the past and thought about how many times he should have said 'no,' even if it would have hurt his little brother, even though Sirius wanted it just as much as Regulus. Maybe if he had been more resistant, if he had managed to rein in his desires—and his brother's too—maybe his life would have been more peaceful.

But that twisted love of his was too much to spare either of them from the fate where Sirius had a life surrounded by love, and Regulus was nothing more than a star in the sky.

…

Saturday Night, 2022

Saturday nights were Remus’s favourite time of the week.

Firstly, because he didn’t have to wake up early the next morning and could spend the entire morning cuddling with his Sirius in their bed. Secondly, because James, their best friend, would come over for dinner and stay late, drinking and chatting, also free from work the next day. And lastly, because on Saturday nights, it was his Sirius who cooked, and Remus could simply relax and enjoy the sight of the love of his life.

It was even better on warm nights, when Sirius didn’t bother with a shirt, only an apron covering his chest, leaving the marks from the previous night exposed across his pale back and neck.

His Sirius was a divine figure to behold, almost like an ancient Greek statue—save for one significant difference hidden within his sweatpants. His shoulders were broad, muscles well-defined from the training James encouraged him to do, making his waist appear smaller— perfect for Remus to hold onto. Amidst that canvas of freckles, scratches, faint bruises, and love bites, there was a large tattoo of the Leo constellation, with Regulus—the brightest star—replaced by a heart so realistic it almost seemed to beat.

With plenty of time before James arrived, Remus could take advantage of his pet , who was always more than eager to play and serve him.

He approached Sirius once he was sure his hands were free of anything dangerous, wrapping his arms around him from behind and lowering himself slightly to kiss the part of his tattoo where Regulus’s star was, close enough to read the words of love connecting each star in the constellation.

He placed a few more kisses along the reddened marks, trailing up to the nape of Sirius’s neck. The height difference between them wasn’t much—Remus was just slightly taller, enough to make it comfortable to stay in that position for hours, caressing the white gold collar encircling Sirius’s neck with his lips. Thick and smooth, it bore Remus’s full name engraved over and over along its length.

He hugged his Sirius even tighter to reach the small black paw pendant dangling in front, engraved with the name Padfoot .

“You need to let me go, mon amour , or we’ll have nothing to serve Prongs,” Sirius said with a proud smile, though he made no real effort to move away. “Or… you could keep going and move your hand a little lower, so we can serve him a pie filled with meat and cum.”

It was a truly depraved idea—one some would consider downright abhorrent—but Sirius knew his Master liked it, even if he’d never actually go through with it. After all, consent was of utmost importance in everything they did, and surprising their best friend in such a way would indeed be crossing a terrible line.

Still, they could fantasise.

Not just about what they could imagine taking from this dinner, but about all the other things they’d never voice aloud for the sake of their friendship.

Only in the privacy of their own world could Remus and Sirius secretly bring others into their relationship—whether by imagining strangers as an audience to their acts or by picturing themselves with familiar faces like James, their colleagues, and even Sirius’s late brother, whose face Remus could only imagine.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea…” Remus disagreed. “But I was hoping for a little appetiser before the meal… will you be good for me, pet ?”

At his master’s request, Sirius became excited, thrusting his hips back to meet Remus’s erection, which had formed as he admired his back and pulsed at the thought of James.

“He could arrive at any moment, Sir,” Sirius said. “He has the key; he could come in and see us.”

That wasn’t true – their friend would still take at least another two hours to leave work and reach the apartment in front to Remus and Sirius’s, where he would still have a shower and get ready to join them, giving them at least three hours. James wasn’t about to barge into their house without ringing the bell, but they liked to imagine that he might.

They fantasised that James would arrive just as his best friend Sirius lay with his legs spread beneath his other best friend, moaning and whimpering for the relief that Remus was taking so long to provide, so that James could enjoy the show – so that he would muster the courage to grab Sirius from the other side of the kitchen island and shove himself deep into his throat.

With his cock throbbing into an erection, Remus turned his pet to face him and looked him straight in the eye, a smile almost perverse playing on his lips as he grasped Sirius’s throat. Sirius immediately placed his arms behind his back but continued to gaze at him confidently, with that familiar challenge they enjoyed.

“You naughty little dog, do you want our Prongs to see you like this?” Remus said, scrutinising him from head to toe. “Or will you pretend you weren’t about to receive our best friend shirtless, so as to show him the marks I left on you last night? Is that it?”

“No, Sir,” Sirius smiled. “I was going to put a shirt on before he arrived, but I liked your idea better.”

“I’m sure you did, you little tease. You can hardly wait for him to arrive so he can try and persuade your best friend to have sex with you, can’t you? Just like in the good old days?” he teased. “A cock alone isn’t enough for you.”

The look on his pet’s face filled with excitement was a sight hard to describe—a beauty that only made Remus want him more. He slid his hand inside Sirius’s sweatpants and began to masturbate the throbbing erection.

Sirius’s grey eyes were perfect when moistened with pleasure, and nothing pleased Remus more than seeing his naturally arrogant expression turn submissive, ready to please his master. 

Sirius was perfection – the most handsome man he had ever seen, with sharply defined brows framing strong features and long, untidy black hair tied into a bun that practically begged to be tugged.

Remus did this while watching his pet rub his hand through his own sweatpants, just like a perverted dog – exactly as his master had always ordered him to. Wanting to see more, he tugged at the straps of Sirius’s apron, freeing him to reveal the numerous tattoos covering his entire left arm, part of his right arm, and several on his chest, extending down past his navel, where Remus’s hand was currently placed.

Gently, he pulled him away, eliciting a low groan from Sirius, then forcefully redirected his hand to Sirius's thigh, punishing his pet for the complaint. Sirius licked Remus’s lips in an apologetic gesture, and Remus allowed himself to be kissed, feeling the soft warmth of Sirius’s tongue.

Their kisses were magical – burning with a passion that pulled them together as if by magnetism. Neither was in any hurry; Sirius wasn’t allowed to touch his master without permission, so they savoured each other slowly, experiencing every nuance of tongue, teeth and lips, as well as the wonderful sensation in their lower abdomen that made Remus throb.

“On your knees, I want your mouth,” Remus ordered between kisses. “Don’t let a single drop escape.”

Sirius obeyed immediately, dropping to his knees and unbuttoning his master’s trousers. Remus leaned against the kitchen island and let him do the work, drawing his erection out so that Sirius could suck it in just the way he knew his master liked. Keeping both hands planted on the floor in fists with fingers facing down, Sirius used nothing but his tongue and suction to make his master feel incredibly good.

It was hot and wet, familiar movements as he swallowed him deeper into his throat, determined to satisfy his master with all his might. It wasn’t an easy task to take in Remus completely – both he and his pet were equally large and thick – but Sirius had his own way of doing it, dying with desire as he took him down to the base and felt his master’s neatly trimmed hair tickle his nose. The sensation of his throat tightening around the erection was indescribable, sending Remus’s mind blank as he threw his head back, losing himself in the overwhelming feeling as his pet allowed him to sink in.

“Very good, Padfoot, you’re doing so well…” Remus moaned, caressing his hair, running his fingers through the roots and massaging until the bun appeared even tighter. “Good boy, you’re so good for me.”

The praise made Sirius move his mouth faster and suck with even more eagerness—exactly the way his master liked it and how he had been taught to do it. For that, he deserved a reward, one that Remus was more than happy to give. He looked at Sirius with affection, gently pulling his fringe away from his beautiful face, taking in his wet, adoring eyes. He could come just from that sight alone.

"You may use my shoe to get yourself off, pet, but you’ll clean it afterwards. Understood?" Remus commanded. "Colour?"

"Green," Sirius replied, pausing his work with his mouth for only a second.

This was a familiar scene between them—Sirius sucking him off while using his foot for relief, only to clean it afterwards—but Remus always checked his pet’s colour, part of his commitment and his beloved responsibility. He also used the question to make Sirius breathe, since he always forgot while was serving him, always very immersed in his role in that dynamic. Then Remus shifted one leg slightly forward to make things easier for Sirius, who wasted no time in continuing what he was doing.

His pace quickened with the pleasure he received from rubbing himself against his master’s shoe, moving his hips and head in tandem, pausing only when he went deeper and aimed the tip of his own cock at the slightly raised toe of Remus’s dress shoe. He let go of Sirius’s hair, simply enjoying the view, feeling every sensitive point being stimulated, knowing that soon he would be plunged into something much tighter. His pet looked gorgeous sucking him off, choking and rolling his eyes back until they turned white—desperate and irrational like a dog.

"Uhm, yes, Pads! Ah! That’s it! Good boy! Uhm! I-I’m going to come," he moaned to Sirius.

His pet focused on sucking the head to draw out Remus’s orgasm, taking every drop into his mouth without spilling any. He admired his cock filling Sirius’s mouth and saw stars in his pleasure-clouded vision, all thanks to his pet. His whole body relaxed against the kitchen island, his mind still adrift, lost in the beautiful sight of Sirius gazing up at him in wonder.

"Very good, good boy, so good for me," Remus praised, running his fingers through Sirius’s now-loose hair. "You may hold onto me and keep rubbing yourself."

Being granted permission to touch him made Sirius’s eyes shine with happiness. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around his master’s leg, filling the kitchen with his moans as he sought his pleasure against the tip of the shoe. Remus didn’t hold back on praise and head pats for his perfect, obedient pet, who always satisfied him.

Knowing how well Sirius was behaving, he also moved his foot slightly, allowing him to reach his climax—which happened after just a few more strokes, with his master’s permission. Sirius trembled with pleasure, gripping Remus’s leg tightly and shaking his hips frantically, which reminded Remus that if he were wearing his butt plug, his tail would be wagging.

So weak from his orgasm, it was only natural for Sirius to lower himself onto all fours, head bowed, ready to clean his master’s shoe—but Remus corrected him:

"Ah-ah, up first."

It took a moment for his pet to process the order, still lost in the aftermath of his climax, which was an utterly adorable sight. But once he returned to reality, his beautiful grey eyes refocusing, he did as he was told.

He used his tongue to clean the full length of Remus’s cock before drying it with a paper towel and tucking it back into his trousers—his master didn’t like the feeling of dog slobber lingering. Then, Sirius knelt to clean his shoe, always meticulous in ensuring no stain was left behind.

Once he had finished, he pulled away, eyes filled with anticipation, a wide smile spreading across his face, knowing his master was pleased. Remus pulled his pet up into a strong embrace, savouring the warmth of his post-orgasm body—so pleasant, so familiar.

"Good boy, Padfoot. You did so well. You’re going to get a very nice reward for always being such a good pet to me. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Sirius answered contentedly.

The euphoria enveloped them both, melting together, incapable of separating, overflowing with affection as they leaned against their kitchen island.

With both hands cupping Sirius’s cheeks, Remus studied him carefully, making sure he was alright, watching as those eyes fluttered shut under his touch. He adored this post-orgasm sight of the love of his life—but, if he were honest, there was nothing Sirius did that didn’t captivate him.

"I love you, Padfoot," Remus murmured, kissing the tip of Sirius’s nose. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

"No, Moony, I’m perfectly fine," Sirius replied. "I love you."

The two pressed their foreheads together, and Remus continued whispering praise, leaving kisses all over Sirius’s face and neck, filling him with joy. Sirius squeezed him tightly in return, responding in a sweet tone.

Their bubble was abruptly burst by the sound of the doorbell.

Still locked in their embrace, the two exchanged glances, furrowing their brows, before simultaneously checking the clock on the wall.

If it was James—the only person they were expecting—he was far too early. So early that Sirius had only managed to do the mise en place and hadn’t even started cooking yet.

Even though he lived in another flat, James Potter, known to them as “Prongs,” was a part of their lives, so they knew each other’s little routines well enough to confidently say it wasn’t him at the door.

Five years ago, Remus Lupin had arranged to get his first tattoo with a new tattoo artist from his old neighbourhood, and that’s when he met Sirius Black.

On a late Saturday afternoon, they met at the small studio of the man who would become the love of his life, chatting intimately while Remus had one of his ugliest back scars covered with a detailed design of the phases of the moon. He and Sirius had flirted a bit when James Potter and Peter Pettigrew interrupted them, stumbling into the studio completely drunk and making a ruckus, wanting tattoos.

James was holding a deer’s head that he had stolen from the university’s council room, and Peter was carrying the headmaster’s pet rat in its cage.

Immediately, Remus knew he had found his best friends.

James and Peter had been friends since childhood and stayed in touch even after going to different schools at the age of 13. That was when James met Sirius. They immediately connected and became best friends, the ultimate troublemakers at school. At some point, they had a sexual relationship, and there was still something between them, but Sirius put an end to it when he was kicked out of his home by his mother and moved in with the Potters. He lived with them until he received financial help from his uncle and found a job as a tattoo artist, eventually opening his own studio.

James and Peter went to the same university, living in dorms, and would sometimes show up drunk at Sirius’s studio.

That’s what Sirius told him while they were taking care of the drunks.

The two sober ones looked after their intoxicated friends in the small studio where Sirius lived and worked. By morning, the drunks would wake up feeling very embarrassed, but soon enough, they would all make plans to meet again to make up for the mishaps.

And that’s how the “Marauders” came to be—a group of friends in their 20s who loved going out to drink and have fun. There used to be four of them, and they gave each other nicknames: Moony (him), Padfoot (Sirius), Prongs (James), and Wormtail (Peter). It was a beautiful friendship until Peter harassed James’s then-girlfriend and was expelled from the group, leaving just the three of them.

The nicknames stuck even after his departure and the shift in Remus and Sirius’s relationship dynamics, now being “boyfriends” in society’s eyes, and dominant and submissive in their daily lives. James knew about this, and although he had initially kept out of the details, once he broke up with Lily sometime later, he decided to share more of his intimate life with his best friends, in return for details from Remus and Sirius.

In Remus’s view, the three of them were involved in something much bigger than friendship, but he didn’t dare cross the line and say this to anyone other than his Sirius, fearing it would harm their relationship with James. Especially considering that their best friend was already interested in someone.

With another ring at the door, Remus was reminded that even if it wasn’t James, the door still had to be answered.

"Go freshen up, love, I’ll get it," Remus said, parting from Sirius with a kiss on his cheek.

With a glare at the door, Sirius did as he was told, leaving the kitchen and crossing the living room to head upstairs to the bedrooms. Remus waited until he was out of sight before approaching the door, quickly checking whether the heavy vase on the side table was within reach—just in case he needed a weapon.

Still, it was unlikely that a criminal would be ringing their doorbell, considering they lived in a high-end, well-secured condominium.

Peering through the peephole, he spotted a blond man he had never seen before. More confused than ever, he opened the door and greeted him:

"Good afternoon?"

"Good afternoon! Sorry to bother you—I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Evan, your new neighbour," the man said politely.

"Oh! Of course!" Remus remembered. "Prongs mentioned that someone would be moving into the building. Welcome!"

"Thank you! I just wanted to apologise in case our move caused any disturbance."

"Not at all! We barely even noticed," he assured him. "Sorry about that—we should have offered to help."

"No worries, there wasn’t much to move!" Evan continued the conversation politely. "Well, I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know that if you ever need anything, my boyfriend and I are right next door!"

"Much appreciated! My boyfriend and I are also around if you ever need anything!"

Evan handed him a small potted plant as a gift, which Remus accepted with a smile, pleased that their new neighbour seemed polite and respectful. Even better, he was clearly someone who wouldn’t have any issue with his relationship with Sirius.

Watching Evan return to his flat next door, Remus felt grateful that he had eventually given in to their best friend's bold idea four years ago.

When James Potter decided to move out of his university house-share to live on his own, his parents wanted to buy him a luxury triplex near the city centre. But James insisted that he wanted to live with his best friends—the Marauders. So, Mr and Mrs Potter found this luxury condominium with four duplex flats per block, enough for their son and his friends to each have their own place. 

Naturally, Remus politely declined the offer—only to later find out that James’s parents had already bought the entire property and were already counting on him moving in, without consulting him first.

It had been a rough period in their friendship, nearly breaking apart due to James's impulsiveness and Remus’s uncertainty. He had felt blindsided, as if he were some kind of possession or pet being moved around at James’s whim (and not in a good way). His own plans had been disregarded in favour of what James wanted.

At the time, Remus was already working at one of the Potter family's schools—a job secured for him through James’s parents—and even though he had no real reason to, he had felt like he was taking advantage of their friendship because of it. When James had sprung this near-certain move to a luxury condo on him—one that he could never afford on his own, no matter how hard he tried—he had felt even worse.

But after months of back-and-forth arguments, heartfelt conversations, and sincere apologies, Remus finally accepted the offer, moving into the duplex with Sirius and staying close—just as James had wanted.

Years after all the drama, he couldn't be happier living with the loves of his life.

When Peter was expelled from the group, he left his flat, and for a while, two of the apartments James’s parents had bought remained empty—until their new neighbour, Evan, moved in.

In truth, the complex felt more like four two-storey houses sharing a single entrance hall. James lived in the flat directly opposite Remus and Sirius, while Evan and his boyfriend had moved into the one beside theirs, leaving only one apartment still unoccupied.

Closing the door, Remus glanced down at the tiny succulent in its terracotta pot, his gaze drifting towards something far beyond it.

“Who was it?” Sirius asked as he descended the stairs, adjusting his black t-shirt.

“The new neighbour, he came by to say ‘hi.’”

“Ah… Prongs said there would be people moving in, I totally forgot.”

“They were pretty quiet, though…”

And once again, the doorbell rang, but this time only Remus found it strange.

“It’s Prongs, he said he’d be here earlier,” Sirius sighed irritably. “The son of a good mother said he had some bombshell news an hour ago, and he knows how curious I am… it’s just as well I didn’t grab my phone.”

‘Gossip-monger’ was the right term to describe Sirius’s curiosity, but Remus didn’t comment on it, heading to the door to greet their best friend, who had indeed arrived earlier, fidgeting anxiously by the peephole.

Remus opened the door, only to be immediately enveloped by strong arms.

The impulse James had to hug him almost made them both topple over, but even though it was sudden, the affection from his best friend was more than welcome, and Remus had missed being hugged tightly, almost being crushed by James’s biceps.

‘The last time I hugged James was… last night, yeah. Still, I missed it, ’ he thought, feeling embarrassed.

James let go of him but didn’t pull away, instead nudging the door shut with his foot and guiding him in an awkward waltz toward the living room. Remus didn’t know how to dance and suspected that James didn’t either, but in that awkward, crooked way, they made their way to the living room, with James sporting a breathtaking smile that drew Remus’s gaze and made his heart race.

James was as handsome as Sirius, but in a way that was so vivid and radiant that Remus couldn’t put it into words. The closest he could come to describing the feeling when he looked at him was that it felt like staring at the sun itself.

He was a little shorter than Sirius, but not enough to see the top of his head, with messy curly hair that always looked pleasantly tousled and framed his face perfectly. James wore round glasses that highlighted his dark eyes, always so sweet and glowing. He had a wide, rounded nose, thick eyebrows, and a well-groomed beard, a little thicker on his chin and mustache, though he never let it cover his full lips, which were plump and very kissable.

Remus really had to stop thinking about his best friend in this way. He blamed Sirius for planting that idea in his mind about James when he’d narrated the things they’d done as teenagers.

Actually, he only had himself to blame because it was Remus who always asked him to tell his past and fantasies that still lingered. This type of order, Sirius, his beloved pet, followed it very well… too well, in fact.

He didn’t let go of James’s strong biceps until he made no move to pull away either, secretly enjoying the chance to feel the muscles through the tank top he wore. James had dark skin, slightly lighter than his brown eyes, enough to highlight a constellation-like pattern of moles on his right arm that reminded Remus a bit of the Leo constellation, with Regulus more defined, almost like Sirius's tattoo on his back.

Remus was taken aback, thinking his best friend was about to kiss him when he grabbed his face, but instead, James pressed a kiss to each cheek, radiating joy like the sun radiates warmth, then letting him go and heading straight for Sirius. The two exchanged a confused look when James hugged his pet tightly, lifting him and spinning him around the room as if Sirius wasn’t heavy at all.

James also danced a little with him, but this time, it was much more graceful and fluid to watch. After all, Sirius was a good dancer, and although he didn’t want to admit it, that part of his past at the Black family house was part of him. Remus didn’t see it as a horrible family tradition but as a charm, watching him with so much affection guiding his euphoric friend, slowly calming him down. He sighed deeply, admiring the two of them together.

“What’s all this happiness about, sunshine?” Sirius asked once they stopped.

“Today was the best day of my life!” James said excitedly, throwing himself onto the couch in his usual spot.

Remus sat in his armchair to listen to him, with his pet sitting in his usual spot in the living room: on the soft carpet, at Remus's feet, with his arms crossed on his lap and his head resting on them, directed towards his best friend.

“Is it about your cute student from the gym?” Sirius asked him with a smile.

“Mate, you have no idea what happened today,” he said, his hands trembling.

“Did you get him…?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, trying to read his friend’s reactions.

“I sucked him off” James said at once. “We have a date next Sunday.”

“What…?” Remus asked in shock.

“Congratulations, Prongs! I told you you’d get him!” Sirius congratulated.

“No, wait! How did this happen?!”

At this point, James began recounting from the moment he met a wonderfully handsome man at the gym, his cross-training student, whom he was immediately attracted to, to the point of spending months without being able to think about anyone else.

Knowing they’d start the story from the beginning again, they moved the conversation to the kitchen. After all, if they waited for the end to get back to cooking, they wouldn’t be having dinner that night. They opened the wine early, serving themselves in glasses, leaning against the counters and the island, occasionally one of the three stirring the pots.

Eventually, their friend got to the point of explaining what had happened that day. About the way “his beloved student” was dressed, what he thought of doing with him for being so covered up in clothes. About the exercises he did during the class, and all those he could’ve done to show him off to the gym-goers through the classroom window. About how they were getting closer and how his student wanted to spend more time with him. About how his heart raced for him, for every shy little gesture of kindness and ironic smile. And about what he imagined when watching him during the personal training session.

Until he got to the part where he was caught by “his beloved student” masturbating in the staff locker shower, how James came for him, how he convinced him to come closer, and how he delighted in the sight of his body. James was so detailed that it made his two friends die of arousal just imagining the scene, him on his knees, sucking his student off inside the staff locker.

It was so wrong to cross the line of professionalism like that, but Remus wasn’t one to reprimand him for it, considering his own recent experiences.

“… so, after he came in my mouth and went limp from the orgasm, I asked him to give me a chance and go out with me.”

“And he said yes…” Remus said, amazed.

“Actually, no. I invited him for dinner tomorrow, but he turned me down,” James explained. “I think I know why, I think he has some kind of eating disorder, and I need to keep an eye on that…”

“I see…” He just commented, knowing that his best friend was the best one to understand him, having faced similar issues in his teens.

“But then…” James flashed a big smile. “Baby surprised me, HE asked me out.”

“‘Baby’? You’ve already given him a pet name?” Sirius commented, grinning.

“Oh, I have a few… actually, he asked me not to call him by his name, and I LOVED that.”

“His name… what is…?” Sirius tried to disguise the question.

“Ah-ah, I won’t tell you his name until I’ve won his heart!”

Remus sighed deeply, after all, he had expected James to slip up and reveal the name of the mysterious student he had fallen for. In fact, since he had promised not to reveal his name, Remus had been waiting for his friend to let it slip unintentionally, but he remained firm, always referring to him as “my beloved student,” even forbidding Sirius from visiting the gym “to take a look at the man who stole my friend’s heart,” keeping the mystery about this person who was so attractive to him.

"Anyway, so you and he are going out tomorrow?" Remus asked.

"We’re not. We’re going out next Sunday, not tomorrow," James clarified.

"Where to…?" Sirius asked.

"I don’t know, he didn’t tell me."

"What do you mean he didn’t tell you?" Sirius continued, outraged. "You're going out with a guy and you don’t even know where you’re going?"

"We'll talk during the week, and he’ll give me some hints! Isn’t that exciting?!"

"Really, your 'beloved student' is quite mysterious," Remus commented.

"He’s VERY mysterious…"

With that statement, James’s gaze dropped sadly, even though the smile still remained on his face. Remus and Sirius stopped what they were doing to pay attention, sharing a look of concern. James always showed so much happiness and excitement when talking about his new romantic interest, even when narrating the snappy replies he got from him. His sad and worried expression was an odd new thing.

"He’s got some really ugly marks on his arms… the kind of marks you get from going through a lot, you know?" he commented, and they both understood what he meant. "Before letting me touch him, he said stuff like 'two men shouldn’t be doing this' to hold back."

"I get it," Remus said, glancing at Sirius, who was getting more and more sombre with each passing second.

"I think he had a pretty strict, religious upbringing at home, the kind that's traumatic, you know? Though he did speak about his mum with affection," James continued. "He seemed inexperienced, but full of wants and needs, ones he wants to share with me, to open up to me."

"And he found the right person for that," Remus said confidently. "You're a great guy, and you’ll make an amazing dom, boyfriend, or whatever kind of relationship you guys end up having."

"I swear I will be, oh… I’m so in love with him," James scratched his head, embarrassed with a dreamy look. "If he lets me into his life, I swear I’ll be the best damn person ever… but it’ll be tough… he told me he’s a messed-up and dirty person, and he also said he doesn’t find himself attractive."

"Wow, Prongs, this guy has almost exactly the same issues I used to have when I left home… is this your type? All messed up and traumatised?" Sirius asked, lightening the mood of the conversation.

"No! Of course not!" James laughed, taking on a playful, flirty tone. "But actually, you two are pretty similar. Maybe that is my type! If you think about it, you two could be… relatives."

‘Brothers’ was what he meant to say, and Remus completed it in his thoughts, knowing James had stopped himself at the last second, but that didn’t stop Sirius’s gaze from turning sad. He covered it by fiddling with the pots and pans, not wanting to bring a gloomy atmosphere to the conversation, but it was inevitable, since they knew how much Sirius missed his late brother, although James didn’t know the full truth.

He didn’t know that Regulus, Sirius’s younger brother, had committed suicide at 16, jumping off a cliff into the sea with a weight tied to his feet, sinking so deep with chains so strong that they never managed to recover his body. He died just a few months after his older brother left their home, but Sirius only found out last year when his cousin Andromeda contacted him to tell him that his parents had died in a car crash.

The fear and sadness on Sirius’s face during their trip to France, where his parents’ bodies were to be buried, were burned into Remus’s memory. Remus had gone to support him, since even though Sirius felt no remorse for his parents’ deaths, he was anxious, full of expectations for meeting his younger brother, only to find out from his cousin that Regulus had been dead and "buried" for years.

He saw Sirius break down in front of him, unable to stay at his parents’ funeral, dragging him to the very cliff where his brother jumped, to see the gravestone their friends and professors had made in his honour, since their parents hadn’t lifted a finger to honour the son they had truly disinherited, unlike Sirius, who in the end inherited everything from them.

Sirius screamed and cried for hours in front of his younger brother’s gravestone. He kept saying it was all his fault, that he should throw himself off the cliff too. If Remus hadn’t been there, and if he hadn’t known why Sirius thought he was to blame for his brother’s death, maybe he would’ve gone to meet Regulus on the other side of the veil.

But Remus knew very well that Sirius had loved his brother in a way society condemned, but he couldn’t bring himself to think it was wrong. He could see the sparkle in his beloved’s eyes when he spoke of Regulus, of everything that bound them together, and he couldn’t say that what Sirius felt—the sense of protection and devotion—was wrong.

Even so, there was no denying that Regulus had committed suicide because of him. Remus didn’t believe it was like Sirius said, that Regulus had chosen to die because he couldn’t bear the shame of having slept with his older brother, but he did believe that Sirius being forced to leave home the night he took Regulus’s virginity, and not coming back, was the real reason. But he wouldn’t say that—it would be so much worse for him.

In the end, all those years Remus spent trying to get Sirius to contact his brother to reconcile had been in vain. Regulus had already been dead before they met, for a reason imaginable, yet mysterious.

They would never truly know. All those who could tell the story were gone, and the only proof that Regulus’s death was a suicide was a letter he wrote, left with his shoes at the edge of the cliff, almost unreadable from the rain that fell the day he died. Sirius never read it, as every record, photo, journal, or memento of Regulus's existence—anything that could explain his thoughts before choosing to end his life—was destroyed by their parents when they disinherited him.

Sirius only had one dirty treasure left from his beloved brother, kept in a box locked in his drawer, and the only image he had to remember Regulus was his own reflection in the mirror. That’s why he let his beard grow—so he wouldn’t be reminded of the guilt that would eat at him forever.

To hide the darkest parts of the Black brothers' past, they lied to James, telling him that Regulus had died in the accident with their parents. Sirius made sure their best friend never met the younger brother while they were at school together, that he never saw him or realised how Sirius truly felt about Regulus, and that it should stay that way—that it was better to lie about it.

He doubted it a little.

"By any chance, is his last name Black?" Remus asked James, picking up the conversation again.

"No, his last name is—Moony! Damn it! You almost made me reveal his last name!" James scolded, but with a smile on his face.

They laughed, trying to return to the cheerful tone that always surrounded the times the three of them gathered, whether it was for dinner, shopping, going to a bar, or just sitting in front of the television on a lazy day, in complete peace of being with the family they had chosen for themselves. Honestly, he didn’t think “peace” was how any stranger would describe his days with James and Sirius, who always seemed full of energy, talking loudly and laughing like crazy. But Remus found the scene peaceful, until James shot him those mischievous smiles:

“So, Moony… your turn now!”

“My turn for what?” he asked, taking a sip of wine.

“How’s your new pretty little assistant doing, huh? Tell us all about him.”

Suddenly, the wine tasted very bitter.

“Yeah, Moony, tell him about your new pretty assistant,” Sirius chimed in—because, of course, he loved throwing petrol on the fire.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t keep the details from me!” James pouted, clearly indignant.

“There are no details to share. My assistant’s good-looking, that’s all.” He kept it brief. “Besides, he’s not exactly new anymore. He’s been working with me for seven months now, so he’s already part of the team.”

“Aha, okay,” Sirius agreed, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “That’s not exactly what you told me on Wednesday morning—right after you woke up and came all over my leg.”

“Oh! Moony! You had a filthy dream about your assistant and used your pet to get off? That’s just nasty ! Absolute filth!” James teased, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Remus shot Sirius a look—the kind that made his pet shiver, the unspoken promise that they’d discuss this later, once James had gone back to his flat.

Even so, realising they wouldn’t let it go unless they got a proper reaction out of him, Remus exhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was to come. Sirius, taking the chance, stepped into his space, gripping his thighs before lifting him onto the kitchen counter—putting him just above them as he started his story.

“Alright, let’s recap,” James said. “A few months ago, a gorgeous man was hired as your assistant, and he’s got submissive and breedable vibes—”

“I definitely didn’t say that.”

“But you did say he’s submissive…” Sirius pointed out. “You told us that he drives you mad every time he goes ‘Yes, Sir’ and ‘No, Sir’. That he’s got all the posture…”

“That’s only ‘cause he’s shy and really polite,” Remus said, telling his friends the same thing he kept telling himself. “He respects the workplace hierarchy, and I think he’s a little scared of me.”

Which, to be fair, was understandable. Friends and colleagues had told him time and time again that, at first impression, he came off as intimidating—his reserved nature and overall presence giving off an air of authority, heightened by his tall frame and build. But he knew the real reason. It was the scars on his face, the ones that made people wonder just what kind of things Remus had been involved in to earn them. He was certain his assistant thought the same, sneaking glances when he thought Remus wouldn’t notice.

Even so, he was adorable. And despite his rugged appearance, Remus had always had a soft spot for cute things.

“Maybe he just gets turned on looking at you,” Sirius said with a wicked grin. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I had to work with you.”

“Which is exactly why you’re staying in your studio, and I’m staying in my office.” Remus said fondly, giving his pet’s cheek a light squeeze.

“Hmm, Principal Lupin, are you sure you don’t want your pet serving you under the desk?” James asked, voice dripping with mischief.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have two pets serving you under the desk?” Sirius added, teasingly. “Sucking you off real deep, kissing over your cock ‘til you come?”

“Enough, you two,” he muttered, taking a deep breath to stay composed. “We’re talking about someone from my workplace. Yes, an adult man who could be a potential partner for me and Sirius, if all three of us consented. But he’s my colleague, and there’s a line we can’t cross.”

“Prongs shouldn’t have gotten involved with one of his cross-training students either, but look what happened today,” Sirius pointed out, shrugging.

“Prongs is Prongs, love, he won’t get fired over it.”

"Neither will you—?! You really think I'd let you get fired over something like that?" James countered. "If it's consensual and doesn't affect your work, it's fine! I’m not going to get mad at you for having a bit of fun in the Headmaster’s office, Moony."

Remus hated it when his best friend acted like a billionaire heir because there was no way to contest the truth. James wouldn’t be fired from the club he worked at for sucking off one of his students in the staff locker, and Remus wouldn’t lose his position as headteacher if he started a relationship with his assistant, because both the club and the school they worked at belonged to the Potter Group. And besides being James’s best friend, Remus was also adored by his parents, so there was no chance of dismissal.

Even so, his moral compass told him that trying to approach his assistant in that way was wrong, and if his assistant agreed to enter a relationship with him, they would both be acting immorally. But despite firmly resisting the urge to claim him as his own, that temptation was delicious, like the forbidden fruit dangling before him as bait.

He knew that his close circle of relationships wouldn’t provide a very reliable opinion on the matter, as many of them had their own dilemmas regarding morality.

James was in love with his cross-training student. Meanwhile, their friend Marlene had started a secret relationship with her dance teacher. Mary Macdonald, another friend, had loved Lily, James’s ex-girlfriend, while they were still together. But at least she had never been disrespectful or made her love obvious, so as not to interfere with the couple, and she had got her chance with Lily once she ended her previous relationship. And as for his Sirius—what could be said about him?

He had an overwhelming desire for his younger brother, an adoration so powerful that it hadn’t faded even with his death. It was as if Sirius had lost a piece of himself, one he tried to recover through the sweet memories of their childhood. Remus was often shocked by the tiniest details of Regulus’s habits that Sirius could recall. Sometimes, he would be talking about something small his assistant had done, only to hear Sirius laugh, looking nostalgic as he said, “Reggie used to do that too.”

In all the years they had been together, Sirius had never treated him as a substitute for his brother, and to Remus, the difference in the love he directed at each of them was obvious. It wasn’t more or less intense—he didn’t have a favourite and a less beloved one—but rather, completely different things. Remus could describe it in terms of colours:

While Sirius’s love for Regulus was a blazing flame of vivid red, like a full-blown fire, the affection and comfort he shared with Remus was a deep red-burgundy, like a fireplace on a cold autumn day. And when Sirius looked at James, it was a fiery orange-red, energetic and radiant, which was why Remus knew he still loved James.

However, bringing another person into the mix, even for a fleeting game, could be dangerous.

After all, he hadn’t told any of them, but his assistant bore a striking resemblance to Sirius in a way that could bring back memories of his late brother. Remus had never seen photos of Regulus to confirm it, but he feared that, with their physical similarity, Sirius might use his assistant as a replacement and eventually hurt them both.

Remus already loved his colleague enough to want to avoid at all costs any harm coming to him—especially from something he himself might start.

Remus couldn’t do that.

"I want to see him," James said petulantly. "You said he’s handsome."

"No way. You don’t show us pictures of yours, nor tell us his name, so I’m not sharing mine," he refused firmly.

"‘Yours?’" Sirius asked with a mischievous grin.

"You know what I meant, love," Remus replied affectionately. "End of discussion, let’s have dinner."

Remus liked cute things.

He especially liked HAVING cute things, like he had Sirius.

He had a happy relationship with Sirius, with James, and with his assistant. He couldn’t ruin everything because of his desires.

But late at night, in his dreams, his subconscious liked to play tricks on him—showing him how things could be.

And considering the similarities in appearance, his Sirius and his assistant would make a beautiful pair of pets.

Remus could picture himself walking through the clubs he and his pet frequented, holding two chains, each connected to a collar.

However, that was an impossible scenario.

Because the ‘second pet’ he was thinking about was Arthur Crouch, his subordinate and colleague.

Chapter Text

Mid-spring, 2011

When Regulus stepped out of the school gates, the first thing he did was look at a Northern Red Oak on the other side of the pavement, looking for his brother beneath it, waiting to walk home together. Despite Sirius being dismissed from his own school only a few minutes earlier, he was always on time and never failed to meet his little brother at the school gates, greeting him with a bright smile as they reunited.

Every day, Regulus’s heart would race, only to sink in his chest moments later.

Years ago, he would have carefully crossed the road before running to hug his older brother, walking hand in hand with him all the way to 12 Grimmauld Place.

By the time he was ten, Regulus walked slowly towards him, returned his small smile, and followed him along the way, keeping a small distance and gripping the strap of his backpack tightly.

"How was school today, Reggie?" Sirius asked.

"Fine…" He answered, keeping his eyes down. "What about yours?"

"Fine as well."

Then they both drifted into their thoughts, the air between them turning cold and heavy, like the chill of winter creeping into spring.

The streets passed them by, the scenery familiar yet so painfully nostalgic for Regulus that it made him want to cry. Cars drove past, and he remembered how he used to count all the red ones with Sirius. Dogs walked with their owners, and he used to excitedly tell his brother how cute he found them. And even on quiet days like this, with hardly any movement in the street, they had always found something to talk about. But these new days were much quieter.

Their mother said they were growing up, and Regulus agreed, pretending to be happy about it when, in truth, he only wanted to stop it.

If growing up meant drifting away from Sirius because of these feelings Regulus had, then he didn’t want to grow up.

He wanted to be like Peter Pan and go to Neverland, stopping time when he and Sirius were happy together. However, things had already changed between them, and there was no way to reverse it, not even by travelling to a magical land.

Regulus was already helplessly in love, in a way that felt utterly inappropriate and impure.

Regulus was exactly the disgusting person their parents wanted him not to be.

But no matter how hard he tried, Regulus couldn’t fix himself.

As they turned the corner, the old playground came into view—the place where they had spent so many hours playing. Where they had made so many memories—pretending to be pirates on the climbing frames, imagining themselves as archaeologists digging for dinosaur bones in the sandpit, or pretending to be kings riding the wooden horses. Getting dizzy spinning on the roundabout, laughing while playing tag on the grass, crying for his older brother’s help when he reached the top of the climbing structures and couldn’t get down, or hiding in the tunnel, terrified, when the rain caught them on the way home. They were wonderful memories, erased with their growth and their mother’s clear order: "You’re too old to play now."

He missed the simplicity and purity, the innocence with which he could love Sirius without knowing it was wrong. He missed not feeling disgusting. He missed showing his love without pushing his brother away.

‘Will it ever get better?’ Regulus asked himself, with no hope left.

He even missed fighting with Sirius over the only swing in the playground. His brother always said it was five minutes each, but Regulus was two years behind his older brother in terms of reading a clock, so he suspected he had been cheated many times. He missed that too.

"Come on, Reggie, let’s play for a bit!" Sirius said with an excited grin, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Mère said we shouldn’t," Regulus pointed out.

"Who cares? Come on!"

Sirius walked into the playground straight to the swing, throwing his bag onto the ground. There was some doubt about whether the old wooden plank would hold him, but once he tested it, he started swinging back and forth with great enthusiasm. Seeing his older brother so happy, Regulus didn’t have the heart to insist that they shouldn’t be there.

"Will you push me?" Sirius asked.

"Can’t you swing by yourself?"

"I can! But now that you’re bigger, you can push me! You’ll give me more momentum."

Regulus did as he was told, setting his bag down next to his brother’s before stepping behind him to give a firm push. The swing gained momentum, and he pressed his hands against Sirius’s back once more, sending him even higher. Sirius stretched his legs, propelling himself further with each motion. Before long, he had reached the peak the swing could manage, no longer needing Regulus’s help. With that, Regulus stepped away and leaned against the base of the climbing frame, watching his brother soar.

He remembered how he used to think that if he swung high enough, he could make a perfect loop around the top bar. But that was impossible. Curiously, he counted the minutes his brother had been swinging—it was two before Sirius finally dragged his new shoe against the ground to slow himself down.

"It's your turn, Reggie!" Sirius said, turning to his little brother.

"Are you sure? It’s only been two minutes," Regulus teased, uncrossing his arms as he walked over.

"Three minutes of historical reparations because I used to lie when you couldn’t read the time," Sirius admitted without a hint of shame.

"You cheated me out of more than three minutes…"

Regulus sat on the swing, gripping the chains tightly as he felt his brother push him lightly. Even with just a small push, the cold wind tousled his hair, and he could close his eyes and imagine he was flying—closer and closer to Neverland. 

Closer and closer to being caught in a spiral.

A pleasant smile spread across his face until he stopped feeling Sirius’s hands pushing him.

Without his brother, swinging wasn’t fun anymore. 

Not wanting to scuff his shoes against the dirt, he leapt off as the swing slowed, landing gracefully on his feet. The risky manoeuvre Sirius had taught him didn’t seem so dangerous now that he was big enough.

"Reggie! Be careful! That’s dangerous!" Sirius scolded him.

"You were the one who taught me," Regulus shrugged.

Though Sirius tried to feign disapproval, he ended up laughing—a sound so warm and comforting that it made Regulus’s chest bubble with happiness. But he quickly reined himself in, knowing he couldn’t allow himself to feel that way.

He watched from a cautious distance as his older brother sat back down on the swing, resting his heels against the ground and gently bending and stretching his knees, rocking slightly.

"Aren’t you going to swing anymore?"

"No, I’m fine," Regulus said, looking away.

He feared he had revealed too much of the weight in his chest when he heard his brother sigh.

"Reggie… come here…" Sirius called, his voice soft and just a little sad.

With a slight hesitation, he obeyed, stepping closer and eyeing the old swing set, attached to the wooden climbing frame, wondering how it still held the weight of two pre-teens. But his thoughts were quickly interrupted when he felt Sirius take both of his hands, gently pulling him closer until they were standing face to face, his older brother tilting his head up to look at him.

"Are you upset with me?" Sirius asked.

The intimacy of that small gesture—holding hands, standing so close—sent a jolt through Regulus, a strange burning sensation coursing through his veins, like what he had felt that day in the library. It was as if his heart had been filling with blood for days, swelling so much that, without an escape, it would surely burst.

Regulus loved Sirius in a way he shouldn’t, a love he had to keep to himself, or he would be met with his brother’s disgust. But keeping it all bottled up inside was excruciating. He longed for an outlet—a touch, a hug, a simple conversation—yet he knew it would only push Sirius further away. Regulus was destined to rot with it inside his chest if he wanted to preserve what little of their good relationship remained.

"Reggie, look at me," Sirius said gently, brushing a hand against his cheek.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, the touch lingering, burning even after his brother pulled away. Yet their hands remained clasped, searing into him, filling his heart with a love Sirius would never want.

"It’s fine," he forced himself to say. "Nothing’s wrong."

"What’s happening to you, mon cœur? Why have you been so distant?"

The pain in Sirius’s voice made his younger brother’s heart clench, and that overwhelming feeling, already spilling over, threatened to drown him entirely.

Regulus wanted to cry from love, but he held firm—just as their mother had taught him. 

After all, he was no longer a child who could cry.

“Is it because of that day in the library or…”

"No. It’s not that. I’m growing up, Sirius. That’s all," he replied calmly. "I can’t act childishly anymore. Life demands growth, and I must meet its expectations."

His older brother looked even more hurt by his words, and his hand returned to Regulus’s cheek, making him feel as if he were overflowing even more. He could no longer force himself to resist, not with the warmth of Sirius’s palm against his cold skin. It was far too cold to bear, the wind rushing in from all directions, and only his older brother could protect him from it, could warm him.

"Don’t let all this shit suffocate your sweetness, mon cœur," Sirius pleaded. "No matter how much they try to force you to grow up, at least be yourself when you’re with me."

"If I’m myself when I’m with you, you’ll find me disgusting," Regulus admitted, unable to hold back any longer. "You don’t know what I thought that day in the library!"

"Then tell me—tell me, and we can mend this—" Sirius tried.

"We can’t mend this. There’s no way back from what I realised," Regulus confessed, exasperated. "I felt GOOD, Siri. So bloody good. And I wanted more."

The words spilled from Regulus’s chest, and he could see the shock on his brother’s face—but he couldn’t stop. The feeling was overwhelming, clawing to be let out. He knew the truth would make Sirius disgusted, but it was too late to hold it in.

The love, the lust he felt for being called a girl, for being compared to one in his brother’s embrace, was sinful, dirty—and yet the best thing he had ever felt. It filled him with heat, consuming him whole.

"I wanted to be yours. To give myself to you completely. I want you so badly, and every day I drown in the hope that you might feel the same. I want to talk to you, to feel you, to touch you—because I love you, Siri. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Reggie…"

"Not like this," he whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I wanted to be that person in your fantasies. I wanted to be your GIRL."

"I know, mon cœur," Sirius murmured, his own tears beginning to fall. "I know how you love me. And I love you like that too."

His older brother cupped his face with both hands, trying to soothe his tears, but there was no way to calm the storm in his heart now that it had begun to spill over so desperately.

Even with his vision blurred, Regulus gazed at Sirius’s face in adoration, lightly tracing his fingers over his brother’s cheeks, feeling them damp with tears. He loved every part of him—loved to touch each of Sirius’s features, to see him close his eyes and relax under his touch, to feel his hair, to have him this intimately, in a way he knew he shouldn’t. He felt as if he had the entire universe in the palm of his hand, because his universe was a single star—his Sirius.

Every part of him should be kissed with care, just as their mother had taught them, but with even more devotion, as if trying to find a place for even a fraction of the love Regulus was struggling so hard to contain.

He couldn’t hold back any longer when he pressed a kiss to Sirius’s forehead, then to both of his cheeks, then the tip of his nose, desperately trying to ease the storm inside him, to do anything to keep from repulsing him. Regulus tried his hardest to be a good younger brother, but when Sirius’s hands gripped his waist, he only spilled over more and more, with no sign of ever running dry.

Too late, Regulus realised that he would never be able to empty his heart.

There would never be a day when his love for Sirius stopped overflowing.

And yet, looking at his brother’s face—at the way Sirius gazed at him, at the way his hands caressed him over his school shirt, at the adoration in his touch as if he were something divine—Regulus was arrogant enough to think that he might feel the same.

Sirius’s hand slid up from his back into his hair, and that was when Regulus realised just how close he had come while kissing and worshipping his older brother’s face. Sirius guided him even closer, until their lips met in an almost cosmic collision.

It was so much better than Regulus remembered from his late-night dreams, making his pulse race beyond comprehension as he felt Sirius’s relieved breath against his face, revealing that he, too, had felt the same. The kiss was warm and so right, as if they fit together perfectly, as if this simple touch could ease all the pain in his chest while simultaneously setting it ablaze.

This wasn’t the same as the kisses they had exchanged all throughout childhood, nor the one they had shared that night when Sirius had sworn he would never touch him like that again. Regulus knew it was wrong, and that made it all the sweeter. They kissed like lovers.

Their mouths moved fast and fervently, taking and giving all the love that burned in their chests. Regulus parted his lips to feel his brother’s tongue graze his for the first time, melting into his warmth, as if finally drinking down the molten-hot blood that his heart had been circulating through his veins, pooling in excess within him.

Regulus’s body grew weak and breathless, so much so that he felt he might faint, and before that could happen—before he was forced to break away from the lack of air—he gave in to Sirius’s hands pressing firmly at his waist and settled into his lap. Straddling his brother, one leg on either side, made it much easier for Sirius to hold him, making everything even more intense.

His older brother taught him how to move his tongue, how to breathe through the kiss, how to savour every second of this warmth he had missed so dearly.

It was no longer just between their lips—the love radiated through his entire body, until they felt like one. Regulus wrapped his arms around Sirius’s shoulders, tangled his fingers in his long hair, traced the strength of his arms. Sirius, in turn, clutched at his back tightly, pulling him closer and closer, as if he were trying to merge them together. His hands slid down to Regulus’s thighs, pulling him in.

And that was when they fell.

Regulus felt as if he were plummeting down a rollercoaster.

He let out a sharp cry as his stomach lurched, his arms instinctively bracing himself for the fall.

His already racing heart nearly gave out when Sirius hit the ground with a loud thud, with Regulus landing right on top of him.

"Oh mon Dieu! Tu n’as rien, Siri?!" Regulus asked in alarm, fully aware that he had just knocked the air out of his brother, having landed squarely on his stomach.
(Oh my God! Are you ok, Siri?!)

"Ugh… I’ll live," Sirius groaned.

Regulus scrambled off him, shifting to the side before reaching out a hand to help him up. He wasn’t strong enough to pull him, but Sirius did all the work, dusting off his clothes as soon as he stood. There was no saving his white shirt, though—the entire back of it was covered in dirt.

"Mère is going to kill us," Regulus muttered, brushing the dirt off his own trousers.

"I’ll tell her you pushed me into the dirt," Sirius shrugged.

He would never do that, would never let his younger brother take any punishment, but the teasing was worth it. A brilliant grin spread across his face, making Regulus huff in irritation and shove him playfully—only for Sirius to push him back.

Sirius caught him by the wrist and pulled him against one of the climbing frame’s wooden pillars, his fingers caressing Regulus’s face with both devotion and the same playful mischief they had always shared.

"I’ll say you started a fight with me," Regulus shot back.

"Tell her our tongues waged a long battle," Sirius said dramatically.

"Siri!"

"Mon cœur," Sirius murmured, low and fond, making his younger brother’s face burn red.

"Don’t call me that," he muttered without thinking, looking away as he absentmindedly fussed with the collar of Sirius’s dirtied shirt.

"Voilà… mon petit frère que j’aime…" Sirius whispered contentedly.
( There you are… my little brother whom I love. )

"Ne joue pas avec moi, Siri," Regulus pleaded, once again without thinking.
( Don’t play with me, Siri. )

"Je jouerai toujours avec toi, mon cœur. Que ce soit un jeu d’enfant ou un jeu auquel nous ne devrions pas jouer."
( I will always play with you, my heart. Whether it’s a child’s game or one we shouldn’t be playing .)

Sirius leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, and Regulus returned it with equal tenderness.

"Mais je ferai attention, parce qu’un jour tu le regretteras."
( But I’ll be careful, because one day, you’ll regret this. )

"Tu ne peux pas l'affirmer avec tant de certitude." Then, Regulus stood on his tiptoes to whisper into his brother's ear. "Qui sait ? Peut-être qu'à l'avenir, je voudrai toujours être ta petite mariée."
(“ You can't say that with such certainty. Who knows? Perhaps in the future, I will still want to be your little bride .”)

The older brother took a deep breath, looking at Regulus in such an intense way that it seemed to set him ablaze entirely, but he stood his ground, returning the gaze. Sirius then stepped back, picked up their bags and slung it over his shoulders, took his younger brother's hand, and left the playground.

They walked home in silence, pushing forward against the cold wind, their fingers intertwined like lovers, bringing a sense of a small summer to Regulus’s chest.

…

Regulus never regretted the games he played with his older brother.

No matter how much the truth of its wrongness had been forced into his head with electric shocks, Regulus had never once regretted it.

Even so, at 22, he had never allowed himself to love anyone again, for he knew his own heinous inclinations—his tendency to seek out the most impure form of love.

Regulus had learned that a relationship between two men was wrong. And yet, even after all the hell he had endured—the brutality of his father, the inhumanity of the psychiatric clinic—he did not believe that. His real problem had never been his sexuality, but rather his incestuous tendencies, which had haunted him for years.

He was fully aware that he was a messed-up and filthy person, undeserving of anyone’s gaze, words, or touch. For his sins, for the way he had driven his brother away, he did not even deserve his family or friends. Beneath the mask of an appropriate, well-behaved man lay a filth that made him unworthy of receiving love—especially from someone as kind and radiant as his cross-training instructor James.

And yet, Regulus kept making the same mistakes, drowning himself in the sin of another problematic love as if he had learned nothing from what happened when Sirius left him at 12 Grimmauld Place.

At the very least, James was not his brother—adoptive or otherwise—nor a cousin or any other kind of relative, nor his boss.

He was his instructor, and that was still wrong—James could lose his job over it. But if Regulus left the club, then it wouldn’t be wrong anymore. It wasn’t as if he had the money to continue with the cross-training lessons anyway.

So he allowed himself to be known by someone as good as James—all of Regulus’s filth and wrongs—hoping that James would accept him and become his salvation, as if he could show Regulus a pure kind of love, as if he could make him a good person—a person worthy of being loved.

He was so tired of holding himself back.

After all, Regulus was already overflowing with love for James. And he knew all too well how painful it was to let it spill over.

…

Sunday Morning

Through his heart racing in his ears and his skin feeling like it had been pricked by a bunch of needles, Regulus breathed deeply and quickly at the same time, stomping his feet anxiously on the floor.

He hated trainers and didn’t think the brutish shoes worked with his fine posture, the one someone with a strict home education would have. But, first, they were the best shoes he had for the planned date. Second, Regulus had bought them for the gym, and James liked the gym. And third, the sporty way of dressing was another way of getting out of his bubble, trying something new. Regulus was determined to do that, to challenge himself in every way.

Regulus couldn’t stand Barty Crouch Jr., his adoptive brother, calling him 'a boring office worker' one more time, so he decided to do something with his free time, something that would make him a little too uncomfortable.

But when James, his instructor, entered the room for his first cross-training class, he couldn’t care less about his ill-fitting, oversized gym clothes. Because when his instructor looked at him, Regulus felt like being stripped of each piece. He felt naked from the way his instructor looked at him and absolutely loved every aspect of that.

It felt like a sin.

Regulus hadn’t signed up for the Potters’ sports club to drown himself in his past mistakes of forbidden love.

But there was James, smirking at him, and in that moment, Regulus knew he was doomed.

Months later, he was waiting for his instructor in a coffee shop on a Sunday morning, ready to drive him in the car he had borrowed from Barty to 'Neverend Adventure Park', an amusement park an hour away.

Regulus had thought a lot about what he was supposed to do on a date, especially since it was the first one of his life, and he had no idea what to expect. He needed an opportunity to show James the growing love he felt, to see more of those bright smiles and that sunny personality that had captivated his heart. He wanted to shower him with affection, even though he was full of insecurities. But he also knew he had to keep some of those feelings in check so he wouldn’t scare him.

He felt so childish thinking about having his first date in an amusement park, but after talking with Barty and Evan Rosier—his cousin, best friend, and also brother-in-law—it seemed like the best option.

He and James exchanged messages throughout the entire week, with Regulus trying to test the waters to see if the amusement park was the best idea for a fun date.

“Are you okay with a one-hour car trip?” He asked one day.

James: No, I would love to spend a lot of time with you, 😊

James replied, making Regulus melt on the spot and giving Barty a few light slaps on the arm to contain his excitement.

“Are you scared of heights?” He asked the next day.

James: No, I love a dangerous fall, 😏

At that answer, Regulus rolled his eyes, leaving Dorcas and Pandora confused as they ate lunch together.

“Do you have any sensory issues or get bothered by crowds and noise?” He asked another day.

James: No, but it's so sweet of you to ask! Thank you for your concern 😉

And between these exchanges of small details, Regulus decided to take James to the 'Neverend Adventure Park’ and planned the perfect date with the help of his brothers.

James and Regulus had agreed to meet in front of a small coffee shop near the public park, close to the gym, where he bought James’s usual coffee and was now waiting for him to show up. But he was seven minutes late, and Regulus started to worry that he might not show at all. 

Starting to panic, thinking he had scared James or done something wrong, Regulus decided to text his friend group with trembling fingers, hoping at least one of them would be awake:

“SOS, I think he’s not showing up ☹️”

Barty : I’ll kill him if he bails 🔪

Barty : Evan agrees

“God, just kill me instead, I can’t believe I planned all this for nothing…” He almost cried while typing that.

Evan: Me and Barty will be there in a minute, just hang tight, ok?

Dorcas: Chill out, you two psychos

Pandora: Did u text him? Did he say he’d be late?

“No, the message didn’t even go through…”, he typed sadly.

Pandora: So it’s fine, starlight 🙂

Dorcas: Then he’s prob just on his way. Wait a sec, princess, things happen.

That made him feel a little better, despite being called a starlight and princess. He could only blame himself; it was his fault for changing his name to "Arthur Crouch" when he was adopted by Barty’s mum, and not getting used to being called “Archie,” “Art,” or any nickname related to that. 

He couldn’t be called “Regulus” or “Reggie,” though, because Regulus Arcturus Black had committed suicide at 16. Long deceased, with a death certificate and a tombstone at the top of a cliff, one that he hadn’t jumped from. He had considered it after slashing his arm from wrist to forearm, but Barty had found him before he could go through with it, ensuring he lived.

Lived as someone else, because his parents didn’t want him in the family tree anymore, so they told everyone he was dead, and let the Crouchs create documents for their youngest son, Arthur Crouch. Birth certificate, school degrees, all kinds of papers, a favour from Barty Crouch Sr. to his divorced wife.

Regulus loved his new family, but still didn’t feel like he fit that name. He preferred to be called whatever nicknames people found appropriate. But he especially liked to be called “baby” by James.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself like his therapist had said. And thankfully, not two minutes later, James came running toward him. Regulus quickly texted his friends that everything was fine.

“I’m so sorry,” was the first thing he said, pulling Regulus into a big hug.

He opened his arms at the right moment to avoid crushing the coffee cup between them, but felt so angry at having his hand occupied and not being able to give James a proper hug. Instead, he had to settle for leaning on his one free arm, trying to convey all the affection and touch-starvation that Regulus kept hidden within himself. 

He felt so secure in the tight hug that it was as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them. It was like floating in the safety of his heavy blanket—light yet sheltered, safe and warm. His heart longed for Regulus to hide himself in the crook of James’s neck, to inhale more of his refreshing perfume, to taste his skin on his tongue—but he couldn’t do that yet.

"It's okay," he said quietly, feeling like crying again but holding it back.

Stop that, Regulus. You're not a child anymore. Be a proper adult and a good partner to James. Don’t look desperate, he scolded himself in his thoughts.

They pulled away from the much-desired hug, and Regulus felt like he had been kissed by sunshine in the middle of winter. James was just so hot.

He was dressed simply—jeans and a black t-shirt, with a red plaid flannel over it—but for someone who was only used to seeing him in sportswear, seeing James dressed for a date was truly breathtaking. Regulus couldn’t help but notice that, despite the casual look, every piece of clothing he wore had a designer label. It was simple, yet far from cheap.

Not that it mattered much—James was so handsome that he’d be irresistible in anything. His charm wasn’t just in his looks, but in his bright, magnetic personality. His face was so stunning it could have been sketched by the hands of a master artist. His round glasses gave him an endearing, almost mischievous look, paired with his perpetually messy hair that looked impossibly soft. His physique was the kind that anyone would envy—strong, athletic, and undeniably touchable. He remembered how his body looked without all those clothes and bit his lip to stop himself from thinking—especially about the huge thing between his legs.

"Shall we go?" he asked, feeling a little shy. "I got you a coffee..."

"Oh, thanks, I really needed this!"

"I wasn’t sure if you’d want tea today... Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I ate at home, but I definitely needed the coffee," James said cheerfully, walking beside Regulus. "I didn’t sleep at all last night thinking about where you might take me!"

"I promise it’s somewhere good, you don’t have to worry."

"I’m not worried at all—I can’t wait!" James beamed, sipping his coffee like it was fueling his excitement.

Regulus hadn’t parked far, and like a true gentleman, he made sure to open the car door for James, a red Volkswagen Golf GTI. He slid into the driver’s seat, immediately catching the fresh, clean scent of the upholstery. His cheeks heated when he noticed James curiously eyeing the bright pink leopard-print fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. Quickly, he started the car, trying to focus on the road instead.

"It’s my brother’s car. He lost a bet and can’t take those off until next year," Regulus explained, hoping to salvage his image a little.

"I see," James said, amused. "So, you have a brother? Younger? Older?"

"Older—by a few months," Regulus replied. Seeing James’s puzzled expression, he added, "I’m adopted."

"Oh… that’s cool! Must be nice having someone your age always around."

"What about you? Do you have siblings?" he asked, happy they were getting to know each other, even if family wasn’t his favorite topic.

"I’m an only child, but I have friends who are like brothers to me," James said, something deep flickering in his eyes.

Regulus had always had the impression that his cross-training instructor was someone who valued friendships and family deeply, and now he had confirmation. Seeing the pure fondness on James’s face as he spoke about them made Regulus smile. He steered onto the highway, pressing the accelerator, feeling a sense of ease in the open road. All he had to do was keep his foot on the pedal and drive straight—perfect for stealing glances at his partner’s profile.

But he couldn’t look for too long, because the real danger was his lips—Regulus had no self-control when it came to looking at them and not remembering those sweet kisses all over his body. The way James’s tongue had wrapped around his erection, sucking him until he came… Regulus was still embarrassed by how quickly he had finished, ashamed of his small size, secretly wishing James had humiliated him for it.

He needed to stop looking.

"So… any guesses where we’re going?" Regulus asked, desperate for a distraction.

"I’m guessing… the amusement park?" James tested, trying to contain his excitement.

"Exactly. The questions made it obvious, didn’t they?"

"Oh, come on! I spent ages trying to guess!" James groaned, squirming in his seat. "An amusement park isn’t the most common place for a first date, and that’s exactly what makes it so cool! I love it!"

"I’m glad you like the idea. I wasn’t really sure what to do—I’ve never been on a date before," Regulus admitted, embarrassed.

"You’ve never been on a date?" James asked gently, turning toward him and resting his head on his arm. "I’m glad to be your first date! I just know it’s going to be amazing."

"I really hope so… I just want to spend more time with you..."

His voice faltered as the words slipped straight from his heart, and by the time he finished, his face was burning with embarrassment. James didn’t reply right away. Regulus stole a quick glance to check his reaction, only to find him looking at him with pure adoration.

He didn’t want to assume James’s feelings, didn’t want to get ahead of himself and regret it later. But at that moment, it seemed so obvious—so real—that there was barely any room left for insecurity. It made Regulus overflow with something he couldn’t name, made him want to pull over and fall to his knees, thanking the universe for James seeming to want him back.

James had shifted in his seat, tucking one leg up as if settling in to keep staring at him. His hand, resting on his lap, looked unsure, as if he was holding himself back from reaching out and touching Regulus. He was respecting his space, content just to watch and listen.

But soon, Regulus remembered—James didn’t know about the darker parts of his past. That kind of admiration could vanish in an instant once he found out just how filthy he really was.

He needed to hold himself back, but at the same time, he ached to just let it all spill over.

"I want to spend more time with you too… to get to know you," James said softly. "I’m really happy you gave me a chance."

"I should be the one saying that—you’re trusting me, following me blindly…"

Because of my insecurities and my issues , he thought.

"Surprises are fun! I told you, I love adventure."

"I don’t get how," Regulus laughed. "If something doesn’t go exactly as I planned, I feel like my whole world is crashing down."

"Really?" James asked, genuinely interested. "You like having everything under control?"

"Yeah. I get really stressed when things don’t go exactly how I want, when something slips out of my hands," Regulus admitted. "I’ve been working on it with my therapist."

From the start, Regulus wanted to be upfront with James about his struggles, but also show that he was trying to get better. After all, that was what James had asked for that day in the locker room—to know him. Regulus didn’t know if he was ready to open up completely, but he knew he had to do it soon. If James chose to walk away, better it happened before Regulus’s feelings got even deeper.

The confession didn’t change anything—James still looked just as intrigued, just as determined to understand him.

"I can help with that," James said in a way that sounded almost teasing. "I know a few ways to teach you to let go of control."

"I can’t imagine doing that without panicking, coach ," he replied with a shy smile, teasing James with the nickname.

The term "coach" had started as a joke between Regulus and his brothers to refer to the cross-training instructor who had taken an unusual interest in him. But it was obvious James liked it. His gaze sharpened like a predator watching its prey, sending a shiver down Regulus’s spine in the best way possible. He held that look for more than a second—almost scanning, stripping him bare, devouring him with his eyes. Then, he took a deep breath, as if trying to regain focus.

"Then let’s do this: next date is on me!" James suggested. "Next time, I’ll ask the questions and plan everything to surprise you."

The very idea of that made Regulus nervous, but the fact that James wanted a next time made him happy.

"We already have a next date? You don’t even know if you’ll like me after this one…"

"Oh, I already like you enough for a hundred dates," James said confidently. "And you? Think you’ll want to see me again after today?"

"Every single day, if I could," Regulus blurted out, slapping a hand over his mouth, mortified. "Sorry, I didn’t mean—"

Subtly, James moved the hand that was not supporting his head towards Regulus’s free hand, intertwining their fingers with care. His heart raced at the contact, spreading warmth through his entire body, filling him with both love and fear.

It was terrifying to hold someone’s hand in that way after years of believing he only did and felt the wrong things, but James welcomed him with tenderness and patience. Regulus had missed holding someone’s hand like that, in a way that inspired protection.

"It’s all right, give me everything, love, all your thoughts and desires, I want to know it all," he asked in an intimate tone. "Trust me."

Regulus nodded, feeling an indescribable peace in the folds of James’s fingers. It was so warm, so soft—a connection so simple yet so significant in releasing a little of that desire to get closer without compromising his sense of safety. Their intertwined hands were such a gentle and pure act that Regulus almost forgot that those hands had touched him so intimately and that the mouth smiling at him had been in a very private place.

After his first time with Sirius, Regulus had convinced himself that he was incapable of experiencing any sexual desire that was right, and he had never again allowed his body to feel it of his own accord. When it happened, he found ways to stop himself, believing he was the most immoral person in the world for even thinking about touching himself. But what James made him feel was good, perfect, and so delicate that Regulus could believe it was right.

That hunger with which James looked at him was still present even during their casual conversation in the car, and for the first time, Regulus understood that it went beyond sexual desire. James wanted him on a deeper level than just a night of sex or a prize to be won—he wanted him truly, perhaps as much as Regulus wanted him.

Ironically, they both seemed to be in the same situation, holding back, afraid of being too much.

But what if they both decided to let go? What if Regulus let himself burn?

"But tell me, why a theme park?" James asked, never ceasing to smile at him.

"As I said, I wanted to get to know you better and have the opportunity to see you outside the gym context, and I thought a theme park would be a fun way to spend the hours," he commented. "But it had to be somewhere that wasn’t a restaurant or a bar..."

"You have eating disorders, don’t you?" he asked directly.

"Not exactly. I have a stomach condition, so I would say it’s more dietary restrictions than eating disorders," Regulus explained, feeling very embarrassed. "I have to be careful with what I eat, and I can’t drink alcohol either."

"That’s really good to know, so I can avoid any discomfort on our next date," James declared.

Regulus didn’t remember actually agreeing to that blind date proposal, but as always, his instructor was taking the lead. It wasn’t a bad thing for him; Regulus could see this dynamic working well in a future relationship, where James would always be the energy pushing him into the unknown, while he, in turn, kept his partner grounded. From the little time they had spent together, their compatibility was remarkable.

They seemed like opposites, but not entirely—James was on the same wavelength as him, and they balanced each other perfectly.

"So... do you like cats?"

"Yes, I love them," Regulus replied with a smile.

The two continued chatting during the hour-long drive about everyday topics, such as pets, travel stories, and funny situations they had experienced—small talk. Regulus enjoyed listening to James’s voice; the way he spoke was so captivating that it made him smile, his chest bubbling with happiness.

When he got excited about a topic, his voice grew louder, he made faces, and he shifted in his seat, expressing himself with his whole body, yet never letting go of Regulus’s hand. But when it was Regulus’s turn to speak, James fell completely silent, paying full attention, as if consuming every word he heard. Regulus wanted to take a risk and stroke his cheek, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the road for too long and was still terrified of making the first move.

He felt James playing with his hand when the conversation took on a more reflective and intimate tone or when a brief silence settled over the car. It was so comfortable to be with him like that Regulus was almost tempted to pull over and completely change the plans for the day, just to be able to spend more time with James in that way.

However, soon, the towering structure of one of the theme park’s roller coasters became visible from the road, making them even more excited as they got closer. Colourful towers, castles, flags, and signs began to appear along the way, along with views of other rides. There were a lot of people entering the parking lot, but Regulus didn’t mind, driving through the grand gateway of 'Neverend Adventure Park.'

"Have you been here before?" he asked James.

"A couple of times when I was a kid. And you?"

"I came here in winter with my friends, but I think it’ll be better now since it’s warmer."

"If it’s already like this in spring… this summer is going to be really hot," he remarked. "There’s a water park nearby as well, if I’m not mistaken…"

Unintentionally, Regulus let a grimace slip.

"Not a big fan of pools?" James asked, smiling.

"No… I can’t swim," Regulus admitted. "And I’m also afraid of water. When I was little, my brother threw me into a lake, and I almost drowned… we were really young, and he nearly died of fright."

"Ah! My best mate went through something like that with his younger brother!" he laughed.

"I suppose it’s a universal sibling experience then…"

"Well, I don’t have any siblings, but I did throw my childhood friend into a lake. At least he could swim…" James commented. "Well, it would’ve been good if he couldn’t and had died, since he harassed my ex-girlfriend."

He had already parked in a good spot at the park and was about to get out of the car when James dropped that bombshell, so Regulus immediately let go of the door handle and turned to face him. If there was one thing Regulus loved, it was a good exchange of information about other people’s lives—real stories that greatly contributed to his own experience (gossip).

"No way… he actually did that?!" Regulus asked, shocked.

"He did! Nearly twenty years of friendship, and I thought he was a good person, but I found out he was completely rotten. He HARASSED my girlfriend, who he also called a friend. I can’t imagine what he did with people that he didn’t know," James explained. "He forcibly kissed her at a club and then pretended he was drunk. God, I nearly killed him."

"Rightly so! What an absolute bastard!" he said, appalled. "But the worst part is that a friend of mine went through something similar… it’s such a disgusting level of disrespect towards them…"

The two got out of the car, walking side by side towards the amusement park entrance.

"One of my friends even mentioned that she didn’t want to go clubbing anymore because of the harassment, and it’s really sad because she loves dancing," Regulus commented. "But when my brothers and I moved to the city, Barty decided to open his own club. We’ve always loved going out, but there was always a lot of insecurity, and I also can’t handle strobe lights very well… He wanted to build a safe place."

"That’s amazing!" James said, impressed. "Where is it?"

"I’ll give you the address later, it’s not far from your work. It’s a blacklight club—you should definitely invest in some fluorescent clothing or paint if you ever visit," he recommended.

"That sounds brilliant! I’d love to see it… but would you be okay? If I go clubbing with my friends? Though, to be fair, it’s your brother’s club…"

"Ah… I’m there almost every night from Friday to Sunday, mostly working rather than anything else, but… I wouldn’t mind…" Regulus let a mischievous smile slip. "I would love to dance with you."

After all, watching people on the dance floor, neon flashes in the darkness giving him only a vague idea of where hands and legs were. Painted lips glowing, leaving marks on skin, paint dripping with sweat and blending into the movement of bodies. He had imagined himself there so many times, but the people who touched him in his fantasies only pulled him deeper into sin. But if James were there, Regulus would only think of him.

Boldly, he intertwined his fingers with James’s, who widened his eyes at the invitation. He was certainly imagining something similar from the suggestion as he followed Regulus towards the ticket booth, tightening his grip. The two shared a deep look.

"I’m loving getting to know you, baby…" he said cheerfully.

Regulus smirked.

The 'Neverend Adventure Park' had a fantasy theme, specifically related to nautical adventures with pirates and mermaids, but also fairies, magic dust, and enchanted kingdoms, much like “Neverland,” though replaced with “Neverend” in the park’s name. The massive wall surrounding the park resembled castle walls, with a grand clock tower at the ticket office, already surrounded by a long queue of visitors.

They reached the gates, but Regulus didn’t even glance at the long queue. Instead, he approached a security guard and presented his VIP ticket, which also allowed them early entry. The guard checked the details and cross-referenced them with his list before directing them forward.

"This way, Mr. Crouch."

They followed a stone tunnel lit by torches until the scene opened up into the first section of the park, where there were souvenir shops, clothing stores, and a few sweet shops, all built close together to resemble a fairy village, with roofs mimicking giant leaves and walls designed like tree trunks. A charming fountain with crystal-clear waters stood at the centre of the square. Once inside, a staff member handed them their VIP wristbands, and soon, they were free to enjoy 'Neverend Adventure Park' all to themselves for just under an hour.

"Wow, Mr. Crouch, that was really impressive…"

"I have my connections," Regulus said shyly, wondering if it had been too much.

It definitely had—Barty was always too much, and when Evan got involved, it was even more so. The two of them were as wealthy as Regulus had once been, before being disowned, and they spared no expense when it came to spoiling him. He had told his brothers he wanted to impress James on their first date, so both started arguing over who would fund their “princess’s” first date. But Regulus had every intention of paying for it with his work at the club. It was just a loan to be repaid through his services—after all, there was still a lot to be done at Neon Rose, considering they had only opened a few months ago.

"So, the park is ours, Mr…" Regulus paused to think. "I never actually asked your surname…"

"Ah, it’s ‘Potter.’ My name is James Potter."

"Your surname is ‘Potter’? Like, the Potters who own the sports club?"

"Yes, that’s my parents’ club—also mine."

Shit, he’s rich , Regulus thought, completely in disbelief—even more so when he considered what that meant for his role as a cross-training instructor and student. After all, if he was the owner’s son, it didn’t matter what he did in the staff lockers. Unless his parents were like Walburga and Orion Black, who punished for the slightest mistake—let alone something like that weekend in the showers.

“And I was worried that you would lose your job dating me…” Regulus commented.

“Oh, that's not the case, baby…” James said. “So… we’re dating?”

Regulus’s cheeks flushed, and his heart raced in his chest as if he had been startled. His love poured out in words he struggled to hold back; after all, he hadn’t expected things to move so fast. It wasn’t even midday yet, and Regulus already wanted to call James his boyfriend.

That was the effect this wonderful man had on him. When he was with James, his feelings and desires simply overflowed, and he couldn’t hold them back. How many times in the past few months had he resorted to a sharper tone to avoid being swept away? He should have known that a date with James would only stir that urgency to rush things.

Regulus wanted so badly to skip all the possible stages and give his all, throw himself into the relationship and face all the risks he feared, just because James was so trustworthy that there was no way not to be swept away. But he couldn’t do that until he had laid all his cards on the table, and even then, he still had fears to overcome.

“Ask me this question at the end of this day, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweet thing,” James smiled. “Is that ok, the pet names I’m giving you? Is it too much?”

“No, it’s good, I love that,” he admitted. “Thanks for asking.”

“Ok, right,” James said, slightly nervous. “Shall we go? What should we do first?”

“I suggest the Pirate ship or Chairoplane, the rollercoasters are more fun with more people, but we don’t need to rush,” he shrugged with a sideways smile.

“Then let’s go on the Pirate ship first!” James suggested. “Can we hold hands?”

Regulus smiled as he agreed, grabbing James’s outstretched hand, feeling that wave of electricity and euphoria course through his body, soon being led by him, running through the empty park like two kids.

They arrived at the first ride already out of breath and quickly boarded the pirate ship. With the restraints in place, the large metal structure began floating across the artificial lake, swaying back and forth, until it was so high that Regulus felt he might fall. A wonderful sensation filled his stomach, and he threw his hands up just like James, testing the danger and finding support in his hand at the top.

The ship tilted more and more, and Regulus could see the gears below him in the pit. He was almost sure the boat was going to flip upside down and do a loop, but that didn’t happen. After screaming a lot and expressing the adrenaline that felt so much like what he had experienced that day in the staff lockers, the ride slowly stopped before he could reach the peak. Regulus looked at James excitedly, who was smiling at him, his glasses slightly askew and his hair even more tousled.

He couldn’t resist brushing his fingers through James’s hair, feeling the softness of it and James’s sensitivity as his scalp was gently massaged. His companion closed his eyes like a docile animal under his touch, and Regulus took in the sight of every line on his face, relaxed after the adventure. He laughed, adjusting James’s glasses.

“Shall we go to the next one?” Regulus suggested with affection.

“Mm-hmm, let’s go!” he agreed, snapping out of his trance.

At a slower pace, they left the Pirate ship, helping each other with their hands, and kept them together as they walked, now even closer, almost linking arms. James radiated warmth like the sun, and even though it was a warm day, Regulus leaned against him to soak up the heat.

His outfit wasn’t exactly suited for late autumn, which called for lighter clothing, like t-shirts with something thin on top, but there wasn’t much he could do. Regulus needed to hide the scars on his arms. He was wearing a dark green, oversized turtleneck jumper, much too big for his body, so he had to fold the sleeves slightly, and the hem completely covered his bottom. He also wore baggy cargo pants, held up by a belt, which matched his trainers.

The jumper was Barty’s, and the pants and belt were Evan’s, both left behind when the two moved out of the apartment they had shared to a house in a luxury gated community. Regulus always borrowed their clothes, considering that both bought more than they could wear, like Barty’s hockey t-shirts, which would be stored in boxes if Regulus wasn’t wearing them for training.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to take off the jumper, as even though James had already seen everything there was to see, Regulus considered himself too thin and not attractive enough for someone as beautiful as James, and he was certain people would stare at his scars.

His scars were ugly, but for some time now, every time he thought about scars, he saw the beautiful face of someone.

Three linear marks on the left cheek, begging to be kissed, licked, and adored — just like the ones on his large hands, full of attractive veins that drove Regulus mad every time he had to watch him type on his computer. His focused gaze was majestic, but Regulus burned whenever those eyes turned to him, like they were consuming him whole.

Mr Remus Lupin was the name of this irresistible man — the extraordinary Headmaster of St Hedwig’s High School, Regulus’s boss.

Another one of his forbidden desires.

Especially when the man was on a date with someone else.

Lost in thought, Regulus accidentally squeezed James’s hand.

"What’s wrong?"

"Uh, nothing," Regulus tried to brush it off, but his cheeks were burning, and guilt swelled in his chest. "Shall we go on the Mad Tea Party?"

“Sure!”

Getting into the ride, remembering to stay focused, Regulus was ready to put Barty’s plan into action.

He sat next to James with an excited smile, admiring the large teapot in the centre of the structure, commenting on how adorable he thought the pastel colours were. Some of the teacups had fake tea stains, as though spilling onto the saucers, so well-detailed that Regulus noticed the care the park put into its maintenance.

When the ride started, James’s natural reaction was to grab the wheel in the centre of their teacup and start spinning, gaining speed quickly. It was such an oddly pleasant feeling that Regulus felt like he might moan, but he had to stick to the plan.

“Slower, James, I’m getting dizzy,” he pretended.

Immediately, James stopped spinning the wheel and did the opposite, trying to slow it down, looking at Regulus with a concerned expression.

“Are you okay? Do you want to get off?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

Perfect , Regulus thought.

After all, Barty had told him: “When you see an opportunity, Reggie, test this guy. If he doesn’t respect your ‘no’ for something silly, he won’t respect it for something important, and someone disrespectful doesn’t deserve your heart. If that cross-training instructor of yours does something wrong, just tell him your brothers are waiting for a chance to commit a violent crime.”

James didn’t necessarily need to be tested for that; Regulus was already certain he was someone attentive to boundaries and consent, but up until now, he had only seen it working within the context of the gym. Knowing that he wasn’t just a good person, but attentive and concerned, was another positive point and another assurance for Regulus.

They left the Mad Tea Party and headed for the Chairoplane, then to a pirate-themed ride. It was a wooden boat sailing through a world of singing and dancing puppets. Regulus clung to James’s arm, resting his head against him, fascinated by the vibrant colors of the scenery—and by the veins on James’s arms when he folded his sleeves. It was so hot, and he imagined those big hands grabbing his thighs over his cargo pants, moving up until they found a sensitive spot that begged to be touched. Suddenly, Regulus stopped paying attention to the puppets.

When they stepped off the ride, the park was starting to fill up with visitors, so they headed for the rollercoasters, using the VIP pass to skip the queue. The two rode the biggest, craziest rides, drops and loops, like it was nothing.

But after so many drops, Regulus’s legs were starting to feel a little wobbly, and his brain was screaming for a break from all the excitement.

Fortunately, he had James, who was more than happy to help carry his weight, his arm wrapped around his, and enough energy for both of them.

"Where should we go now?" James was out of breath, equally caught up in the adrenaline, his hair a delightful mess, so damn hot.

"It's one o'clock, I think we should grab lunch and then head to the fair stalls, they’ve got calmer games that won’t turn our stomachs upside down," Regulus suggested.

"And they've got stuffed animals as prizes!" James pointed out.

"You like them?"

"I think they're cute, but I don't have many. Just a lion from when I was a kid, it’s on my bed."

"I never had any stuffed animals when I was a kid. My mum said they just gathered dust and served no educational purpose," Regulus confessed, feeling a pang in his chest as he said it.

"That's sad…" James pouted without meaning to. "Was your mum really strict with you? Because she was a school principal?"

"Oh, no, my adoptive mum is the principal of a school," Regulus clarified. "I lived with my biological parents and my brother until I was sixteen, and then some pretty bad stuff happened, and I was adopted by my best friend Barty’s mum. That’s how I ended up being Arthur Crouch."

"Ah! I see... So Barty isn’t your biological brother? The one who pushed you into the lake?"

"No, he’s not… It’s a complicated and truly traumatic story, not really something to get into right now," he added, with no intention of explaining to James how he had died and come back with a different name.

"No worries, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you," James said sweetly.

Although Regulus was sure he had overcome most of his past, he leaned his head on James’s shoulder in wordless thanks for his presence, then became self-conscious, wondering if he was being too bold.

"I love it when you do that," James said, as if reading his mind.

Regulus felt a kiss on the top of his head and heard the soft sound of James’s lips, a gesture of affection that almost made him melt completely, his legs trembling from the intense emotions of the day.

It was clear that little by little, they were becoming more physically intimate, having started the day holding hands, and now, halfway through, they were practically glued together. It was a comfortable progression for both of them and very respectful. Regulus felt like he had found the right person, someone patient enough to wait for his time, to notice the details, and dance to the rhythm of things. James seemed to enjoy it too, his whole body showing how happy and excited he was. It would be a huge disappointment if he told Regulus at the end of the day that he didn’t want to see him again.

He was sure that would happen when they reached the food court.

The smell of frying food filled the air, sending Regulus into a mild panic as he began to wonder what he could possibly eat that wouldn’t upset his stomach. He couldn’t order anything too greasy, shouldn’t eat too much, or consume too much sugar, which was nearly impossible given his choices were basically burgers, fries, hot dogs, and sodas. The last thing he wanted was an accident during his date with James, and when he thought that, he realized he needed to use the bathroom.

"I’ll be right back, take a look at the menu while I’m gone," he suggested. Luckily, Regulus hadn’t had anything to drink all day, or his weak bladder would have given up and caused an embarrassing situation, another disastrous scenario for his first date. 

He left the bathroom, determined to pay more attention to the time and remember that he couldn’t go so long without peeing, taking a deep breath to face the battle in the greasy food court, knowing James had probably started thinking he was acting a bit strange by the look on his face when he came out.

James was still in the same spot, looking at a paper menu from one of the burger-themed stalls. Regulus approached, but didn’t touch him like he wanted to, instead peeking over his shoulder. He skipped the combo meals and elaborate sandwiches and went straight to the more natural and vegetarian options. As always, there was barely anything, but a caesar salad should do. Maybe it was too big and might eventually make his stomach ache, but it was either that or sit through lunch staring at James without eating anything, since there was nothing else that seemed safe.

"Have you decided?" James asked.

"The salad."

"Really?" He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

"It’s the only thing I can eat without getting sick," Regulus explained. "I told you it’s complicated."

"And to drink?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" James raised his eyebrows. "Not even water?"

"No."

He frowned, clearly not happy with that, but didn’t press further, though it was clear he was itching to lecture. James placed the order and insisted on paying for both of them, which Regulus agreed to, since his salad was one of the cheaper options on the menu. They found a nice table away from the sun to sit and wait for their number to be called, Regulus feeling uneasy under James’s concerned gaze. He breathed deeply, trying to hold it together. He had to be strong and take off the bandage quickly, so James could decide if he wanted to stay or walk away.

"I know it’s weird…"

"It’s not healthy," James said firmly.

"I know…" Regulus agreed, feeling the cross-training instructor inside James wake up. "I’m trying to find a diet I can stick to with my nutritionist, but it’s tricky because of the damage my stomach’s been through."

"Damage?" James asked, alarmed.

"My biological father… did something terrible to me when I was younger, and I nearly died because of it," Regulus confessed, his heart racing in his chest.

Not because of his trauma, but because of the reaction James might have to hearing about Regulus’s tragic past. Considering his own healthy family history, it might be shocking for him to learn the kinds of things that happened in other homes and what parents could put their children through when they didn’t love them. Regulus felt like he was presenting this harsh reality to James, as if he was corrupting him with truths about the world that James could very well live without knowing.

"Did your dad beat you?" James asked seriously.

"Also…"

Regulus didn’t need to spell it out, James understood what was left unsaid.

His expression immediately changed, showing his shock and disturbance, covering his mouth as if he were about to choke on his tears or vomit from the disgust. His eyes welled up behind his glasses, and he looked away, breathing heavily as if he couldn’t process what he had just learned. 

Great first date conversation, Regulus , he thought to himself. But unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse .

The laughter as they ran through the park, the warmth of their intertwined hands, the sweet conversations, and the affection that quickly enveloped them—all of it replayed in Regulus’s mind as he felt like he was ruining everything in that moment. However, he knew it was necessary. He couldn’t begin any real relationship with James without opening up about the past that made him feel so filthy and unworthy of his love.

It was necessary for Regulus’s own peace of mind, but he was already suffering, feeling that it had been a mistake to let himself be known at all.

After all, Regulus was selfish, and if he had the slightest hope that James might accept him, he would pursue that spark, even if it hurt him.

“With a piece of wood,” Regulus told him, knowing he had already made his decision.

“My God… this is…” James was at a loss for words, rubbing his eyes to clear the tears, trying to be strong for Regulus.

“Horrific, hideous, repulsive, brutal... I know. My father deserves to burn in hell and suffer eternal torture for the damage he caused,” he commented. “It was years of trying to piece together my sanity, but nothing the doctors did could make my insides return to what it once was...”

“Oh, angel…” James looked at him with sadness.

With extreme tenderness, he took Regulus’s hands across the table, caressing them gently yet firmly, as if he might break and dissolve at the same time. With that, perhaps there was still hope that he truly was going to stay, but Regulus hadn’t finished laying all his cards on the table yet.

It wasn’t what his father had done that made him feel disgusting; maybe the consequences of it made him feel filthy, but there was a true sin of his that James needed to know first.

“My father tried to kill me.”

“My God…” James whispered. “Why?”

“Because I slept with my older brother, I was in love with him,” Regulus said plainly. “I gave him my virginity, and my father caught me in his bed the next day.”

His confession seemed to echo in the silence of James’s disbelieving expression.

The absence of words while James processed what had been said made Regulus feel even more ashamed of himself, regretting deeply that he had reached this point.

It would have been so much easier to say he didn’t want to go out with James, but Regulus realized he kept looking for ways to hurt himself, even after he had stopped self-harming.

He felt like a complete idiot about the decisions he had made, the expectations he had built, and the whole scenario he had created, to the point where it almost felt like he had called James there just to tell him that he was in love with his brother.

Regulus couldn’t find the words to express just how ridiculous he was, or how he shouldn’t have left home the damn day he decided to do cross-training.

“And that’s why you told me you’re a messed-up and dirty person?” James asked finally. His tremor was controlled, and his expression returned to the calm understanding it always had, along with the same underlying interest and thirst for knowledge in his eyes, which hadn’t changed once during the months they had known each other. 

Regulus could hardly believe it.

“Yes, that’s why,” he admitted. “All these years, I’ve never regretted what I did with my brother, but I know it’s wrong, and that’s why I’m a dirty person. I tried to deny how I felt, I tried to suppress the desire, but I’m still the same disgusting person.”

“Oh no, sweet thing, you’re not…” James said with certainty.

“Meeting you, thinking about you, wanting you made me think that maybe there was hope for me, because for the first time, I feel like I’m getting close to being interested in the right person,” Regulus confessed. “And you’re such a good person, James. That’s why I don’t know if I deserve you, considering my sins.”

“Oh, love, I’m so glad you think that about me. I would die for the chance to be that person for you.”

“Even if I’m someone wrong?”

James squeezed Regulus’s hand even tighter, the one he hadn’t let go of for a moment, even when he revealed he had slept with his own brother. His gaze became serious, unwavering, but also full of affection.

“You’re not a bad person, love,” James declared. “You’re so kind, so amazing, so interesting, so caring... so perfect for me... every moment that passes, I feel more and more that we’re on the same page, that things are flowing naturally, that you’re exactly what I’ve been searching for to feel complete. It’s perfect.”

“I’m not perfect…”

“No, no one is, and I really want to know everything about you—the purest parts, the parts that make you insecure, and the ones that bring you pain. I want all of it. Your past, your present... I want to know everything you can tell me,” he confessed. “What we have is good, baby, I trust you so much that I feel I can give myself completely.”

“I feel that too... but I don’t deserve your love.”

“Don’t say that again, it’s not true. You deserve the world, sweet thing, and I’m going to give it to you if you let me.”

With tenderness, in slow movements as though fearing he might scare Regulus, he caressed his cheek, and Regulus couldn’t help but surrender to the affection, closing his eyes to give in. He felt his hopes being renewed, as though the honesty behind James’s words flowed through his bloodstream, creating an even deeper connection.

After all, if he hadn’t gotten up from the table and walked away after such an emotionally charged conversation about his partner’s past—his traumas and dark desires served as appetizers before lunch—there wasn’t much else that could shock him.

Regulus once again felt ridiculous. Barty would surely laugh at him for the decisions he had made without consulting anyone. However, if he told the story of his first date to Dorcas or Pandora, they would undoubtedly say that Regulus was a walking red flag.

Strangely, James seemed to like red a lot.

“I want to embrace every part of you. I want you completely,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb along Regulus’s cheek. “You’re so resilient, so strong. You’ve been through hell, yet here you are, still standing. You’re so brave, baby.”

“I’m not that strong... I tried to end it all.”

“But you’re here now, and I’m getting the chance to get to know you,” James continued positively. “Thank you for telling me all this, thank you for trusting me enough to share your past.”

“I was so scared of what you would do...” Regulus admitted, sighing, holding back his tears.

“You didn’t need to. I wouldn’t treat you differently because you’ve suffered a violence.”

“From my father, yes, it was a violence,” Regulus reinforced. “But with my brother... it wasn’t. I wanted to sleep with him. I truly loved him.”

“I understand, and I won’t judge you for it. I don’t know your story, and I don’t know how that love came about to form an opinion on it,” James promised. “I know a lot of people who love in ways that are considered wrong by society, but they’re beautiful and very happy couples.”

“Really?” Regulus asked, growing more hopeful.

“I swear. I tend to think that if it’s consensual, between people who are mentally capable of giving consent, then it’s fine.”

“That’s a good way to think...”

“But actually, I’d like to know more about you and your brother, if you don’t mind... What’s his name? Where is he now?”

Regulus opened his mouth to say Sirius’s name when their order was called, and James stood to pick it up.

In the brief second he was away, Regulus took a deep breath, holding back his trembling hands of anxiety and happiness. After all, he had managed to say what he needed to, and with that out of the way, he could give himself without the fear of repulsing James with his secrets.

However, looking at his partner, he seemed the complete opposite of disgusted.

James seemed to like hearing about the relationship between Regulus and his brother.

Chapter Text

Mid-summer, 2011

Regulus's small figure seemed even smaller when he was curled up in fear, and even tinier when compared to the vast expanse of the lake near the house where the Black family spent their summers, where Sirius was bathing, waiting for his brother to gather the courage to join him. Not only that, but he had taught Regulus to swing and jump from the rope hanging on the tree at the edge of the lake, yet his little brother was terrified of doing it and diving into the water with him.

It broke Sirius's heart to know that much of his brother's fear was his fault — from the time he pushed him into the same lake when he was six years old, too young to realise that his four-year-old brother didn't know how to swim.

Every year, they spent the summer in the same place, and eventually, Regulus could have learned, but even at eleven years old, he still didn't know how to swim. His trauma was so intense that he wouldn't go near the lake, no matter how hot it was. But in those months they'd been together, sharing more feelings than just those of brothers, Regulus had come to trust Sirius even more, and that summer, he had given the vastness of the water a chance, knowing his older brother would certainly not let him drown.

Maybe swinging was too much for him, but at least Regulus had put on swimwear, which implied he was considering getting into the lake.

"Come on, Reggie! You can jump! I'll catch you!" Sirius tried to encourage him. "If you don't want to swing, you can come from the edge, mon cœur, it's shallower there!"

"E-Everything's fine! I'll swing!"

Sirius smiled, proud that even with trembling hands, his brother was trying to be brave.

More than that, Regulus was fully trusting Sirius.

"Come on! I'll catch you!"

Nodding, the younger brother grabbed the rope swing, taking a few deep breaths and looking uncertainly at the lake. But when his eyes focused on Sirius, he seemed to gain more courage, pulling the rope back and then running to build momentum.

It was as if Regulus was flying through the sky.

He hung in the air like the perfect angel from Sirius's dreams.

A divinity diving towards the lake.

The angel landed right in front of him, sending splashes of water everywhere, and Sirius was quick to pull him back to the surface.

Regulus clung to him like a life buoy, with arms and legs, leaving Sirius to grab his thighs wrapped around his waist. He felt the warmth of his brother's body heating him more than the morning sun, and the droplets falling from his hair cooling him more than the entire lake. His little brother was breathing heavily against his shoulder.

It was warm like summer.

"You did it!" Sirius celebrated, rocking him gently, enjoying how light he felt in the water.

"It's too deep," Regulus complained.

"I'm holding you, Reggie; you won't drown."

He found it amusing to sway his little brother, as if they were dancing — or rather, as if Sirius were dancing with a sloth. But at the slow rhythm he had created, Regulus eventually began to loosen up and relax, like a cat retracting its claws, which would certainly leave some marks on Sirius's back. He emerged from the refuge of his older brother's neck, who had already shivered enough from his warm breath, looking cautiously around.

From the rippling water to Sirius's eyes, then to his partially submerged torso, and finally to his lips. His hands timidly moved from his older brother's back to his chest and then to his face. Sirius melted under the warmth of his brother's palms, closing his eyes and surrendering to him.

With the same tenderness and care as always, Regulus kissed him.

His mouth was wet from the water and sweet from the lake, always fitting perfectly with Sirius's, who captured his lips between his own, feeling them stick together at any brief separation, like two magnets impossible to pull apart.

He brought a hand to his younger brother's face to deepen the kiss and dissolve even further into the almost unbearable heat of that summer, of Regulus's body against his own. His bare chest against Sirius's, his legs around his waist, their intimacy rubbing against each other with only the thin fabric of their swim shorts between them. Sirius gasped at the thought of having his brother there, beneath the water, but Regulus broke the kiss, clutching him tightly again.

"Don't let go of me," he pleaded with a whimper in Sirius's ear, making him shiver.

"I'm not letting go," Sirius laughed, once again comparing his brother to a cat in his mind, trying hard to ignore the shivers of pleasure caused by the burning sensation on his back from his brother's short nails.

"Both hands," Regulus demanded in a whiny tone.

Sirius rolled his eyes with humour, enjoying the fact that his brother couldn't see his face, and held him with both arms, supporting his thighs. He thought it was a little too late to mention that the spot they were in was shallow enough for Regulus to stand, but he had enjoyed the sensation of having him in his lap far too much.

Like a long and sweet hug in that moment, and just that for that moment.

…

Sunday Afternoon

Everyone has secrets, especially when it comes to private desires, and James was no different.

In society, sex was a great taboo to be hidden away, like a rare treasure locked away, out of sight, until marriage—when a baby had to be conceived. Sex was something people simply didn’t talk about. They didn’t think about it, didn’t feel it, didn’t explore it.

Even among the closest of friends, who would chat over dinner or drinks about their adventures, not everything was revealed—for fear of judgement over what truly brought them pleasure.

James had very close friends whose relationship was anything but conventional in society’s eyes, and he had been privy to some of the most sordid details of what Sirius and Remus did together in bed—what really excited them.

In fact, he had played a role in some of his best friend’s earliest discoveries when they were teenagers, exploring their bodies together—things James knew Sirius still did with Remus.

Yet, even with such intimacy and freedom to discuss sex with them, James knew that Sirius and Remus didn’t share all their deepest secrets—just as he, too, hid things from them.

Like his desire to, at least once, have sex with both of them or take part in some of the scenes he had only ever heard about but never seen. James had never told them about his own interest in BDSM, particularly in being the coach or teacher to his beloved cross-training student in an approach to ageplay.

But even darker than that, James had never told anyone about his inclination towards incest.

Late at night, seeking “inspiration”, he often turned to comics about fathers and sons, cousins, or siblings having sex. The idea of incest excited him—the thought of living in the same house, sharing the same experiences, and secretly having sex, hidden from other family members. He liked the idea of the constant availability of the partner—lying on the sofa together, in bed, playing video games, having dinner at the kitchen table—everyday situations turned upside down by the forbidden desire to have sex with a relative immediately.

In reality, James didn’t think these things about his own father and mother, his blood family, but he liked to say that Sirius and Remus were like family to him. He loved being around them in that way and imagining himself in their bed, teasing them under the dinner table, or spying on them through a crack in the door.

It was all just a fantasy, locked inside his head—after all, he would never disrespect his friends in any way.

However, after hearing his beloved student recount how he had given his virginity to his own brother, James couldn’t help but feel both arousal and guilt at the same time.

Arousal, because it was like one of the comics he loved to read while masturbating. And guilt, because this wasn’t a comic—it was a real person’s life.

His beloved student had lived through a real experience, the details of which James didn’t yet know. What was the exact age difference between him and his older brother? How had it all developed between them? Had it been something healthy? James wanted to know. After all, his beloved referred to himself as dirty because of that experience and his feelings for his brother—James didn’t know if it was due to societal judgement and pressure or something his older brother had done that made him feel that way.

But if what had happened between them had been safe, sane, and consensual, James would reveal his own kink and do everything he could to make sure his beloved didn’t feel so ashamed of himself.

After all, if he was filthy, then so was James.

During the rest of the outing, he tried to subtly fish for information. His beloved student was open to speaking clearly, almost as if the words were stuck in his throat.

After grabbing their lunch—his full meal and his baby’s pitiful Caesar salad—James listened to his story while eating, noticing that he played with the salad more than he actually ate it. James grew increasingly concerned, already forming ideas on how to help him, though he knew it was an even more complicated matter.

His beloved student had many challenges to overcome, and James audaciously wanted to help him, as if he could save him. As if he could teach him to love himself.

"My brother ran away from home the same night that… you know. " He suddenly became shy about saying ‘sex’. "He was disgusted by me and didn’t want to see me again, so he left. And after what my father did to me, I never set foot in that house again or contacted any of them, and they never tried to reach out to me either”.

"But if you never got any more information, how do you know your brother left because of that?"

"It’s the only explanation. It all happened so fast… When I woke up in the hospital a few days later, I asked about my brother, thinking maybe he had suffered some violence too, but my cousin told me he was gone," he explained. "She’s a trusted cousin. She said my brother had already talked to her about running away with me, far from our abusive parents. She showed me proof of their conversations, but he left without me, so I can only think that he gave up on me."

"Oh, love…"

James didn’t know how to refute that, not knowing the full depth of the story. His beloved student simply watched him for a few seconds, stirring his salad, staring at his meal, then reaching for the ketchup packets, opening them for James, who had only just thought about adding more sauce to his burger.

James was always impressed by how perceptive his baby was about his surroundings and other people’s needs. He must have looked at the packets for less than two seconds before giving up on opening them, afraid of making a mess and embarrassing himself—but his beloved student noticed. And with his well-manicured nails, he opened them effortlessly. Smiling to himself, James tried to distract him for the rest of the meal, managing to get him to eat some fries alongside the salad he had nearly given up on.

"Just a little more, baby, you’re almost done," he encouraged.

"I don’t know if I can…" he whined.

"Come on, just a bit more," James coaxed. "Do you want me to feed you?"

It hadn’t exactly been an offer—he was just teasing his beloved student to get a snarky response. However, his reaction was to drop his fork and look away, cheeks flushed and lips forming a small pout. James couldn’t say for sure if it was a "yes," but he also didn’t hear a "no," and weighing his options, he decided to take the risk.

He reached for the plastic fork and picked up a few lettuce leaves and a piece of toast, then held it up to his beloved student, who looked at him with doe-eyes that seemed to crush James’s heart with so much cuteness. He opened his mouth shyly, wrapping his full lips around the fork and giving a glimpse of his red tongue before pulling away and chewing carefully.

And he hadn’t even finished swallowing when James handed him a French fry, receiving that same innocent and uncertain look from his baby, driving him absolutely crazy.

"One more for me," he requested, watching him lean in. "Good boy…"

James felt a bit of his saliva when he came closer to take the fry from his fingers, chewing hesitantly but wanting to try for James, who somehow found himself mesmerized by his little struggle.

Feeling his body respond, James learned something new about himself.

He kept feeding him in careful portions, always complimenting and encouraging him to eat, until his little cardboard basket of salad was empty and his beloved student looked full, even if his meal had been the least substantial possible.

They finished lunch with flushed cheeks—not because of the odd looks from some people in the food court, but because of what was growing between them. James NEEDED to convince his beloved student to officially be his, and if he didn’t succeed that day, he wouldn’t give up. After all, he was sure his feelings were reciprocated.

Their hands intertwined as they left the food court, and James pressed another kiss to the top of his baby’s head as they walked toward the game stalls.

Walking side by side, James felt his chest fill with warmth because his beloved was paying extra attention to his steps, making sure he wouldn’t bump into anything or anyone. He knew of an etiquette rule where a gentleman would walk on the side of the street, shielding the lady with his own body, and he couldn’t believe how his beloved had applied this rule in the amusement park, always guiding James towards the less crowded areas and keeping a watchful eye on the path. His baby's care overflowed, though he seemed oblivious to it.

Without meaning to, James felt like something precious.

"Just to be certain… what’s the age difference between you and your brother?" he asked as they reached a quieter spot, trying not to sound suspicious.

"Two years," he answered. "When we… did… I was fifteen, he was seventeen."

"Well, in that case, it wasn’t abuse or manipulation, not in the least…"

"I manipulated him. Over those years, my brother told me repeatedly that it was wrong, our kisses, our desires… that we shouldn’t continue with it, but I insisted. I wanted it badly…" he confessed with regret. "He told me that one day I would regret what we did, but in the end, he was the one who regretted it, and he left."

"Maybe he was just scared…" James speculated, but didn’t want to press further and risk giving him false hope. "What exactly did you two do?"

It was a tough question, he could see the hesitation in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks deepened. James thought it would be better to add:

"If you're not comfortable talking about it, that's fine. But just so you know, I'm not judging you."

"It's fine... it's just... well, it's complicated..." he said. "They're feelings I've kept, and sensations I still remember so clearly... I still feel desire when I think about those memories, and I regret nothing. But I don't think it's fair to you, considering what we're building."

"You can tell me, love, I won't be upset hearing it."

James promised, thinking that whatever his beloved student told him, he might feel the complete opposite of bad.

"Well... my brother and I started with little kisses, it was just an extension of our hugs, nothing more to it," he confessed, trusting James's words. "But when we hit adolescence, things escalated. We started kissing more passionately, until our mum caught us."

"And what happened next?" James asked, worried, after just discovering the level of violence his father had been capable of subjecting him to.

"She was on drugs, and didn’t hit any of us, but she gave my brother a lecture, telling him that, being older, he shouldn’t let himself get led astray," he explained, as if drug use was perfectly normal. "So he became resistant, but I kept pushing him."

"How did you push him?"

"It was childish stuff, I was only 10 at the time. I’d turn my back on him and be rude..."

"You were both so young back then!"

"I think that's why it wasn't worse, why we didn't do more back then, because it wasn’t a strong desire, I just wanted to kiss my brother like couples do," he sighed. "But it wasn't innocent at all, I imagined very adult things, but my body wasn't prepared for that."

"And that's completely normal... it's part of human sexual development," James commented. "Imagining, wanting, touching..."

“We did put some of those things into practice, my brother taught me how to kiss with tongue, how to masturbate..." His cheeks flushed, and a strange heat filled his vision. "He used to call me ‘little girl’, and it would turn me on so much." 

Shit , James thought, feeling his body heat up, and distracted himself with the scenery to avoid getting horny himself.

"I saw things differently, in ways I shouldn't have, like when our parents told him to punish me for something at school, or anything like that. I felt something when he sat me on his lap and spanked my bottom, when he teased me, even in ways that seemed innocent, like siblings do…" His beloved student confessed, and James had to fight even harder to hide how much it excited him. "And I couldn't control these feelings enough, I loved my brother so much, and it hurt not being able to show it because it felt wrong."

"It wasn't just a simple want…"

"No, my brother was everything to me, and even though I had friends and socialised with other people, no one was like him. It felt different." He said, gripping James's hand tighter. "And as we grew, it became much stronger. We tried to resist, we tried to stop, we tried to act like two brothers… but in the end, we just couldn't hold back anymore, and we ended up in bed together."

"So it wasn't just on you." James confirmed. "Your brother also wanted you and tried to stop."

"Yeah, I think so. But the night it all went down, I was at my breaking point and basically begged him to give in too. Things ended badly."

At that, James knew for sure that his older brother was a cowardly jerk.

If they wanted each other, if they were almost the same age, then they could have dealt with it together, whether to continue the relationship or put an end to it. The older brother at least should have been responsible and stayed until morning, had a proper conversation with him; maybe that would have prevented his beloved student from being beaten and raped by their father.

"You’re not to blame for what you both chose to do." He said firmly.

"I provoked my brother."

"He wanted you enough to accept."

"But he didn't love me enough to stick around."

The denial, said with such conviction, made James's heart ache deeply, just a small fraction of what he was sure his beloved student had felt all those years.

With that, it was easy to understand his resistance, his fears, and it only increased James's desire to shower him with all the love possible, to give him a solid ground to stand on, one that wouldn't judge him for his past. One that could receive all those repressed desires in their entirety, without any prejudice.

But seeing the pain in his eyes, James would never reveal his kink; after all, that would only hurt him.

When they reached the games area, just a few metres from the park's little shops, the sad expression on his baby’s face was replaced by curiosity as he looked at the games in the stalls, which reminded him so much of a funfair. There were various tents with red-and-white striped roofs, with yellow fairy lights that must have been enchanting at night. Everything was so colourful, from the decorations to the prizes, and even the uniforms of the staff helping with the games.

The queues for each attraction weren't too long, so they could cover the entire area in time to finish digesting and head back to the more thrilling rides. That, of course, if his beloved student wanted to, as James had completely let himself be guided by what he had planned for the day, following it faithfully.

The same thing happened with the games; he was led through each stall, which offered as many attempts as they wanted with the VIP bracelet. Duck Pond, Fishing, Balloon Pop, they tried every single one, collecting some small prizes like little toys and a bottle of bubble solution. James had to remember to keep track of the spending with his baby by the end of the day, knowing that such exclusivity was expensive and hard to come by.

When James met Arthur Crouch, he felt that the surname was somewhat familiar. After some research, he realised he remembered the reports about the Justice Minister, Bartemius Crouch. Initially, he had thought that his beloved student might be some secret child of his, as the articles only mentioned a Bartemius Crouch Jr., but he had discovered that day that he had been adopted by the minister's ex-wife.

It all made perfect sense, except for the fact that neither his baby nor his brother had any social media profiles or photos online. 'Maybe he doesn't like to expose himself,' James thought at the time, but considering his past, he might have been avoiding drawing attention from his parents or his biological brother.

James would try to convince him to take a photo later, but first, he had to show off to win over his baby; after all, he was very good at funfair games, and after so many small prizes, he desperately needed to win the big cat plushie at the basketball stall.

As soon as his beloved student looked at the grand prize, his eyes sparkling like a mesmerised child, James knew he had to win, which wouldn’t be difficult at all. After many games, he approached the empty stall, already taking off his flannel shirt, clearly showing off his arm muscles as he tied it around his waist.

"Leave it to me, baby," James said confidently, relishing the look of admiration and desire in his eyes, completely effective.

From the right distance, he scored all 10 basketballs into the hoop, one after the other, effortlessly and within the time limit, securing the grand prize with flying colours, along with many compliments from the staff member, who said he had never seen anyone so good.

"That was amazing... you’re really good," his beloved student said, his eyes shining.

"Thanks, the physical education degree is a fair cheat for these games," he said, pretending to be humble.

With the plushie in hand, he felt the soft texture of its black and white fur, like a tuxedo cat, and compared its size. Its body was the same size as James’s torso, its arms were the size of his forearms, and its legs reached halfway up its thighs. With a smile, he handed it to his beloved student, his face beaming with pride.

"Here! A kitten for my kitten," he said with a smirk, earning a deep, annoyed eye roll. "It’s nearly my size, so you can cuddle it and think of me."

Even with the embarrassing pet name, he accepted the plushie carefully, his face turning red as his eyes welled up with tears. James pulled him into a tight embrace, holding both him and the plushie close — and in that moment, he swore he could see stars.

Since he had hugged him that day in the showers, and in the morning as an apology for being late (trying to look as handsome as possible for his beloved student), James never stopped noticing how perfectly the two of them fit together, even with a large plushie in his hands. It was as if he was holding the most precious thing in the world, snuggling so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He couldn't resist the urge to bury his hands in his curls and place a kiss on his forehead, breathing in his shampoo and his sweet scent.

"Thank you," his baby said, pulling away and rubbing his eyes.

"Aww, you two are so cute!" the stall attendant remarked with a big smile. "What a lovely couple!"

They both smiled shyly, James feeling like a teenager with his first love. Which wasn’t wrong—he had never loved anyone the way he loved that man.

After thanking the park attendant, they went to the parking lot to leave the plushie in the car, since "Mr. Jam," as his beloved student had named him, was not tall enough to go on the remaining rides on their list. They were close to the gates, so it wasn’t a long walk, but James wished it had been longer, since with his baby’s hands full, all he could do was drape his arm around his waist and hold him close as they walked.

With each passing second, the two became more physical, and James was loving every moment of it.

Mr. Jam lay on the back seat of the car, and when his beloved student slammed the door shut, James moved closer to him, paying close attention to his reactions as he approached, because he was about to take another step.

"Thanks again for the gift," he said, leaning back comfortably in the car. "I loved it so much... and you were amazing winning it for me."

"I'm glad you liked it, love..."

James took another step forward, closing nearly all the distance between them, noticing that the other didn’t pull away in the slightest. On the contrary, he felt comfortable enough to uncross his arms and run his hands over James's biceps, the direct touch of his hands on his skin making him burn.

"You deserve the world, baby, and I’m ready to give it to you."

His beloved student silently agreed, the tips of his fingers exploring James's arms, while James placed his hands on either side of his chest in a half embrace. It was then that his baby gave him those beautiful doe-eyes, almost pleading to be kissed, staring at his face and then his lips.

"Let me kiss you?" James asked, at his limit.

The response came in the form of his baby closing his eyes, a look of pleasure on his face, with heavy breaths and his head tilted slightly upwards, as if asking for his lips, but at the same time pleading to receive marks on his neck.

James rested his forehead against his, blowing lightly against his baby’s lips, who opened his eyes for just a second, lowering them to where their lips were almost touching. Like a perfect puzzle, their faces drew closer, nose to nose, eyes closed, until they both moved even closer, sharing a kiss.

It felt like navigating through the cosmos, warmed by the heat of a star. James savoured the soft, wet lips that his beloved student subjected to gentle bites when controlling himself, their softness making him melt completely. The warm breath against his was as delicate as the body he held so close, as if he were kissing an angel. Their mouths moved together in a slow, perfect rhythm, enjoying each other, feeling the union of their bodies.

Before they ran out of breath, they slowly pulled away with the same delicacy they had started with, exchanging a few soft pecks before stopping completely, their foreheads touching. It was almost as if it were their first kiss, subtle and unhurried, a new sensation.

"Hey! You two!"

Both of them jumped at the sound of a loud voice calling them and turned towards it simultaneously, seeing a man in a suit approaching. He was one of the park security guards, clearly displeased with the two visitors showing too much affection in a secluded spot. James was already about to apologise and offer a million explanations when his beloved student spoke in an almost rude tone:

"Is there a problem, sir?!"

He grabbed James’s hand, raising both of their arms so the security guard could see. The two VIP wristbands slipped slightly down their arms, more so on James's arm, which wasn't wearing long sleeves, than on his baby’s, who gave the man a sharp, fierce look that clearly expressed his displeasure at the interruption.

In an instant, the security guard turned his back and walked away, retracing his steps as if nothing had happened.

James admired the audacity on his beloved student’s face, who clearly had no problem using his money to his advantage. He didn’t admire people full of pride, but he had never seen anyone be so snobbish and hot at the same time, deserving yet another kiss from him, one of pure devotion. Unintentionally, James felt on top of the world, with his beloved student ruling over Neverland.

"Shall we head back inside, my little king?"

"Mm-hmm..." he agreed, his cheeks flushed. "Where do you come up with these pet names?"

"Nowhere," James replied with a silly grin.

After a good while of lunch, it was time to return to the adrenaline rush, with various thrilling rides waiting for them. As always, James let his little king lead the way to the attractions he wanted to go to, and he was more than happy to follow.

It had been a long time since he had experienced the sensation of free fall like on the Drop Tower, or had been scared like the ones on the Ghost Train, and he certainly didn’t remember the last time he had been on a carousel. But even the simplest rides were so much fun in good company.

The excited screams of his beloved student on the Drop Tower, the way he remained brave and firm, even gripping James’s hand tightly on the Ghost Train, and the laughter and sparkle in his eyes on the carousel, entertained by every golden detail of the structure. James couldn’t resist getting off his own horse to go over to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

In the midst of the bright lights of the carousel, with the soft background music, his baby took the initiative to lean down slightly and give a slow, emotional kiss, one that almost made James’s heart jump out of his chest. He was too beautiful, surrounded by gold and silver like royalty, and the nickname “little king” suited him perfectly. But as soon as James got closer, the beautiful ornaments of the structure lost focus in his beloved student’s eyes, who only had eyes for James as they spun on the carousel.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

After that, in the middle of the afternoon, the two headed to the Log Flume to cool off a bit from the heat, just in time to dry off before nightfall. As with every attraction, they used the fast pass and skipped the line, getting into one of the log boats alone, James behind, holding his beloved student’s waist tightly.

The position amplified that good feeling of having the whole world in his hands, with him perfectly nestled between James's legs, but it added an extra thrill because his baby had found a somewhat angled position that made him feel even more excited. Before the ride even started moving, James could already feel the adrenaline pumping through his blood.

The wooden boat followed the tracks through the water at a slow pace, just fast enough for James to enjoy the position, hugging his waist, feeling their bodies perfectly aligned with his baby’s back pressed against his chest, leaving a kiss on his neck. His beloved shivered all over.

As always, without having spoken to him previously about boundaries, James worried he might be being too invasive, until he saw his beloved student tilt his head to the right, exposing his neck as if asking for more. Inside one of the caves of the boat ride, James placed several kisses there, hearing low moans of satisfaction echo in the space. James slipped his hand under his jumper, discovering his baby was wearing a tank top underneath.

"Ahn… the… drop," he said, mid-moaning.

"Mm-hmm, just a little longer…"

James took advantage of the position for a moment longer until he saw the climb and heard the loud gears that would lead them to the drop. He grabbed the handles on the sides of the boat, bracing his body on his baby’s for his safety, leaning him forward slightly as the drop approached.

The adrenaline consumed him in an instant.

James’s body pressed even closer to his baby’s as gravity took over.

He swallowed a scream when the cold rush in his stomach hit.

The cold water splashed both of them.

In a second, the boat was making its way back to the station, and both of them could barely process the drop and the adrenaline. His beloved student was laughing in disbelief, turning slightly to look at him.

He was soaked.

They carefully got out of the ride, James offering his hand so he  wouldn’t slip, looking at him to assess the damage. While James had barely gotten wet, his beloved student was drenched from head to toe, his clothes, even his shoes, soaked, staring at himself with his mouth open.

"I knew it would get me wet, but not this much!" he said, still smiling.

"Wow! It’s because you were in front!"

"My god, I think even my underwear is wet!"

‘ Oh, I would love to check ,’ James thought. While the sight of his beloved student soaking wet was exciting, it was also concerning, as his jumper was heavy and wouldn’t dry quickly given how soaked it was. He knew his insecurity about the scars on his arms, and even though he was wearing a tank top, he wouldn’t take it off unless he had something to cover them.

"I think it’s better if you take off that jumper, it won’t dry," James suggested, untying his flannel from his waist, which was still dry. "Let’s go to the bathroom, and you can wear this one."

"Oh! Alright…" He said, eyeing the shirt with a bit of longing.

On the way to the nearest bathroom, James tried to mentally prepare himself for having his baby wearing his flannel for the rest of the walk. But, as always, no matter how much he prepared, he was still caught off guard by just how sexy he was.

It wasn’t completely empty when they arrived—there was a man at the urinal who left shortly after, without washing his hands. They both made faces of disgust as he passed by, before approaching the sink, where his beloved student leaned against it, looking attentive and cautious. His hands resting on the marble, never looking into the mirror, and the secret request on his lips, watching James closely.

He was asking to be hunted.

“Do you need help changing, baby?” James asked, not hiding his wicked grin.

Receiving a positive nod, he got unnecessarily close to pull the jumper off his head, the one that had been driving him crazy all day. Too much clothing for such a slender body, like a gift wrapped specifically for James, who was dying to peek inside the wrapping paper. Too much austerity for someone so sweet. Too much coldness for skin so warm. Too much purity for those eyes that were silently begging to be undressed.

And underneath him, a surprise as wonderful as any he had ever received.

His beloved student was wearing a white tank top, which didn’t escape getting soaked with attraction, erotically sticking to his body, completely see-through.

James was in heaven and back with a much more sensual view than if he wasn’t wearing anything, with every tiny freckle on his torso marked by the white fabric, and those rosy, erect nipples, outlined and wet, visible through the transparent tank top. Noticing the attention on his chest, his beloved showed modesty by crossing his arms in front of them, driving James wild, his cock throbbing in his trousers. So fucking girly , he thought, excited.

He gently took his baby’s hands, pulling them away, finding no resistance as he placed them back on the sink, fingers interlaced, once again giving him the view of those inviting, rosy spots.

His mouth descended to them, sucking on the right one without any hesitation, making it even wetter under the white tank top. His beloved student let out a soft moan, extremely sensitive to the mouth directly on his skin, but he didn’t show discomfort. Hearing that pleasant sound, James teased the sensitive spot, biting lightly to provoke him with more intensity, before giving the same treatment to the left side.

“Ahn… coach, we’re gonna…” he moaned. “Get caught.”

James felt his already heated body burn even more.

“Oh, call me that again, baby,” he asked.

“Coach, please…”

He stopped biting the sensitive spots on his beloved’s chest, using his hands to tease him instead, after all, he wanted to fill his mouth with something else. The two became entangled in a hot kiss, with none of the calm and patience of their first, letting their mouths consume each other completely in a need greater than that of breathing.

If the first kiss had been good, this one had been divine, filled with heavy breaths and moans against each other’s lips, their bodies pressed together, hot on their own but chilled by the water of the attraction they had just left. James remembered what his goal had been when he entered that bathroom and was about to gently break the kiss.

Until he discovered that his kitten could bite.

His lower lip was captured by his teeth, lightly, but enough to make James moan from the delicious burn that heated his entire body even more. And the hot breath against his when the kiss broke was brief, as his baby quickly captured his lower lip again, sucking it eagerly and biting it once more, tormenting him and driving James crazy as his entire body burned with desire.

For a second, completely unintentional, James remembered the kiss from Sirius.

When he released his hands, only to feel his hair being grabbed by his beloved student, James decided he didn’t need to go slow anymore, quickly slipping his hand inside the soaked tank top, gripping his waist tightly and raising one hand to scratch his back. His baby moaned loudly, opening his mouth just enough for James to give him a breath-stealing kiss.

He finally tasted the red, soft tongue, perfect for rubbing against his own, good for biting, when James tried to pull away slightly, but his baby tried to follow, thirsty for more. Their breaths together were ragged, growing hotter, and James felt his entire body shiver with arousal from just one kiss, full of direct touch on skin. He showed no mercy, squeezing his beloved student’s waist as if he could leave the imprint of his hands on his skin, taking out his frustration from having his hair involuntarily pulled.

Almost too late, James realised his leg was almost fitting between his baby’s, ready to jerk him off, but with a whole date ahead of them, he needed to calm down. He broke the kiss, pulling his hands out of the tank top to intertwine his fingers in his hair, tugging lightly.

“Baby, if we keep going like this, I’m going to fuck you hard right here in this bathroom,” James said, leaving a kiss on his neck.

“No… let’s stop. I want to take it slow…” he begged. “It’s been years since I’ve done… this.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I’m not going to do that,” James reassured him with a smile. “Nothing you don’t want, little king.”

James began placing gentle kisses all over his face, full of adoration for him, so that he could still maintain contact while slowing the pace between them. It was difficult after everything they had experienced in those few seconds, their clothes still damp and pressed together. He had to use the cold to try to calm himself down.

“Next time we come, you can fuck me before the park opens to the public…” His beloved student suggested shyly. “I would like to watch the sunset on the Ferris wheel, and maybe after, we can enjoy the car…”

‘ Innocent, is it, James? Look at what this man is doing to me in a theme park bathroom! ’ he thought, growing more and more excited.

He cupped his baby’s face lovingly, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Do you want to dirty your brother’s car?”

James saw his beloved’s eyes widen, then immediately unfocus in a near-desperate desire, his breath ragged. He bit his own lip, his face growing even redder from letting that reaction slip out, giving away all his guilt and arousal. More than that, there was a certain relief deep in his gaze, as if he had been thirsting for something for years and had finally found a little comfort in that feeling, even if it would soon be replaced by remorse.

‘I can’t believe this ,’ James thought with dark pleasure. ‘ He gets even more aroused when I mention his older brother .’

“I-I need to go to the bathroom,” his baby said, needy.

Nodding, he stepped aside, allowing him to enter a cubicle and close the door. Alone, James took a deep breath, feeling his body grow more and more agitated. He took the opportunity to wash his face and dampen the back of his neck, trying to clear his head of thoughts about what had just happened. He needed to lose himself in any thought that wasn’t the image of those pink nipples on the wet shirt, the bites during the kiss, or how his baby was so weak to the arousal of being reminded of his brother.

He breathed deeply several times, blocking out the various scenarios that popped into his head — teasing his beloved student in bed, talking about his brother, receiving those desperate reactions, making him weaker with his own desire. James could feel the intensity of the arousal that still troubled him, how the memories of what he’d done with his brother must have been vivid, constantly haunting his body, and he knew his baby’s resistance to release it.

But in the face of the desire in his eyes, James would reveal his kink; after all, it would set him free.

“Do you want me to pass my shirt over the door?” he asked more calmly, moving closer to the cubicle where his beloved was hiding.

“Y-Yes, thank you.”

James folded the wet jumper in a way that made it easy to carry, and a few minutes later, his baby emerged, wearing the oversized red flannel shirt, rolling up the sleeves to wash his hands in the sink, never showing the scar. James had barely managed to calm his erection and already felt it throbbing again. After all, his beloved student was irresistible, whether wearing his clothes, surrendering to his kisses, or even eating a salad; it didn’t matter what he did, James’s mind spun around him.

After watching him dry his hands, James approached, cupping his cheeks gently and leaving a kiss by his left eye. At no point did his beloved student refuse his touch, always seeming to ask for more, but in that moment, there was hesitation and guilt on his face. They held hands and left the bathroom, James planning ways to make him feel comfortable and at peace with himself.

“Shall we head to the Ferris wheel now?” he asked, trying to sound like nothing had happened.

“Yes, now is a good time.”

The Ferris wheel at ‘Neverend Adventure Park’ was certainly massive, one of the most technological and complete in the world, almost a ride in itself, taking more than half an hour to complete a full rotation. It stood in the heart of the park, visible from almost anywhere — an incredibly impressive monument. Yet, as they got closer, it seemed even larger and more imposing. James craned his neck, eager to get inside one of the large cabins with his baby, to watch the orange sunset, enjoying a private moment together for a good conversation.

“I’m sorry… that was weird.”

James was caught off guard by the apology.

“Why, love? What was weird?”

“The way I reacted… when you mentioned…”

He didn’t finish, feeling extremely embarrassed and guilty.

“About your brother? Don’t feel that way, love,” James comforted him. “I understand.”

“You understand?”

They paused their conversation, taking the express queue to soon enter one of the large cabins of the Ferris wheel. It was like a luxurious room, compact but cool with air conditioning, slowly rising towards the sky. The two sat side by side, James taking his baby's hand, knowing he would soon call him his boyfriend, and had just over half an hour to do so.

“It’s desire, there’s nothing that can be done,” he resumed. “You still think about your brother, still feel attraction for him.”

His gaze dropped in guilt, but James had no intention of condemning him with that conversation; on the contrary, he wanted to free him. Gently, he lifted his face, holding his chin, as close as possible, as delicately as if his lover might break.

“And if there’s no way to stop it, if trying to control yourself hasn’t worked at all, then maybe you should accept it.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and James couldn’t help but find it adorable.

“You want me to go after my brother?”

“No, I’m not suggesting you go after him,” James clarified. “But you can still ease that feeling, even without being with him.”

“How?” he asked, becoming more intrigued.

“Tell me what you wanted to do with him, let me guide you through that fantasy, let me tease you with it.”

James knew he was being bold, so even though during the date he had understood that his beloved student wasn’t innocent at all, he expected some rejection, which didn’t come. He was thinking about the words, reflecting carefully, as if he were slowly abandoning his restraints, trying to trust James’s judgment.

“But wouldn’t that be bad for you? To hear what I wanted to do with another man?”

“I don’t feel that way… in fact, I’m dying to know everything,” James breathed deeply, rubbing his hair sheepishly. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you: I think incest is really hot.”

“Do you?” he said, surprised.

“Yeah… I think it is. Even though I don’t feel that way about any family member, I like the idea of incest, and it’s something I research often when I want to get off,” he admitted with an awkward smile. “Yeah… maybe I’m not a good person, or the one who’ll show you a pure form of love, but I promise I’ll give you nothing but pure love.”

His baby nodded, looking sceptical, as if he couldn’t fully believe it, but at the same time, wanting to go along with it.

“Maybe I don’t need that pure form of love. I ran away from my feelings for my older brother for years, hurt myself for years...” he said, touching the scar on his arm. “Maybe I should accept it.”

“You can trust me to release those desires, sweet thing,” James reassured him. “You told me it’s been six years since you last saw your brother, and that even after everything, the desire has never gone away, and maybe it never will.”

“Yeah, it won’t go away… ever.”

“But I’ll help you with it, I’ll feel good, and you’ll feel good too, and no one else needs to be involved. We don’t need to feel guilty for what we do together, accepting each other. Together.”

However, the relief that had begun to form on his lover’s face was soon filled with something darker, something he hadn’t told James. Trying to offer as much support as possible, he continued stroking his beloved student’s face, tucking his black curls behind his ear, giving him as much comfort as he could.

“My older brother wasn’t the only relative I’ve loved,” he revealed. “Nor the only forbidden desire I had.”

At that, James’s heart skipped a beat, accelerating in his chest.

It was obvious, after all; when he’d teased his lover about doing something in the borrowed car from the brother, it wasn’t about the biological brother who had been missing for six years, but about Barty, the adopted brother still in his life.

James couldn’t help but think how hot that was.

“It wasn’t just my biological brother,” his beloved student said, with guilt and shame. “I’ve been in love with my adopted brother and my cousin.”

‘ God, this is the man of my dreams ,’ James thought to himself, quickly remembering not to get carried away. All of this wasn’t one of his fantasies, but the life of someone who had suffered greatly because of their desires, to the point of self-harming because of them.

“And I also feel something for my boss… See? I’m really dirty,” his baby said sadly. “My biological brother is gone, but my adopted brother and my cousin are still around. And my boss… what to say about that? That wouldn’t be good, would it, if we were together?”

“Why not?” James asked honestly. “Was there an issue between you and them?”

“No, I learned my lesson with my brother, I never let it disturb my relationship with my new family,” he explained. “But knowing that I’m around someone I once wanted, wouldn’t that make you suspicious of me?”

“But you don’t want them anymore, do you?”

“Well, my brother and my cousin are in healthy relationships, and they’re not available, my boss… I don’t know” he commented, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “You seem really calm about all this… would you let me be with them? And with you at the same time?”

“I don’t see the problem…”

“Really?” His tone was hopeful; he really wanted that to be true.

“Well, I’m an only child, but I wasn’t spoiled. I like to share,” James said with a mischievous smile. “But that is, if you let me be with my two best friends.”

“The ones who are like family to you?”

“Yeah, I would die for the chance to fuck them,” he said honestly.

“Oh, coach, you’re dirty too…”

“Extremely corrupted, baby… so, shall we stop denying the desire and start embracing it?” James challenged, grabbing his chin. “Even if it’s just the two of us, you telling me your fantasies about your relatives and your boss and me talking about my friends, let’s do it together and relieve a little of this lust.”

It was an irresistible proposition, a chance for both of them to release those thoughts together, without guilt, without fear. James just prayed that the uncertain expression on his baby’s face would lean toward the positive. They had been on the same page the entire date, completely in tune, making so much progress in such a beautiful and natural way. It was obvious they were a perfect match. James was with open arms for his baby, just waiting for an opportunity for both of them to have what they had always dreamed of.

A vibration from his phone distracted them briefly, and James gazed at the view outside the cabin, giving him the privacy he needed. They weren’t very high yet; it was still possible to see the people beneath them with some clarity, to distinguish their faces. At least for James, whose glasses prescription was perfectly adjusted. He watched some of the amusement park rides, a few of the queues, and even the other cabins, realising he couldn’t see much of them.

“You’re too good for me, James,” his baby said, drawing his attention back.

At no point in his life would James ever grow tired of looking at his beloved student’s beauty. Bathed in the reddish light of the late afternoon, James’s favourite colour, he looked like a divine figure, his light gray eyes gazing at him with ease. A weight had lifted from his shoulders, and although desire still gripped his fists, he let himself lick his lips and relax in the pleasure his mind provided him.

The air conditioning remained strong, but suddenly, it felt too warm inside the cabin.

“No, we’re made for each other,” James refuted with a smile. “You’re the man of my dreams.”

“And you’re my salvation,” he said, with intent. “Ask me that question again.”

James smiled; he didn’t need clarification on what question that was.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I’m yours.”

James’s happiness was so great that he wanted to scream, jump, and break the glass in the cabin to release fireworks into the sky, but he breathed deeply, containing himself one last time, moving closer to his baby  to give him a kiss. It was a near-pure peck compared to how both of them were burning and the thoughts that surrounded their minds in that moment, but it was enough to feel the softness of his lips and mark the beginning of their relationship. Gently, James embraced him protectively, holding him against his chest, making him feel his pounding heart.

“I promise to be good to you.”

“And I promise to give my best,” his boyfriend said. “But, despite everything, I have no experience in relationships and all that…”

“Then let me be your coach,” James suggested with a mischievous tone, lowering himself to whisper in his ear. “Let me be your teacher and show you all the love, all the pleasure, and all the sex you could ever want.”

Your beloved student shuddered, melting into your arms like a needy animal. James gently guided his face so that their eyes locked. There was no hesitation in him, no restriction or sign of displeasure at James suggesting himself as a teacher. His silver eyes burned red from the afternoon sun, just like his desire to consume and be consumed, to taste, to test the skin, to let everything that had built up over years of restraint and guilt burn away. His beloved student wanted something with all his strength, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth out of shame or fear. Yet, James would make him spill them in the privacy of that public ferris wheel cabin, at that very moment.

"Tell me, baby… I can see in your eyes that there’s something on your mind."

After a moment of hesitation, fiddling with his own fingers, he asked:

"Can I sit on your lap while we talk?"

"Please," The words leapt from James’s mouth, feeling as if he were about to touch the sky, even though the ferris wheel hadn’t even reached the halfway point yet. "But I can’t promise that talking is the only thing we’ll do… But I promise we're gonna talk better before."

"Shouldn’t we wait until the car?" He asked, embarrassed, sounding as if there were some modesty in the suggestion. "The other cabins might see us..."

"Only if we look suspicious…" James tried to subtly convince him. "I don’t feel like waiting, and besides, we have half an hour to have some fun. Will you be a good boy for me and stay quiet?"

"Yes… teacher."

That was James’s wildest dream coming true, sending shivers down his entire body and making his cock throb. He felt his expression change, revealing all that desire to consume his beloved student, to adore him and degrade him at the same time. Those doe-eyed needy looks were driving James’s mind wild, immersing him in pleasure to the point of dizziness, and the anticipation only made him want to dive deeper into it.

Delicately, his baby rose, positioning himself in front of James, unintentionally revealing the small bulge in his loose trousers. Before he sat down, knowing he was wearing a belt, James raised his hands to the buckle, seeing him tense up slightly. After so long depriving himself of pleasure, he imagined the new way of touching and feeling could be difficult for his baby, especially someone like him who feared losing control, so James decided to be more subtle, almost stepping into the teacher role he had suggested, as his beloved student seemed eager to test it.

"Love, I’m going to pull your clothes down a little so I can touch you, alright? You sit on my lap, and I’ll jerk both of us off together, just a little bit of relief," he offered gently. "I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want. Sounds good?"

"Yes, teacher," he replied obediently.

‘ My god, he’s going to kill me before the ferris wheel finishes its round ,’ James thought, restraining the urge to grip his dripping erection. Instead, he watched his beloved student lift James’s red flannel shirt slightly, revealing the waistband of his trousers and his belly button, giving way for the belt buckle to be undone and the trousers opened. He was wearing simple black boxer briefs, and James’s hands went in to pull his erection out. His baby was dripping with excitement. It wasn’t exactly the intention, but he couldn’t resist licking the tip to taste the saltiness in his mouth before helping him settle on his lap.

Any trace of worry on his beloved student’s face vanished when he settled in, as if that moment meant the world to him. James enveloped him in a calm, but heated kiss, moving his tongue with his while pulling his own erection out of his trousers to align with his. He was good at multitasking, so as he began to jerk off lightly, he bit and sucked his boyfriend's lip in the same way he had.

His little cat’s satisfied mewls started filling the cabin.

"Can I kiss your neck?" James asked as he broke the kiss.

"Yes…" He gasped in agreement. "You don’t need to ask, just do whatever you want with me."

"That’s dangerous, baby," James teased, just for a moment. "Okay, but if I do something you don’t like, you tell me ‘red’, can you do that?"

"Like in BDSM?"

‘ Oh, he knows some stuff ,’ James thought happily, but it wasn’t the time to figure out how much he knew or what his interests were. His goal was to relieve some of that heat and take advantage of the unique opportunity to do indecent things high up in the sky. He’d leave that conversation for the next time, perhaps talking about his interest in BDSM in the car. At that moment, James just wanted to make him come when they reached the highest point, and he knew it wouldn’t be too difficult considering how sensitive he was and how both of them were craving that peak.

He started moving, masturbating his erection, and soon felt his beloved student timidly bring his hands together, copying the motion cautiously, as if he were learning. His baby had closed his eyes, feeling the length of James's grip, rubbing it against the most sensitive spots as though they had done this a thousand times before. He moaned softly through his split lips, a sight that made James pulse, holding the perfect image of his beloved student in pleasure, while his relief was rubbed out of his body in his warm hand, which couldn't fully grasp the erection.

Together, the difference in size between their members became even more apparent, and once his baby lowered his gaze to the space between them, he gasped, moving his hips against James's, even more aroused. The rapid friction was divine, sending waves of heat through James's body, each moment bringing him closer to orgasm as he sensed his beloved student's pleasure.

"Do you enjoy the view? The size difference?" James teased, whispering against his beloved student's ear.

"Yes! Yes..." came the reply, as he lost control.

James could feel that he was very close, but they still weren’t high enough, so he stopped his movements with his hands and easily pinned his baby’s wrists behind his back, allowing only the friction between their hips to provide him with any direct relief. He began to kiss his neck as he had dreamed of doing, sending shivers all over his body, drawing those wonderful sounds from him, like a master playing his favourite instrument. James kissed his baby’s jaw with adoration, slipping his free hand under his shirt as he lowered his mouth to his beloved student’s throat, licking, scraping his teeth, whispering against the sensitive skin, making him writhe more, rubbing against him even more intensely.

“I’m going to leave a mark here,” James said, reaching near his baby’s earlobe.

“Green,” he responded promptly, extremely obedient, driving James mad.

‘ He definitely knows some stuff ,’ James thought more than happily.

“My beloved student learns quickly, the teacher only had to say it once,” he teased. “Now, will you be good and stop rubbing yourself, letting the teacher guide you, or will you keep going so I can punish you?”

Surprisingly, he didn’t stop; only slowed down slightly, not wanting to come just yet, and looked up at James with pleading eyes. He wanted to be punished.

With a grin full of lust, James slid both hands down the back of his beloved student’s trousers, grabbing his arse firmly. It was more than enough to make him stop, but James squeezed even harder, wanting to hurt him, leaving the marks of his hand. His baby moaned loudly, arched his back, and writhed slightly, but stopped moving. James desperately wanted to give him a few good slaps, but he settled for what he had in that moment.

"Such a naughty thing… not listening to the teacher..."

"Sorry, Mr. Potter."

‘ Oh shit, he really dives deep into the role he plays ,’ James thought, incredibly pleased to see his boyfriend giving himself so completely. It made him wonder what they could do after establishing a proper dynamic — with real negotiation, not just a quick tease. He rewarded him, using one hand to masturbate both of them together, taking his baby’s lips in a frantic kiss. It was as if, with each passing minute, he became more and more thirsty for his mouth, for the sweet and sharp tongue inside, for seeing how red those lips could get with more bites and sucking. His beloved student’s eyes were hazy with pleasure, no longer focusing much on the approaching climax. Seeing him lost like this only heightened the waves of heat in James's body, feeling himself even closer to orgasm.

They were also near heaven, outside the cabin, high enough to see the entire park, but all they could do was look at each other, lips on lips, hands on warm skin, and the wetness between them from their dripping erections.

The moans of his beloved student grew louder and more intense, almost like a girl’s, which made James's heart race even faster. Even with his baby in his lap, his thoughts drifted to all the things he imagined doing to him, things that felt so possible and real when he visualised them masturbating in a Ferris wheel cabin. High in the sky, with other people who could very well see his little king in his lap, wondering what they were doing, James felt on top of the world. He knew that this man would be his death.

His beloved student came in his hand, moaning loudly, which only drove James closer to the edge, making him follow soon after. He lost himself, stars flashing at the corner of his vision as he felt the much-needed relief, his entire body burning, pulling his baby’s body even tighter. Melting together, he finally felt complete, whispering sweet words against his neck, watching the love bite he had left, marking him as HIS. His boyfriend was so warm, so relaxed in his lap, eyes nearly closed when James pulled his face up to kiss him.

It was almost too late when he remembered his hand was smeared with both of their release, and for a moment, he almost rubbed it on his beloved student's face. But to his surprise, his baby grabbed his wrist.

James didn’t have time to consider what he might do when his reddened tongue poked out of his mouth, licking his palm carefully, like an obedient animal. Like a cat. Any protest was caught in James’s throat as he watched his beloved student—who until then had been so inexperienced—clean all the cum from his hand, determinedly, with his eyes full of pleasure as he did. 

It was like an honour for him. 

For James, it was paradise.

As soon as his hand was clean, he kissed him as a thank you, tasting both of their cum on his tongue, so dirty and so erotic that it made James unable to calm down completely. His baby was growing more and more relaxed in his lap, having held himself back so well to keep up with James, and he deserved all the praise for it.

"Good boy, my obedient cat, you’re too good."

"Uhm..." came the murmured agreement, appreciating the foggy look in his eyes.

With gentleness, James adjusted their clothes and then pulled him as close as he could. Their hearts beat together as they stayed in the embrace, James almost rocking him as he caressed the base of his baby’s spine, moving his legs in a slow rhythm, filling him with care. He didn’t care about the glamorous view from the top of the Ferris wheel anymore; having his beloved student in his arms, giving him soft kisses and resting his head on his shoulder, was everything.

"I feel like I’m in heaven," he said in a soft tone, playing with the collar of James’s t-shirt. "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this peace… you’re amazing."

"YOU are amazing," James replied with affection.

The adoration was mutual, and the desire to stay in that position forever was just as strong, but the Ferris wheel kept moving, and their cabin was still a fair distance from the ground. It was his baby who broke the embrace, and after a shy peck on the lips, he sat back down beside James, interlacing their fingers.

"So… do you still want to see me next weekend?" James asked with a sideways grin.

"Definitely," his boyfriend returned the smile. "Are you going to plan everything?"

"Yes, and will you trust me?"

"Yes," he confirmed, with a certainty that hadn’t been in him when they entered the cabin.

"Good boy," James praised again, knowing it sent a shiver through his beloved student.

Slowly, the sky was replaced by the concrete ground, but a piece of paradise still remained firmly in James's chest, no matter that the general judgment would condemn their desires to hell. But just like from the top of the Ferris wheel, James couldn't see the face of those who judged, and so he didn't care about them. That peace he felt, being able to say that this wonderful man was his boyfriend, receiving his affectionate gaze, was enough to silence any hesitation.

His beloved student was the first to stand when they were nearing the ground, letting go of James’s hand and moving towards the door before it even opened. The Ferris wheel wouldn’t exactly stop, so they exited carefully. Just as he had opened the car door for James when they met in the morning, like a gentleman, his baby helped him out of the cabin, holding his hand.

He surprised him with a bouquet of roses as soon as James stepped out of the Ferris wheel.

Tears filled James's eyes.

A round of applause followed the moment when the people in line for the ride noticed the new couple. There was no way not to see the large, elaborate bouquet of red roses prepared for James, who took it in his arms with the delicacy of someone holding a child, still deeply moved and trying not to cry.

"For you," his beloved student offered, looking embarrassed by the audience, leading James to a more private spot.

"I…," James sniffled, "I’ve never received flowers before… they’re beautiful! Thank you! Thank you so much, love!"

On solid ground, they embraced, fitting together perfectly, even with the large bouquet between them.

James was on cloud nine, feeling the greatest euphoria of his entire life. After all, everything he felt was reciprocated, and just like him, his beloved student was also trying to win him over. His small gestures, his attentive gaze, how he had slowly given himself over and trusted, even sharing his darkest and most painful secrets—he had honestly placed himself before James and did his best to win him, achieving a perfect result. His boyfriend had already had his heart long before, through all his actions, being that imperfectly wonderful person who seemed to have been made just for James, who could finally call him his.

That had undoubtedly been the best date of his life. After all, James hadn’t just given all his love, but had received the same level of effort from his beloved student, who had many things to learn from him but also had much to teach. James wanted to study him, love him, and never let go of that adorable, mysterious person.

He now had the responsibility to make their next date just as wonderful, if not better, providing a moment for them to share all their desires and fears. To negotiate if his boyfriend felt interested in BDSM, like he showed in that ride. James wanted to know even more.

Chapter Text

Late-autumm, 2011

One afternoon, Regulus declared that complex maths calculations should be a crime. 

The countless stacked equations stole his free time and peace of mind during his study sessions. They ought to be banned, considering they would be of no use to his daily life. Even so, his maths test was approaching, and Regulus needed to reinforce the material if he wanted to get a good grade.

He was tired, his eyes nearly closing, and it made Regulus wonder if he should start drinking coffee to stay awake — even if he disliked its bitter, burnt taste.

Alone at his desk in his bedroom, he was surrounded by books, notebooks, and school supplies, tapping his pen on the paper, hunched over formulas, problems, questions, and numbers. A LOT of numbers.

Until his notebook suddenly closed on its own.

He jumped, almost falling off his chair, before noticing Sirius entering the room like a hurricane.

Without saying a word, Sirius fiddled with Regulus's supplies, opened his wardrobe doors, and rummaged through his belongings. He knocked a water bottle off the bedside table and messed up his bed before finally sitting down. Sirius often did this when he wanted attention or just felt like annoying his younger brother. Regulus just ignored him, trying to focus on the numbers.

"3 times X..."

"What are you doing, mon coeur?" Sirius asked, even though it was obvious.

"Studying..." He replied without lifting his eyes from the book. "Maths test on Monday."

"Oh, come on! You've got the whole weekend! Leave it for later! Our parents aren't home! Let's do something fun!"

"I can't, I need to study..."

"Oh, come on! Don't be so boring!"

Regulus let out a deep sigh, knowing his study session was ruined. After all, it was impossible to resist Sirius's excited smile as he messed up the room, looking at him like an eager puppy waiting to play.

"Sometimes I wonder which of us is really the younger brother... What do you want to do?"

"Let's play tag!"

He frowned, turning to Sirius, wondering if he had really heard that. His older brother was already thirteen, and Regulus hadn't expected him to still want to play games like tag. Even so, there was no reason to deny him that.

But while he was overthinking, Sirius had already grabbed his maths book, teasing him to chase after him. Regulus smiled but quickly pretended to be annoyed.

"Siri! Give it back!"

"Come and get it!"

Sirius ran around the room, holding the book high so his shorter brother couldn't reach it when he got close. It was challenging. Regulus chased him, trying to corner him in every possible way, but Sirius was agile despite the limited space in Regulus's room. He laughed like a child as his younger brother protested and cursed in French, relentlessly trying to get the book back. But Regulus knew that if he were persistent enough, his brother would eventually tire out, giving him the perfect moment to tackle him. That happened when Sirius was near the bed, and Regulus used all his weight to make him fall onto the mattress.

In his older brother's arms, with sweet laughter filling the room, Regulus forgot about the game and the book as their eyes met.

He loved looking at Sirius up close, able to extend his hands and touch his entire face, feeling every part, engraving him more and more into his heart, for all eternity. The shape of his eye, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his lip, the skin warming under his touch, and all the weight disappearing from Sirius’s shoulders. He was sure that his devotion was transmitted to his older brother, who returned the feeling.

Sirius, in an instant, shifted their positions, Regulus’s back against the mattress and him on top, with a victorious smile. With his weight, there was almost no way to move, but Sirius made sure he wouldn't escape, holding his wrists near his head, the back of his hand on the mattress. In that position, he leaned in to give Regulus a kiss, intense and breath-taking.

It was the younger brother’s moment to dissolve in his touch.

In those last times, he didn’t know what was happening, but there was something far more intense in Sirius’s touch and kisses, something that made his whole body warm, especially the lower part of his stomach. When he felt the tongue of his brother, so sweet against his, his blood boiled, and he would then remember that the same blood ran in Sirius’s veins, making his body jump.

He kissed him with the same adoration, lips on lips with care, but Regulus felt his heart begging for more, for something to calm his burning body. Perhaps it wasn’t Sirius’s kisses that had changed in those last days, but Regulus himself, whose body was finally aligning with his thoughts and desires.

He wanted his older brother to touch him more, Regulus wanted to go back to the house where they spent the last summer, to the lake where he could hug Sirius’s bare torso, maybe that would calm his body and his new need. Regulus might even want to shove his hands under Sirius’s shirt, but he would make sure to stop the kiss and take them out of there. That’s why, recently, he had been keeping him restrained while they kissed and undeniably going slower.

It was torture, he kissed too calmly, too sweetly, careful lips and gestures of affection, while Regulus wanted more, wanted everything all at once, his body was begging for it. More touch, more skin, he might even want to be bitten by his brother, he wanted it all. And unable to express this with words, with his warm mouth on his, or with his body, trapped under Sirius, he struggled to think of an escape.

He made an attempt by lifting his hips, trying to brush against his older brother’s. It was effective.

Sirius groaned low during the kiss, letting go of one hand to grab his waist, keeping his hip in place, high. Before Regulus could take advantage of the freedom to touch him inside his T-shirt, he felt something hard brush against his penis, immediately widening his eyes. Sirius was enjoying their kiss too much.

Their mouths continued to move intensely, Regulus with his chest bubbling with a lascivious joy at what he had caused in his older brother. He didn’t know what to do to ignite him even more, but Sirius knew, rubbing himself against Regulus’s groin. Their kiss became even better with the low moans vibrating on their lips, which moved automatically with the friction of their bodies. Pleasure started to build in a small but effective flame, enough to leave Regulus numb, as if he had finally found the relief he had been longing for. But as soon as Sirius realised what they were doing, he pulled away, kneeling on the bed above his younger brother, releasing his hip from the mattress.

Regulus could clearly see his erection pressing against his pants.

Sirius’s body had never reacted like this when they kissed.

At least, his brother had never let him notice when he had an erection, let alone try to relieve it. To be rubbing against Regulus like that, he must have been desperate, and with that, Regulus could only conclude one reason why Sirius had rushed into his room, so eager for attention. He sat up a little from the bed and tried to touch his older brother with one hand, but Sirius immediately pulled away from his touch, standing up and moving further away.

“Let me touch you, Siri,” Regulus pleaded, sitting cross-legged.

“No, Reggie,” Sirius denied.

He was blushing deeply and refused to look at his younger brother, who, in turn, couldn’t take his eyes off Sirius’s erection, feeling his mouth water. It was very clear what he wanted to do, but at the same time, it was a complete mystery. Regulus suspected that Sirius knew how sex really worked, beyond the technical terms their mother had mentioned, for the pleasure between two men that she had called an abomination, and he would be more than happy to obey in order to give him pleasure. But his older brother insisted on keeping him in the dark, avoiding him, this time with a clear warning in his eyes for Regulus not to chase him. He didn’t want to play tag anymore, didn’t want his younger brother to touch him. Maybe Sirius just wanted to tease him, but Regulus had his own desires.

“Can I at least see? How you do it?” he asked hopefully. “To relieve yourself?”

“Definitely not!”

“Please, Siri! Let me do this! Let me touch you!” He made a move to stand.

“Regulus, no!”

Hearing his older brother call his name ignited another flame in Regulus's chest: one of anger. He threw a pillow at Sirius, feeling his chest fill with frustration, which he expressed to his brother, almost shouting:

“Then why did you come to my room?! If you don’t want me to help you, why did you come here?!”

Sirius stayed silent for a moment, his mouth opening and closing several times, showing that he too had no answer to that. He used the pillow that had been thrown at him to cover his erection, leaving Regulus even hungrier, but still hopeful that his brother would make up his mind and teach him something more than just kissing.

“Let me help you…” he pleaded, his little eyes wet and his lips pouting, just like he used to do when he wanted Sirius to agree to something.

It was clear that his older brother almost gave in, but after shaking his head vigorously, Sirius looked at nothing in horror. He left the room like a bolt of lightning, leaving the door open and Regulus sitting alone on the bed, his warm body slowly cooling down, a scene so familiar it hurt.

“How long is Sirius going to leave me freezing alone?” he wondered, huffing in frustration, lying down on the bed, in no mood to continue studying, with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Regulus hated bitter things.

…

Friday Morning

After his third cup of coffee that morning, Sirius concluded it wasn’t a great idea to spend his free time in the studio’s kitchen, where the full coffee pot was a temptation and having nothing to do only encouraged him to drink the entire thing. His client for that time slot had cancelled at the last minute, leaving Sirius with nothing to do but wait for the next one.

Lacking inspiration for his sketches and wanting to avoid his colleague — who was currently performing an intimate piercing on one of their clients — Sirius had sought refuge in the studio’s tiny kitchen, only to realise it wasn’t wise to linger there for too long.

The bitter taste clung to his mouth, rotting his tongue and teeth, and steamed up in a translucent, flickering smoke that was almost hypnotic. The coffee burned its way down his throat, and the sensation was like holding back tears. A moment later, Sirius realised there was a lump in his throat.

He remembered all the times he drank coffee as a teenager, because his little brother didn’t like the bitter taste and would avoid kissing him. Those desperate attempts Sirius made to push Regulus away, to resist his little brother’s love, eventually led him to start smoking — to make the bitterness linger, to preserve Regulus’s purity and a future where they might be together. A foolish notion, in his opinion, considering everything he’d lived through and how badly their story had ended. Regulus was dead — he had chosen death himself.

Sometimes, Sirius wondered if things might have turned out differently if he had been more resolute. If, from the day their mother caught them kissing, he had kept his promise not to touch his brother, perhaps Regulus would have eventually forgotten that forbidden desire. Perhaps it could have happened during the year Sirius was sent to boarding school, when he was far away from his little brother — when he might have put an end to their lustful, incestuous practices, even if he could never stop loving him. And if, the following year, when Regulus was sent to the same school, Sirius hadn’t gone after him in the dormitories and during every spare moment he could find, perhaps their relationship would have taken the course that’s natural for two brothers.

But perhaps if I had followed through with my plan to run away from home with my brother… no. It would have been far worse , Sirius couldn’t help but think. After all, he remembered the state in which he had left his brother after their first time— his very first time. His brother had trusted him with his virginity, and Sirius had hurt him, overstepped all boundaries, using him as nothing more than an object for his own pleasure. What would become of him, living alone with Sirius? What would he do with Regulus? What torment would his little brother be forced to endure, having only his older brother for company? He would be no better than their parents. He was a beast, a monster, incapable of self-restraint—and for that reason, he would ruin Regulus; the pain and shame would eventually drive him to suicide. Nothing would change, except that Sirius would have even more blood on his hands.

He had deserved to be beaten and kicked out by their mother from 12 Grimmauld Place. The broken arm he got that night wasn’t enough to make up for the pain Regulus must have felt the next day — caused by Sirius’s lack of care during sex, by his inability to know when to stop. Sirius couldn’t help but think that Walburga should have done worse than just push him down the stairs. She should have killed him.

Because Regulus died ashamed of what he had done.

Sirius was culpable in every sense—his brother was dead because of him, while he enjoyed a happy life surrounded by people who loved him, living in a safe home, carefree, having his morning coffee, knowing that one client more or one less wouldn’t make any difference to his bank account. He knew he didn’t deserve any of it; he knew that no amount of suffering would be enough for him, he knew—

His mobile phone began to ring, displaying the name “ Mon Amour .”

The spiral of twisted thoughts stopped tormenting Sirius’s mind, and he took a deep breath, aware that it had almost turned into one of his guilt-ridden episodes. He allowed himself a small smile, grateful—consciously or not—that he always had Remus to save him.

The image of his beloved lit up the phone screen on the counter. Remus was one of the most beautiful people Sirius had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Even in a photo where his smile was slightly awkward—Remus never felt quite at ease in front of a camera—the gentleness in his eyes brought light to everything around him, divine like a being far above all others. His gaze was intense, analytical, the kind that revealed his sharp mind, the sort that left people admiring him in a daze. His face was striking—angular, with a defined jawline and a faint beard—which Remus himself didn’t find attractive, due to the scars on the left side of his face and the others scattered across his body. But Sirius spared no effort in showering him with compliments and demanding that his master show himself a little love.

Remus insisted that people found him intimidating because of his scars and reserved nature, but from Sirius’s experience, the only thing he could think when he saw him for the first time—walking into his tattoo studio, eyes scanning the room with quiet care—was how peaceful his presence felt and how utterly gorgeous he was. 

In that very first session, when Remus took off his shirt and asked Sirius not to be startled by the scars, Sirius had been far too distracted by how good his body looked to find the marks off-putting in any way. 

By some miracle unworthy of someone with Sirius’s past, Remus had liked him. And their connection was immediate—physical, emotional, spiritual. Over the years of their relationship, Sirius had begun to discover himself, and, almost, to forgive.

There was nothing left to be done about Regulus—the mistakes had already been made, the past was sealed, and his bones probably didn’t even exist anymore. Sirius would be punished eternally by the void Regulus’s death had carved into his chest. And though he didn’t think that was enough—that he ought to be locked away from society for the things he had done—he couldn’t bear to disappoint the people he loved. He didn’t believe he was worthy of Remus’s love, but right or wrong, Sirius had given himself over to him. He belonged to his master, to do with as he pleased.

" Bonjour, mon amour ," he greeted, cheerful at the chance to be of use. "Are you all right?"

"He's going to kill me," Remus said on the other end of the line.

A wide smile spread across Sirius’s lips:

“Is pretty boy acting up today?”

“You’ve no idea…” Remus replied, his breath heavy. “I can see his tits.”

Noticing the tone of the conversation and how aroused his Master was, Sirius set his mug aside and found a good spot to lean back, squeezing his cock through his jeans.

“Ah… such a naughty little assistant… He should know that if he’s going to wear a sheer shirt, he ought to wear a bra.” He heard Remus groan on the other end of the line, and that was enough for him to undo his jeans and pull down the zipper, slipping his hand into his underwear. “You ought to punish him for that.”

After all these years with Remus, Sirius was more than familiar with the things that turned his Master on. From colleagues to friends, from friends to lovers, and from lovers to Master and submissive—there were no secrets between them. And with no secrets, and open communication, they were free to say whatever they liked to one another. About their filthiest kinks, about what they wanted in bed, even about their dangerously attractive co-workers.

Remus’s assistant was one of those cases—a mysterious, stunning, submissive man who made his usually composed and well-mannered Master absolutely lose his mind, aching with desire to the very edge. And it had been getting progressively worse with time. What began as a passing comment had grown into a shared fantasy, one Sirius could hardly wait to make real—just as soon as his Master allowed it.

He couldn’t understand why Remus hadn’t taken the first step yet, or at the very least invited the man out for dinner. They had been talking for some time about bringing a third into their scenes, and since James was clearly off the table, the world was full of options.

Of course, an office romance wasn’t exactly ethical, especially with the power imbalance—Remus being the headmaster and the man they called ‘pretty boy’ being his direct assistant. But from everything Remus said about his assistant’s behaviour, and the way the man cared for him, there seemed to be no reason to avoid the dynamic Remus kept running from.

Not even the worst corporate sycophant would be as attentive as that assistant was with Remus. From Sirius’s point of view, his actions could only mean one thing: hidden love. A submissive already ready to serve his Master.

Remus had described how it all started—his assistant at first focused only on work, fulfilling the role he had been hired for. But slowly, he began taking on more of the load, easing Remus’s burdens. Before long, he was doing things no longer strictly professional—gentle, considerate gestures that went beyond any job description.

Sirius and James had been trying to convince their dear Moony for ages to ease up, to delegate more, to focus on himself and his needs. But he was stubborn, always trying to prove he was worthy of the position—even though no one ever questioned that. 

He was a brilliant headmaster, an exceptional professional who had quickly risen from assistant lecturer to full-time professor, and then joined the administrative board—his original goal. So much so that, when the former headmaster decided to retire, Remus had been personally encouraged to apply for the position and was elected by the faculty and James’s father, the school’s owner. And still, he pressured himself, claiming he had only landed the role because he was the friend of the owner’s son, rather than acknowledging his own intellect and professionalism.

But with the arrival of his assistant, Remus had finally begun to ease off. He started to trust the person by his side. Eventually, the assistant was bringing him water and coffee, keeping his desk and office in order, reminding him to eat, insisting on his scheduled breaks. Recently, he had even taken over managing Remus’s calendar—something that finally allowed his Master to breathe.

Knowing that someone truly cared about Remus at work brought Sirius peace. And he believed that someone so thoughtful deserved a reward. After all, anything that was good for his Moony made Sirius happy. It was so obvious that this assistant was perfect to join their dynamic, to serve their Master alongside Sirius, that the man might as well wave a banner begging Remus to claim him.

Still, Remus hesitated—afraid of ruining what they had built over those months. He insisted he might be misreading the signs, that if he came on to his employee, it would be harassment. That even if the assistant was interested, pursuing anything would be unethical.

But Sirius knew that was just Remus’s self-esteem talking. He wasn’t that concerned with ethics, not really. After all, if his Master got off on Sirius’s stories of incest and encouraged him to share them for their mutual pleasure, there was no real reason to get moral about this.

There was nothing right about jerking off thinking about your colleague at work — much less calling your pet mid-shift to do it together — but there they were, burning up for each other. And Sirius already knew exactly what to say to make his Master come.

"You're going to have to forgive your pretty boy… It's just too hot outside. But he really should be wearing a bra."

"Ah… don’t," Remus moaned, probably already lost in that vivid imagination of his.

Sirius smiled at the voice in his ear. There were no wet sounds yet, which meant his Master was still holding back — and he knew exactly how to push him over the edge.

"Why don’t you bend your pretty boy over your desk and fuck him hard, hmm? Teach him what his place is."

"Oh, I would love to," Remus groaned. "I would tear those tight fucking trousers right off and fuck him so deep I would fill him up with cum."

The memory of Remus doing just that to him the night before (granted, in their bedroom and not the office) made Sirius’s cock twitch. He pulled himself out of his briefs, right there in the studio kitchen.

The risk of his colleague walking in was very real — but it didn’t matter. Remus wasn’t the only one fantasising about fucking a tempting co-worker, and the thrill of being caught made it even hotter.

It was filthy. Improper. Completely unethical. But none of that mattered, because they were the ones in charge.

That power only made the fantasy more delicious.

"Why don’t you tell him to wear a skirt next time?" Sirius teased. "One of those tight pencil skirts… short enough to show off his little bulge when he gets hard for you."

"Fuck, that would be perfect," Remus groaned. "If he went without panties… gods, you and I taking turns on him—"

"If you put him in a skirt and no underwear, he would be leaking cum all day, Master." Sirius said it with the conviction of someone who genuinely thought it made sense. "We would have to plug him or keep fucking him constantly so he wouldn’t drip all over the place."

"Ah, fuck, Pads!"

The noises on the other end of the line grew faster, wetter — and Sirius knew he had done well. He had pleased his Master.

He adored those desperate little moans, the slick sound of Remus stroking his thick cock. It was enough to keep Sirius hard and aching, hand moving fast on his own shaft.

He kept quiet, not wanting to draw attention in case someone walked into the kitchen — but with Remus’s voice in his ear and the memory of being fucked raw the night before, he couldn’t help it.

Every groan made him roll his eyes back in bliss, mouth open, imagining the weight of Remus’s cock inside him.

He could almost taste him again, that overwhelming flavour replacing the bitterness of the coffee.

Even without the fantasy of the mysterious assistant bent over the office desk, Sirius would have lost it just from hearing his Master’s pleasure.

"You would fuck his pretty little mouth so well, pet, right there on the other side of the desk," Remus said, the sound of his wanking growing heavier, his words coming out ragged. “Me... ahn... fucking him from behind while you— thrust into his mouth."

“You pulling on my collar… while I make a mess of his lipstick with my cock," Sirius added, his voice thick with desire.

"Fucking hell..." Remus muttered, losing more of his composure with every breath.

"Your pretty boy would be your obedient little secretary, always ready to please you. No panties, so his pretty little hole’s always ready for you. And I would be on my knees for you too, waiting for your command to use him."

A deep, desperate moan came through the line — Remus was close, clearly pent-up and needy enough that it hadn’t taken long. Sirius smirked at the sound, imagining his Master having spent the whole morning hard beneath his trousers, holding back until his assistant left the room. The idea of Remus, sitting in that big headmaster’s chair, trying to concentrate while that tight little shirt distracted him endlessly… it had Sirius throbbing. He palmed himself harder, picturing Remus in that fucking suit that made him look so maddeningly hot.

If he walked back in right now… Sirius thought, hand slowing just a little, What would he think of the toy his boss keeps between his legs? The one I ride almost every night?

"Where are you right now, Master?" he asked, trying to draw it out, to tease him longer.

"...In my office," Remus replied after a brief pause, his voice dazed and breathy.

"Why don’t you come on his desk, then?" Sirius suggested, his tone honeyed filth. "Don’t you want to sit in his chair and leave a mess right there?"

"That’s not a good idea, pet."

No, it wasn’t. Using the man’s personal space to satisfy their filthy little fantasies wasn’t good at all. But…

"You want it so badly, Master."

Sirius wanted it too. So fucking badly.

"It’s wrong…" Remus murmured, though without conviction.

And I’m the most wrong thing you’ve ever loved , Sirius thought. He had never been one to let morality get in the way of desire. Still, he heard the rustle of fabric and the scrape of a chair, followed by a long, guttural moan of relief.

Then the wet, rhythmic sound of Remus wanking filled the line again — louder now — and Sirius grinned, knowing his Master had taken the suggestion.

He also knew he would be punished later for that.

And he couldn’t wait.

"You're a very bad boy, Pads," his Master said — though not exactly in disapproval.

"I only want to please my Master, to hear you in pleasure," he replied, playing the good boy.

"I can hear how much you’re enjoying this," Remus said with authority. "Didn’t wait for me to tell you what to do… didn’t ask for permission to touch yourself…"

" Pardon… " Sirius apologised — though he didn’t stop. He hadn’t been told to.

He was devoted and always obeyed his Master above all else — but sometimes, he liked to push just a little. Always with respect, of course, worshipping Remus for the brilliant Dominant he was, never breaking the rules of their game. Sirius only misbehaved when he knew it would earn him punishment — and honestly, he craved it.

"Are you going to come, pet? Better do it somewhere easy to clean," his Master allowed.

"My coffee mug is right here," he replied — and immediately regretted it. Maybe that would be his punishment: drinking coffee with a special little extra.

It wasn’t outside his limits, but it certainly wasn’t as enjoyable as swallowing his Master’s come.

On the other end of the line, Remus went quiet. Though his breathing was still heavy, and the slick sounds continued faintly in the background, he said nothing at first. Sirius frowned slightly, then asked:

"Master?"

"...His mug is right in front of me," Remus said.

The worried expression on Sirius’s face vanished, replaced by a wide, wicked grin. He looked down at his half-full coffee mug, the dark porcelain rim stained with the mark of his lips.

Every suggestion he made, every fantasy he built to satisfy his Master, were things he wanted to do himself—putting himself in Remus’s place with their submissive colleague. It was intense, intoxicating, as if he were in paradise, heat spreading from his lower belly through every nerve ending in his body, growing stronger with each stroke of his hand. But even as fantasies, there was a line that shouldn’t be crossed. As wrong as their desire to ruin pretty boy was—to defile him, stain him—there was a limit.

Sirius crossed it when he asked:

“Did pretty boy leave marks of his lips on that mug?”

“…Yes, he did.”

“Wouldn’t it feel good to rub against those marks?” he coaxed.

“…Yes… it would feel bloody amazing,” Remus admitted, as if spellbound.

“Use it, Master. Come in his mug. Imagine you’re spilling down pretty boy’s throat.”

“That’s…”

“It’s just a mug, won’t do any harm to leave your mark on it,” Sirius reasoned. “Better yet—take it. Tell him you dropped it by accident, give him a new one, and take this one home. Keep a part of his mouth with you.”

It was wrong. Borderline twisted. It went beyond fantasy and into action. But Sirius, as twisted and wrong as he was, managed to convince him—it was only an object. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. He would never know. But more than that, it satisfied something feral in Sirius. That dark, primal need to mark territory. Someone who wasn’t even theirs yet. Someone he didn’t even know by name or face. Someone who might very well refuse Remus’s advances—which they would both respect. But Sirius had so much faith in their inevitable success, he could almost feel it happening.

Once his Master took that first step, it would all fall into place, just like their fantasies.

Listening on the phone, Sirius could see it—Remus rubbing the head of his cock against the lip mark on the mug, imagining pretty boy on his knees under the desk, ready to suck him off, ready to be guided, tested. He let his mind sink into the scene, so vivid it felt real: Remus in the middle of the office, seated behind pretty boy’s desk, the assistant’s mug hidden beneath, jerking himself off with it like he had the real thing under the desk, mouth open, willing.

Sirius grabbed his own mug to mimic the sensation, the sensitive tip of his cock rubbing along the rim, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. It wasn’t quite what he imagined it would feel like to fuck Remus’s assistant, but it was hot enough to draw him fully into the fantasy.

The assistant’s face was a mystery—Sirius had never seen him, didn’t even know his name—but deep in the recesses of his filthy mind, he imagined his own brother. Regulus, in a short skirt, bent over the headmaster’s desk, serving both his boss and his older brother, eyes rolling with tears from overstimulation and pleasure. Regulus under the desk, wearing nothing but a collar like Sirius’s, the two of them—Remus’s obedient pets—eagerly pleasuring him during office hours, waiting breathlessly for reward. Sirius sucking his Master with devotion, begging for permission to fuck his little brother.

Hearing Remus come on the other end of the line, his breath ragged, voice breaking in half-formed groans and curses, Sirius followed, spilling into his coffee with that image of perfection burning behind his eyes. A fantasy. An impossible scene. But at the peak of pleasure, with his brain short-circuited and vision going white, it felt real.

He slowly slid down to sit on the kitchen floor, eyes rolling back as heat pulsed through him. He stared up at the ceiling, struggling to breathe, trying to return to himself. His own moans blurred in his ears, tangled with Remus’s over the phone. He couldn’t tell who was who anymore.

It had been ages since a simple wank left him this weak, too spent to stand. He stayed on the floor, afraid his legs might give out entirely.

On the other end of the line, a disbelieving laugh—one that Sirius found unbearably attractive:

"Who gave you permission to be so cheeky, pet?"

"You…?"

After all, he only had as much control as his Master allowed. If Remus had told him to shut up, he would have obeyed—or maybe pushed just a little more, just enough to earn a punishment that night. But he wouldn’t have kept feeding the fantasy. No, Remus had let him “take the lead” this time, suggest what to do, what to think. Which, realistically, would have been exactly the order he would have given if Sirius had waited a few seconds longer. It wasn’t unusual between them—Sirius had been trained for this. His reaction had been automatic. He was often ordered to narrate his fantasies, to speak about what he wanted to do to his brother, to James, or even to Remus’s colleague, who could walk in at any moment.

Sirius stood up, adjusting his trousers and placing the mug in the sink.

“You’ve been very naughty, pet. We’ll talk tonight, won’t we?”

“Yes, Sir,” he replied respectfully, fully aware that any punishment would be more than deserved.

“But anyway… are you alright? Did I catch you off guard? You told me your client cancelled…” Remus asked gently, his voice losing some of its dominant edge as he shifted into a more caring tone, checking in like a proper Dom should.

“All’s fine. I’m in the kitchen. That bastard’s working at the salon and I didn’t want to see his face.”

“Ah… I see…” Remus said shortly, already used to Sirius’s not-so-loving nicknames for his colleague—the one he was clearly very attracted to. “How’s your body now?”

“Much lighter, mon amour , it was wonderful!” he said brightly. “Thanks for calling. I really needed it.”

Sirius’s mind could play tricks on him when he was alone—turning over old thoughts and regrets as if they could somehow be undone. He knew getting lost in that did him no good. Lately, nearly a year after finding out about Regulus’s death, he had grown better at recognising when things were spiralling. He had even started messaging Remus or James when he felt himself slipping—both always ready to anchor him.

This time, even without a message, it was like Remus had felt it. The bond between them was so strong, so profound, it felt cosmic. Sirius loved that. It made him feel whole in Remus’s love.

“Love, there’s a work do tonight at some pub close to the city centre,” Remus said, not hiding his lack of enthusiasm.

“Alright. Are you heading straight there? Want me to pick you up?”

“Yeah, I’m driving, but I want to have a drink or two. Can you pick me up around 8:30?”

“So early?” Sirius teased.

“It’s just to show my face. So they don’t think I’m antisocial.”

“But you are antisocial, Moony.”

“Shut it, pet.”

Sirius laughed, knowing his jab had landed—irritating Remus always gave him that warm, bubbly feeling in his chest.

“Is pretty boy going too?” Sirius asked, thick with suggestion. “Need a lift home? Maybe you could… introduce us.”

“I thought about that too, but unfortunately he’s leaving even earlier than me tonight.”

“But… he’ll be in the car with you?”

“…Yes. I might try to chat with him a bit.”

“Go for it, mon amour ! I’m sure your assistant won’t be able to resist your charms.”

“Pads, you know I’m rubbish at flirting,” Remus sighed.

That was true, but Sirius believed Remus had his own irresistible charm—one the assistant wouldn’t be able to ignore. He clearly paid Remus extra attention at work already.

“…Fuck’s sake, I ruined his mug.”

And, as always, Sirius’s mind went straight to the filthiest possible idea.

“Top it up with coffee and leave it there, let him drink it.”

“I’m not doing that. And you wouldn’t either,” Remus said seriously. “And he doesn’t drink coffee… But I am taking it home. For you, you filthy mutt.”

“Thanks, mon amour ,” Sirius said, pleased.

With that, they ended the call with their usual declarations of love—sweet nothings and loving instructions. “Remember to drink water,” “eat something proper,” “you’re the most amazing person in the world,” and “you looked so fucking good in that outfit this morning”—things that never failed to make them feel utterly adored. It was enough to almost stop Sirius feeling guilty for encouraging his Master to cross certain lines.

Fucking hell, what did I just do? he thought for a second.

But before the guilt could sink its claws in, his colleague stormed into the kitchen like a hurricane, rummaging in the cupboards for a mug—and Sirius instantly wanted to flee back to the salon.

"Oi, dickhead," he greeted with his usual mocking tone.

Sirius rolled his eyes, already wishing he could scald him with hot coffee.

"I'm your boss, you know that, right?" Sirius reminded him, fully aware it was a waste of breath.

The other just shrugged and barged into Sirius’s space to pour himself some coffee. The physical contact was unnecessary, but his colleague was an unbearable menace who never missed a chance to annoy him, brushing his arm against Sirius’s even though there was plenty of room. In response, Sirius grabbed his own mug and shoved past him into the front room, purposefully pressing him against the counter with his free hand gripping his waist tightly.

It had been five months since Sirius hired a body piercer for his tattoo studio — his uncle Alphard’s idea to diversify the place — and he hadn't had a single day of peace since. He had thought it was a smart move to hire that annoying bastard because of his skills, barely giving his personality a second thought.

He used to be a med student at one of the top unis in the country, until he dropped out and became a body piercer — bold, brilliant, and, unfortunately, deeply intriguing to Sirius.

At first, he tried to behave around Sirius, calling him “boss” and “sir,” but that quickly went to hell, and now the two of them exchanged not-so-friendly nicknames as their petty feud grew. They were too alike in personality — though Sirius hated to admit it — except his colleague was ten times more chaotic and unhinged. That’s why names like “crazy bitch,” “lunatic,” and “killer” suited him so well.

Truth be told, Sirius was a bit embarrassed to admit he still didn’t know his name. He couldn’t be bothered to trawl through old emails to check, and asking him now would be incredibly awkward after five months. He was fairly sure it started with a B or C... Benjamin Collins? Brendon Cooper? Brian Curtis? Barry Crocs? Something like that. “Batshit Crazy” worked just fine, anyway.

Without thinking too much about it, Sirius sat down at his work station — the comfy chair next to the client bed, his metal tray clean and pushed to the side, having already wrapped up his last appointment. He grabbed his phone to pass the time but only unlocked the screen before being distracted.

His colleague was now at his own station across from him, placing his mug on the tray and crouching down to pick up a bit of paper.

For all his madness, Sirius had to admit — the bloke was fucking hot.

Roughly the same build and height as Sirius, but slightly softer — fewer muscles, more visible skin to appreciate. With the summer heat kicking in, he had started pulling lighter clothes from his wardrobe: tight tanks, sheer shirts, or those loose ones that showed everything. Sirius died a little every time he stretched and his stomach peeked out. With those low-rise jeans, Sirius could even catch a glimpse of his happy trail — and that alone made him ache to go down on him, bury his face in there and take him in all the way to the base.

His face and ears were covered in piercings, and it was obvious he had more hidden beneath the clothes. In the right light, Sirius could see the piercing on his bellybutton and the outline of two barbells through his shirt, right where his nipples were.

And when he bent down, in that ridiculously open, loose tank top, Sirius saw them. Clearly.

"Do you have nipple piercings?" Sirius asked before he could stop himself.

"I do. Why?"

Sirius’s curiosity got the better of his self-control.

"Is there any place you don’t have a piercing?"

"Nope." He grinned wickedly. "Every single place where I can have a healthy piercing, I’ve got one."

"Even on your cock?"

"Yeah. I’ve got a frenum and a guiche."

If Sirius wasn’t mistaken, his colleague had just told him he had one piercing just beneath the head and another on the perineum — but he wasn’t exactly an expert in body piercings to be entirely sure.

Sirius liked piercings — he had a few on both ears and had even considered getting one on his lip or tongue. But still, he couldn’t imagine having the balls to get pierced somewhere that sensitive.

"Did it hurt?"

"Well, yeah. But it makes me feel glorious every time I fuck, you know? Just the usual amount of pain for a damn good reward." And for someone as insane as him, Sirius thought, that ‘usual’ level of pain was probably extreme by normal standards. "Wanna see?"

The bold offer came out so casually that Sirius almost doubted he had heard it right.

He looked at his colleague — someone he definitely didn’t have that kind of intimacy with — and there wasn’t a hint of his usual mocking tone.

"For real?"

"Yeah! Why not?" He was already fiddling with the buckle of his belt, ready to show.

Sirius was tempted — mostly out of curiosity — and even though he did have permission from his Dom to look and touch his co-worker whenever they wanted, it didn’t quite feel like the right moment.

"Maybe next time," Sirius dismissed, turning his back to him to rearrange a workstation that was already perfectly organised.

"Cool. Let me know if you ever wanna pierce your dick. I’m licensed for that."

The sentence made Sirius briefly wonder whether he had been crazy enough to do it to himself, but he decided not to think too hard about it.

He just flipped him off without even looking back.

It was all a bit too much for the moment.

Maybe sometime in the future, once he was in a more grounded headspace, he could introduce that maniac to Remus and see how his Dom would turn that wild, undisciplined brat into a perfectly obedient pet — just like he had done with Sirius.

Well... subversively obedient.

He took a sip of his coffee, immediately spitting it back into the mug when the bitterness hit his tongue — now even worse with a salty aftertaste.

His cum.

He had forgotten he came in it.

“What’s wrong, boss?” his colleague asked, frowning slightly.

“Bitter coffee,” Sirius replied, sighing deeply.

Chapter Text

The grandfather clock at 12 Grimmauld Place echoed loudly through the silent television room. Other than that, not a single sound could be heard, not the rustle of clothing, nor the creak of the wood, even though the two Black brothers were seated on the large sofa in front of the fireplace. Neither of them moved, both staring fixedly at where the fire ought to have been, trying to remain as quiet as possible, as if a single loud breath might cause the fireplace to burst into flames and burn the whole house down.

It was remarkable how still and silent the two children—ten and twelve years old—could remain, they had been forged that way by their mother’s harsh punishments and strict discipline, as well as their father’s violent temper.

In that hushed moment, both feared they were about to receive the usual severe treatment, considering their parents had been locked in the sitting room with their school headmaster for over half an hour now, according to the ticking of the grandfather clock.

Sirius wished he could forget how to tell the time.

He tried to stay strong and confident for Regulus, having told him everything would be fine before they’d both fallen into utter silence—that the visit meant nothing. Positivity wasn’t in his nature, but Sirius would do anything for his brother, even if it meant offering a false sense of security. No, he had sworn to protect his little brother, to keep him safe no matter what happened to himself. He knew he had become that solid presence in Regulus’s life over the years, but he could also see how his little brother was becoming more determined to protect him in return, growing more concerned for his older brother as time went on.

It was admirable, and Sirius was grateful for it. Still, he couldn’t bear the thought of watching their father hit Regulus again.

Timidly, with tense shoulders and a frozen expression, still clinging to the sense that even the smallest movement might bring about disaster, Sirius reached out his hand to grasp his brother’s. Regulus flinched slightly. Those beautiful silver eyes looked up at him in fear, then softened as he intertwined his fingers with Sirius’s. The comfort of one another grounded them. Everything felt as though it might collapse, explode before their eyes, but the warmth that flowed between them in that quiet connection was a balm to soothe the fear, if only slightly.

"It’s my fault, Siri," he whispered.

"You’re not to blame for anything, mon cœur."

"The Headmaster came because I—"

They both heard footsteps echoing through the house, approaching the television room, making their bodies tense once more as they left behind the warmth of each other’s presence for a cold that bit to the bone. They assumed it was their parents, accompanied by Regulus’s Headmaster. A long conversation surely awaited them—and after that, it was impossible to know what might happen.

They released each other’s hands and stood up, just as their mother had taught them:

"Always stand up straight, head down, be respectful to receive the Headmaster," she would say—something the strict school Regulus now attended, the same one Sirius had once gone to, had only reinforced.

The doors burst open with a crash—louder than it truly was, amplified by the silence of the house and the boys’ fear. Regulus trembled, his breathing growing heavier as they turned to face their parents, who stepped into the room and shut the door behind them.

Only their parents.

Now closed in a room with them.

Sirius instinctively stepped in front of his little brother, a chill running through his body.

No words were spoken for several seconds, only the sound of the two adults moving about the room. Orion Black, the boys’ father, took his usual armchair by the wall, and Walburga Black, their mother, stood behind him, her piercing grey eyes fixed on the two boys, who sat down again, robotically, as if void of life.

This time, Sirius pressed himself close to his little brother, trying to offer protection, returning her gaze with a courage he didn’t truly feel. In complete contrast to them, Orion didn’t look at his sons—his gaze wandered towards the fireplace, his expression unreadable, while Regulus lowered his head, shaking with fear.

"Explain yourself," their father said—a simple command, but spoken in his coarse, unfeeling voice, it nearly gave Sirius a heart attack.

As he grew older, Sirius tried to rise above his fear of his father, desperately wanting to break free from his control, but the memories of past punishments paralysed him every time he even thought of defiance, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might stop altogether.

When it came to punishment, Walburga excelled at mind games—tearing down her children’s pride and self-worth, making them feel like nothing more than useless lumps of flesh. She rarely inflicted physical harm, choosing instead to break their hearts. On the rare occasions she did resort to violence, it was usually with slaps that left the skin red, seldom causing real injury—except when her rings or fingernails accidentally broke the skin.

Orion, on the other hand, seemed unable to rest until he had drawn blood from his children—until the floor of the house bore a fresh crimson stain, or their clothing was ruined by it.

He was creative in the tortures he inflicted on them—always careful not to leave permanent or visible marks, the kind that might prompt questions or expose what he was doing. That was the thing with their father: from him, Sirius could expect only the worst, and yet expect nothing at all, because Orion always found new ways to be more cruel and more discreet. At times, Sirius even wondered if he had ever laid hands on Regulus when he wasn’t around—if his younger brother was lying or hiding it from him.

Paranoia, fear, and uncertainty surrounded every small act their father made, a man who, to Sirius, was nothing less than the Devil himself on Earth.

"Femme, apporte-moi un verre," he ordered the boys’ mother, who, without even looking back, left the room to obey—leaving them alone with the Devil.

(Woman, bring me a drink)

Seated in his armchair, waiting for his wife to return so he could drown himself in alcohol, he might have been a handsome man, if not for his cruelty. Unfortunately, Sirius could see his own features in him—a painful reminder of the blood they shared. It was hard to deny. And he feared, more than anything, that one day he might become like his father, whether in looks or in behaviour. Regulus would never love him if he became an "Orion Black Jr."—and the last thing Sirius wanted in this world was for his younger brother to despise him.

"Alors, Regulus ? J’attends"

(So, Regulus? I’m waiting.)

"J’ai raté l’examen, père." Regulus said at once, as if even one more second of silence would worsen whatever punishment his father was already planning.

(I failed the exam, Father,)

He was probably right. Their parents only liked silence when they weren’t the ones being addressed.

"Ça, je le sais déjà" Orion replied, his tone so cold it nearly sounded calm—something the boys were not used to hearing.

(That, I already know,)

"J’ai eu du mal à me concentrer sur les calculs..." Regulus explained, his voice trembling. "J-Je vais travailler plus dur, père."

(I-I had trouble focusing on the calculations, and that’s why I failed, — I’ll work harder, père.)

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. Their father hated it when they stammered.

Their father took a discreet breath, still staring into the fireplace, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, supporting his chin—as if there were something truly captivating in whatever point he was looking at. While he contemplated the void, silence once again enveloped the room, broken only by the grandfather clock, its steady ticking a cruel reminder that time was indeed passing, and they were not frozen in place.

The tension in the boys’ shoulders was palpable—their trembling, the quiet despair slowly consuming Sirius’s vacant stare. He was trying, with frantic urgency, to think of anything that might shift their father’s attention away from Regulus. Anything at all...

“C’est ma faute, père,” he spoke up suddenly, breath catching in panic. “J’ai distrait mon frère et—”

(It's my fault, Father — I distracted my brother and—”

"Take off your trousers," their father’s voice echoed through the room, silencing them once again.

Sirius had been ignored in his pleas and attempts at an apology, and just like responses should never be delayed, neither should actions — or their father would simply get even more irritated.

Regulus stood up, following the command, unbuckling the belt of the school trousers he still wore, sliding them down past his feet, clad only in black socks — part of the uniform — held in place by a pair of garters. He folded the trousers neatly and set them on the sofa before turning back to their father, who, still without looking at him, motioned with his hand as if calling an animal.

Sirius felt his stomach twist in fear and disgust.

He watched as his little brother obeyed, walking towards the man with unsteady steps, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide with dread as he came to stand in front of him.

Their father pulled a pocketknife from his trouser pocket — the same one that had hurt both brothers many times before.

Sirius stood up, trying to intervene, but his voice caught in his throat when Regulus let out a cry of shock.

The man’s hand moved quickly, cutting without pause.

Sirius’s heart ached in his chest.

His entire body froze.

His eyes welled up with tears as he watched the scene, burning with fury —

Fury at their father, for hurting the person he loved most in the world.

And fury at himself, for not being able to move a muscle or utter a single word.

In the blink of an eye, Regulus’s underwear had been reduced to scraps of fabric around his ankles, leaving him completely exposed.

Sirius’s breathing was loud, echoing in his ears.

There was no blood on his little brother — not until Regulus tried to cover himself and received a slash from their father.

He whimpered, clutching his injured hand tightly, staining his pale skin crimson as blood dripped to the floor.

The pain filled his eyes with even more tears, and Regulus didn’t see when their father brought the tip of the knife to his most intimate area.

‘For God’s sake, no.’ Sirius felt the scream choke in his throat as he clamped a hand over his mouth, tears falling freely down his face.

The man looked straight at Sirius, still holding the blade against Regulus’s cock, lifting it in a vile, obscene way. 

A twisted smile curled on his lips.

Then he leaned back in his armchair, closed the knife, and slid it into his pocket. He unbuckled his belt and extended it toward the older son.

“If you were the one who distracted your brother,” Orion said with that same cold, detached calm as always, as if he hadn’t just threatened to mutilate his own child, “then teach him how to focus. Spank him. You know how to do it. Put him over your lap and use the belt. I’m tired of both of you.”

Sirius was so disturbed he nearly forgot he was meant to obey without hesitation, only snapping out of it when he caught Regulus’s frightened gaze — practically begging him to do it, terrified of what worse might come if their older brother didn’t act.

He didn’t want to do it.

He didn’t want to hurt the person he loved most in the world.

But if he didn’t, there was no telling how their deranged father would react.

Shaking, his head spinning as if his brain were rattling in his skull, Sirius stepped forward to take the belt, pulling away as fast as he could. He sat in the armchair on the far side of the room, away from the man’s reach — though still within his gaze, which filled him with revulsion.

Regulus walked to him, obedient, still holding his wounded hand, the bleeding now stopped.

The brothers exchanged a look — heavy with pain and helplessness, but also an unspoken apology and forgiveness for what they were about to do.

“Count each lash your brother gives you, Regulus,” their father commanded, watching with disturbing interest. “That way, you'll learn to stay focused.”

And just as ordered, Sirius folded the belt in his hands.

Regulus carefully draped himself over Sirius’s thighs, his chest resting against them, his bare backside exposed, ready to receive the punishment.

They had both endured this before, both at the hands of their father, whether it was with their palms, a belt, or even the handle of a broom. But Sirius punishing this little brother was something entirely new. It was yet another way their father sought to torture them, knowing just how deeply it would wound Sirius to hurt the person he loved most.

With a trembling hand, he delivered the first blow.

Regulus flinched and whimpered across his lap, clutching at Sirius’s trousers, searching for something to ground himself.

“One…” he counted quietly.

Sirius brought the leather strap down again.

Regulus trembled but made no sound, biting hard on his lip. A red mark bloomed across his pale skin.

“Two…”

A third strike followed, leaving another vivid red welt.

Regulus let out a faint moan but didn’t try to pull away like he usually did when their father beat him. Instead, he stayed in place, arched for Sirius.

Three more lashes echoed through the room, accompanied by soft, breathy whimpers that, had Sirius not known better, he might’ve mistaken for something else entirely.

Regulus’s whole body trembled on his lap, his cock pressed against Sirius’s thigh, the movement seeming like nothing more than pain-induced spasms. Sirius’s eyes widened as Regulus turned to meet his gaze — a gaze that Orion couldn’t see.

What Sirius saw on that face wasn’t agony.

It was euphoria.

“Do it properly, Sirius. We’re not leaving until he’s purple,” their father snapped coldly. “Start over.”

Regulus repositioned himself across his lap, his cock firmly pressed to Sirius’s thigh.

The older brother looked down at the red blooming across his little brother’s soft skin. He watched his arse bounce with each lash — from his hands, his belt. And somehow, that pain… it made Regulus’s silver eyes cloud over, filled with that twisted pleasure that made Sirius’s skin crawl — and burn.

To be the one giving him that…

To corrupt him like that…

It made Sirius’s body react.

He rolled his thigh subtly against Regulus’s cock, knowing his little brother’s body wasn’t quite ready for an erection or release, but was already learning to feel pleasure.

Pleasure from pain.

Pleasure from being put on display, humiliated in front of their terrifying father.

Pleasure from Sirius’s hands.

To give him that… to be the one responsible for it, drove Sirius mad with heat.

He continued to lash Regulus’s arse and thighs, keeping a steady rhythm, careful not to push him into overload or surprise him with the strikes. He was learning what made Regulus moan.

He had a full erection now, trapped beneath the younger’s trembling body — and he wondered if their father really couldn’t see the line that had been crossed… or simply didn’t care.

Couldn’t see that in Regulus’s pleasure-glazed eyes, this was no longer a punishment.

It had become something else entirely.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe he was enjoying the show.

The thought made Sirius’s cock throb against the younger’s body.

Maybe he wasn’t so different from their father after all.

Regulus’s arse was already a deep red, his thighs too, by the time Sirius finally stopped — his shoulder aching in protest.

The sound of Regulus’s ragged breaths filled the room, along with his quiet sobbing and the rustling of cloth as his hips continued to grind faintly against Sirius’s thigh.

Sirius looked up.

Their father was smiling, satisfied — victorious.

‘We’re not so different, are we, son?’ he said without words. ‘You enjoy hurting your little brother too.’

But he didn’t say a thing.

Just like he’d entered in silence, he left without a word, closing the door behind him. Sirius imagined him running into his wife on the way and shouting at her for taking too long, considering the sound of breaking glass he heard just before the door shut.

Without the weight of his presence pressing down on them, Sirius pulled his little brother into his lap — shifting him to face him. He wanted to apologise.

For being useless.

For hitting him.

For enjoying it.

But the words never left his mouth — not before Regulus leaned in and kissed him with urgent, greedy lips.

Sirius never had any resistance when Regulus kissed him.

His mouth fell open instinctively, letting the little brother steal his breath away.

He had learnt quickly, these days — how to use his tongue to drive Sirius mad, how to kiss in that exact way that made him moan, how to make him feel weak and desperate for more. Regulus was getting so good at it—at pushing him into the abyss of sin Sirius tried so desperately to avoid, at demanding more and more touches Sirius couldn’t refuse, at asking for more and more intimacy, as if he knew exactly what “more” meant. Perhaps his little brother did know.

In the heat of his kiss, Sirius’s mind blurred and his erection throbbed painfully inside his trousers.

He wanted Regulus to grind against it — to make him come from just that, and that’s exactly what he did.

His hands moved of their own accord, slipping down to grasp his brother’s arse.

Regulus cried out in pain instantly, pulling back from the kiss, throwing his head back with his eyes tightly shut, and Sirius kissed his neck, with so much love, barely restraining the urge to bite his throat. That was the only thing he could control—while pulling his little brother closer, grinding the bulge in his trousers right against Regulus’s arse, Sirius’s cock perfectly aligned to be stroked by his cheeks.

Holding his thighs, he began thrusting forward, receiving the opposite movement from Regulus, the two of them in perfect sync. His most sensitive spot rubbed over and over against Regulus’s virgin entrance, who moaned softly, taking pleasure from it too.

“Quietly, mon cœur, or our parents will find out,” Sirius whispered, waves of heat spreading to every part of his body with the mere thought.

His little brother was giving him pleasure right there in their family home’s television room, obedient and perfect, gripping the collar of Sirius’s dress shirt to lean in and kiss him with fervour, knowing just how much he liked that. Even with tired legs, even with his arse sore, he was such a good boy, doing exactly what Sirius commanded, holding onto his thighs.

It was a vision of heaven, having that beautiful angel in his lap, working to please him with such dedication, Sirius gripping his hair during the kiss just like he had always wanted to, getting a little taste of how their bodies would eventually fit together. How long had Sirius dreamt of fucking Regulus? How long had he been holding back the pleasure that clouded all his senses?

He threw his head back as the orgasm approached, gripping Regulus’s thighs tighter to keep him moving at that exact rhythm. His little brother was relentless on his tip, even through the fabric, staying right there until the climax, holding onto him for support, pressing sweet, fast kisses to his lips.

Sirius rolled his eyes back, undone by the overwhelming heat that spread through his body, even more intense when he embraced Regulus, feeling his hot body over his covered erection, his skin entirely at Sirius’s mercy. His fingers clutched at Regulus’s shirt, and his uneven breaths found refuge against his neck. His trousers were left damp and hot on the inside, and even after coming so much, trapped inside his underwear, he was still unbearably sensitive.

Still in the bliss of orgasm, he worshipped his little brother’s body with kisses to his neck, hands slipping under the dress shirt, up Regulus’s back, and then down to his arse, fingers seeking his entrance. That drew another moan of pain, this one uncomfortable, forcing him to pull away.

And then Sirius remembered.

Why Regulus was in his lap.

Why he was bruised.

Why this had all started.

Because of a punishment.

He had felt arousal at causing his little brother pain.

And Regulus had felt arousal from receiving it.

Even though his body wasn’t ready to process that kind of pleasure yet.

Regulus should never have known that.

Not at that age.

Not from his older brother.

And worst of all — Sirius had liked doing it in front of their father.

He imagined doing more, for him to see.

Doing THAT for him to see.

And it made him feel sick.

Regulus looked at him with innocent confusion, so pure despite everything. His small, fragile body curled up in Sirius’s arms. He was irresistible, wearing only his school shirt and socks, eyes wet, cheeks flushed, lips red from their kiss. And his shirt was stained with Sirius’s cum and his own blood.

The same blood Sirius had in his own veins.

They shared the same blood.

He had taught Regulus to kiss like that.

He guided Regulus to make him come 

He was corrupting him, leading him down a dark path. And he’d sworn he’d never do that.

‘Toujours pure,’ he said.

‘Toujours pure.’ It should have meant something.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, mon cœur,” he whispered gently, forcing a smile. “I’ll lend you some ointment for the bruises.”

Regulus nodded in agreement. Sirius set him down on his feet, then walked over to retrieve his trousers.

He turned his back.

Determined never to touch his little brother again.

…

Friday Evening

A work gathering was exactly what Regulus did NOT want to kick off his weekend.

At his previous job, the school where his adoptive mother was the headmistress, Regulus had never experienced the kind of camaraderie that made teachers, coordinators, and staff from St. Hedwig’s High School want to meet up at a pub on a Friday evening after work. So he was rather surprised when the science teacher, Arthur Weasley, who wasn’t even remotely close to him, appeared in the headmaster’s office inviting both him and Mr Lupin to join them at a pub not too close from there. Regulus accepted the invitation with a polite smile, despite absolutely loathing the idea.

Spending hours watching other people drink alcohol and eat, things he himself shouldn’t indulge in, while listening to boring conversations about their equally boring lives was not what he had in mind for a Friday night. What he truly wanted was to go home after a stressful week at work, take a long, hot shower, and curl up in bed with Mr Jam, his new stuffed flatmate, simply waiting for the next day when James had promised him a surprise romantic date. All he wanted was to get rid of the week-long anxiety that had built up from their teasing messages and finally find out where they were going and what they would be doing. But Regulus had to pretend to be a sociable person who actually cared about his colleagues, so he was going to the pub, hoping to stay for the shortest amount of time possible.

If it was a lucky night, he might manage to steal a cigarette from someone.

If it was an unlucky night, he might end up murdering a colleague.

If it was a very lucky night, he would spend the entire time chatting with his boss, the headmaster, Mr Lupin.

And if it was an extremely unlucky night, he would walk into school on Monday morning receiving judgy stares from all his coworkers.

“Bootlicker,” they’d say.

Suddenly, Regulus began to think skipping the gathering might be the wiser choice.

His shift had just ended, and he was waiting in the headmaster’s office while Mr Lupin was in the bathroom, getting ready for the get-together. Not remotely excited to go, but buzzing with the kind of anxiety that screamed at him to cancel, Regulus sat staring at the old cream-coloured carpet beneath his scuffed dress shoes, his short nails tapping impatiently on the heavy desk.

His laptop was shut in the middle of the desk, with a few folders stacked neatly beside it. In the corner, there was a small potted plant Evan had given him for good luck, a porcelain ornament of a black cat gifted by Dorcas, a sleek metal pen holder, very useful, courtesy of Barty, and a dozen glittery, pompom-topped novelty pens handmade by Pandora and Xenophilius.

Regulus often wondered what people thought of him based on his desk decor.

Would they think he was rigid and methodical because of the black tones and solid materials? Or perhaps they would find the sparkly, rainbow pens completely out of place for someone with such a serious expression? Maybe they would think he had a nurturing side, because of the plant. Or maybe they would just think he was an annoying bootlicker who didn’t realise the headmaster found his presence uncomfortable. They certainly wouldn’t think he was a coffee addict—he wasn’t. And Mr Lupin had broken his mug. The absence of it had confused him several times that afternoon, but it wasn’t like he drank much water anyway. He had missed his tea though. At the very least, he would be getting a new mug, and with that, a chance to find out what his boss really thought of him.

Would it be a plain black mug? One with some neat calligraphy? A cartoon? A cat, maybe? No… Regulus doubted Mr Lupin saw him as someone who would enjoy something cute. He probably thought of him as a “boring office worker,” exactly like Barty did. It would be a plain black mug. Same as the last. Nothing new. No reason for Mr Lupin to put much thought into it.

He sighed, casting a glance at the headmaster’s desk—an actual work of art. An antique piece made of polished, heavy cypress wood, magnificent and sturdy, commanding an air of authority while still exuding grace through the delicate floral carvings along its sides. Regulus used to clean each one of those carvings himself, because he was, quite frankly, an idiot.

He did it every single day before the headmaster arrived, so that not a speck of dust ever dared settle, not in the carved spirals, nor on the gleaming surface. He placed every one of Mr Lupin’s items exactly where they belonged, each notebook, each paper, each pen, positioned just the way he liked it. He would turn on the headmaster’s laptop and sometimes even wipe the screen beforehand. He made the coffee, kept the water fresh, and arranged Mr Lupin’s schedule to keep him from being overwhelmed. “The bootlicker,” as his coworkers liked to call him.

Why he had started doing all that, and why he couldn’t seem to stop, was a mystery even to himself. Regulus tried to convince himself that it was admiration, and that, therefore, his behaviour wasn’t strange at all.

Mr Lupin was only a few years older, and yet already competent enough to have been appointed to such a high position and excel at it—managing the school with both grace and authority, to the point where his leadership had become a benchmark for other schools in the region. “If I could be half the professional he is in three years, I’d be over the moon,” Regulus thought with pride, genuinely happy to serve under someone so brilliant.

Dorcas said he was out of his mind for thinking that way.

His therapist said his thoughts and behaviour leaned toward “servitude,” which might stem from a deep-rooted need for acceptance—and that it was worth exploring further.

Barty said it was because he needed to get laid.

Regulus thought he needed a new job. He had been thinking that for the past three months, and still hadn’t lifted a finger to actually look for one. 

"Maybe I really will kill someone at this party and get fired... Even better! Maybe I’ll be arrested—sent somewhere far away where I can’t hurt anyone," he thought. It hurt—truly hurt—to know that Mr Lupin only seemed to grow more uncomfortable around him with each passing day. 

With each passing minute, Regulus was growing more and more inclined to skip the whole gathering altogether.

Still, when Arthur Weasley had invited him, Regulus had promised Xenophilius Lovegood, his cousin’s husband, the school’s philosophy teacher, and a long-time friend, that he’d keep him company, since Xenophilius wasn’t especially close with any of the other staff either. But even then, cancelling would still be the better option...

At least, until a message pinged on his phone:

James: Good evening, love. Ready for your work get-together?

"I don’t think I’m going anymore…" he typed, thumbs hesitant.

James: Uh-oh, anxiety kicking in?

Regulus swallowed hard. Was it that obvious?

"Yeah… ☹️",  he answered.

James: Well, if it’s not going to do anything for you, you don’t have to go.

But there was something Regulus wanted… and he really ought to tell James. As embarrassing as it was to admit—and as much as it made him feel like an idiot—he ha decided to trust him. To share with him the most intimate of thoughts and all of his insecurities. After all, he could proudly say that James Potter was his boyfriend.

"It’s just… I kind of wanted to talk to my boss more," he typed slowly.

 "I know it’s ridiculous."

"And I know you’re going to say I’m a bootlicker."

 "But I honestly think he’s incredible. And I just…”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d like to be a bit closer."

There was a beat of silence before the next message popped up.

James: Oh, you told me you like him! Is he hot?

Regulus had to read the message more than once, as if the very clear words might somehow have a hidden, mystical meaning beyond what they were plainly saying.

And the worst part was—the answer was yes, at least for the last part.

Mr Lupin was one of the hottest men Regulus had ever laid eyes on. 

And, as usual, it wasn’t morally acceptable to think that.

They were boss and employee. Regulus had no business noticing how attractive he was.

How Mr Lupin’s broad chest, always wrapped in expensive suits, looked like the perfect place to melt into a hug. How every little brush of fingers while passing a document or pen was downright electrifying. How his light brown hair was always perfectly tousled, fine and straight like silk. How hypnotising it was to trace the parts of his face where the stubble didn’t grow because of old scars, the faint hair surrounding those marks that Regulus always had the indecent urge to lick.

How his lips parted just slightly when he was lost in thought, revealing the soft, pink, glistening inside. How his intense gaze lit a fire inside Regulus, and how that heat reminded him too much of the kind of forbidden love he always tried to bury until it overflowed.

"Yeah.”, he typed.

He admitted it, feeling the life drain from his eyes, fully aware that even while dating someone as wonderful and perfect as James, there was still a part of him that craved darker things. Things he shouldn’t want.

One day, he would lose James because of that. If he hadn’t just lost him now, with that confession. 

Because honestly, what man would be happy to know his boyfriend found his brotherd and boss attractive? Who in their right mind would be fine with something like that? Especially considering they had only been together for a week.

James should end it—before Regulus hurt him.

James: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart. Just enjoy the opportunity!

James: It’s not every day you get a chance to chat up a hottie that close.

"I talk to you every day," Regulus replied.

He sent it so naturally that he didn’t register what he’d written until it was already gone. His face turned red almost instantly, heart jumping as he realised how soft that sounded. But it was far too late to take it back.

James: You’re adorable, baby ❤️

“No.”, he answer embarrassed

He pouted at the screen, entirely unprepared for how easily James embraced every part of him. How he made Regulus feel safe enough to let his guard down. How he made his habit of spiralling seem silly.

James grounded him.

Whenever Regulus started drowning in self-loathing, over his forbidden desires, or the image he saw in the mirror, James was a solid rock pulling him back to shore. Just by being there. Just by caring.

But even if it was comforting, Regulus knew he couldn’t put everything on James. There needed to be balance. Their needs, their boundaries, those had to be talked about. And they would, the next day, during the intimate date James had promised. A night to finally open up, to share everything honestly.

Especially considering the nature of the relationship James had proposed between them—dominant and submissive—something he had only briefly introduced so far, carefully, as not to overwhelm Regulus. He would figure it out. Together.

"You’re too good for me," he messaged.

James: No, love. We’re perfect for each other 😉

Regulus felt his cheeks ache from how hard he was smiling. Despite all the nerves and fears, of being too much, of being rejected, of ruining everything, he hadn’t stopped smiling since James had started texting him.

"Do you really not mind that I find another man attractive?"

James: Not at all. I told you—I like sharing. Not exactly with everyone, I mean, I don’t even know the bloke…

James: But I trust your taste.

James: And you, secretly shagging your boss… 😏🫣🔥

James: We can discuss our terms properly tomorrow.

"I’m looking forward to that," Regulus typed, fingers tingling.

"And to… other things…"

James: It’s going to be perfect, baby 😉

And Regulus was certain it would be. He would be spending the night with James, both of them naked. The thought alone made him blush, yet it was one of the many reasons he was excited for the weekend.

Even though he wasn’t a virgin anymore, even proud of the fact that he had given himself for the first time to his older brother, after years of repressing even the idea of sex, this felt like it would be his first time again. 

Maybe the concept of virginity was outdated. But the idea of having his “purity” corrupted thrilled him. Even if there wasn’t a single thing pure about him anymore.

James: So… are you going to the work get-together, then?

“Yeah, I ended up promising Xeno I would keep him company. I won’t flake on him.”

James:  Xeno… that’s your cousin’s husband, right?

“That’s right, the philosophy teacher.”

James:  That name rings a bell…

“He has a magazine, you might know him from that.”

“I’m off now, my boss will be here any second. Kisses.”

James:  Good luck, have fun, but don’t go to bed with him, save a little bit of yourself for me tomorrow 😉

“I’m not going to sleep with my boss!” he typed nervously.

James:  That’s the spirit, baby! 🙏

James:  Though a cheeky rub wouldn’t hurt…

James: For now 😏

James:  No penetration, everything else’s fair game 🙏

His face, already flushed, turned a deeper shade of red, blood boiling at the sheer shamelessness of his boyfriend, who had just openly encouraged him to flirt with his own boss.

Still, the lovestruck smile stayed as he set his phone down, lingering on his lips for several minutes along with a bubbling warmth in his chest. After talking to James, Regulus suddenly felt confident that it would be a good night, regardless of what others might think of him, or what he thought of himself.

Then, he heard the bathroom door creak open, and as he lifted his gaze, he found Mr Lupin watching him.

Startled, he stepped away from his desk where he had been almost sitting, straightening his posture immediately. Always stand up straight, head down, respectful to receive the Headmaster. He placed his hands behind his back, like a child caught doing something wrong, feeling his cheeks burn as he wondered how long the Headmaster had been watching him and whether he looked completely silly in front of him.

Mr Lupin’s gaze burned intensely inside Regulus, in a good way, making him lift his head slightly to meet it.

His eyes were soft, calm, and at the same time feverish, as if welcoming him and incinerating him completely at once.

His entire posture conveyed safety to Regulus, commanded respect, stirred admiration in him, admiration hidden in a dark place in his chest, a mystery even to himself, ready to spill at any moment. Regulus clenched his hands behind his back, forcing himself, despite James’s permission, not to let that strange, unfamiliar feeling show to Mr Lupin. After all, he couldn’t be selfish and make him uncomfortable with his weirdness, as he had been doing over the past few days, ruining the good professional relationship between them.

He had the chance to be good and respectful, to salvage whatever it was he was ruining, to try to be a good person.

It was difficult, though, when his boss was approaching wearing only the white dress shirt, his usual suit jacket folded under his arm, making Regulus notice how one less piece of clothing didn’t make Mr Lupin any less imposing.

Face to face, he was tall, broad-shouldered, chest open, confident, almost divine. The Headmaster couldn’t be more than 10cm taller than Regulus, yet he felt small in front of him. Not in a threatening way, but in a way that commanded respect, and something close to devotion.

Even though Regulus wanted to look away, to avoid revealing his inner conflict, he couldn’t stop admiring him.

He was so screwed that night.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Mr Lupin asked, his voice deep and soft, genuinely concerned, making Regulus melt.

“No, it’s ok, I was… distracted.” He was still distracted, floating, with how close he felt, even though his boss hadn’t even stepped into his personal space.

It was as if, even from a few steps away, Mr Lupin held him in an embrace, in an impossible closeness. As if he would gently pressed him against the desk, slipping between his legs with intimacy, one hand gripping his waist and sliding up his back beneath the shirt, igniting his skin, the other holding Regulus’s chin, asking him to look, to speak, with their lips almost touching.

Regulus had to stop fantasising.

“You have a pretty smile,” Mr Lupin said, eyes widening right after, giving away that the compliment had slipped out.

Regulus’s heart jumped in his chest, realising he was still smiling dreamily as he spoke to his boss, accidentally revealing his admiration. For a second, he wanted to cover his mouth,but if Mr Lupin had said his smile was pretty, he wanted to show it off with pride. His hands stopped halfway and clutched the hem of his shirt, trying to find a less awkward place to be.

“Thank you, Mr Lupin, it’s very kind of you.”

Keeping his face lowered in embarrassment, he caught the exact moment the suit jacket slid from Mr Lupin’s arms and dropped to the floor at his feet.

Before he could think, Regulus stepped forward and bent down to pick it up, now on his knees in front of him.

He reached it before it could get dirty or wrinkled and was surprised by the weight of the fabric, it hadn’t looked heavy at first.

But before he could even begin to wonder about the materia, something he always liked to notice in clothes, he realised his position in relation to Mr Lupin.

Kneeling, with both knees on the floor, Regulus was at the perfect height to suck his boss’s cock.

Looking ahead, right in front of him was Mr Lupin’s crotch, the trousers covering and slightly outlining something he found… very interesting.

Looking up, he found Mr Lupin staring down at him with a serious expression—definitely uncomfortable with the situation.

He jumped to his feet, extending the coat to him and tucking his hair behind his ear, immediately feeling extremely embarrassed. An awkward silence settled between them, and Regulus finally lowered his gaze, knowing it was his fault, that he was being inappropriate and disrespectful.

"Thank you. Shall we go?"

"Yes, sir."

Quickly, Regulus grabbed his things and followed the director through the empty hallways of the school, keeping a few steps behind, maintaining a small, respectful distance between them. With his head lowered, trapped in self-deprecating thoughts, he followed the short path to the parking lot, where Mr. Lupin’s car was naturally parked in the director’s designated space.

‘This is my last chance to back out,’ Regulus thought.

Mr. Lupin opened the passenger door for him, giving him a kind look and a gentle smile, as though Regulus were someone precious to him. As if it wasn’t strange. He got into the car without hesitation, easily caught by the slightest kindness, which filled his heart with gratitude, especially considering he didn’t deserve it.

"Thank you for the lift, Mr. Lupin."

"You’re welcome," he said kindly, pulling out of the school’s car park, still full of employees’ cars. "And please, call me 'Remus', we’re off the clock now."

"It feels a bit wrong, Sir," Regulus laughed. "But I’ll try."

"I promise I won’t bite," he joked, too. "Or suspend you for a week."

"That would actually be quite nice."

They both laughed, considering that spending a few days at home wouldn’t be, from their point of view, a bad punishment. Even if being suspended was unpleasant, Regulus would give the world to have some time to sort out the flat he used to share with Barty and Evan, which he had recently been living in with Mr. Jam. He would love to have the time to help Barty fix a few things in the club he bought, the saloon just behind Regulus’s flat, especially the storage room, which was a complete mess. But the adult world didn’t work like that.

"You’re always so worried about being polite, I can tell," Remus said with a shy smile.

"I get punished if I’m disrespectful."

‘I did,’ Regulus corrected himself in his thoughts, using the past tense. He didn’t have time to correct himself before Remus nodded, falling silent and seeming lost in his own thoughts. So, Regulus figured it was best not to disturb him.

It had been years since the last time he had been punished. Maybe the last time was that dreadful morning when his father caught him in Sirius’s bed, but Regulus didn’t like to think about it. He liked, but avoided remembering the punishments his older brother used to give him, the ones that made him aroused and begging for more, even though his skin was red and sensitive from the pain. But the real pain usually came after that, when he was hot and whimpering, and Sirius would just leave him, alone.

Maybe doing this as an adult, with someone he trusted, would be healing in some way. The dynamic that James was proposing might involve that kind of play, and Regulus couldn’t wait to try it out.

On the way back home after the amazing day at the amusement park, James had told him about his interest in BDSM and having a relationship based on it. 

Regulus remembered a few things related to the subject from the adult videos he watched when he was far too young for them, but it wasn’t anywhere near the complexity of relationships and trust that James had explained to him, and he had done some superficial research on it that entire week. It was still somewhat confusing in his mind, and Regulus hadn’t had the courage to dive deeper, but he had a good feeling about James’s proposal, especially considering that he had an inkling of his boyfriend’s repressed desires, and James seemed more than willing to explore them.

He didn’t think further when his phone started to ring, a sweet classic melody, even if Barty’s face didn’t quite match the vibe. Remus looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow at the photo of his brother flipping the bird and sticking his tongue out with a smiley face-shaped piercing. Regulus quickly covered the phone, embarrassed by the loud music.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lupin, may I answer, please?” he asked politely.

“Of course, dear, go ahead.”

Regulus’s face turned red at the accidental pet name, but even more embarrassing moments were yet to come, given Barty’s creativity.

“Hi, baby boy! Off to your little date?” Barty’s loud voice filled the car, even though it wasn’t on speaker. Regulus turned the volume down, but it was as if it made no difference.

“My work’s gatherning, yes, I’m…” he corrected, not wanting Remus to think he’d told his brother it was a date.

“Alright, you okay? Everything good? Feeling comfortable?”

A small smile painted Regulus’s face when he realised Barty was checking in on his anxiety. He thought back to their teenage years when Regulus would avoid going to parties because of his panic attacks, and Barty would always make sure he was alright about it, annoyingly sweet.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Alright, if you need anything, call us, okay?” Barty suggested, always including Evan as though the two of them were one person. “You’re meeting Xeno, right? And your boss?”

“He’s right next to me, we’re in his car,” Regulus said, adding with emphasis, “He’s listening.”

“Nice! So, Mr. Boss, take care of our baby!”

“Oh Dieu, please ignore him, Mr. Lupin,” Regulus rubbed his forehead.

“I’ll take care of him,” Remus answered with good humour.

His tone was kind, genuinely caring, as though he were making a promise about something that was supposed to be a joke from Barty. He seemed amused by the exchange, smiling with delight, a glint in his expression as if he had just discovered gold. It was lovely to watch; his relaxed expression was as attractive as his serious one. Remus looked divine in the green light from the traffic signal, even more so with the silly look on his face when he heard the car horn behind them.

“So everything’s alright, I just called to check on you,” Barty finished, satisfied. “Behave, kitten! I’ll take you later.”

“Don’t call me that, testa di cazzo!” Regulus muttered under his breath, growing more embarrassed by the nicknames.

“Language,” Remus’s calm, serious voice warned, making Regulus jump in his seat. He quickly nodded, like a puppy putting its tail tucked between its legs, and Remus smiled even more because of it.

“You heard your boss, didn’t you? Watch your mouth, baby boy,” Barty teased. “I’ll catch you later. If you need anything, call, okay? Ci vediamo!”

“Stammi bene…” Regulus said, pouting, hanging up and looking at Remus, embarrassed by the whole scene. “Do you know Italian?”

“Just enough to know you said something bad,” Remus explained, light-hearted and amused. “But it’s not my business how you speak, it’s just that I usually correct my boyfriend whenever he curses.”

Suddenly, Regulus’s heart tightened in his chest.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Mr. Lupin?”

“Yes, I’ve been with him for five years,” he said with a smile full of affection.

The tightness in Regulus’s chest grew even stronger, to the point where he felt a lump in his throat, silencing any comment he wanted to make about it. He should share in the happiness of Remus’s loving smile, not appear bitter at discovering that his boss was already taken. 

He quickly tried to suppress the feeling; after all, it didn’t make sense for him to be sad that his boss was in a relationship. First, for the very fact that Remus was his boss. Second, because Regulus was also in a relationship and shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else, even though his boyfriend encouraged him to. And third, because he didn’t love Remus enough to be so affected by the impossibility of ever being with him. 

Regulus didn’t want to be with him, he didn’t want a relationship beyond the professional one with his boss. Or did he? No, it was absurd to even think about it, to be so affected by something so trivial. After all, his feelings for Remus were nothing more than professional admiration. 

Or was it something more?

“Okay, so I won’t curse,” Regulus agreed, masking his confusion and the mixture of emotions.

“His rules don’t have to apply to you, dear,” Remus said, the endearment lingering in Regulus’s mind.

“But I want you to be pleased,” Regulus continued. After the words left his mouth, their meaning sounded strange in his own ears. “I mean, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“You never make me uncomfortable, NEVER,” Remus replied with certainty.

Watching the profile of such a good, kind, and caring person, Regulus was sure that what he truly wanted was to be good to Remus, to be helpful, to make him happy. But there was no way to say that without sounding ridiculous. In fact, this whole desire to please his boss was strange, and certainly wasn’t driven by any attempt to gain a professional advantage. He just felt it was the right thing to do to gain Remus’s trust.

To gain Remus’s trust.

Regulus shut his eyes tightly.

He wanted to do it because he liked Remus.

“So, you already have someone looking after you, right?”, Remus asked

Regulus’s eyes widened. Yes, he did have someone in his life, a man equally wonderful, kind, and affectionate, who deserved all his love and attention. James deserved a whole boyfriend, not someone whose heart was torn between people from the past and the present.

He didn’t know how Remus had figured out about his relationship, perhaps he had deduced it from the silly smile Regulus had when talking to James on the phone. With this vague assumption in mind, Regulus could lie, say that he wasn’t dating anyone, or invent a girlfriend as he had done a few times before. But knowing that his boss was part of the community, and that he had never treated anyone with disdain in the seven months they had worked together, Regulus wasn’t afraid to admit his sexuality.

“Yes, I do…”

“He owns you?”

It was a very deep and intimate question from someone who had just found out about his relationship. However, Regulus trusted Remus enough to tell him the truth about his feelings for James. 

It was deep, more than Regulus himself would like to acknowledge, something that transcended time and space, drawing him in since their first contact. James was beautiful when he smiled, and Regulus would do anything to see him happy, to make him satisfied, and to shower him with all the love his heart had. Sweet and caring people like his boyfriend deserved to be cared for in the same way they cared for others, James especially, always looking out for Regulus, always lighting up his day and life.

He wasn’t anyone’s “property,” but if Remus was referring to his commitment and dedication in the relationship, about his willingness to give himself to James, even though he had only accepted the proposal a week ago, Regulus would admit:

“My whole self. He owns me entirely.”

Remus nodded, a smile still on his lips, but a slightly sad expression as he looked at the road. Regulus wondered if he had said something wrong to upset him; he didn’t understand what could have caused that sombre look in his boss.

“Have you been together long?”

Actually, yes, Regulus had known James for many months of training, coffee, and more training, but officially, they had only been dating for a week, and he felt a bit embarrassed admitting that after being so deep in declaring his love:

“No, just a week. I know it’s very recent, but I feel a deep connection with him.”

“So… you’re new to the community?”

Regulus had known he was gay for many years, perhaps even before that day when Sirius promised never to kiss him again, but his involvement with the actions and causes of the LGBT community was recent. So he answered uncertainly:

“Yes…?”

Once again, Remus nodded, but this time, he seemed to gain more confidence. He seemed to have a lot of questions about Regulus’s relationship.

“How did you guys meet?” Remus asked, his tone neutral.

Explaining those months together could justify his growing love for James, but he couldn’t tell him that his boyfriend was his personal trainer, or he would feel like losing some of the respect from Mr. Lupin. Regulus knew he was a bit disgusting, always seeking love and pleasure in the most inappropriate places, but he didn’t want people of integrity, like his boss, to know about his sordid inclinations for morally corrupt loves, like his own family members, his personal trainer, and even Mr. Lupin himself, his boss.

“We met online,” he lied, looking for the most common answer. “We arranged to meet at a club last week.”

“Wow, hold on! You just met a guy online and followed him to a club? Is that it?” Remus said, alarmed, looking at him with surprise.

Regulus couldn’t hide the guilty grimace, feeling like he had invented the worst lie possible. Going on a first date to a club was a bit strange, and maybe even dangerous depending on the club. Normally, people met in restaurants to talk and get to know each other, but Regulus’s mind was so preoccupied with Barty’s club issues that it was the first thing that came to his head. He quickly rephrased his answer, hoping it would sound better:

“We had dinner and then went to a club. What’s the problem?”

“Do you have any idea what risk you put yourself in? He could have been a really bad person!” Remus warned him, his voice rising.

Regulus’s eyes widened in shock. His boss had never gotten close to losing his temper like this.

“I know, but it turned out fine, I’m alive,” he said awkwardly, trying not to think that he was getting a scolding.

“You could have gotten hurt,” Remus continued seriously. “In fact, you still could, if you’ve only known this guy for a week. You probably haven’t even talked properly.”

“Well, we’ve talked... and we’re going to talk more this weekend... But he’s not a bad person! He’s only been good to me!”

“But you shouldn’t give so much of yourself just because of that... he could be a jerk who’s just using you.”

Regulus felt his chest tighten with anger at hearing someone talk badly about his boyfriend. How could anyone say bad things about such an incredible and selfless person like James? Someone so good, so fun, and so caring? For a moment, he forgot that Remus didn’t know James, and defended him with an indignant tone:

“And who are you to tell me what to do?”

It was clear to see the change in Remus’s expression, from serious to sad, his shoulders slumping, and his eyes fixed on Regulus, with an unmistakable sense of anguish. His slightly parted lips lacked words, and his gestures were devoid of any reaction as Remus seemed to sink into sombre thoughts, quickly diverting his gaze back to the road, gripping the steering wheel with such force that it seemed like he might break it. 

Regulus got the impression that it was as though Remus wanted to say: ‘I really am no one to you, but I wish I were’, and his heart broke at that, filling with regret for being so harsh. Remus didn’t deserve that, not when he was simply worried about his well-being, which Regulus hadn’t shown enough gratitude for.

"Sorry, sir… that’s not what I meant…"

"No, it’s fine, you’re right," Remus said firmly.

"No, please, no."

Desperation began to take over Regulus, although he was sure his expression didn’t show it. The last thing he wanted was to push Remus away, to deny the kindness he had longed for from him all these days, at this level of intimacy they were developing. They were so close, moving beyond their professional relationship and talking about their lives, like friends, like something more. Regulus wanted this, he really liked Remus, and making him sad made his bones ache as if they were freezing with pure anguish.

Without thinking much, driven only by the need for Remus to look at him again, to fix the disappointment in his gaze, Regulus reached for Remus’s hand, which had just left the steering wheel, just like James had reached for his the previous weekend.

It was hard to describe the surge of warmth and electricity spreading through Regulus’s body, and he didn’t know whether it came from the touch or Remus’s intense gaze, which softened completely, as if he had never received the sharp response. 

Regulus’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest, the adrenaline from his boldness making his ribcage ache as he held his boss’s hand, chasing the warmth, feeling the softness of skin he had never touched, testing the roughness of one of the scars on his hand. Skin that wasn’t his, from a man who wasn’t his. But he couldn’t let go, nor divert his gaze, feeling his face burn just like the rest of his body.

It was so perfect, so wrong, so right, so inappropriate.

Remus intertwined their fingers, with an intimacy they hadn’t yet shared.

He closed his eyes when the car behind them honked, and, breathing out frustrated, he resumed driving.

But he didn’t let go of their intertwined hands, resting them on his lap.

"I'm sorry, truly, it’s just that…" Regulus admitted, struggling to form his thoughts through the new sensation, the light taste of intimacy with Remus. "I don’t know what to say, I didn’t mean to be rude… It’s all so new, and there’s so much..."

The permission to keep their hands together, showing that Remus was also comfortable with the proximity, gave Regulus more confidence to open up. They had built that trust over months, asking for help and helping each other with their work, counting on each other for office needs, so it wasn’t that difficult to extend that to his personal life. And then to put his deepest thoughts out there, without lies, without masks:

"I spent years believing that my feelings were wrong, working hard to keep it all inside. But then I met this person, the most incredible guy in the world, who’s shown me that what I feel and what I desire doesn’t make me a monster. I feel such a strong connection that I couldn’t even bear the thought of it being a lie."

"That’s why you have to be careful, he could try to take advantage of that, your psychology, to force you into doing things you don’t want to do."

"Yes, I promise I’ll be careful."

He knew that sounded very naïve on his part, that Remus was absolutely right to think it was dangerous, but Regulus hadn’t told the truth. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t easily deceived. It had taken months of observation and testing before he decided to ask James for that chance, not to mention a lot of support from his family, friends and terapist to judge if he was the right person.

He couldn’t complain about his boss’s reaction, that was the consequence of his lies, sounding like a defenceless, stubborn person, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere and hurting someone he was trying to impress. At least he was getting the chance to hold Remus’s hand and understand that any closeness he might want from him would only work with good communication and honesty, just like in any relationship.

With that, the two of them finally arrived at the small pub, a fairly large red-brick building with a deck full of tables, but reserved inside, with only a darkened window and a small entrance from which pleasant music leaked out. The exterior had a traditional style of decoration, and it didn’t look too expensive, which was great for Regulus, who couldn’t afford to spend a fortune on trivialities. 

They parked at the back of the building, on a quiet but secure street, monitored by a uniformed guard. Remus pulled on the handbrake, and Regulus unbuckled his seatbelt but made no move to get out, still holding hands with his boss, feeling very comfortable in that position.

"Pay attention, dear," Remus said, turning to face him intimately. "He might be a good person, someone who’ll show you the best the world has to offer and give you an incredible experience. But you shouldn’t trust just anyone, there are bad people out there."

"I know…" Regulus agreed, looking down, a weight settling on his chest. "But part of me feels like I deserve it— the bad experience."

"No, don’t even think that."

With all the care and tenderness in the world, Remus gently guided Regulus’s hand to his chest, covering it with both of his, drawing all of Regulus’s attention. Remus’s heart was beating fast, so real, like an anchor to reality, reminding Regulus that this wasn’t a dream, that his boss truly saw him as something precious.

"Listen to me, you don’t deserve to suffer, alright? It doesn’t matter what you think of yourself or how crazy the things you want to do are, no one can hurt you, either physically or psychologically, or force you into anything. Do you understand? You don’t deserve any kind of abuse."

"Yes, sir," Regulus agreed, completely entranced.

"Know your limits and don’t let anyone cross them, alright? Take it slow, and if there’s any sign of trouble, even the slightest, you call me. You have my number, you can ring me and I’ll come and find you, no matter where you are."

The care and affection Remus showed were evident in his gentle words and gestures, the warmth of his hands, the beat of his heart, his gaze focused on Regulus, searching for any sign of discomfort, reading him like an open book. That car felt like the whole world, just the two of them, the perfect world where Remus didn’t care that Regulus was "inadequate," where he didn’t shrink away from it.

In fact, had Remus ever felt uncomfortable, even disgusted? Regulus couldn’t say anymore. After all, there was no reason for Remus to treat him with such care if he had ever felt that way. Looking out for Regulus in a risky situation was the least any decent person would do, but offering to pick him up anywhere showed real commitment.

If Regulus had felt only professional admiration before, now, personally, his feelings were growing.

‘I’m really in trouble,’ he thought, disbelieving of himself.

"B-But I can guarantee he’s a good person," Regulus added, embarrassed, as though that might somehow fix things. "And it’s a safe club, I’ve known the owner for years."

"What’s it called? Maybe I know it," Remus asked, curious.

"It’s called Neon Rose, it’s a new place, opened a few months ago. I’m there almost every weekend, and I’m sure I’ve never seen you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You’re stunning, in every possible way, Mr. Lupin. I would recognize you among hundreds of people."

And there it was, the feeling he had kept inside, pouring out of his heart without any restraint, the words tumbling out as though they were the most natural thing in the world. His admiration for Remus hung in the silence of the car, received with a smile.

Remus’s eyes widened, but he smiled shyly, clearly pleased by the compliment.

"Sorry, that was inappropriate..." Regulus apologised, even though it wasn’t really necessary.

"No, it's fine. I think, actually, this whole conversation is inappropriate for a boss and an employee," Remus said, slowly releasing their joined hands, letting Regulus’s hand fall onto his lap, which immediately felt cold, having gotten used to the perfect fit of their hands together. "But... I don’t mind."

"You don’t?"

"No... I think, with due respect and consensuality, some of the rules that society imposes can be bent."

"You think so?" Regulus asked, hopeful.

"Our community isn’t exactly what society considers right, is it?" Remus chuckled lightly. "I would like to be your friend, Arthur. Not a colleague, but I would like to get to know you."

"Why?"

"Isn’t it obvious, dear?"

It wasn’t, but Regulus didn’t want Remus to stop looking at him that way, as if he had any value.

"Well, then, we can be friends..." Regulus tried to hide his smile, feeling a little embarrassed. "But please, give me a nickname, I’m not very good with my own name."

"A nickname?"

"Any one, be creative or offensive, I don’t mind," he shrugged. "My friends call me all sorts of things – 'thing', 'starlight', 'cupid', 'world destroyer', anything really."

"Can I keep calling you 'dear'?"

"It’s perfect."

With that, he could add another nickname to his endless list – now Regulus was Remus’s "dear", and it made his heart swell even more.

As they got out of the car and headed toward the pub, Regulus realised something curious in his chest, always full of feelings ready to explode. It wasn’t as if he was dividing his heart between the people he loved, but rather as if he had a separate heart for each love.

One heart for James, finally getting the fulfilment of what he had wanted for months, slowly allowing himself to show all his love, receiving affection in return at the same level.

One for Barty and one for Evan, who he content with the crumbs he could get in the familial relationship they had, pretending that that the care was only because they were his brother and cousin, that he didn't missed the hugs they didn’t shared anymore, that choosing not to live with them anymore wasn’t an attempt to stop feeling that way.

He knew it was impossible, because even after years, there was still his heart for Sirius, rotting in his chest for all the things he couldn’t say or show. After all, he didn’t even know where his brother was, and Sirius probably didn’t want to know about his well being.

And finally, there was a heart for Remus, one that had been ignored and masked with a professional attitude, a disguise that was becoming increasingly obvious to Regulus himself, as he let those hidden feelings spill out.

It was hard to understand, let alone explain, but after careful thought, perhaps James had figured it out before him. Perhaps he already knew that Regulus didn’t really have to share him with anyone. Maybe James felt the same way about his mysterious friends. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck them, but that wasn't a problem either.

If James, being an only child, wasn’t taught to share, but still wasn’t selfish with his things, Regulus had always been taught to share with his brother, yet he was always willing to make Sirius happy.

“Is he being good to you?” Remus asked as they reached the door of the bar, leaving Regulus a little confused, having gotten lost in his thoughts.

“My partner?”

“You can use the proper terms, if you don’t mind.”

Still a little dazed, especially with the music from the bar surrounding them, Regulus didn’t immediately think about the exact term Remus was referring to. However, he saw this as a good opportunity to prove that James was a good person.

“Yes, he’s been really good to me. Even in such a short time, he’s given me a sense of stability and helped me with things that have improved my quality of life and my thoughts about myself. He’s a nice guy, always cares so much about others, and I want to be good to him too.” Regulus smiled lovingly, feeling a little silly for being unable to contain himself. “We have a date tomorrow; I can’t wait!”

“Be careful, please, I beg you…” Remus said, genuinely pleading.

“I promise I will,” he replied confidently.

Scanning the room for his colleagues, they found the reserved table at the back of the bar. After greeting the other teachers, they settled near them but continued their conversation, since the others were preoccupied with their own topics. The bar's music wasn’t too loud but made it hard to understand, so Remus leaned in closer to Regulus to speak, their feet accidentally brushing under the table.

“Hey, if I’m being too forward with you, you can tell me to stop or use a safeword, a colour…” Remus suggested with caution.

Regulus frowned. The concept was familiar to him, but he didn’t know exactly from where and why, so he asked: “What’s a ‘safeword’?”

Chapter Text

Christmas holidays, 2012

Everything was fine. Everything was just fine. There was nothing to be worried about. Nothing would change at all.

Regulus tossed and turned in his sleep, making a mess of the blankets he used to sleep. His legs were tangled in them, and he could barely move at all, considering how much his restlessness had twisted the bedding out of place. They were now wrapped around his ankles like cuffs. Even if sleep didn’t claim him, if his body remained more interested in thrashing about restlessly, sleep would eventually find him, and everything would be fine in the morning.

He would wake up and go to the bathroom to get ready for the day. As the good younger brother he was, he would wait for Sirius, who usually took an eternity in the bathroom of his suite. They would sit at the kitchen table with their parents and everyone would be nice. Then Sirius would head off to school, and Regulus would spend the day tucked away in the library until lunchtime. He would have lunch with their mum and return to the safety of the bookshelves until dinner, maybe having Kreacher keep him company for afternoon tea in between. Then he would dine with their parents and go to his room to get ready for bed early, because the next day would be his return to school.

But Sirius wouldn’t come home that day.

Sirius wouldn’t share his meals anymore.

Sirius wouldn’t pick him up from school for the rest of the year.

Sirius wouldn’t spend the weekends with him.

Sirius would be studying at a better school.

A boarding school.

Four hundred and seventy miles away.

Regulus would join him in the next academic year.

Until then, he would stay at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Alone with their parents.

Because that day, the Headmaster had come to inform their parents that Regulus’s transfer to the new school would have to be postponed.

Because he had failed his maths test.

Regulus swallowed down the urge to cry once more. He had already shed enough tears to last a lifetime when their mother told them about the change—about his failure. He had been slapped across the face for it, and more followed with every day he cried during meals with their parents. But he hadn’t learnt his lesson, and so the punishments continued. Sirius had been assigned the task ever since that afternoon when their father declared he was done dealing with them.

But soon, it wouldn’t be like that anymore.

Because Sirius would be far away.

He wouldn’t punish him anymore.

He wouldn’t hold him anymore.

But Sirius hadn’t held him since that day he got hard after spanking him. There had been no more hugs or kisses beyond what was strictly necessary to comfort Regulus after a punishment.

Sirius wanted distance.

Maybe that was why they were all pretending nothing was happening.

Everything was fine. Everything was just fine.

There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing would change at all.

But Regulus was getting too old to play pretend.

He threw off the blankets as if they were suffocating him and stormed out of his room in a blind panic, blind to everything in his way. He went straight to Sirius’s door. Regulus knocked softly, not wanting to wake their parents and ruin everything, even though the urgency to see his brother was overwhelming. His breath was shallow and uneven, his eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill again. His heart was full of fear and loneliness, because soon Sirius wouldn’t be sleeping there anymore.

He wouldn’t be there to soothe Regulus’s spiralling panic.

He wouldn’t be there for months.

They would drift apart.

They were already drifting apart.

Sirius opened the door, and before he could even think, Regulus was already throwing himself into his arms, clinging to him with all his strength, as if his older brother might vanish then and there. As if he didn’t have to wait until morning to lose him. But in his heart, Regulus knew he didn’t—not really. That process had already begun, slowly, over the final days of December, when Sirius had started to grow more and more distant.

They had reverted to what they had been when that stupid promise was made—so insignificant to Regulus that he had nearly forgotten his brother had once sworn he would love him the right way.

And yet, Regulus believed that the right way, for them, children of the Black family, corrupted at their core, was whatever they both craved.

Regulus knew what he wanted. He was sure of it.

But his older brother wasn’t.

Sirius was loyal, the kind of person who wanted to keep his promises.

Maybe he didn’t feel the same all-consuming intensity Regulus did.

But Regulus, selfish as he was, could only think about giving his all—just to make his brother love him more.

Despite his promise, despite trying to pull away, Sirius embraced his younger brother with tenderness and care, pulling him into the room and closing the door without ever letting go. It felt strange—their chests pressed together, Regulus fitting perfectly beneath Sirius’s chin, his ear resting over Sirius’s chest, listening to the wild rhythm of his heart. But their legs… they didn’t quite match. Sirius was standing awkwardly, clearly trying to avoid letting their hips touch.

Regulus already knew why.

But more than ever, he wanted to touch him. With his whole body. Intimately. He wanted to satisfy him like he had on the day of the “punishment”. He wanted to hear his older brother come again. He wanted to make him love him more, so he wouldn’t forget him in the endless stretch of time they would be apart. He wanted to memorise the heat of his brother, because he knew it would be the only comfort he would have for months.

He wasn’t very strong compared to him, but tonight, Sirius felt weak—and eventually, his body gave in.

Arms and legs tangled together. They fit so perfectly it was almost cruel. Like they had found the missing pieces of themselves. Like they could finally breathe—safe, whole, and home.

Regulus didn’t know what to do with this growing space between their lives, the distance looming ever larger.

Wrapped in the relief of feeling whole and protected in his older brother’s arms, he felt Sirius’s erection pressing against his stomach—and he pressed back, knowing what it did to him. He had learnt the friction felt good for Sirius, and Regulus wanted to try.

This time, he wanted to see it.

Touch it.

Have that part of him.

Do something, truly.

"Reggie, please… don’t…" Sirius whispered, his breath hitching in a half-groan.

Clearly, Regulus had caught him mid-thought—one that didn’t involve asking his younger brother for help.

"Please, Siri, I want to be your girl," he pleaded.

"You don’t know what you’re saying," his older brother replied, with certainty and seriousness.

"I do. I really do," Regulus lied. "I want to do that with you. I want to touch you…"

"No. We can’t."

"Siri, please, let me do this, let me—or… or I’ll find someone who will do it to me!"

"You don’t have the courage, mon cœur," Sirius laughed, as if his younger brother had just told him a joke.

But Regulus wasn’t joking.He was determined, and growing increasingly aggressive in his attempts to make his brother give in—even if it meant resorting to low blows like jealousy to provoke him. With every passing second, he grew more desperate, terrified of losing his brother.

"I need you, Siri," Regulus begged. "Just one more time…"

He pulled back just enough to let Sirius see his tear-filled eyes, hoping to sway him with the desperation in them. Sirius’s face flickered through a cascade of expressions—

The love that made Regulus feel like the most important person in the world.

The hunger, deep and dark, like he wanted to devour him.

The guilt of wanting this.

And the desperate battle for self-control.

Until it reached the one Regulus had been waiting for:

Surrender.

“Fuck it,” Sirius muttered.

And before Regulus could even be shocked by the swear word, his lips were seized—kissed with fire and urgency.

All those days of denial melted away between them in a kiss that was hot but not frantic. They took their time feeling one another—as if they might somehow forget someday.

But that was impossible. No matter how many days, weeks, months or years the two brothers spent apart, no matter how much they denied their forbidden love, the memory of each other, the details of every touch, was carved into their very souls. The way their tongues moved together, the salty taste of kisses often laced with tears, the way their hands cupped each other’s cheeks, caressed necks, chests… and lower.

Sirius lifted his younger brother effortlessly, catching Regulus by surprise. They stumbled awkwardly to the bed, where Sirius sat with his back against the headboard, Regulus straddling his thighs, just like on the day of the punishment.

Regulus was about to protest. He didn’t want it like that this time. He wanted to see Sirius. To touch him.

But then Sirius pulled him back just enough to free his erection from his trousers.

Regulus stared, breath catching in his throat. It was bigger than he remembered, the head flushed red and glistening with clear fluid, a small patch of hair at the base showing his older brother was already becoming a man.

The sight made heat rise all over Regulus’s body, his mouth water, his heart race. And yet, he felt a wave of shame, too—ashamed of his own body, which looked nothing like Sirius’s.

"Let me see yours too, mon cœur. I want to rub them together," Sirius murmured gently, guiding Regulus’s face to kiss his cheek.

Even though he was shy, Regulus was curious about what his brother would do. So he obeyed.

His own soft, small penis was soon wrapped in Sirius’s hand, moving in a way that made something strange stir low in his belly. It wasn’t bad, just hot and dizzying, making his thoughts blur a little.

But he was here with a purpose.

He had Sirius’s erection right there in front of him—he wanted to memorise the shape of it with his hands.

He mirrored what Sirius was doing to him, now trying it on the hard shaft in front of him, his fingertips curiously tracing the raised veins and the slick, tender head.

He wet his fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting the salt on his tongue. That made Sirius moan, staring at him like he was hypnotised by the way Regulus explored him.

Satisfied with seeing and touching, Regulus began to stroke him, trying to recreate the reaction from that other day. He knew the tip was more sensitive, so he focused there, gently, a little unsure if he might hurt him. But Sirius didn’t sound hurt. He groaned, swore under his breath.

"Like that, mon cœur," he whispered, guiding Regulus’s hand. "Hold it like this… yes… ahh, perfect."

Regulus followed his lead. Once he got the hang of it, he leaned forward to kiss Sirius again, to feel the moans vibrate in his own mouth.

Sirius’s hand slid between Regulus’s legs too, touching him where it felt good, rubbing in those same spots he always liked—but Regulus stayed soft. Sirius didn’t seem to mind.

Before the pleasure overwhelmed him completely, Sirius’s other hand roamed over Regulus’s body—from his back to his navel, then to his chest, where his nipples hardened under teasing fingers.

Sirius threw his head back against the headboard, letting it rest there for a moment as Regulus quickened the pace.

Then he let go of Regulus’s cock, wrapping his hand around both of theirs instead.

"I’m gonna… come, Reggie…"

"Let me see, Siri. S’il vous plaît…"

With steady strokes from base to tip, a little twist at the head, Sirius came—his hips jolting, warm release spilling over Regulus’s hand.

Regulus kept stroking, watching Sirius tremble through the peak of it, eyes distant, lost in a pleasure Regulus didn’t yet understand.

But he had caused it.

He had done that to his older brother.

When Sirius opened his eyes again, they locked onto Regulus’s with dark intensity, half-lidded and searching. One hand slid to Regulus’s thigh, gently moving back and forth, as if lost in thought—considering something.

As if taking him in.

As if devouring him with his gaze.

As if he already wanted more than just an orgasm.

Until Regulus started to pee in his lap.

They both gasped when the warm stream hit Sirius’s abdomen, running down onto his softening cock. Regulus felt an overwhelming sense of relief in his body—he hadn’t even realised how full his bladder had been until that moment—but he immediately tried to cover himself.

It was humiliating, and he had to stop—but Sirius held his arms, stopping him.

Regulus shifted his hips, trying to move away, but his older brother only spread his legs wider, exposing him completely while he continued to urinate all over Sirius’s cock.

His face was burning with shame. And yet, that feeling of release was almost wonderful. The heat of Sirius’s hands around his wrists spread through his whole body, just like the sight below him—wetting brother’s skin, his cock, the bed—proof of his loss of control.

Desperate and humiliated, he could only watch as the final drops dribbled onto Sirius’s cock, the hair at the base, his thighs. The white sheet beneath them now stained yellow, the whole room filling with a strong, unmistakable scent.

Regulus wanted to hide, to cover himself, his eyes welling with tears of embarrassment. But his older brother didn’t let him. He gently lowered Regulus’s arms, keeping his legs apart.

"Aren’t you a bit old to be wetting the bed, Reggie?" Sirius teased, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand.

"I’m sorry, Siri. I’m so, so sorry!" Regulus cried, mortified.

"It’s all right, mon cœur… it was an accident. But fuck, you looked so hot soaking me like that. If I hadn’t just come, I would be filling you with cum right now."

"W-We’ll have to change the sheets…" Regulus muttered, cheeks burning again.

"We’ll throw them in the wash tomorrow, before anyone notices. No big deal."

With the same ease he had used to lift Regulus into his lap, Sirius stood up, helping them both get dressed again as they surveyed the damage. By some miracle, Regulus’s trousers were untouched, but Sirius’s were damp—and so was the bed. The sheets were ruined, and the mattress would need to dry out the next day.

It was a double bed, Sirius could sleep on the other side that night, but Regulus wanted to invite him into his room instead.

"Good thing I won’t be using this bed for a while," Sirius said with a smile.

Regulus’s heart sank. He lowered his head, crushed by the same ache that had brought him there.

"Hey… that’s not what I meant—" Sirius began, realising he had said the wrong thing.

"Just promise me, ok?!" Regulus said, tearful. "Promise me you won’t forget me. That you’ll call me, text me… and that you’ll come back for summer break."

"Of course I will, mon cœur. I’m going to miss you so much..."

"Promise me!" he demanded, insistent. "Promise you won’t abandon me."

"Never. I will never leave you."

And in the midst of all those intense emotions, they hugged each other again—their bodies speaking louder than any word, louder than any promise.

They were together. They always had been. And somehow, they always would be.

The moment didn’t last. A knock on the door startled them both, and they pulled apart, hearts hammering with fear.

"Master Regulus? Are you in there?" came the shrill voice of Kreacher, the Black family’s housekeeper, from the other side of the door. Regulus exhaled in relief.

"Yes, I’m here," he called back, earning a disapproving look from Sirius. "Can you help me?"

Then, a short, wrinkled old man stepped into the room, wearing striped pyjamas and holding an electric lantern—like some sort of ghost. Regulus gave him a sheepish smile, realising they had likely disturbed his night patrol around 12 Grimmauld Place.

Regulus had known Kreacher since he was little. The old man had worked as the housekeeper of the Black family home for decades—and had often ended up playing babysitter to the two brothers. He was constantly grumpy and irritable, traits that had earned him Sirius’s disdain, but he had always been kind to Regulus.

More than once, he had been more of a father than their actual father ever was.

His real surname was Kircher, but neither of the boys could pronounce it properly when they were young, so eventually they had just called him Kreacher. And the name had stuck.

Maybe that’s why he was always in a bad mood.

"What the bloody hell happened in here?" he muttered, squinting, thoroughly unimpressed.

"I pissed the bed," Sirius said, taking the blame for his little brother, and wrinkling his nose at the housekeeper.

"Mind your tongue, you insolent little twat," Kreacher snapped, just like always.

"Would you mind helping us, please?" Regulus asked politely. "And… if you could not tell our parents…"

At once, the old man’s expression softened. It was obvious who his favourite Black brother was.

"Of course, of course! You two go on to the other room, I’ll take care of this mess."

"Thank you, Kreacher… Siri?" Regulus asked, noticing his brother wasn’t moving.

"Kreacher… I’m leaving tomorrow," Sirius said, suddenly solemn.

"Praise the good Lord," Kreacher muttered without looking at him. The tone was dismissive,but deep down, they both knew it wasn’t meant with cruelty.

If there was one thing the brothers knew well, it was the difference between real violence and someone just pretending to be grumpy.

"Look after Regulus," Sirius said, surprising the younger brother, his face tight with something that felt like desperation. "Please. Look after him."

"Always. It’s my job," Kreacher replied flatly, as though the request were unnecessary.

"If anything happens, you’ll tell me, yes?"

"You’ll be the first to know, Master Sirius."

With that promise made, even though Regulus knew he would spend months aching for his brother, he no longer felt completely alone. Sirius wouldn’t forget him.

That plea had made sure of it.

He still loved him. He always would. No matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter what he’d promised.

And that vow not to abandon him… Sirius had to keep it.

He had to.

Because if he didn’t, Regulus wasn’t sure he could survive it.

…

Friday Night

After just over an hour of conversations, toasts, and alcohol, Remus was already fed up with the little bar and its repetitive music, even though most of the night his mind had been far away from there.

During that hour of socialising, maintaining his fake smile only to avoid showing how lost he was in his thoughts, he only woke up when one of the reasons for them asked him something or gently touched his arm to get his attention. His assistant spent most of the time engaged in a private conversation with Professor Lovegood, but when he noticed how quiet Remus had become, giving away the turmoil inside his head, he would bring Remus into their conversation, making him part of it.

He was effective and captured the headmaster's attention every time he opened his mouth, his red, soft-looking lips captivating him effortlessly. Watching them wrap around the straw of the juice he was drinking was oddly attractive, even though it was such a mundane thing. He looked stunning that night; the emerald lights of the bar matched perfectly with his silver eyes, making him even more enchanting. He had the polite mannerisms of a lord while eating a simple vegetable pastry, filling Remus's heart with an absurd admiration. He laughed so beautifully, and he was so perfect... but as soon as the conversation with him ended, Remus would drift off again.

His assistant is way too naïve.

Bothered by that thought, Remus eventually went to the bathroom an hour later and called Sirius. He needed to vent to someone, or he felt like he would explode.

“So, he met a guy online and went straight to a BDSM club with him? One he already knows…?” Sirius asked, intrigued after hearing what Remus had found out about his assistant. “Well, that explains a lot of his behaviour in general. He’s clearly a sub... But you said they have only been together for a week? Like, did he had a partner before? No... you said he was new to the community. But he’s been acting submissive ever since he met you. It doesn’t add up.”

“Nothing about this adds up,” Remus muttered, feeling like he was losing his mind.

“Well, maybe they have only been together for a week, but they have been talking for months... and he lied to you about being new to BDSM.”

That made Remus feel even more certain that he was losing his grip — because in their relationship, Sirius was never the one to be more rational in a situation, looking for answers or suggesting the most plausible theory. That had always been his role.

“I have no idea, love. He sounded caught red-handed, like he knew he was in trouble.”

“So he knew he was doing something wrong. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t negotiate properly with the guy beforehand, and that’s why it’s risky. So he’s not that naïve, as you said. Just... reckless.”

“Oh, he is, Pads. He’s so vulnerable.” Remus sighed, trying to keep himself under control. “He told me he used to feel like he was wrong, and this guy ‘showed him wonders.’”

“Oh, so psychologically he might be vulnerable. That makes him high-risk. Did he say how experienced the Dom is?”

“No. But it doesn’t seem like either of them knows what they’re doing. He didn’t even know what a safe word is! That’s basic!”

“Whoa, calm down.” Sirius sounded like he had straightened up on the other end of the line — Remus could hear the rustle of fabric. “He said he and his ‘boyfriend’ are into BDSM, and he doesn’t know what a safe word is?”

“Yes!” Remus replied with emphasis.

“That’s the basics. Either they’re experimenting in all the wrong ways, or he’s found an abuser, not a Dom.”

“That’s why I’m so worried.”

He knew his assistant could be lying, or that there might be more to the story than what came out in those few minutes of conversation. Maybe he had known that Dom for a while and had only met him in person recently. Either way, not knowing what a safe word was? That was a huge red flag. He said he already knew the owner of the BDSM club they went to, but also admitted he was new to the community, so one of them must be a lie. In the end, none of the details aligned, and that’s what made Remus so intrigued — and so concerned.

‘ Why did he feel the need to lie and hide things from me? ’ he couldn’t help but think.

“Are you really sure he’s into BDSM?” Sirius asked, just as curious — something Remus himself had already wondered multiple times. “Like, are you sure you didn’t misread the signs?”

“I asked if someone was taking care of him, and I specifically said ‘he owns you?’ — and his answer was, ‘my whole self,’” Remus recounted. “He told me he gets punished when he disobeys, and he explicitly said he’s new to the BDSM community. Want more?”

“No, that’s clear. You didn’t misunderstand. Maybe he is with a dickhead. Did you told him? That he should be careful?”

“Yes, but he didn’t listen.” Remus sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead as the start of a headache bloomed. “You didn’t hear him like I did, Pads. He’s so deep into this, convinced that guy is his fairytale prince. They have been together for a week. A! WEEK! They met at a club, for fuck’s sake! And he’s already that devoted to him.”

When his assistant spoke about his partner, his beautiful silver eyes filled with a warm gleam that Remus had never seen in all the months of their acquaintance. It was clear that his assistant felt loved, especially considering the passionate smile that lit up his face during he and his ‘boyfriend’ exchanging messages and calls, which Remus had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing. To think that all this adoration, this submission, and affection could be directed at the wrong person, that the one to whom his assistant was giving his submission could break his trust — either through lack of experience as a dominant or by using a D/s dynamic to abuse him — unsettled Remus.

Something bad gnawed at his chest, the need to do something, to move, to act. He wanted to return to that table and kiss his assistant in front of all the school staff, wanted to grab his hand and never let go, wanted to take him in front of his supposed dominator to show how someone so sweet and kind deserved to be treated. Remus wanted to treat his dear assistant the way he deserved, to give the most reciprocity to all the good things that had been done, and to everything the Crouch family had done for him. And to teach him everything he might be learning in the wrong way, he wanted more than anything to fill him with love and care, and maybe a few spankings for being reckless and telling lies to someone who only wanted to help. In short, Remus wanted to train him to be HIS baby boy.

He couldn't stand the thought of someone else possessing his dear assistant, doing it wrong, when Remus could be so much better for him than this other dominator ever could.

“You’re jealous?” Sirius teased.

“Of course not!” Remus protested immediately, heart racing and cheeks flushing. “I’m worried! He’s in danger!”

“Alright, alright, I get it… But you said the guy called him? On his phone? Did he at least sound nice?”

“Yes… he sounded like a good person. He called him ‘baby boy’ and was concerned about his anxiety, I could hear it. He sounded sweet and funny, like someone who actually cares. But anyone can sound like that.”

“Maybe they’re into ageplay, you know? ‘Baby boy’ is very typical of that kind of dynamic.”

“But it still doesn’t explain why he didn’t know what a safe word is.”

Even though ageplay was a practice with its own peculiarities within BDSM, as part of a D/s dynamic, the general rules still applied to ensure the safety of everyone involved. Ignoring this fact would be irresponsible on both sides, but since his assistant had said he was new to the community, Remus preferred to hold the supposed Dom responsible for not explaining it to him.

But he didn’t know if the Dom was also new to the community.

He didn’t know if his assistant had told the truth about being new to this.

He didn’t know the details of their relationship.

He didn’t know anything.

Remus didn’t have to know any of this; they were boss and employee, not close enough to know.

But he wanted so much to be close to his assistant.

He wanted to be more than a boss, more than a friend.

He wanted to be the place of the supposed “boyfriend/dominant” in his assistant’s life.

“Yes, all of this is really suspicious, but there are a lot of holes in that plot. But I think you're so restless because you're jealous. You want him, Moony — so badly,” Sirius said again, more emphatically this time.

Remus sighed deeply, thinking irritably that it was pointless to lie, neither to himself nor to Sirius, who always had a way of extracting the hardest truths from him.

“Yes, I’m kind of jealous, and maybe envious of his partner… I admit, ok?! But you can’t say that I don’t have reasons to be worried.”

“You have all the reasons, mon amour , especially because he’s lying and hiding things from you.”

“I have no right to force him to tell me the truth, I’m no one to him.” His assistant had said that in no uncertain terms, that Remus was only his boss and had no right to tell him what to do. It hurt so much, especially because of how badly Remus longed to be someone to him.

“But you wish you were, and you can be someone to him,” and then Sirius sighed. “I think you two need to talk more before you make assumptions and drive yourself into restrictions that will distance him. Get closer. You just found out he’s a sub — maybe talking more will clear up your doubts.”

“Sure… I need to talk to him… Jeez, it’s so weird when you’re rational, Pads.”

“What do you mean?! I’m always rational!”

“Ok, love,” he agreed with no intention, saying goodbye before his pet could protest more. “See you in a few minutes?”

“Yes, I’m waiting for the bus, you have a few minutes to talk to pretty boy. Love you, Moony.”

“Love you, Pads.”

Turning off the phone and slipping it into his trouser pocket, Remus took a deep breath before turning on the tap to splash his face, trying to pull himself together.

Alone in the pub’s bathroom, he stared at his face in the mirror, dripping cold water. He didn’t let the droplets fall onto his shirt, even as he stared intently at his reflection without moving, trying to focus on anything but his assistant sitting with Professor Lovegood.

It was difficult when the smell of him was still clinging to his nostrils from the car ride, bringing an intimate reminder of their hands clasped together, his wrist hidden in the cuff of his shirt, which used to carry that wonderful scent. It was sweet and warm, like a cinnamon drink on a Christmas morning, with a spicy undertone that drove him mad.

At that moment, he fervently prayed for a good end to the day, free from worries, thoughts, intentions, and temptations, especially considering that he had just discovered that he was someone’s “baby boy” – a Dom who could be a bastard. A Dom who wasn’t him.

Remus wasn’t a religious man; his parents had never baptised him or introduced him to any religion, after all, they weren’t religious either. So, he clung to mantras and pointless pleas, hoping his dear assistant wouldn’t do anything that would unintentionally eat away at his sanity during the rest of the work gathering. Whether it was his affectionate way with Remus, his perfect image in the middle of the night, or those lies about the nature of his relationship. Perhaps because he had no god to pray to, his pleas were going unanswered, considering that just the smell of his perfume was already affecting him more than it should.

Remus splashed more water on his face, then grabbed a paper towel to dry off and left the bathroom.

Approaching the table of his colleagues, he immediately noticed that his assistant and Professor Lovegood were nowhere to be seen.

He looked around, his heart racing in his chest, approaching one of the professors with the sole aim of asking about him. It was a little embarrassing to see Professor Arthur Weasley from sciences push the chair for the headmaster to sit with him and the other staff, only to receive the dry question:

“Did you see Mr Crouch?”

“Err… He left with Professor Lovegood,” he answered, confused. “They both said their goodbyes, they were on their way out.”

“Really?” Remus asked, unable to hide his disappointment.

‘ Didn’t say goodbye to me? ’ he thought sadly, quickly regaining his calm expression, realising he had given away odd reactions to his colleagues, who exchanged looks with mild judgement. Remus sensed that the rumours about him being an obsessed boss, who in a twisted way coerced his assistant into serving him, would only grow stronger. He didn’t care much at the moment.

“I think he’s still outside… if you want to talk to him,” the professor suggested.

“Right, thanks, Mr Weasley,” he said, somewhat disoriented.

His restless mind was filled with new chaotic thoughts, making him feel spaced out and inattentive to everything around him, except his assistant, who had left without saying goodbye. There were plenty of reasons he might have done that, Remus knew, and mostly it was his fault.

Whether it was because he had been too invasive or crossed the line of professionalism, even the line of friendship he had suggested building. Perhaps his assistant had noticed his desires, his wants, and realised that he didn’t want that, and didn’t want Remus in his life anymore. Worse, maybe that supposed Dom/boyfriend of his had gotten jealous and taken him somewhere.

Remus almost ran out of the pub, his heart pounding even harder in his chest.

Stepping outside, he quickly found his assistant in a far corner of the deck. Talking to a man. A man who was slowly taking up his personal space. A handsome man, but with a very nasty smile on his face. His assistant didn’t seem happy at all.

Trembling, fearing that his naive assistant was in danger, Remus moved closer, ready to defend him.

He stopped halfway, hidden from their view by the open umbrellas of nearby tables, despite it being night.

Remus heard the man’s flirting, which twisted his stomach, before realising that his assistant was smoking a cigarette.

Purposefully, he tapped the ashes onto the man’s arm which was trying to embrace him over the deck railing, the stranger jumped in place with a light burn.

“Ouch! What the hell, mate?!” he complained, pulling his arm away.

“Here’s the thing: if you step one more inch closer, I’ll burn your face with this cigarette, and I would hate to do that and waste my only cigarette, you understand?” his assistant said coldly, his silver eyes distant but gleaming like two knives, sending a shiver down Remus’s spine.

“My god, you can’t take a compliment—”

Before Remus could blink, his assistant had grabbed the man’s hair and directed his face towards the wooden deck railing, causing a thud that startled the nearby tables. The man bothering him grunted, holding his nose that was bleeding, his face red from the blow, in an expression of pain. And even with all those strangers staring at them, his assistant gave a perfect smile and a laid-back attitude, draping his arm over the man’s shoulder, extending his hand to the audience in an apologetic gesture:

“Sorry, my friend’s drunk.”

A drunk stumbling into the bar and hitting his face wasn’t an unusual sight, so no one cared, especially when his assistant pulled the man closer to whisper something into his ear with intimacy. A wicked smile painted his beautiful lips, something so out of place on his angelic face that it seemed like a vision from hell. A demon in a beautiful face, to whom Remus would gladly give his soul and body if asked. 

It was divine, in an inexplicable way of being so beautiful, and yet disturbing, because seconds earlier, Remus had been worried that his assistant was a helpless and vulnerable creature, only to later realise that he not only knew how to defend himself but also had no qualms about being violent.

He was utterly stunned.

When the man ran off, there was some blood on his assistant’s shirt sleeve, but he didn’t care, continuing to smoke his cigarette, unbothered. Remus walked up to him, in a trance, mesmerised by the sight, forgetting the panic that had consumed him just moments before.

The change in expression was clear when he entered his assistant’s line of sight, his shoulders relaxing, and his eyes softening, as if they sparkled with adoration, returning to his friendly side only for Remus. He was even more receptive to him than to Professor Lovegood, showing a manner that could be described as docile. But after the display of his violent capacity, Remus noticed that this sweet side only showed to a select group of people.

For the other professors and staff, his assistant made no effort to be pleasant.

For those who bothered him, he didn’t hesitate to burn their arms and break their noses.

For him, his dear assistant was even more affectionate. This feeling of receiving the best behaviour from him made Remus feel special, his chest swelling with pride.

Remus stepped closer to him, to the same distance that man had been, testing the waters, trying to gauge how his assistant would react.

He took one more step, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke wrapping around them.

"You smoke?" Remus asked, hypnotised by the smoke and the way his assistant's fingers curled around the cigarette, the sleeve of his shirt stained red.

"Only socially, but I wouldn't say I socialise enough for it to be a habit..." he replied with a shrug. "Want a drag?"

It had been a few good months since Remus last smoked, and he didn’t particularly miss the smoke or the nicotine—but the thought of putting his lips anywhere near his assistant’s was a suggestion nearly impossible to refuse. He pulled out his phone to type a message, saying:

"Just a moment."

"Asking your boyfriend for permission?" his assistant guessed, bringing the cigarette to his lips again.

"Sort of. We both used to smoke, but he smoked far too much. So we decided to quit together, though we still make the occasional exception," Remus explained quickly, typing a message to Sirius.

He got a reply immediately—a thumbs-up and a cheeky note: get him.

With a nod, his assistant handed him the cigarette. Remus didn’t inhale straight away, glancing around.

"Has Professor Lovegood left?"

"Yeah, he had some plans with his wife—my cousin, actually," he clarified, and Remus nodded, aware of their family connection, after all, it had been Professor Lovegood who recommended Arthur Crouch to James’s father for the assistant position. "Shall we go somewhere more private? I told my ride to pick me up on the next street over."

"The one where I parked?" Remus confirmed.

"Yeah… I was just waiting for you, to say goodbye," he admitted, his cheeks flushing pink. Remus couldn’t help but smile, stupidly happy that his assistant hadn’t intended to leave without saying goodbye, making all his earlier worries seem ridiculous. He realised he hadn’t said goodbye to his colleagues when fled the bar in a panic, but he couldn’t have cared less. "Unless you're staying a bit longer…?"

"No, it's fine. My ride’s on the way too. I mean, my driver."

"Your boyfriend’s coming to pick you up? Because you have been drinking…?"

"Yeah, I’m not even close to drunk but… he should be on his way now."

Remus noticed a subtle purse of his assistant’s lips but couldn’t quite read what had left him dissatisfied. They both walked down the deck’s wooden steps, side by side, retracing the same path they had taken earlier towards Remus’s car, even if they weren’t leaving together.

They leaned casually against the side of the car, Remus taking a careful drag from the shared cigarette, savouring the burnt taste like it was the kiss he so badly wanted. He closed his eyes, feeling himself relax, not just from the nicotine, but from the simple fact that his assistant was there, that none of his paranoid thoughts had come true.

That maybe… maybe his worst thoughts weren’t true.

After all, his beloved assistant clearly knew how to protect himself if needed.

Still, Remus would remain watchful, growing ever more curious about this remarkable person he had the privilege of being around.

"Do you and your boyfriend live together?" his assistant asked, relaxed, gazing down the street.

"Yeah, for a few years now," he said, eyes drifting to his assistant’s fingers around the cigarette, lifting it to his lips along with Remus’s imagined kiss. "Do you live with anyone?"

"Well, I used to live with my brothers, but they have moved out recently, so I’m living alone now… Actually, no! I’m flat-sharing now."

Remus swallowed, watching his assistant pull his phone from the backpack he always wore, silently praying: Please don’t let it be that bloke he’s been seeing for a week .

"With who?"

"Mr Jam!" his assistant beamed.

Remus melted completely at his excitement, as he showed him a photo of a plush tuxedo cat, lovingly named. In the photo, his dear assistant was at what looked like an amusement park, utterly joyful, though his face was half-hidden behind Mr Jam—who was bigger than him. He wore a red flannel shirt that didn’t quite suit him, so it probably belonged to that supposed boyfriend… though oddly, it reminded Remus of a flannel James used to wear.

It didn’t matter much. Seeing that sweet side of his assistant was like a cupid’s arrow straight through his chest, making it impossible to deny the adoration blooming in his mind. Remus adored cute things, and his dear assistant was winning his heart more and more, little by little, just by opening up and showing that adorable side.

Wanting to squeeze those blushing cheeks but managing to restrain himself, Remus stretched an arm across the car bonnet, wrapping him in a half-embrace, without quite touching.

"My… boyfriend… gave him to me last weekend," his assistant shared, something that should have reminded Remus that he was already taken—and prompted him to back off. But he didn’t. He was too content seeing how comfortable his dear assistant seemed to be growing.

"Have you known each other for long?" Remus asked, taking the cigarette for another drag, turning his head just to exhale the smoke.

"Yeah… a few months…"

"So you talked quite a bit before meeting up..."

"Yes, but we still have a lot to talk about. I want to take things slowly. I never had any sort of relationship before, and while I know a few people with more experience who can give me advice, it’s different when you’re actually living it," he confessed, his tone intimate and thoughtful. "Was it like that with you and your boyfriend?"

"Yes, it was exactly like that," Remus said, a wave of relief filling his chest. "We were friends before the attraction started to grow. We talked a lot before anything happened."

"That’s my plan…"

His assistant gently took the cigarette back, it was almost done, and as he inhaled and let the smoke drift from his lips, Remus relaxed alongside him.

Everything was much clearer now: his assistant knew people who practised BDSM but had never actually been involved himself, something not unlike James, when it came to him and Sirius. Until recently, when he had met a Dom and had been speaking to him for months before deciding to meet in person at a club called Neon Rose, which apparently belonged to one of his friends. Considering he said he wanted to take things slowly, it meant he hadn’t yet established their dynamic and had a scene with the man. And based on what Remus had witnessed that evening, if this Dom tried to push him too far, his dear assistant clearly knew how to handle himself.

He was fine. He wasn’t in danger.

Even so, Remus still felt a weight in his chest—now only out of regret.

Because he was certain that if he had made a move sooner, he would probably be calling his dear assistant ‘baby’ by now. But he had lost the chance because of his hesitation. He wasn’t available anymore, already getting to know and negotiating with another Dom, someone he now called his boyfriend, perhaps because they hadn’t formalise their dynamic with a contract yet. He hadn’t been collared yet.

Still, even while they talked about their partners, the two of them stood mere centimetres apart, sharing warmth through thin button-up shirts and a kiss on the tip of a cigarette. Downcast eyes and charming smiles matched, their posture relaxed—as if they were in the safest place in the world.

As if they wanted each other.

It couldn’t be just Remus’s imagination.

Before he could think any further, his assistant suddenly pulled away.

The cigarette slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.

His eyes widened and he bit down on his lips hard, clutching between his legs.

He was in shock.

Even though it was nighttime, Remus could clearly see the fabric of his trousers darkening.

He was wetting himself—streams soaking through the fabric and forming a puddle on the ground around him.

Tears spilled down his dear assistant’s face, cheeks flushed with shame, mortified, trying to keep his legs together, though it did nothing to stop the hot flow of urine pouring out of him.

Remus could hardly believe it. His assistant had just pissed himself—right in front of him.

His assistant couldn’t believe it either. He was utterly humiliated, yet lost in the release he couldn’t hold back, letting out soft, restrained moans, his body shivering with relief.

Shame washed over him even as relief filled his face, his bladder emptying—and in that blend of sensations, his mind seemed to stall, thoughts frozen. He stared at the floor and at Remus with a mortified, vulnerable look.

He bit down on his lips to muffle the sounds of relief, but his heavy breathing wouldn’t let him stay silent—nor would the liquid trickle, or the soft rustle of fabric as he rubbed one leg against the other.

It was a sight both humiliating and achingly sweet.

When the last drops finished soaking into his ruined trousers, he froze in place, unable to look at Remus.

And thank heavens for that, because Remus wasn’t entirely sure whether his cock wasn’t already outlined in his own trousers, considering how much arousal had surged through him at the sight.

He didn’t think he had ever gotten hard so quickly before, but after months of wanting his assistant and being terribly weak for watersports, this might have been a personal record.

That man was certainly some kind of demon sent to feast on his pleasure—there was no other explanation.

Still biting his lips, gaze lowered and filled with tears, shaking and trying to suppress sobs, his posture curled in shame, he was so deliciously humiliated that Remus’s cock throbbed.

His urine-soaked trousers, the puddle at his feet—it was the most sensual sight Remus had ever seen, especially paired with that vulnerable, broken look.

Dirty words, things to degrade him further, caught in Remus’s throat, but his mind was already reeling with fantasies from that accident.

But despite how intensely hot it was, despite it being one of his biggest fantasies, fulfilled right there by someone he found unspeakably attractive, Remus knew this wasn’t a scene or a game.

His assistant had genuinely had an accident.

“It’s all right, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure him.

But it only made the man cry harder, covering his face with the hand that wasn’t wet, letting the other fall limply to his side, helpless and lost.

In all those months, his dear one had never come so close to embodying the image of the baby boy Remus longed to train.

And in that moment, the need to care for him overcame his arousal.

As hot as it was—God, it was hot—if his dear one was hurting, Remus needed to be there for him.

Without thinking, he stepped closer and wrapped him in a hug.

Careful not to get wet, and careful not to let him feel the bulge in his trousers, Remus held him tightly against his chest, enveloping him completely.

He rested his chin gently on those black curls, as if creating a warm, safe place in his arms where nothing bad could reach him.

It was tender, and deeply satisfying—he had longed to touch him, to hold him like this.

Now he could give himself what he had wanted for so long: to stroke his hair, feel its texture between his fingers, to protect him.

And though his dear one’s shoulders were trembling with the effort of crying against his chest, Remus could feel the strength in his arms, hugging back as if he would never let go. As if that closeness could soothe anything—because Remus wasn’t judging him. He wasn’t thinking anything cruel.

“It’s all right, my dear, it’s all right,” he murmured calmly. “It was just an accident. It’s over now…”

Slowly, his dear one began to listen, allowing himself to be soothed, his ear pressed to Remus’s chest, lulled by the pounding of his heart. Their embrace was so warm that when the crying stopped, Remus had the sense he could fall asleep right there.

But he couldn’t leave him wet in the middle of the street.

So he gently pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, but he didn’t lift his head. Still too embarrassed. Remus reached out softly and tilted his chin up.

He resisted the overwhelming temptation to kiss those bitten, red lips.

“Do you have a change of clothes, darling?”

“J-Just… one in my bag…” he replied hesitantly. “God, Mr Lupin, this is so embarrassing…”

“What happened to ‘Remus’, love?” he teased, trying to make him forget the accident.

He couldn’t answer, just pouted and buried his face in Remus’s neck. ‘ Fuck, he’s so adorable. He’s perfect to be my little one ’, Remus thought, inhaling deeply to steady himself.

Once more, he pulled him into his arms, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It’s all right, just an accident,” he repeated softly. “What matters is whether you have got a change of clothes, hm? So you don’t catch a cold.”

“My gym clothes are in my bag…”

“You go to the gym before work?” Remus asked, trying to distract him again.

“Mhm… Tuesdays and Fridays. And Saturdays too.”

“That’s great, for the body and the mind,” Remus said, stepping away just a little, slowly. “Can I help you clean up?”

“…Yes,” he whispered, embarrassed.

“I have got a water canister and some rags in the boot. It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.”

“That’s enough… thank you…”

Gently holding his hand, Remus led him out of the puddle, glancing around to make sure they were alone. Thankfully, not even the street guard was nearby, and the few cars that passed were moving too fast to notice the two men hidden behind the vehicle. Remus opened the boot, grateful to find exactly what he needed inside.

Turning back to his dear one, who still stood frozen with a dazed look in his eyes, the realisation that he wouldn’t clean himself up on his own made Remus’s already burning body blaze even hotter.

Maybe he hadn’t quite registered what to do, even with the water canister right within reach.

Or maybe, just maybe, he needed Remus’s help for that.

And there was nothing Remus wanted more than to take care of him.

Wasn’t that what he had been jealous of in the so-called boyfriend who called him “baby boy”?

“Is it all right if I help you?” Remus asked, and added to be absolutely clear, “I’ll need to see you naked.”

“Th-That’s okay… just—please don’t look too much…” he replied, cheeks flushing even redder.

“Could you grab your clothes from your bag, dear?”

“Yes… sir.”

Though respectful, both in their boss-assistant dynamic and any potential D/s relationship, “sir” sounded wrong to Remus’s ears, just like “Mr Lupin”.

That wasn’t what he wanted to be called by his dear one.

He knew exactly what title he longed to hear from those lips, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it just yet, focusing instead on watching him reach into his bag and pull out a pair of tight black leggings, far too snug for modesty.

‘ For fuck’s sake, what did I do to deserve this much temptation? ’ Remus thought, half-indignant, as he set the garment atop the car.

Despite silently losing his mind, his erection straining his trousers, barely concealable, he maintained a calm facade, watching his dear one’s reactions carefully.

The boy’s gaze quickly dropped to the bulge between Remus’s legs, and after a moment of surprise, his shoulders relaxed slightly. He must have felt relieved knowing his boss didn’t think poorly of him, quite the opposite, clearly evidenced by his body.

Without a word, Remus knelt in front of him, first washing his soaked hand before reaching for his belt with the utmost respect given the strange intimacy of the situation.

Unwillingly, his mind flashed back to earlier, when his assistant had bent to pick up his blazer from the floor, ending up in the perfect position to suck his cock. Remus had nearly gotten hard just from that.

He knew there wasn’t much chance of avoiding the sight of his intimate parts, especially considering how wildly he craved this man, but he did his best not to stare, just as he had promised.

He pulled the trousers down his legs with some effort, they were soaked through.

The smell of piss hit stronger when he slid them past his shoes, leaving him in only a pair of damp black briefs.

But as Remus reached for those next, gently easing the waistband down, the moment his cock was exposed, his dear one let out another quick squirt of piss.

The sudden spurt, slipping from the slit of his urethra to the floor, made a jolt of pleasure surge through Remus’s body. His breath caught, uneven and ragged.

It was too much.

He clutched his aching erection over his trousers, losing himself for a moment in the sheer, filthy thrill of watching his dear assistant cross his legs and cover himself, trying desperately to stop another accident.

Remus grabbed his thigh, fingers tightening, the other hand rubbing himself firmly through the fabric, letting out a soft groan at the tiny relief.

It was so wrong.

“Are you still holding it?” Remus asked, voice hoarse with pleasure.

A shy nod was the only reply.

“Can you hold it for me, just a bit longer while I finish cleaning you up?”

“I… I don’t know if I can…” he whispered, clearly straining to stay in control.

“Just a little longer, for me, sweetheart. Please… just a bit more…”

He obeyed, dropping his legs apart and covering his face, embarrassed. After all, his penis was reacting too, throbbing with arousal. 

It wasn’t particularly large, especially for Remus who was used to well-endowed partners, but it was still a pleasant sight, especially in contributing to the delicate image he had of his assistant. His mouth was very much inclined to take him in, but Remus didn’t think he would feel comfortable with the taste of urine, and that was one of his hard limits.

Getting rid of his underwear, he used a cloth and water to clean him as best he could, watching him squirm and try to control himself as much as possible. It must’ve been torture, needing to urinate so badly while having a cold, wet cloth rubbing against his legs, and Remus made the process even slower, testing him.

The desperation in his body was apparent, as he shifted his hips restlessly whenever the cold cloth teased his cock, whimpering in discomfort but remaining still and obedient, waiting for permission to relieve himself. He was submissive; Remus had earned the right to tell him when he could urinate, and that made his cock throb, releasing pre-cum even though he had only been touched for a few seconds.

“May I continue cleaning you?” he asked.

“Yes…” was the response.

And even more exciting than that, was the fact that they were in the middle of the street, hidden only by Remus’s car behind them, which would do nothing to stop them from being caught if someone turned the corner. Worse than that, his colleagues were at a pub nearby and could have parked their cars right there. His dear’s ride was arriving; Sirius was already on his way, they could be caught at any moment.

But Remus was still playing.

He had cleaned enough to dress him in the leggings, but he kept rubbing the wet cloth over his legs, moving up to his thick thighs, and then to his groin. By this point, it was impossible to pretend he wasn’t masturbating him, slowly, almost torturously, to watch him protest, whining at the cold sensation and simultaneously thrusting his hips for more relief. Some urine would escape onto the cloth, and then Remus would stop touching him, preparing another cloth with water to continue cleaning what no longer needed to be cleaned.

“May I continue cleaning you?” he asked.

“Yes…” was the response.

What he wanted was for his dear assistant to beg for relief.

His desperation was more than evident; his bladder must have been full for him to let so much urine escape, even with his red, throbbing erection. He was as lost in the pleasure it brought as Remus, his hands firm against his mouth, containing the moans and keeping away from his intimate area, which was exposed despite his intense embarrassment.

“May I continue cleaning you?” he asked.

“No… please…” the request escaped his lips, sending a chill through Remus, who gripped his cock through his trousers, almost smiling. “I need to go…”

“Are you sure you can manage with an erection like that?” he teased.

But he had no intention of demanding more. He stood up, gently turning his assistant’s back to him, always paying attention for any refusal. He kindly placed his hands on the car door for support, seeing him cross his arms and hide his face. Still, his ears, with their red tips, were exposed, perfect for Remus to nibble lightly to catch his attention as he pressed his chest against his back.

A surprised moan followed, especially as Remus pressed his covered erection against his assistant’s arse, causing him to lift his head momentarily and deliver an expression full of pleasure.

“May I touch you?” Remus asked.

“Yes, please… just not inside.”

He learned quickly, it was interesting to observe; if he got what he wanted with a “please,” he could understand and repeat it. And he was also able to communicate his limits clearly, even if it was sudden, they had managed to communicate well enough. For someone obedient, Remus would reward him by taking his erection in his hand and masturbating him.

Pleasure flooded his assistant’s body, evident in his uncontrollable moans filling Remus’s ears as he felt his hand moving in rhythm with the assistant’s cock. As if they were one, feeling the same pleasure. In fact, it was almost that, as his dear assistant moved his hips in sync with Remus’s hand, rubbing against his cock, masturbating too.

He alternated between quick strokes along the entire length and slow, teasing touches on sensitive spots like the head, treating it like an instrument, producing a beautiful sound. But Remus wanted to see more of what he was doing, so he pulled his assistant’s hair with enough force to tilt his head back, allowing him to see over his shoulder, his hands covering his erection.

He noticed not only how his movement spread pre-cum across the car door, but also the surrendered expression of pleasure on his dear assistant’s face, lips parted with his tongue slightly out, flushed cheeks, and closed eyes. He was close to reaching his peak.

Finding a good position to watch the spectacle, he moved quickly, rubbing without stopping until he heard the loudest moan, feeling his body stiffen before melting in his hands.

Cum splashed across the car door, but it was soon washed away by urine as his cock softened. Remus directed him, feeling elated to control his urination, gently pressing on his bladder against his warm belly, whispering praises in his ear:

“You did so well, dear… so perfect… you made me so hard…”

And when his assistant had fully relieved himself, melting in his arms, Remus buried his nose in his neck, closing his eyes as he inhaled the wonderful scent mixed with cigarette smoke. He held almost all of the weight of his body effortlessly, as if it were part of his own, a very comfortable position, except for his still unsatisfied erection.

Even weak from his orgasm, his dear assistant steadied himself to move his hips, giving Remus pleasure too. With their bodies pressed together, living one of his most cherished fantasies, the fabric that clung to him, he came in his trousers. 

He saw stars with that release, his whole body burning, and moans escaped his mouth as if he had no self-control. Jets of cum wetting his underwear, the fabric rubbing against him even after the peak, driving him wild.

Immersed in euphoria, he needed a few moments to recover, burying his nose in the curly hair, feeling the arms around him, caressing him gently. His assistant’s hands slid delicately across his scarred skin, and just when Remus least expected it, he turned his head to the side, giving him a delicate kiss on the cheek.

It was sweet and gentle, a way to welcome each other and say that everything was okay. They were okay, sweaty and completely airborne from the height of their pleasures, crossing every possible line without even talking beforehand, but they were together in perfect sync.

As much as he wanted to stay there forever and receive more kisses on his face, they were still in the middle of the street, and the guard should be back soon.

So, with the same delicacy as always, he led him to sit on the car bonnet, quickly taking off his wet shoes and socks, cleaning his feet before sliding the leggings up to his waist. It marked his groin area, clearly showing the outline of his cock, making Remus wonder if he really trained that way, which would never be less exposed even if he wore underwear.

He lost himself in thought for a second, imagining him at the gym in that “revealing” outfit, but Remus knew that was a way to avoid reality. He couldn’t do that; he was responsible for what had happened.

What had he done?

As the pleasure slowly faded from his body, reality returned, and the fear of facing the “future” was real. They had crossed so many lines, getting sexually involved in the heat of the moment. There was no conversation, no seduction, they simply gave in to their desires without even thinking about finding a more private place for it. How that night would affect their relationship as boss and employee was hard to say.

And what his dear assistant felt for him to consent to that was a mystery.

“I think it’s too late to ask, Remus, but is your boyfriend okay with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Remus’ sounded just as strange to hear, especially since his name was hardly ever called. “Moony” was the nickname he responded to, but that also wasn’t what Remus wanted to hear his assistant call him. He took a deep breath while throwing water on the pavement to clean the urine puddle and cover up the accident that had happened.

“He’s aware, of my… feelings,” he said, trying to be subtle, touching directly on issues that weren’t even clear to him yet. “And yours?”

“Yes, I made it clear to him… from the beginning.”

Remus’s eyes widened as he turned to him, surprised. His dear assistant, still sitting on the car bonnet, kept his gaze low, his cheeks flushed not only from the recent orgasm. His full lips were slightly tense, his brows furrowed in an uncertain and hesitant expression.

‘ Does he have feelings for me? All this time, all those little gestures weren’t just professional? Was he really trying to win me over? And I, with my denial, refused to see it? ’ Remus thought, feeling like a complete fool.

During those months of receiving attentive treatment, he had often wondered if there was something behind his assistant’s actions, but in all of them, he refused to believe the truth. There was no reason for someone as perfect as his dear assistant to feel something for him. Remus had already had the luck of winning Sirius’s heart, and that was the most he would ever get in his life. Besides, their professional relationship was good, and his assistant surely wouldn’t want to risk anything beyond that.

But Remus was apparently completely wrong.

He didn’t have time to say anything more, to ask more about his dear assistant’s feelings, to understand his truth, to try to put into words what he felt, even if it was difficult for him. To check if he was okay, to discuss what had just happened, to try to understand how things could move forward from there. Suddenly, a red car turned the corner, honking and parking in double parking with his. A man shouted for his assistant.

“Hey, baby boy! Everything okay?!”

It was his boyfriend/dominant.

Immediately, his assistant moved to the passenger seat of the car, quickly walking on the tips of his bare feet, as if he wanted to escape the situation as quickly as possible. Remus’s heart squeezed in his chest as he noticed that. Even so, he approached to greet and take a good look at the guy his dear assistant had chosen for himself.

It was inevitable that the first thing he noticed about the guy were the various piercings on his face and the tattoos exposed on his skin, visible through the black tank top he wore. He was very handsome, with his hair cut in layers, shaved on the sides, with green tips on his bangs, perfectly matching his style and his casual behaviour when greeting Remus.

Introductions were not made, but they were unnecessary, he had already heard enough about that man tonight. He watched his assistant buckle his seatbelt, relaxing in the seat, revealing that it had been a long night for him. Perhaps if Remus had the opportunity to care for him properly, in an appropriate place, he wouldn’t have been so exhausted.

Everything was twisted.

“Did you smoke?” the guy asked his assistant, sniffing the air.

“No…” he lied shamelessly.

“Oh, baby, you’re such a bad liar, I’m gonna spank you when we get home,” he laughed, and Remus’s blood boiled.

‘ That’s not what he needs right now, dickhead, ’ he thought angrily, but before he could put the thought into words and argue with the guy he didn’t know, he saw his expression change. 

His confident smile melted into a worried look, his eyes fixed on his boyfriend, scanning him with the caution of someone evaluating a piece of art. With the same delicacy as he looked for something wrong in the impassive face, he extended his hand to stroke his black curls, seeming to have found the answer.

"That blood—it's yours?" he asked softly.

"No…"

"Good. Very good… You had an accident, didn’t you, baby?” he concluded, with certainty, inadvertently confirming for Remus that it was something that happened fairly regularly. Perhaps due to a bladder deficiency or a health condition.

Remus felt terribly wrong.

“Yeah…” he confirmed with a sad look, clearly regretful of what had happened.

“That’s alright, shit happens,” he consoled with great care. “Not ‘shit’, but… Mr. Luigi helped you, right?”

“It’s Lupin,” Remus corrected.

It was unnecessary; hearing his assistant stifle a laugh, he realized that his boyfriend had done it on purpose to make him smile. And it worked; the sad eyes sparkled with joy as he held back laughter, shaking his head in disbelief about his boyfriend, also noticing his attempt. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that to make him feel better.

They already had a dynamic, they already knew each other.

“Yes… he helped me a lot… thank you… Mr. Lupin,” his assistant said amidst a laugh.

“Anytime, dear,” Remus smiled too, his chest lightened by his happiness.

It was all he wanted in the world.

“Ooooh, ‘dear’,” his boyfriend teased, going back to his mocking attitude. “Something happened while you were wet, baby boy?”

“Nothing at all,” his assistant replied to his boyfriend, making him furrow his brow. “Goodnight, Mr. Lupin, see you on Monday.”

“Sure, dear, see you,” Remus answered.

His eyes locked on his dear assistant’s, sharing something deep between them, like a dialogue in their gaze. Those last minutes together had been rushed, sudden, filled with overflowing desires and no coherent thought to make them stop and think about everything. The consequences came after the orgasm, fears and insecurities about how things would be from there. 

They hadn’t really talked about anything, it had all started wrong, but Remus still had faith that they could understand each other.

They had feelings for each other, Remus didn’t know exactly what they were, but he would have the whole weekend to think and plan. 

In fact, what he really needed to do was have a proper conversation with his assistant, after all, if they had reached this point, it was simply due to a lack of communication and honesty.

In the end, ironically, Remus was so worried that his assistant was being hasty with the new boyfriend/dominant, but it turned out he himself had been reckless.

A loud whistle sounded down the street.

“HEY! YOU! STOP PARKING IN A DOUBLE LINE!” the officer shouted.

In an instant, his assistant disappeared from his view, the car’s engine roared and sped down the street as if there were no tomorrow, turning onto the avenue with a screeching tow. It was at that exact moment that Sirius rounded the corner, startled by the car speeding past.

As he approached, the officer gave up trying to issue a ticket and turned around.

Remus blinked confused.

“What the-?”

“Did you see that car?!” was the first thing Sirius asked when they met.

“Oh, I did,” Remus replied with ironic laughter. “It was my assistant’s boyfriend’s car.”

“And he drives like that?! Like a maniac?” Sirius frowned. “That’s a huge red flag for me...”

Thinking of “red flags” and all the conversations he had with Sirius on the phone, Remus felt the weight of reality settle on his shoulders, and he chose the embrace of his pet to relieve himself.

As if seeking a lifeline, he wrapped his arms around Sirius’s waist, letting himself be enveloped just like he had with his dear assistant moments before. Sirius’s hands gently ran through his hair, and Remus lowered himself slightly to listen to his rapidly beating heart—his safe haven.

“What’s wrong, Moony?” Sirius asked, knowing something wasn’t right, with the same familiarity his assistant’s boyfriend had in reading him. “I’m going to hell, Pads...”

“Do you want to hold hands while going...?” he tried to joke, having said many times that he was going to hell, but when Remus pressed his body against his, the tone of the conversation shifted. Even though he had come, he was still hard, and he let his pet feel it against his leg. “What did that pretty boy do to make you that hard?... And what are those clothes and shoes doing on the floor? It smell like piss”

“Oh, Pads... you have no idea... I already came, by the way, but I’m still so hard.”

“You came...?”

“Oh, it’s a fucking long story.”

Chapter Text

Early Summer, 2012

The first step off the train, back to the familiar surroundings of King’s Cross Station—the bustling noise of the big city and the overcast skies, even in summer—stirred a mix of emotions in Sirius.

In truth, though happiness and fear wrestled for space in his chest as he faced his return to 12 Grimmauld Place, the strongest feeling was anguish.

During those months at Hogwarts, living in the dormitories, sharing a room with his new best friend, far away from his parents or any authority figure as controlling and oppressive as them, Sirius had been happier than he’d ever been in his life.

That’s why he feared he might have forgotten how it felt to walk on eggshells, to constantly watch his words and actions, to lower his guard too far and become vulnerable again during the summer holidays.

He didn’t want to go back home—and he knew he had a choice.

In that brief time at Hogwarts, Sirius had met James Potter, his roommate who had quickly become his best friend.

He’d had friends at his old school, but none had come close to knowing him the way James did. It was almost like an instant connection—they thought alike, laughed at the same things, and soon were sharing everything, as though they had known each other for years.

James was like the sun: radiant and full of light, bringing joy even to Sirius’s darkest, cloudiest days. Being around him had made Hogwarts feel magical, even when he missed Regulus.

Regulus. That was the only reason Sirius was going back to Grimmauld Place: to see his younger brother.

James had made it clear his parents would welcome Sirius with open arms over the summer, but he couldn’t bear to be apart from Regulus any longer. He couldn’t leave him alone in that house when he had the choice to be there for him.

No pain he might endure from returning to that wretched place could ever outweigh his love for Regulus.

A love that felt right this time.

His heart sped up as he searched the crowd for his brother’s face, still standing in the train doorway—a vantage point above the others. He earned a few insults for blocking the way, but as soon as he caught sight of Kreacher’s wrinkled face, he knew where to go.

The Black family’s house-elf was waiting near one of the pillars, looking thoroughly displeased to be there—and even more displeased to see Sirius returning. But Sirius didn’t care. There was only one person he wanted to see.

But Regulus was nowhere to be found.

"He couldn’t come. Your parents wouldn’t let him," Kreacher said, before either of them could even think about exchanging pleasantries (not that they were likely to, anyway).

"Right," Sirius muttered, dragging his trunk behind him as he followed the elf out of the station.

It struck him how small and older Kreacher looked compared to how Sirius remembered, proof that time had truly passed during his days at Hogwarts—that it hadn’t all been some dream.

He hoped that next school year, Regulus would get to feel the same—safe, and free, as they both deserved.

This time, with no need to return to 12 Grimmauld Place ever again.

No more violent parents. No more dark, miserable rooms.

Regulus deserved Hogwarts’s blooming lawns, the golden afternoon sun after one of their delicious lunches, the nice professors—and even the not-so-nice ones, who, at the very least, wouldn’t hurt them.

His little brother deserved the same feeling of freedom Sirius had tasted.

Yes, Regulus was two years younger and would be in a different building, Sirius had been told—but they would still be together.

As brothers.

As family.

Sirius had worked hard on himself over the past few months. He could now say with pride that he had left his incestuous thoughts behind and had even developed a bit of a crush on one of the pretty girls in his class—a proper attraction.

He was ready to hug his brother tightly, knowing the difference between what was right and what wasn’t.

He was ready to love Regulus fiercely, in the right way—as his beloved little brother.

On the drive to 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius didn’t really see the scenery pass by, too focused on a day that still seemed impossibly far away: the day he would never have to return to that place again.

He stared silently out of the window, having nothing to say to Kreacher, only hoping to arrive quickly, say as little as possible to his parents, find Regulus, and hold him tight.

But that anticipation soon gave way to fear as the familiar façade of the old Black mansion came into view—wedged tightly between two residential buildings, disguised from the outside as a block of dingy flats with narrow staircases, hiding its true interior of sprawling halls, gardens, and countless rooms.

They pulled into the underground garage, and Sirius was immediately hit by a wave of claustrophobia—as if the dark wallpapered walls were closing in on him, chaining him down again in that cursed place that had imprisoned him since childhood, under the spotlight of a thousand watching eyes.

“Mrs Black isn’t home. She’s at her sister-in-law’s, helping with preparations for the season.”

“Are the Rosiers coming to the summer house with us?” Sirius asked, frowning.

“Yes, due to the growing friendship between Master Regulus and Young Master Rosier, since the Rosiers moved into the neighbourhood.”

‘Hmm. I didn’t know they were that close’, Sirius thought, unimpressed.

He had heard about the Rosiers moving, but Regulus had never once mentioned Evan Rosier, their cousin, in any of their phone calls or letters. So Sirius immediately assumed this was yet another fabrication by their parents, an attempt to force a bond between the boys that didn’t really exist.

He ignored Kreacher’s comment.

“Perfect,” Sirius muttered, staring up at the ceiling anxiously and thought: ‘At least I won’t have to talk to my mother. One less thing to deal with today.’

He climbed the narrow stairs from the garage into the television room, looking for one person and desperate to avoid another.

The strange portraits, the withering flowers in twisted vases, the morbid decorations—they didn’t even catch his attention. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been here, and yet everything felt unfamiliar now. The dark wooden floors, the heavy curtains that blocked out all light, none of it resembled his room at Hogwarts.

There, his dorm was messy, chaotic, but warm and inviting, decorated with posters, silly blankets covered in cartoon characters that he and James had picked out for fun. They almost never even closed the curtains. Sirius had gotten used to light. He would need to reacquaint himself with darkness, and quickly, or he might stumble.

He crept up the main staircase of the mansion with the cautious air of someone being hunted, glancing around as he made his way down the corridor of bedrooms.

The silence was as oppressive as ever, as if no living soul inhabited the place, completely unlike the ever-bustling dormitories of Hogwarts, where students whispered and giggled even past curfew.

Sirius had a goal: to go straight to Regulus’s room.

But as he passed the library, a soft breeze slipping through the gap in the door caught his attention.

It was his favourite place in the house, his only sanctuary—shared with his little brother.

He stepped inside without fear or hesitation.

It was like walking into a star. All the warmth and light missing from the rest of the house seemed to gather in that room, despite it being more cluttered with furniture than any of the others.

Even with someone sitting in front of the window.

The creak of the door caught Regulus’s attention, and he calmly looked up from his book to meet Sirius’s gaze.

He stood, a beautiful smile spreading across his lips, glowing against the backlight of the afternoon sun.

Sirius stood frozen in place, stunned: ‘Where had his sweet little brother gone?’

The person standing before him was the same Regulus, but with how much he had grown in just a few months, he seemed like someone else entirely.

A man.

Regulus was taller now, only slightly shorter than his older brother, which meant he no longer had to tilt his head much to look Sirius straight in the eyes.

Those silver eyes were full of a bright intensity, a light that had evolved beyond childish joy, something deeper, something sharper, that left Sirius’s mind completely blank.

He had to look away. He didn’t know where to rest his gaze, because everything new about his little brother made his heart pound like mad.

It wasn’t just the height. His whole body had changed.

There were subtle, defined muscles in his arms and calves, exposed by the loose, short jeans he wore.

His bare feet were still as adorable as ever, and Sirius decided it was safest to keep his eyes there, especially since Regulus’s arms were bare, on display in a sleeveless shirt.

Sirius’s favourite sleeveless shirt.

In a second, every girl in his class he had tried so hard to find attractive vanished from his mind.

All of them were nothing compared to the sight of his little brother in his shirt, a perfect fit, clinging at the waist, loose at the collarbones, exposing his arms just as he crossed them in front of his chest.

There was a challenge in his eyes now, paired with a crooked, not-at-all-innocent smile.

In the months Sirius had been away, Regulus had become even more attractive, and he carried himself with a new, quiet confidence that shattered Sirius’s conviction that he was no longer drawn to him.

He had worked so hard on himself, forced himself to notice the girls in his year, refused to touch himself while thinking about that last night at 12 Grimmauld Place, dodged any stronger pangs of missing Regulus—

Only to come home and have all his willpower flushed down the drain the moment he laid eyes on him.

Being near him felt like being swallowed whole.

But Regulus was no longer the innocent, tearful little brother who ran into his arms whenever he missed him.

Now, he was temptation itself, standing with arms crossed, watching Sirius with something like amusement, as if he could sense the storm raging inside his older brother’s head.

And he did.

Regulus had always known everything that went on in Sirius’s mind. Looking at each other had always felt like looking into a mirror.

And that was why Sirius knew he was completely, utterly screwed.

Because if it had already been hard to say no to his sweet little brother… saying no to this Regulus would be impossible.

"D-Don’t I get a… welcome hug?" Sirius tried to joke, cringing inwardly as he heard the stammer in his own voice.

"Let’s see… do you deserve a welcome hug?"

Sirius shivered.

Even Regulus’s voice had changed.

It was deeper now—velvety and rich, sliding into Sirius’s ears and warming his whole body from the inside out.

He didn’t know whether he deserved a hug, but if he did, then Regulus had better get on with it, or Sirius wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold himself together. ‘Why the hell did I go all those months without touching myself?!’, he thought angrily.

Regulus laughed—teasing, amused.

In a heartbeat, Sirius found himself in the most perfect, comforting place in the world: wrapped in Regulus’s arms.

Which was unfair, really.

Sirius was the older one, he was supposed to be the protector. That was his role as a older brother.

But just this once, only this once, he let himself melt into the curve of Regulus’s neck, let his brother’s long fingers stroke his hair gently, protectively.

He let the roles reverse.

He let himself believe that even if he spent the entire summer holiday at 12 Grimmauld Place, nothing bad could happen to him, not while Regulus was there.

Sirius wouldn’t let anything ruin the time they had together.

It might have been just a hug, the kind siblings might exchange after months apart, but the way they held each other, the way they fit together, made it clear there was something else.

Sirius clutched at Regulus’s waist, fingers slipping beneath the borrowed shirt to map out the changes in his brother’s body.

Regulus, in turn, shivered against his neck as he shifted, breathing softly along Sirius’s skin, his lips brushing him as he murmured a welcome in French.

It sent shivers down Sirius’s spine.

Before he even realised it, Sirius had pushed Regulus back against the bookcase and crushed him in a fierce embrace, as if trying to swallow him whole.

As if he couldn’t stand even a sliver of space between them.

Their limbs tangled with that easy, intimate familiarity, and their bodies pressed together as if they were one.

Regulus let himself burn in the heat of it, tilting his head back so Sirius could tuck himself against his neck again, shifting back into that familiar role—the delicate little brother Sirius had always handled like glass.

The reunion was wordless.

No kisses were exchanged.

They simply drank each other in through touch, as though their skin could build a bridge between their souls.

As if their wildly beating hearts could fuse together and finally fill the aching emptiness left by those long, unbearable months apart.

Then, a horrible chill spread through Sirius as he was pushed away—

The rejection was instant.

Cold.

Regulus was staring sharply towards the door.

If it had been up to Sirius, they would have parted far too late and been caught red-handed by their father,who was now standing in the doorway, eyes locked on his sons.

Sirius swallowed hard.

Orion Black hadn’t changed, and yet he seemed… smaller than Sirius remembered.

And Sirius hated that he hadn’t heard his footsteps—that he had lost the instinct to notice danger approaching.

Even after all those months apart, their father said nothing.

He merely looked Sirius up and down, then carried on down the corridor as if nothing had happened.

"That was close, mon cœur," Sirius muttered in a breath.

"Close to what, Siri? What exactly were you about to do to your little brother alone in the library?" Regulus asked, grinning.

Flirting.

"N-Nothing! It was nothing! Don’t get carried away!"

"All right then," Regulus said sweetly, with that same infuriating smirk that said he didn’t believe a word of it. "I’m going back to my room to finish reading my book. When your ‘nothing’ settles down, come and tell me all about school, okay?"

Regulus’s gaze dropped straight to the bulge in Sirius’s trousers—

Sirius froze, realising with horror that he had made it far too obvious.

Like an idiot, he tried to cover himself—only fuelling Regulus’s delight.

He stretched as he left the room, arms reaching overhead, showing off more of those bare arms and that maddeningly perfect waist.

Sirius wanted to die.

He hadn’t come home just to be made a fool of by his cheeky little brother.

Or worse—to be seduced by someone who had been a child only months before.

‘Where the hell did my sweet little brother get all this smug confidence from?!’

Breathing deeply, eyes flicking down to the evidence of his own desire, Sirius vowed to himself—he needed to build better defences.

Because this grown-up version of Regulus…

He would devour him whole.

Sirius had to remember his promises.

Even if it was just one of the many he had made to stop himself from wanting his brother.

…

Saturday Afternoon 

But stopping to reflect for a moment, standing by the gate that led to the stairway up to his apartment, he noticed that his chest carried a mix of the usual paranoid feeling that something would go wrong, his anxiety, with a kind of excitement that made it almost impossible to stand still. Happiness was the dominant emotion in the end. He couldn’t wait to see James.

That week, he had met his boyfriend twice at the club gym where he worked, and although he had insisted on not bothering James, he ended up receiving full-on mentorship during their workouts. Tuesday and Friday had left his body sore from too much exercise, especially the last time, after he and James made out in an awkward position in the staff locker room showers. He was hoping to be even more sore after that Saturday night.

But not from working out, on that day, they had skipped their morning class to focus on another kind of activity.

Soon, James’s car turned the corner onto Regulus’s street, stopping in front of the building. He rolled down the window, greeting him with a perfect smile, looking over the top of his glasses—definitely not seeing a thing.

“Hi, sweet thing.”

“Hello, coach,” Regulus teased.

He returned the smile, leaning out of the car window to get a good look at his boyfriend, even with the glasses clearly being used as a charm tactic. Regulus took the opportunity to admire that face he adored—the dimples that formed in his cheeks, the way his gaze always dropped slightly to his lips even when he was trying to play it cool.

Regulus couldn’t help doing the same, letting his eyes travel further down to notice that James was wearing a white dress shirt, the buttons struggling to stay closed, and the seams around the arms looking ready to give in. He looked even more irresistible than on any of the previous occasions Regulus had seen him. He didn’t dare look between his legs, afraid the beige trousers were tight there too. Instead, he leaned in to give his boyfriend a quick peck, his lips landing in a wet, satisfying little pop.

Even though it was just a quick kiss, his cheeks burned with warmth, especially because of the sound, which made his heart race. He could kiss James, because he wanted to kiss him, because they were boyfriends—they were allowed to do this. It was his greatest joy every time he got to see him.

A smile spread over James’s lips as soon as they parted—an even more smug and confident one now, stupidly so, in Regulus’s opinion.

“Shall we go?”

“Yes, coach,” Regulus continued teasing. “May I ask where are you taking me today?”

“So anxious, baby…” James whispered playfully. “Didn’t we agree it’s a surprise, hun?”

“Okay…” He gave a small shrug, a little embarrassed. “Take me, then.”

As he was used to doing, he walked in front of the car to the passenger side before James could even think of getting out and opening the door for him. Regulus had seen that attempt on Tuesday, the first time they rode together with James driving, and he didn’t want to see his boyfriend step out of the car for him. He sat down and fastened the seatbelt, then turned to face James, who was watching him, entertained.

“So sneaky, baby… Doesn’t even let me be a gentleman,” James teased, leaning over to kiss Regulus on the cheek.

It was hard to explain how that could make his heart race even more than a kiss on the lips, but every time James breathed against his cheek and gave him such a pure kind of affection, Regulus felt like he was melting. He let himself be vulnerable, which was dangerous and something he shouldn’t be doing. Regulus took a deep breath.

I can’t let myself surrender like this.

“So… I have something for you.”

“For me?” Regulus asked, confused, his mind already spiralling with possibilities.

James nodded, holding up a wide black satin ribbon in his palm.

“I would like you to be blindfolded until we get there,” he said quickly, adding, “I promise you’ll be safe. And if you don’t want to, that’s okay too.”

Considering that even a kiss on the cheek made Regulus want to hold James’s hand and never let go, his heart told him it was safe to wear the blindfold. More than that, he felt aroused just imagining what his boyfriend could do to him while he was blindfolded. There was hardly any resistance in him anymore—which was dangerous for whatever part of his rationality was still yelling for caution.

But, contrary to what he used to believe, it was so easy to let James take the lead.

When they first met, Regulus hadn’t trusted the cross-training instructor at all, the one who so clearly hid mischief in his eyes. But like an idiot, he had decided to pretend he didn’t see it. Because he was hot. Even though he wanted to avoid at all costs any kind of immoral love, Regulus liked being watched. Being wanted, even if he didn’t think he deserved it. Especially by James, and even by the other gym goers.

As they got to know each other, he quickly learned that James was a fantastic professional who went out of his way to correct and guide his students. Within a week of classes, Regulus didn’t doubt that what James said was right and did his best to follow the exercises just as instructed.

Months later, Regulus could say he trusted James blindly. And with their private training sessions, getting to know him personally, he had felt comfortable enough to become intimate with him. To let him take off his towel, to see his scars, and to know his secrets.

James had said he had his own secrets too, and had explained how he used his authority as the gym’s owner to assign himself as Regulus’s personal trainer. He had confessed it carefully, as if afraid Regulus might be angry for receiving free sessions and mentorship from him, plus the chance to get close and be seen.

There was no way in hell Regulus would ever truly be mad about James giving him that kind of attention.

And Regulus, once the non-proud son of the Black family, had learned early on not to mind using money, power, and connections to get what he wanted.

Knowing how honest and responsible James was, and trusting himself enough to trust him, Regulus decided to accept the blindfold.

“So mysterious, coach,” he mocked. “Okay. You can blindfold me.”

“Thank you, love,” James said warmly, leaning in to give Regulus a quick kiss. And as always, the mere touch of his lips made Regulus’s heart stutter. “If you start to feel uncomfortable or anything, just tell me, okay? I’m just gonna drive us to the location—it’s not far from here.”

“Really?” Regulus feigned disappointment.

“What did you want me to do to you while you’re blindfolded, naughty boy?” James teased.

That was the moment Regulus lost the teasing game,it was too much for him to keep up the tone.

His whole face burned, and he looked away, embarrassed. Being called “naughty boy” by his boyfriend, in that context and on that occasion, aroused him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Given his total lack of self-control when it came to his body’s reactions, Regulus tried to think of anything else, so he wouldn’t start the date the wrong way.

He always ended up taking things too far.

Gently, James took his hand from his lap and laced their fingers together, placing a kiss on his knuckles. The simple gesture, done with such tenderness, calmed Regulus’s racing heart instantly. It was impossibly perfect how his boyfriend always knew how to set the mood, how to dissolve his worries, how to make him surrender a little more each time.

The only downside of the blindfold, Regulus thought, was not being able to see James’s calm expression, an expression that guided him like someone playing an instrument perfectly, just for the joy of it.

“I’m not gonna disappoint you… but we have to set your terms before anything.”

“Right!” Regulus agreed without hesitation. “I’m ready for this conversation.”

“Let’s get to your location first.”

As Regulus was blindfolded and the street outside his home disappeared from view, his other senses sharpened. The satin fabric was soft against his skin, especially since James made sure it wasn’t tied too tightly. His breath brushed the back of Regulus’s neck as he tied a knot or maybe a bow, Regulus couldn’t tell.

The rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of the engine, his heart racing in his chest, the warmth of James’s proximity and the chill that followed when he pulled away to start driving, all those sensations surrounded him once his vision was gone.

It made him think of what it would be like to be blindfolded during an intimate moment, but he didn’t allow himself to imagine too much. It was something he wanted, though.

The day before, after everything that had happened with his boss, Regulus had felt unsure whether he had crossed a line or even betrayed James, so he called him right away and the two talked about it. His boyfriend had made it clear that he didn’t think anything was wrong, and after hearing everything that had happened and offering comfort, he assured Regulus that they would talk the next day about their boundaries, so there would be no lingering doubt between them.

James had been open about his interest in BDSM and in building a dynamic with Regulus, who, in turn, also wanted that kind of relationship. That day, they promised to have an honest conversation about practices, kinks, and expectations, with no restrictions or shame, so they could define their roles, set their limits, and eliminate any insecurities.

“Uh-oh,” James said suddenly.

“What is it?” Regulus asked, sharpening his senses.

“It’s started raining… shit!”

“Oh… you were taking me somewhere outdoors?”

He soon heard the sound of rain tapping against the car’s, and from the noise, it wasn’t light or passing. It was odd, there had been no forecast of rain that day, but the city rarely obeyed the forecast anyway. He heard the windshield wipers moving across the glass and then James’s deep sigh, louder than anything else.

“Well, the surprise doesn’t make much sense now…” he said, clearly frustrated. “I was going to take you to the park for a picnic… but with this rain, there’s no way… ugh, dammit… what do I do?”

Regulus wasn’t sure if the blindfold made him more perceptive to James’s emotions, but the tone of his voice was genuinely heartbreaking. He didn’t sound anxious, the way Regulus would’ve been if his plans had been ruined, but rather disappointed, probably because he had placed so much expectation on the date. Or rather, so much pressure on himself.

It was obvious how much care James had put into planning everything, and Regulus felt deeply grateful for that. At the same time, he shared the desire to make the date work, even with the rain. He ran a few ideas through his mind before suggesting:

“We can go back to my flat and have an indoor picnic. I can move the table in the living room and we can spread out a blanket and set a nice mood.”

“Really?” James asked, already sounding hopeful.

“Yes, it would be just as fun.” He smiled, happy to have his suggestion considered. “Come on, let’s head back!”

With that, Regulus felt the car turn around, heading back the way they had come. The rain drummed on the windows during the drive, but it wasn’t unpleasant, even if it had ruined his boyfriend’s plans. It was more like a comforting soundtrack, with no thunder or harsh winds to scare him—just a soft, relaxing background noise. Regulus wouldn’t call himself an optimist, not someone who saw the best in everything, but he decided to believe that if the plan had to change, maybe it was destiny guiding them toward something better.

“Do you want to take the blindfold off?” James’s calm voice, blending with the music of the rain, sent a shiver down Regulus’s spine, especially because he sounded more relaxed now.

“No, I’m fine… your voice sounds so good with them on.”

“How do you feel about it?”

Regulus paused to consider the question, reflecting on how the lack of sight heightened all his other senses. It felt good, and while it put him on alert, helping him pay attention to the world in other ways, it also made him calmer by taking away one source of input. Especially because he was with James, it was turning out to be a great experience.

“I feel safe and kind of relaxed, like I don’t have to worry where we are going. I thought I could feel anxious about not being in control, but it’s quite the opposite. And all the lack of visual stimulation… compensated by other senses… is good.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” James said sincerely. “Maybe someday we’ll use this in another context?”

“It would be nice…” Regulus answered quietly.

Soon he felt the car come to a stop, and James gently told him he was going to remove the blindfold—to Regulus’s disappointment. He opened his eyes and found himself right back where he had been when it was put on, almost like it had all been his imagination. Except for the heavy rain falling on the windscreen, confirming it had all been very real.

“I’m going to go in and open the door for you.”

“Okay, I’ll grab the basket,” James agreed. “Sorry, love, you’re still going to get wet.”

“It’s okay, coach, I’m not gonna drown and I’m not made of sugar,” he teased, finally turning around and spotting a beautiful, closed picnic basket. “Romantic.”

Regulus then got out of the car, dashing to the building door and unlocking it, getting a little wet in the process. He left it open for James to grab the basket from the back seat, lock the car, and run inside, quickly closing the door behind them. They leaned against opposite walls of the narrow corridor, smiling at each other, flushed from the little sprint, and from having been fast enough to beat the worsening rain outside

“Wet again, love?” James teased, eyeing him up and down with a wicked grin.

The last time his boyfriend had said something like that was the previous weekend, when James had got him hard in the amusement park bathroom, teasing his sensitive chest with fingers and lips.

“Yeah, but this time I’m not the one with my buttons on display.”

Regulus’s hand shot up to James’s chest, pinching the dark nipple that stood out through the rain-soaked dress shirt.

He hadn’t expected his boyfriend to be just as sensitive there, and the moan James let out echoed down the corridor.

James bit his lip to keep quiet, while Regulus pulled his hand away, a flutter in his belly at the discovery of a new weakness.

He had just provoked the beast in James.

In a flash, his back was against the wall and James was kissing him like he wanted to devour him.

The picnic basket hit the floor as James needed both hands to grab Regulus by the waist, sliding under his shirt as his mouth worked to drive him insane.

Being the more experienced one, and a fast learner, something James often praised him for,Regulus had picked up a few tricks: how to open his legs for James to slot between them, how to part his lips and give in to his tongue, how to keep his arms looped around James’s neck so his shirt could be pushed up and his skin explored.

But this time, Regulus had learned something new.

And he wanted to test it.

As their tongues moved together and their lips grew slick with heat, he let his fingers barely brush James’s chest again—just to see.

Suddenly, James forgot how to kiss.

He stumbled back, pressing himself against the opposite wall, panting.

They stared at each other in shock, like they had been pulled out of their bodies mid-kiss, possessed by something stronger.

Better still, Regulus had just found a button that set James on fire. He liked that.

But a flicker of worry crossed his mind, had he gone too far?

They really needed to talk.

“Talk?”

“Yeah, yeah. We should talk,” James agreed, still catching his breath before flashing a satisfied grin.

Relieved, Regulus exhaled softly.

He climbed the last flight of stairs, unlocking the only door at the end, turning left inside, James following close behind, eyes curious as they scanned the space.

Regulus’s flat was small, cramped, even, back when he lived with Barty and Evan.

But now that they had moved out, it was enough for him to live comfortably.

There was a modest living room and a small kitchen, divided by a granite countertop. A narrow hallway led to two tiny bedrooms and the bathroom.

Most of the furniture was worn, leftover from the landlord and clashing with Regulus’s style.

Still, everything was clean and functional—enough for him.

But this little flat was no place for his brothers.

Even if Evan’s parents had cut him off for choosing to live with a man, he was still the Rosier heir and filthy rich. He worked as a ballet teacher, yes, but also had an active role in the family company, which he had likely inherit one day.

He didn’t need to settle for a cramped flat above a nightclub.

And Barty? He wasn’t any different. A genius with money and a gift for multiplying it, enough to start his own business: Neon Rose, already a hit just three months after opening.

He owned the club downstairs from Regulus’s place, but didn’t need to live here.

Regulus didn’t like being alone, especially not coming home to an empty flat at the end of the day.

And while his brothers had offered to let him stay with them, to sacrifice their comfort or accept him as a burden, Regulus couldn’t be that selfish.

Not after everything they had done for him.

Not after they had literally saved his life.

Not while he still harboured those kinds of feelings for them.

So the best thing he could do was let them go, let them move to that fancy condo they had found.

One he could never afford, not even thirty percent of the rent, on his assistant salary.

A place far from him.

But with James’s desires, with that suggestion that Regulus should surrender to his wants, did that idea even make sense anymore? To suffer missing his brothers?

“Please don’t mind the mess,” Regulus said.

“What mess?” James asked genuinely, looking around. “It’s a lovely place.”

“Just somewhere to sleep,” Regulus shrugged. “But I think if we move the coffee table, we could have our picnic between the sofa and the TV stand.”

“The rug’s probably comfier than the grass I had planned. I can lay the blanket over it, just in case.”

“Wait— is it a red checkered blanket?!” Regulus asked, more excited than he meant to sound, spotting the edge of it peeking from the basket.

Noticing his own enthusiasm, he blushed immediately. “I’ve only ever seen those in films…”

“I’m glad you like it, baby,” James said sweetly, stepping in to kiss Regulus on the cheek.

It was becoming a habit. Every time Regulus lit up at something James had done or said, he would earn one of those tender kisses.

It wasn’t hard to see James found him adorable every time Regulus thought he was “too much”,and James had created a reward system for it.

To coax him into opening up.

To draw out the emotions Regulus had learned to keep buried.

And reward them with exactly the kind of affection that made him feel soft and exposed.

“You’re not playing fair,” he pouted.

But he didn’t wait for James to answer. He started clearing the space, moving furniture and adjusting the lighting, while James laid out the blanket and unpacked the basket.

Regulus slipped into his bedroom to change out of his wet shirt, choosing a soft jumper instead. He also made sure his room was tidy enough for later, relieved that he had, especially since Mr Jam was occupying his bed.

He didn’t want the stuffed cat around once things got heated.

“Do you need a shirt or something?” he asked from the small hallway, tucking Mr Jam into the spare bed.

“As long as you don’t pinch my nipples again, I’ll survive…” James laughed, turning to look. “Oh! That’s my boy, Mr Jam! Is he joining us for the picnic?”

“No, he’s staying in the other room. We’re going to talk about things he’s not old enough to hear.”

“Awww! Whatever you say, baby!”

Regulus felt his cheeks burn at the thought, if they weren’t apart, James probably would have kissed him again just for that, and blushed as he laid Mr Jam down carefully.

When he returned, he noticed how thoughtful James had been with every detail of the picnic: the red checkered blanket, the delicate sandwiches, tiny desserts, fruit, and juices Regulus had said he could drink. There were flower petals, a small music box, and beautiful jars filled with fairy lights, glowing softly in the dim room.

They had already taken off their shoes at the door, so they sat cross-legged on the blanket.

Regulus wrapped his arms around James and kissed his cheek.

“It’s so beautiful. I love it.”

“I’m glad you do, even if it didn’t go quite how I pictured it.”

“It’s perfect like this… Thank you…”

It was so delicate, so thoughtfully put together especially for him, based on all the little things he had told James over the past week — what he liked to eat, what he found beautiful, the places he liked to go, even if the rain had kept them away. That much attention made his chest swell with love. Every detail of the decoration was done with care, and Regulus wanted to give all his love back for each of them.

"You brought such a beautiful setup in your little basket..." Regulus murmured, feeling lighter, and pressed a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek.

"I also brought that checklist for us to go over together," James replied, running his hand along Regulus’s waist and kissing his temple. "We can do it while we eat?"

"Of course. Sounds perfect."

First, James showed him all the food he had brought and insisted that Regulus start with something savoury, almost like an adult telling a child they could only have dessert after finishing dinner. Regulus had half a mind to disobey, but he wasn’t in the mood to act up that day, so he obeyed and picked up a sandwich, thanking James sweetly.

As they served themselves on paper plates, James handed him a pen and some papers, a copy of an extensive checklist of practices and kinks, the kind that would cover everything they needed to discuss before entering a D/s relationship. Regulus glanced over it while taking a small bite of his sandwich, heart racing at the practices listed.

Some of the terms were strange to him, others were painfully familiar, especially from his teenage years, things he had read about online and fantasised doing with his brother before he was even of age.

"So, before anything else, we need to choose a safeword. If any topic, act or moment crosses a line for either of us, we use that word to stop everything," James said seriously.

"Safeword…" Regulus repeated, trying to remember where he had heard the strange term. "So, it’s a word that if one of us says it, the other has to stop whatever they’re doing or saying?"

"Immediately, yes. And it needs to be something we wouldn’t normally say — especially not during sex," James explained. "We’ll also use the traffic light system, like we did on the Ferris wheel, but having a unique word is important too."

"Something like… I don’t know, ‘light’?" he suggested, looking at the fairy lights inside the jar.

"‘Light’ might still be a bit too common... What about ‘halo’?"

"‘Halo’? I’m not sure where you got that from, but yeah, that works. It’s not something anyone would say by accident."

"It’s because you look like an angel surrounded by the fairy lights," James flirted, relaxing against the sofa to look at him better, making Regulus blush. "So, ‘Halo’ is our safeword. We’ll always remember it, right?"

"Perfect…" Regulus agreed, writing it in the corner of the page, though he doubted he could ever forget it.

"And as I said, we can also use the traffic light system. ‘Green’ means ‘we’re good to go’, ‘yellow’ means ‘slow down’ or ‘we’re near a limit’, and ‘red’ means ‘stop completely’, just like the safeword."

"Safeword…" Regulus repeated again in his mind, and this time, he remembered where he had heard it. "Oh! That’s what my boss asked me yesterday!"

"He asked what?" James frowned mid-bite.

"What my safeword is, but I didn’t know what it meant…"

And now that he did, his eyes widened as scenes from the previous day flashed through his mind. There’s no way… does my boss actually practise BDSM? Or does he?

"Right. So before we start the checklist, there’s something I REALLY want to hear," James said, his tone full of mischief. "What happened between you and your boss yesterday?"

Regulus’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing and heart thudding as if it wanted out of his chest. He took a sip of juice to buy time, but James was still looking at him with open curiosity, waiting.

"But I already told you everything yesterday!" Regulus protested.

"Over the phone. I want to hear it in person," James said, firm. "From the beginning… What’s your colour?"

"Green…" Regulus admitted.

And so he began to tell James about his relationship with his boss: from when they met to the events of the previous night.

Unlike the day before, when he had been terrified of crossing a line, this time Regulus spoke calmly, watching James’s reactions carefully in a way he hadn’t been able to over the phone.

He explained how, months ago, he had gotten a job at a school, though he didn’t say which or and left out his boss’s name, out of respect for both his own privacy and Mr Lupin’s. He vaguely described the strange urge he had to be useful to his boss, how it made him happy to take weight off his shoulders, which had somehow led to… something he couldn’t quite explain.

Regulus admitted he liked his boss, and he saw no sign of jealousy or discomfort on James’s face, who only smiled more, deeply interested in the story. Regulus recounted the conversation he’d had with Remus, but this time, paying attention to the details, seeing the questions in a whole new light.

"You think my boss was trying to find out if I’m in a BDSM dynamic?"

"I’m almost certain he was. That he was testing whether you’re sub — and probably thinks I’m some terrible person trying to take advantage of your interest in D/s," James said.

"Because I lied… oh shit…" Regulus groaned, feeling like an idiot.

"It’s okay. You’ll get a chance to clear things up with him — this time with more confidence, because we’re going to think everything through, yeah? Him being a Dom changes things a bit."

"Are you mad at me?" Regulus asked cautiously.

"Of course not, especially when you’re being honest with me," James said gently. "It’s okay, baby. Go on."

So Regulus told him how his boss had seemed thoughtful during the work party, how they had found each other on the pub’s deck while he was smoking, just after dealing with some asshole. To his relief, their talk had gone well and Regulus felt he had made it clearer that his relationship with James wasn’t some reckless fling.

At least… until he started wetting himself and ended up being cared for by Remus, in a way far more intimate than he had ever imagined.

"I should’ve known that drinking that much juice at the pub wouldn’t end well, but I forgot about my ‘problem’ and had an accident… in front of my boss."

"That must have been so hot…" James blurted, dreamy. "Sorry, that slipped out."

"No, it was…" Regulus admitted, embarrassed. "I was really ashamed, but it turned me on. It happened so fast, I let him help me get cleaned up, let him touch me… he was kind, and gentle, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. We said goodbye in such an awkward way…"

"It would have been better if you two had talked afterwards — some proper aftercare for both of you."

"It was all so rushed, but it felt good… are you really sure you’re not mad at me?"

"No, baby. You followed the terms I sent you by message — ‘No penetration, everything else’s fair game’. You told him that, so it’s fine. The only issue I see is a bit of miscommunication between you two."

"Yeah, we have got to work on that. I thought it was clear enough because of how we act at work… but I guess I was wrong."

"There’s always room for improvement. You said it was rushed sex, once you two talk things through and we set your terms properly, you won’t feel insecure anymore."

"I think it can work," Regulus said hopefully. "He’s nice."

"But if he’s not, I’ll deal with him, don’t worry." James grinned, playful, but with a dark undertone.

"You wouldn’t hurt a fly," Regulus said, unconvinced.

"Are you sure, baby?"

The flicker of a sadistic smile on someone as sweet and funny as James made Regulus’s whole body shiver with arousal. His boyfriend, with his soft face and caring tone, was already hot, but seeing him with that suggestion of menace gave Regulus a new view of him. One that made his body heat up.

"I might not burn someone’s arm or break their nose like a certain feisty cat I know," James teased, "but I can destroy his entire career as a headteacher, all with my family name."

"You wouldn’t…"

"You sure?" he asked, with a laugh far too kind for what he was implying. "I did it when I found out Peter was a harasser. He used to be a PE teacher, now he can’t get a job at any Potter Group school, club, or affiliated institution. Nor at any school with a shred of decency."

Note to self: never reveal Mr Lupin’s name to James, just in case , Regulus thought. He hadn’t known there were schools under the Potter family’s influence, and he was relieved to be sure his workplace, St Hedwig’s High School, belonged to a man named Fleamont — not Potter. It would be even weirder to be working somewhere owned by his boyfriend.

"I mean, honestly… Peter deserved it. It was only fair." He nodded, well aware of James’s ex-friend’s history. "And you’re hot when you’re being so cruel…"

"I’m not cruel. I’m fair, like you said," James replied with a wink that made Regulus’s heart flutter.

"And powerful…" Regulus added, more interested in watching his boyfriend than eating another bite.

"You have seen nothing yet, baby," James murmured, returning the look with fire.

"I would love to see…"

"You can. We can try it out," James said with a reassuring smile, reaching for Regulus’s free hand to anchor his attention. "This is the right moment for me to explain properly what I’m hoping for, and what kind of dynamic I have in mind."

"Okay. I’m listening." Regulus gave him his other hand and met his gaze.

"So, as I have hinted a few times, I would like to explore an ageplay teacher-student dynamic. Let me explain: I would be your Dom, and based on that checklist and everything we want to explore, I would train you. Depending on what we decide, whether it’s scene-based or 24/7, I would set up a schedule and gradually introduce you to the practices. I want to teach you, use discipline to help you with things you want or need to work on. What do you think?"

"I think it’s perfect, honestly. It’s exactly what I need right now." Regulus finally said out loud what he had been thinking all week. "In a D/s relationship, I would have the opportunity to be guided through feelings I usually avoid. But in a teacher-student dynamic, it feels even more like a safe place to explore and learn."

"Perfect. So we’ll start with a D/s ageplay teacher-student dynamic, yeah?" James asked for confirmation.

Regulus nodded, and they both wrote it down at the end of the checklist — the section for important notes that came up during the conversation.

“So, now that I heard personally about your lovable adventure with your boss, we set a safeword and a system in case we feel uncomfortable, and the dynamic we're going with, we can start with the checklist, on bondage. Let’s align how much physical restriction we can work with, ok?”

Clearing his throat, Regulus gave a better look at the checklist, quickly understanding that they would be rating some practices from what they would like to try and what they would never want to do. The initial topic was bondage and, reading the first line, which was arm restrictions, Regulus already had an important comment to make.

“Ok… before we go through the checklist, there’s something I should mention first. Restrictions on my left arm can’t be too tight or stay on for too long… because of, well, you know.” He touched the scar hidden under his black jumper. “It’s kind of a miracle I didn’t end up with any serious complications after that.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll make a note of that,” James said, flipping to the last page to write it down. “So, arm sleeves are a 'maybe' for you?”

“I want to try — as long as, like I said, they’re not too tight and don’t stay on for too long,” Regulus answered, marking the spot as ‘yes’ on his own list and moving to James’s side so they could compare notes.

Regulus also marked ‘yes, I want to try’ for light bondage, cuffs, chains, and leather restraints. But both agreed not to engage in any heavy bondage or strict restrictions in the near future, to avoid any risk of harming Regulus’s arm. That included any kind of suspension bondage or complex rope work — something James admitted he wasn’t experienced with yet and would need to study thoroughly before attempting.

“Just so you know,” James added honestly, “just because I’m teaching you doesn’t mean I’m perfect. I’m also new to the practice, and I’ll be learning and improving too. Before every scene, I’ll do a lot of research to make sure everything’s going to be safe.”

“Thank you for being honest. I understand that, and I’m willing to be with you on that journey,” Regulus said with a smile.

“Thank you, baby. I appreciate it,” James replied, his eyes full of confidence. “So... straight jackets… what do we think?”

“Yes, please,” Regulus said automatically.

“Wow, that was quick — is it something that you already did?” he asked with a smile, but it immediately dropped once he thought about it. “Wait, you have been in a straight jacket before? Like… how?”

Regulus closed his eyes and winced, knowing he would have to tread into sensitive territory, something that would certainly ruin the mood of their conversation. It didn’t haunt him anymore, but it felt like the day he had first told James about what his father had done to him. Regulus didn’t want to show him the kind of trauma that someone could go through, again. His fear was that James could think he was too broken to engage in any practice.

But he needed to be clear.

“I have been in a straight jacket multiple times before and it was a positive experience for me,” he tried to be subtle.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” James said with a sad look — one that Regulus hated to see on his face.

“Well… after what my father did, and after recovering from it, I didn’t go back home as I said… They put me in a psychiatric hospital.”

James’s jaw immediately dropped in an expression of complete shock, and Regulus regretted so much even starting to talk. But there was nothing to be done, he started, and he had to finish.

“The staff from the hospital, the doctors and nurses, were… abusive. Not like a horror movie, but not quite ethical either. They gave me electric shocks sometimes, that’s why I can’t stand strobing lights.” Each sentence, Regulus noticed James was getting more and more perplexed, and he could understand, his past was absurd in a lot of ways. “But the time in straight jackets was good, it gave me some peace of mind, you know?”

“N-No…!” he answered, having difficulty formulating words.

“Please don’t hate me,” Regulus said, words jumping from his mouth trying to repair the conversation. “I swear I’m not broken, and I won't be a problem for you.”

“That’s not the point, love…”

With the usual gentleness and care, James opened his arms for Regulus and held him in a tight embrace. In James’s arms, in the comfort of his body warmth, in the subtle love pressed to his forehead with a kiss, Regulus felt safer than he ever had. Even if the straight jacket was the ultimate comfort experience, James’s restrictive hug was better — as if it could erase the tragic past.

It couldn't, Regulus knew. But his traumas were gone and didn’t even bother him anymore, he had surpassed that point in his life where he really wanted to rewrite or end everything. He had let his past go, but if something still bothered him, it would vanish in the care of his now Dom.

“You went through so much and you survived… you are so strong, baby,” James whispered with true love and admiration.

“I tried my best.”

“And you’re here with me now, safe and perfect the way you are… I'm so sorry that you had to go through these awful things, and it hurts me to know that I can't do anything, but I'm not letting anyone or anything hurt you like that again. I promise.”

“Thank you… coach,” Regulus said with honesty.

He still didn’t know if “coach” was a good term to call him, but it worked — even without the usual mockery around it. They would find a better way, together.

James leaned over the couch and opened his legs slightly, inviting him into his embrace, opening and closing his hands like a child. Rolling his eyes but smiling fondly, Regulus crawled close to him and put his back on James’s chest, immediately being enveloped by strong arms. In that position, with that much care, he felt like a child.

“So, straight jackets are something that works for me, but if it bothers you because of my past…”

“If it doesn’t bother YOU, we can try,” James said with emphasis, taking advantage of the position to kiss Regulus’s sensitive ear and making him melt. “I know it can be healing if we do it the right way.”

“Right,” Regulus nodded. “So, next topic?”

Following the list, they agreed to test different types of gags and use blindfolds, but never to combine these with earplugs for full sensory deprivation. Regulus explained that he needed to keep at least one of his senses active to feel comfortable during a scene. They also agreed on a non-verbal safeword gesture for scenes where Regulus wouldn’t be able to speak: snapping his fingers or, if possible, tapping James or a nearby surface three times, depending on the context.

Neither of them showed interest in hoods or masks to cover their faces, and Regulus said he had no interest in muzzles, but liked very much the idea of a leash. That’s when they got into collars.

“A collar means much more than just an accessory in BDSM,” James explained. “A permanent collar is like an engagement ring, and it marks a deep commitment, like a wedding. But there are different types of collars. There’s also something called a training collar — it shows we’re working on your dynamic, building routines, that you’re under training.”

“So I’ll be receiving one?” Regulus asked softly, relieved that in that position James couldn’t see his stupid, hopeful face.

“If you accept, yes. And it would be my pleasure to collar you. But a training collar also communicates that other Doms can’t approach you — which means that if your boss is a Dom, he should back out.”

“He should…?”

“If he’s a Dom interested in training you, yes. He should — and he will, if he’s a respectful one. Those are my terms: I’m okay if you have sex with him, and only that, for now. I won’t allow you to scene with him. Not while we’re building this. Especially because I don’t know him. If, eventually, in the future, you want to be trained by him as well, I would have to meet him properly — and we’ll discuss it together. But not now. Okay?”

“I’m totally okay with that, and I’ll properly communicate this to him on Monday.”

“Good boy,” James smiled.

Regulus’s entire body shook with the praise, and all of his inner restrictions trembled as well. All those years building walls around himself, not letting anyone in to see his true self, just melted, like his back against James’s chest. He had been called good. He was good for James. And the realisation made him feel safe. Like he had found his place.

“Look at me, baby.”

He did as told, turning slightly on his side to meet his Dom’s eyes. What he met was James’s lips, softly landing on his own in a deep but brief kiss that made Regulus melt even more, as if the compliment, the “boy”, and the usual pet names hadn’t already done enough.

“I’m going to collar you, and you’re going to be my student. Is that what you want?”

“Yes…”

“Professor or Teacher. That’s how you’re going to call me now,” James commanded, his voice laced with both authority and care.

“Yes, Professeur ,” Regulus replied, completely hypnotised by his Dom.

“Hm, that’s cute. I like it,” James smiled, his tone softening slightly, shifting from strict authority to something almost friendly. “Okay, so work on it and then I’ll collar you. Last two topics on bondage… What do you think about being locked in a cage? A cell or something like that?”

“Being left in a cage? Absolutely not!”

“No problem. No cages for you… And what about cages for your privates?”

“What do you mean?” Regulus frowned.

“Chastity cages. Or chastity devices. How do you feel about that?” James clarified. “We could use them, but honestly, I want the opposite for you.”

“I like the idea of being controlled that way…” he answered thoughtfully. “But what do you mean by the opposite?”

“You told me you have been repressing yourself — avoiding sexual thoughts, pushing pleasure away. I want you to not only enjoy it, but to give yourself pleasure too. I would make that part of your routine, because it’s important for you to know your body — really know it. But, if later on you’re curious about chastity, I can be your keyholder.”

Regulus nodded, noticing how James seemed to be thinking hard, trying to put together all of his ‘yeses’, avoid all of his ‘nos’, and explore their ‘maybes’, all at once. He clearly had a lot to think about, but he didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he smiled as he looked back at the now fully filled-out first topic.

“The next section is Body Fluids and Functions,” James announced, then added, “I already know you have some specific needs in that area.”

“Yes… I already said I have a weak bladder, but I also have a sensitive stomach. I’ll always clean myself beforehand, but accidents may happen,” Regulus explained, wondering whether talking about this while eating sandwiches might disgust James.

“I’m fine with that. I actually enjoy watersports and scat. Eating and drinking things and seeing my partner do it is a hard limit for me, but giving and receiving a golden shower is okay.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Regulus said, surprised. “Well… I have never thought of my accidents as something good, but I’m totally open to trying.”

“So let’s work out some codes for this too, okay? In case you need to go during a session. Like… if you have to pee, you say… something like…”

“It could be blue? Following the colour scheme?”

“Perfect! And if you have to poop, use… litter! And let me decide whether to continue or stop the scene. Is that alright? Or if you really don’t want this to be involved in the scene, say ‘halo’ or ‘red’”.

“Sounds ok to me.”

But ‘ok’ didn’t even begin to describe what Regulus felt.

His uncontrollable bodily functions had always been a source of shame — a lingering, humiliating consequence of what his father had done to him. Something that twisted his self-image into something disgusting. Seeing his Dom embrace it, even like it, gave him a sense of acceptance he never thought possible.

Every passing second, Regulus felt more and more safe.

Following the topics, the list also included receiving cum on different parts of the body, Regulus agreed to all of them, while James kept a hard limit on cumming in his hair.

They both decided to avoid any blood play, considering Regulus’s history of self-harm. In fact, they made a rule strictly forbidding it.

“So body fluids: all clear. Next topic—”

“Oh—” The sound left Regulus’s lips the moment he spotted a certain word.

“Found something interesting, baby?” James teased.

“Crossdressing. I want it…” he said quietly. “Dresses, skirts, makeup… lingerie… It was my biggest desire when I was a teen.”

“Good to know, ‘cause at some point I would love to put you in some slutty outfits for your scenes.”

That day, Regulus was getting a lot of shivers in his body, all of them good, most of them from the sheer amount of pleasure James was making him feel with nothing but words. And that’s when he realised: at some point in his adult life, he might even be able to break free from his restrictions around sex. He had already wanted to buy some revealing clothing just for himself. But imagining James doing that with him, ‘forcing’ him to wear those clothes, was hotter than he could ever have imagined.

Imagining James picking out his outfits, not caring if the skirt was too short or the neckline showed too much skin, making him wear lingerie to work, changing his whole wardrobe to fit his own desires… That’s when an important question came to Regulus’s mind.

“Can I ask you something? Before we continue…”

“Of course, baby. Anything.”

“We’re talking about clothing and equipment for all these practices… but I don’t have the money for it, Professeur.”

He tested the honourific.

It sounded perfect.

“Don’t worry, love, I have got more than enough to buy everything we need, and the right contacts for mentorship and discounts.”

“Wouldn’t that be too much for you?”

“No! Of course not! We can talk about that more when we get to the behaviour topic and how much control you’re giving me in your daily life, if you’re up for that. But honestly? I’m super rich, baby. Money’s not a problem.”

“You’re so full of yourself…” Regulus teased, taking advantage of the negotiation moment to avoid punishment. “Kind of reminds me of someone I used to know…”

“Who could possibly be fantastic, wonderful and rich like me?” James replied, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sirius , Regulus thought.

“No one… So, what are we evaluating right now?”

They moved on to the body worship topic. Both agreed on giving and receiving: Regulus as a form of submission, James as a form of praise when his sub did something right. James also expressed a desire to someday switch dynamics, once Regulus had enough experience, so that he could worship him in a sub position. They made a note for the future.

Then they discussed types of clothing. Neither of them were fans of latex or full-body leather. Regulus tried his best to express his arousal about wearing “feminine” clothes, especially the revealing kind, and shared his wish to go out in public like that. James loved the idea and mentioned wanting to train Regulus to wear heels, which he also liked.

"What do you think about wearing diapers?" James asked, moving on to the next line.

"I don’t know if it would be nice for me..." Regulus said, insecure. "I have actually had a medical recommendation to wear some kind of padding at night."

"Oh, so you wear them? For medical needs?"

"No, I don’t. I prefer to set alarms to wake up during the night and go to the bathroom instead of wearing them. It feels embarrassing… disgusting… humiliating."

"And you don’t like humiliation?" James asked gently, brushing his sub’s cheek with comforting fingers.

"I do…" Regulus admitted, blushing.

"Then don’t you think bringing that into our scenes might help you accept it better?" James pondered softly. "Waking up several times a night just to avoid pissing yourself doesn’t sound relaxing. It seems like you never get a truly restful night, ‘cause you’re afraid."

"Well… thinking like that…"

"We can put it on ‘maybe’, then?"

"Yes… I think we can."

"Which, by coincidence, leads us to the next topic: humiliation. Let’s go through that."

The first line was forced dressing. Regulus was able to better express his desire to be dressed in “feminine” clothing and called ‘a girl’ as a form of humiliation, while James elaborated on wanting to choose every single outfit for his sub, perfectly matching what Regulus had already imagined.

They also talked about humiliation in private and public. They agreed to test both, with James adding that before taking Regulus anywhere in public, he would train him for at least a few months.

The line lecturing for misbehaviours would naturally become part of their teacher-student dynamic. Some lectures, James said, would be intentionally humiliating, but never beyond what they both agreed on. Regulus made it clear that verbal humiliation had to be a hard limit, certain words could be triggering, given his past, and James agreed to tread carefully.

They finished the topic with forced masturbation, nudity, and servitude—all of which Regulus was eager to do, and even more aroused by the idea of being forced to do them.

By then, they had eaten all the sandwiches and moved on to dessert. Regulus was especially drawn to the chocolate-covered fruit, and to feeding James some of them. He hadn’t expected to feel so good serving his Dom food—but he did. The way James’s lips curled with satisfaction when being hand-fed was so beautiful, Regulus nearly forgot what they were doing.

"Have some yourself, sweet thing," James reminded him gently.

"Thank you… Sir?" he tested.

"Works fine too."

Regulus took a moment to write “Sir” next to “Professeur” on his list of honourifics.

"The next topic… ‘Impact’?"

"It’s about activities or tools that can be used to cause you pain and pleasure in a scene," James explained. "Like… face slapping?"

"No, I don't like that. Nothing on my face."

"Me neither. And no punching, either," James said, marking ‘no’ on his list. "How about spanking?"

"I would love to try… in all of the ways written here."

"By hand, wooden paddles, leather slappers..."

"Belts…" Regulus said quietly.

"Is that something you have done before?" James raised an eyebrow, his mind probably going somewhere dark considering the earlier mention of a straitjacket.

"My parents used to punish me and my brother like that, and it was bad… but then they let my brother do it, and it was good."

Catching James’s interest, and noticing how deeply he was listening, Regulus went on to tell some of the stories. One of the first ones: Sirius hitting him with a belt in front of their father—how he came in his trousers immediately after. Speaking it aloud, vividly remembering it for the first time in years, made both of them hard. They reached for water and created a little distance between themselves if they were to finish their conversation properly.

It was clear that the incest element turned James on—just as he had admitted on the Ferris wheel. The tightness in his sandy-coloured trousers was painfully visible as they moved to the kitchen to get some fresh air. The storm outside had grown worse, full of thunder and wind. Regulus wondered, even though it was barely past noon, whether James might end up sleeping there with him.

"I wanted my brother to fuck me in front of our father that day," Regulus confessed for the first time ever, making James choke on his water.

"Baby, please… have mercy on me," James begged, visibly throbbing. "I’m trying to be respectful and finish our terms first."

"Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to be that aroused by it…"

"Oh, boy, I’m so weak for incest… I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. I’ll tell you more later."

"I’ll be waiting." James gave him a mischievous smile. "Shall we go back? We were talking about impact..."

They went back to the picnic blanket, talking about trying different types of material for spanking, such as canes, riding crops, and other types of whips that James said he had on hand—all within the roleplay context. The last line, wrestling, was put under ‘maybe’ for future scenes. James wanted to know Regulus’s body better before engaging in any rough play.

"Oh, we’re going on the topic ‘Non-monogamy’. That’s a really important one for us," James pointed out. "Instead of going through these lines, let’s talk about it in general, ok?"

"Okay, perfect," Regulus agreed, looking at the paper just to have something to focus on.

He was seated in front of James and felt himself blushing at the mere mention of that topic. Especially after James took his hand, guiding him to meet his gaze, as if Regulus had been avoiding eye contact. James gave him a reassuring smile before asking:

"I feel attracted to three of my friends: Moony and Padfoot, and Angel Boy—a friend from college. Is it okay with you if I eventually get involved with them?"

"‘Moony’ and ‘Padfoot’?! What kind of nicknames are those?!"

"I’ll tell you later," James laughed. "Answer my question, love."

"I’m okay with that," Regulus replied quickly, already feeling his heart race at being given a command. "You can have sex with them, but I have to meet them before you get into a relationship with any of them."

"Perfect. And… would you accept it if I asked you to have sex with them? If I ‘lend you’ to them?"

"What do you mean?"

"My friend Moony is a Dom. He and his sub taught me a lot about BDSM, and I would love for them to use you as well—of course, once I have given you the proper training," James explained. "I want all of us to do scenes together someday."

"Hm, sounds fine to me," Regulus agreed. "I would be happy to please you and your friends."

"Oh, such a good boy. Thank you, love."

With adoration, James kissed Regulus’s cheek, giving him that fragile feeling again. But in the context of the conversation, he also felt like an object, being moulded, shaped, lent to others. He liked that. He liked seeing himself like this, James’s possession, something to be used as he pleased.

"What about yours? What are the men you want, sweet thing?" James whispered close to his ear.

"My brothers… and my boss." The words were difficult to form with his Dom’s voice so near.

"Just them?" James asked, leaning back on the sofa and giving Regulus room to think. "What do you want to do with them?"

"Well… I want to kiss… and touch… both of my brothers, you know?"

"Wait… your biological brother and your adoptive brother?" James asked, confused.

"No, it’s my biological cousin and my adoptive brother. I call both of them ‘brothers’. They’re boyfriends, so my cousin would also be my ‘brother-in-law’."

"Oh! That makes things easy."

"Yes, but I don’t know if they would accept being with me that way," Regulus pointed out. "But if they were, I would want the three of you to fuck me."

Saying it out loud, in a low voice, made his face flush completely, yet he was filled with intense arousal. The way James looked at him made it clear he was feeling the same: a hungry, predatory stare, as if ready to devour him. It only made it harder to contain himself, his body had been aching to be touched since the second or third topic.

"We like a lot of men. Do you think you can handle all of them?"

"No… but if Professeur trains me for that… I can be good."

"You’re going to be good for me? You’re going to learn properly how to serve all the men? Your boss, your cousin, your brother…" James listed, visibly turned on. "Are you going to spread your legs for my friends too?"

"Yes, Sir," Regulus replied, lowering his eyes in shame.

He expected James to say good boy again, but if he did, something much more intense would happen, and they needed to stay focused on the list. So instead, James simply said:

"Well, so we’re fine to have sex with the people we just mentioned."

"And these people ONLY," Regulus emphasised. "If we want to add anyone else to the list, we talk first."

"Perfect. So it’s not an open relationship, we’re going for polyamorous, right? And before establishing anything with them, I have to introduce my friends to you, and you have to introduce me to your brothers and your boss."

"Yes, Sir."

"You learn quick," James complimented. "I don’t think it’ll take long until we all can play together."

"I’ll do my best…"

Not only to be good for James, but to accept himself and the love he felt for these people—love that he had considered filthy for years. He knew James would help him through that process. It would take time. But being with James, being accepted by him, he already had the greatest happiness he could imagine. Anything beyond that was just a bonus.

Having agreed on the topic that had consumed his thoughts the entire day, and now knowing James’s limits when it came to non-monogamous practices, Regulus felt ready to continue the negotiation.

The next topic was a quick one: leaving permanent marks on their bodies was not an option for either of them, but body modifications like tattoos and piercings were marked as a maybe for the future.

So they moved on to the next: Roleplay.

"It’s gonna be ageplay, right? Teacher and student?" Regulus asked.

"Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try other things or mix scenarios," James explained. "And even inside ‘ageplay’, there are many different ages to explore. I want to know what you feel comfortable trying."

"Cause if we want to keep the idea of diapers, I would have to act like a baby?"

"Not necessarily. In my vision, if you’re using diapers as part of a humiliation kink, you would actually be playing someone old enough not to need them."

"Like I’m a teen… having an accident and needing to wear them?"

James’s eyes lit up a little at the idea, and Regulus’s body reacted too—showing clearly that the suggestion didn’t repulse him the way he had expected it to.

In fact, as Regulus thought about it more, it didn’t seem hard at all. Not even as a child. Didn’t he already feel vulnerable every time James kissed his cheeks? Didn’t he melt under his care? Didn’t he feel small when praised? When being called a boy?

What if his Dom called him a good girl?

Regulus was sure he could easily act like a good girl.

“I want to do it progressively, slowly making you comfortable during our scenes to the point you feel safe to act more ‘childish’,” James explained with care in his voice. “I want to gain your trust to play that role around me, and each scene get more and more tiny, are you ok with that?”

“Yes, I would like to do that… Sir,” Regulus answered, thinking it was better to add the title, which earned him a smile from James.

“Perfect. And I also want to incorporate feminization elements into it, making you my little girl.”

Regulus felt like his eyes lit up just like James’s had moments before, and his body reacted with a heat that was too embarrassing to speak out loud. At least for now, when they were still negotiating and not playing yet. James was more than happy to share and stir those feelings in him, but Regulus chose not to, not yet.

Within the “Roleplay” topic, the lines of ageplay, punishment, and schoolroom scenes were marked as a “yes”, in fact, they were considered the base of their dynamic. Animal roleplay was a “maybe”, something they would like to try someday. James seemed especially interested in taming a certain feisty cat, which made Regulus roll his eyes. A prostitution fantasy was also marked as “yes”, but for a future moment, one in which, if everything went well, Regulus might have more “clients” to attend to.

However, “Rape and non-con play” were off-limits. They agreed they could do it rough, but never simulate a scenario in which one of them didn’t want it. Roleplays based on abandonment and psych wards were also a firm “no”. As for interrogation, prison, and kidnapping, those were marked as “maybe”, as were medical and religious scenes — the latter two with more curiosity and openness to try.

“Well, I could be like your Religion teacher at some point…” James commented. “What about ‘Name Change’?”

Regulus swallowed dry.

“Keep the pet names, please. I like them.”

“Okay, so let’s do ‘Name Change’ — you’re not using my name either,” he noted. “How about Total Power Exchange?”

“What does that mean, please?”

“Total Power Exchange is when a submissive gives the entire control of his life to the Dom — for him to make even the smallest decisions of the sub’s life: when to eat, routine, tasks, and sometimes even financial control,” James explained. “It’s something for later, though… we’re still at the very beginning, and TPE requires a deep relationship.”

“I see… well, maybe in the future,” Regulus said, pensive. He could imagine that someday he might love giving his life entirely to his Dom — but for now, it wasn’t the moment.

“Perfect, so I’m putting a ‘yes’ and saving it for later. Now we’re done with the ‘Roleplay’ topic. Let’s move on to ‘Sensation Play’. Let me know the sensations that make you feel good — and the ones that don’t.”

They quickly found that biting, scratching, and nipple play were exciting for both of them. Tools such as finger claws and nipple clamps could enhance that pleasure. Hair pulling, asphyxiation, and choking were things only Regulus was okay receiving.

Teasing was something they agreed to include often. Temperature play, with things like hot wax and ice cubes, could be explored someday. Tickling wasn’t sexually exciting for either, but it could still be used as a sign of affection.

Though they had previously discussed sensory deprivation, they reinforced that at least one of Regulus’s senses had to remain active during scenes. The same went for beating and strapping, previously touched upon, now revisited and confirmed.

Electric shocks, knife play, needle-like sensations, and any form of severe pain or punishment were marked as firm “no”.

“Before we get to the final two lines, I would like to skip to the ‘Sex and Penetration’ topic,” James suggested.

As he did, Regulus gave a quick scan through all the lines, noticing that most addressed forms of pleasure, denial, and tools that could be used. There was almost nothing there that Regulus didn’t want to try, in fact, most were marked as “yes”.

“I want to try anal play… being penetrated by dildos, vibrators, beads and… you,” he said quietly, feeling shy despite all their spicy conversation so far. “But I don’t know if I can take double or triple penetration, fisting, and large… things.”

“‘You don’t know’ because you feel insecure and don’t want to do it — or ‘you don’t know’ because you think your body isn’t prepared?”

“The last one.”

“Ok, so if I train you slowly and progressively, would you like to try it someday?” James proposed. “That falls under a kind of ‘Dilation’ practice — it’s the last line of the ‘Sensation Play’ topic.”

“That works for me… I would like to take you and your friends at the same time someday…” Regulus confessed shyly.

“Oh, it would be so FUCKING hard — they’re HUGE. But I’ll train you to be this good,” James promised, voice thick with arousal. “Let me calm down a second.”

It was clear that both of them were struggling to stay composed — shifting uncomfortably, grabbing between their legs occasionally, drinking water often. Regulus avoided drinking much, afraid it could cause an accident, and had to rely on other strategies to stay grounded. But he wanted James.

His white dress shirt was dry by now, but Regulus could still picture clearly what was underneath. If he kept looking, he could almost see it. His hands itched to help James take it off, it was so tempting. But he had to be strong. Not even a kiss. If he tasted James’s mouth, he would lose all focus.

He looked away, distracting himself with the ugly details of his living room. He took a small sip of juice. It helped. Barely.

“So… you said you’ll prepare yourself to avoid having an ‘accident’ during scenes, but how do you feel about me doing an enema on you? For cleaning or for training — or both?” James asked.

“Well… I think we can try. Just let me know when I must clean myself or not,” Regulus replied shyly.

“I’ll text you before every encounter, don’t worry,” James promised, smiling with satisfaction. It was clear he wanted to do this. “So… let’s keep going on the ‘Pleasure’ topic.”

Already agreeing on penetration, they moved through the remaining lines: wearing sex toys in public, performing oral sex on each other and on a dildo (required for Regulus only), masturbation, vibrators, orgasm control and denial, as well as sexual deprivation were all marked as ‘yes’. The only firm ‘no’ under that topic were catheterisation and sounding, which neither of them felt comfortable trying.

"Are you okay with fucking me as well?" James asked.

"With my size? It won’t even tickle," Regulus blurted automatically, then flushed deeply, realising what he had said. A grin spread across James’s face.

"You like being humiliated about your size?"

Completely mortified, Regulus nodded, eyes averted. He only heard the scratch of James’s pen on paper and the low, pleased chuckle that followed.

"I’ll remember that. Especially once we start with feminisation."

"B-But if you want me to… penetrate you… I think some toys could help," Regulus mumbled quickly, desperate to change the subject. He peeked at James’s reaction and turned even redder at the Dom’s teasing smile. "Can we move on to the next topic?"

"Sure, baby. So… Service and Behaviour…" James read, his smile softening into something more serious, though still warm. "Some of these go beyond scenes… so we should decide now if we’re doing scene-based or 24/7. What do you think, sweet thing?"

"Hm… from what we’ve been talking about, I think 24/7 would be nice. And looking at the options, some of them sound really… good," Regulus said, though a flicker of anxiety passed through him. "But… would we have to live together for that?"

"Not necessarily. Some of them can be applied as rules for you to follow when we’re apart, and you would report to me," James offered. "So, can we agree on 24/7?"

"Sounds perfect. So…" Regulus scanned the page. "‘Daily diary’—we can mark that as a yes."

"Okay, let’s go through the rest so I can start setting some rules for your routine."

The first item already made Regulus hesitate. Sometimes, he struggled to control his own bladder, let alone ask for permission. But in their dynamic, it made sense. A student should always ask his teacher before leaving the room.

"Some of these will only apply during scenes. Others, we’ll use to structure our 24/7," James clarified. "Let’s keep that in mind."

Regulus agreed to let James choose and buy his clothes, dressing him for the week in whatever pleased him. ‘Having food chosen for’ was marked as a ‘yes’, though it would only be enforced once Regulus had his nutritional plan. Being required to exercise was also accepted, which fit perfectly with their roles as student and cross-training teacher.

He agreed to follow orders and rituals James would implement into their dynamic, and to wear a symbolic collar as a mark of commitment.

"In scenes, I’ll ask you to wear a uniform. Is that okay, baby?" James asked, tapping his pen lightly against the paper.

"That’s okay. It fits with the student role too."

"Perfect… I won’t put restrictions on your eye contact, you’ve got pretty eyes. I want to be challenged by them," James said, making Regulus blush. "But are you okay with speech restrictions or being made to beg?"

"I’m okay with both. I want to try."

"And kneeling? Or assuming a submissive posture as part of rituals?"

"Perfect," Regulus said with a small smile. Just imagining himself like that felt strangely comforting.

‘Being forced to do house chores’ or ‘chauffeuring’ weren’t practical in their daily lives, so they were marked as ‘maybe’. Regulus was more than open to them if an opportunity ever arose. On the other hand, ‘manicures’, ‘pedicures & foot massages’, and ‘mantra or meditation’ were marked as firm ‘no’s’, neither of them found interest in those.

‘Serving as furniture’ and ‘serving as art’ didn’t appeal to them either, but ‘serving as a maid’ earned a ‘yes’, followed by a comment from James about wanting to see his sub in a tiny dress and lace lingerie. Regulus blushed, visibly aroused at the thought.

The final two. ‘serving with other subs’ and ‘serving other Doms’,—were also marked as ‘yes’, with the understanding that the terms would always be reinforced and agreed upon.

"And the last topic… Exhibitionism and Voyeurism. How do we feel about it, sweet thing?"

"Hm… I’m okay with both. Being seen, watching others, even seeing you with your friends. I’m okay with doing something in public, just not with being recorded."

"I totally agree. And if you ever come to my house, just so you know, I have cameras in all the rooms. But I’ll turn them off for our time together, okay?"

"Perfect," Regulus agreed softly, marking down the final topic with all their notes. They had finished. Every topic was discussed, every line agreed upon.

They both leaned back slightly, each drawing a deep breath, satisfaction, anticipation, and a shared sense of trust settling over them like warmth.

Now was the perfect moment. After so much effort to stay focused on the conversation, to express themselves and set their own terms, they had finally finished the negotiation.

They had defined their dynamic and how it would work, their safewords, their likes and dislikes. And while they weren’t going to have a scene just yet, there had been far too much information to process, they could still kiss and touch, feel each other and ease the need that had sparked the moment they looked at each other in the car.

James caressed Regulus’s cheek, his palm warming the skin in a delicious, feverish sensation that made Regulus sink deeper into that vulnerability he now craved. The kind that allowed him to surrender completely. He let himself be guided closer, until he was back in that comforting position, resting with his back against James’s chest. This time, though, there was something hard pressing between his Dom’s legs that made it a little uncomfortable.

"Talking about exhibitionism…" Regulus began, intertwining their fingers and keeping his voice low to set the mood, "You know what I was wearing to the gym on Friday?"

"Yes… so fucking hot," James replied in a whisper.

"I changed into my leggings after the accident… and didn’t put the shorts on top."

He glanced sideways at James, gauging his reaction. He didn’t need to be afraid, they had laid all their cards on the table. He knew now that this wouldn't make his Dom angry. And James’s eyes lit up with excitement, a beautiful, wicked smile spreading across his face.

"You wore those tight black leggings without shorts? And no underwear?"

"Yes," Regulus admitted, blushing furiously.

"To tease your boss?"

"And my brother. He picked me up after the gathering."

"And did they notice?"

"Barty almost crashed the car staring at my crotch… and I spread my legs to tease him more…" He sighed, suddenly self-conscious. "I was so bold last night…"

"Oh, baby… you’re so cruel… teasing them like that," James teased, making Regulus gasp, half indignant.

"You encouraged me to do it after you sent me that pic Thursday night!" Regulus accused, though his voice stayed soft.

"Which one?" James asked, feigning innocence, or just wanting his sub to say it out loud.

"Your after-shower one… Sir," Regulus added the title with no real respect.

"The one I showed my friends when they arrived? Wet, just in that little towel, all innocent?"

"The one where your privates were showing!" Regulus blushed even more, turning away to avoid looking at him.

"But my shower stopped working…"

"And you walked naked across the hall to their flat…"

"It was hot, wasn’t it?" James grinned, making Regulus’s heart leap.

"Yes… and your video got me hard too…"

"Did you wank for me?"

"I did… alone… it was the first time in years," Regulus admitted quietly.

"So good, baby. I’m so proud of you."

Suddenly, Regulus’s heart clenched, but not in a bad way. It was overwhelming in a way he had never experienced before.

He felt like crying and before he could even stop it, his eyes filled with tears, and that vulnerability took over completely. But at the same time, he felt safe, wrapped in James’s arms that held him tighter, like a shield around his body.

A warm, comforting place where he could be himself and let every worry melt away.

If Regulus could go back in time and tell his self from a month ago that he would agree to a D/s relationship with his cross-training teacher, and that they would encourage each other to flirt with other men, to explore their desires, to masturbate, he was certain his past self would have a breakdown.

And if he said he had cried in front of that same man because of a silly little sentence, his past self would have isolated completely.

But this felt right. Everything they were doing, every step of it, felt exactly how it was meant to be.

He let himself be guided by the gentle touch to his face, turning to meet James’s gaze. Calm, safe, and perfect, looking at him as if he were something beautiful, something important.

James’s thumbs gently wiped away his tears, then his lips followed with soft kisses.

"Are you alright, love?"

"Mm-hm…" Regulus whispered, unable to form proper words, just waiting for their lips to meet.

"Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, alright, baby?" James murmured. "You remember what word to use?"

"‘Halo’… if I want it to stop."

"Good… I’m going to kiss you now, alright?"

Regulus nodded again with a soft sound and a slight tilt of his head, his gaze fixed solely on James’s lips, wanting that kiss to help ease the ache stirred up by their whole conversation about kinks and practices. It had been so hard to picture himself in those situations with James without giving in to the desire to touch him, which reminded him, somehow painfully, of how he used to fight his longing for his brother only to end up losing control. But this time, Regulus didn’t have to hold back.

James cupped his cheek gently, bringing him closer to seal their lips together in a tender kiss. He tasted sweet, and his lips were soft and damp, perfect to kiss and to bite. Regulus sucked on his bottom lip and received a light bite in return that made his heart race and his whole body shiver. He thought those gentle stars colliding in their kiss were already the peak of pleasure—until James slipped his hand under his shirt to rest on his waist.

A quiet moan from Regulus marked the end of the kiss as James lowered his mouth to his neck, drawing more of those soft, low sounds from him. He leaned into the embrace, until their bodies were pressed together and James’s arms were completely beneath his clothes.

The shirt was in the way, and it didn’t stay there long. James removed it slowly, sliding it off Regulus’s arms and over his head, while they kissed again—hotter this time, more intense. Things were heating up, so Regulus started to undo James’s buttons, tugging the shirt open as he felt those large hands roam his chest. A scratch down his back made him arch into it, giving James the opportunity to trail kisses down to his sternum.

Regulus kept opening up to every touch, melting into James’s arms, until he was carefully laid back on the picnic blanket, James settling between his legs, the bulge in his trousers pressing against him. James took off his own shirt like it was a show, undoing the last buttons slowly, sliding it off his strong arms and tossing it aside, never breaking his gaze from the body beneath him.

There was no space for shame or for Regulus to sink into old insecurities when James looked at him like he was the most irresistible thing in the world, like he was going to devour him whole. Again, his hands squeezed Regulus’s waist, smiling as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long, praising him without saying a word.

He was clearly eager, but careful, too—watching every reaction to make sure Regulus was okay. James unbuttoned his trousers while trailing kisses across Regulus’s lips, neck, and chest, making him moan loudly when his sensitive nipples were sucked and bitten, while a hand caressed his equally sensitive stomach. Down to just his black underwear, the outline of Regulus’s erection was perfectly visible, and James didn’t rush to take them off—instead, he teased him, eyes dark with lust as he touched him through the fabric, visibly enjoying Regulus’s uncontrollable moans.

Regulus could feel how badly they both wanted this. With the way James looked at him—with genuine desire—there was no fear, no hesitation. They had talked about their boundaries. Everything felt lighter this time. More right.

The reflection he saw in James’s eyes—he was perfect.

And he knew he was looking at James the same way.

He wanted to see him, all of him, too. So he pulled gently at the waistband of James’s trousers, wordless but clear in his request, hoping to be treated to another performance.

James smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, fiery and deep, their tongues tangling as the heat built between their bare torsos. They gripped and scratched each other’s skin, pressed close in that intimate rhythm, Regulus spread open beneath him. He used the knowledge of James’s weaknesses, stroking his chest in just the right places and listening to the way it made him moan into the kiss, shivering with the bites he gave in return.

Regulus wanted everything James could give—and he would tease him until he got it.

He would make him beg.

"You want this?"

"I do..."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes! Please, please."

"Good boy," James whispered into his ear, making Regulus shiver all over.

At the pace they were going, Regulus thought James might take him right there on the picnic blanket—but instead, he was suddenly lifted, carried bridal-style with absurd ease, and taken inside. James didn’t need to be led; he walked through the door Regulus had passed through earlier, finding the double bed already waiting.

He laid him down on the soft mattress with utmost care, intertwining their fingers for a tender kiss, skin against skin.

There was no rush. They had all the time in the world, with rain tapping gently against the window. But even if the world outside had called them away, there’d have been no reason to run—not from what they both wanted, from what they’d agreed to share. They were free to touch each other, and they’d said how.

As James stroked him, Regulus shifted beneath him, lowering his head to lick and nip at James’s chest in return, trying to repay the pleasure, sometimes biting too hard without realising, overwhelmed by it all.

He traced every one of those well-toned muscles he adored, squeezed James’s hands with gentle affection, and melted under his touch, opening himself more and more. He closed his eyes, letting himself go, letting soft whispers float around them like a blessing, reaching James’s face with the tenderness he deserved.

"Do you have condoms and lube?" James asked softly against his lips, making Regulus feel even more delicate, somehow.

He nodded toward the bedside table, and, eyes closed, felt the Dom’s warmth leave him for just a moment.

Unbidden, he remembered all the times Sirius had left him to suffer in his own desire.

But this wasn’t that.

"Open your eyes, love," James said gently.

He did—and saw James removing both trousers and boxers at once, so Regulus didn’t have to wait a second longer to see what he so badly wanted.

That thick cock, flushed at the tip and already dripping for him, was quickly covered with a condom—but it didn’t make it any less tempting to suck or to touch. Regulus was completely hypnotised by James’s beauty, by his perfect body, ready to be adored and served.

And that’s exactly what Regulus did as James came back to him, surrounding him in heat again. When he wrapped his fingers around James’s cock, slick and firm inside the condom, he stroked it slowly while kissing him with feverish devotion, scratching the nape of his neck and making him moan in satisfaction.

But that delicious mouth soon began to travel—down past his navel, kissing his stomach before pausing, just slightly.

"You want me, sweetheart?" he asked, kissing the inside of Regulus’s thighs. "Want me inside you?"

"Yes... mhm... yes, sir. Please..." he replied, eyes darting away in embarrassment.

"Then I’m going to prepare you now. Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."

Regulus heard the lube being opened and peeked, curious. He watched James open another condom and slip his fingers inside, coating them thoroughly before positioning them at his entrance.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for discomfort—but instead, he was overwhelmed with pleasure as James’s mouth wrapped around him again. He arched his back, moaning loud, barely noticing the finger sliding in amid the intensity.

James was incredibly skilled, sucking him with the same control he had shown earlier, a distraction from the stretch—but not for long enough to bring him over the edge. He alternated between kisses and wet love bites on Regulus’s thighs, taking his time to appreciate his body, whispering praise that Regulus could barely hear over his own moans. But when he did catch the words, they made him even more undone—especially when James called him good:

"Good, my love. You’re so good. Good boy, opening your legs for me."

Through the teasing, the kisses, and the gentle sucking, James worked him open—one, two, then three fingers—while Regulus relaxed under his touch, fully given over. He was ready. He could feel it in his bones—that if James kept stopping mid-blowjob, he might go mad. It was like his cock got even more sensitive when the cold air hit the trail James’s saliva left behind. James could probably play with him like that all night. But that wasn’t the plan, not this time. He positioned himself between Regulus’s legs.

Their mouths met again, as James pressed the head of his cock to Regulus’s entrance, holding him close, his whole body wrapped around him—except for the hand still stroking Regulus’s cock. With a smooth thrust, James started to push in, and Regulus took him willingly, breathing deep, embracing the burn and the pleasure as one.

Slowly, guided by James’s voice, he let himself be filled completely, the pressure making him shiver with need despite the slight discomfort. With proper prep and lube, he could take his Dom with difficulty. And he did—melting into a long, tender kiss as his body adjusted.

Breathing heavily, moaning into James’s lips, he let himself be taken.

Taken by the man he loved—for the very first time.

He clung to James’s biceps, nails raking lightly, eyes shining with emotion as he moaned again—ready for everything they were about to become together.

James began to move subtly, filling Regulus’s sensitive ears with sweet words, telling him how good he was making him feel by taking him in so completely. He also asked if there was any pain, but Regulus could barely process the question—each slow, shallow thrust filled him with so much pleasure that it became impossible to register anything else.

Perhaps the ache would come tomorrow, but right now, there was only him, James, and bliss.

He could feel every inch of his body, and yet in the heat of their skin, he couldn’t tell where he ended and James began. His every nerve, inside and out, was being touched and savoured, all while he had the beautiful face of his Dom before him—so perfect, so consumed by the pleasure they shared.

With each passing minute, the sex became even better, and the discomfort faded entirely as he watched James being pleasured alongside him. Regulus felt a rush of genuine euphoria in serving his Dom—making him moan, complaining about how impossibly tight he was, making him smile that radiant, breathless smile of bliss.

Waves of heat rippled through him, especially when James struck a sensitive spot that made him arch his back and cry out in ecstasy. The discovery spurred his Dom on, who kept the same steady rhythm, determined to make Regulus’s eyes roll back, to drive him mad with it.

“My love,” James whispered into Regulus’s ear, sending another shiver down his spine. “All mine.”

Yes, Regulus was his—James’s submissive to be used for his pleasure. But more than that, to be cared for and protected, trained to perfection in the hands of someone skilled enough to make him see stars. Biting, sucking, fucking him deep and hard at that exact spot that drove him wild, the sounds of skin against skin and pure satisfaction carrying him to the edge.

Regulus came between their bodies, his own trembling in the most intense release he could remember, held securely in James’s arms, who kept moving, gradually slowing down. Heat spread from his belly to his cheeks, and the climax lingered as James stroked him through it, coaxing out every last drop so the pleasure wouldn’t end too soon.

When James finally withdrew, Regulus felt the ache, the emptiness—but not a trace of cold, their bodies still pressed close together.

“A break, my love?” James asked softly, smiling with open affection.

“But you haven’t…?” Regulus murmured, mind still foggy, his hands clumsily reaching for his Dom’s cock.

“It’s alright, darling,” James whispered, kissing his cheek. “That was your first—but we still have the whole afternoon and evening ahead… if you want it, of course.”

“More than anything,” Regulus replied breathlessly. “More than anything, Professeur.”

Chapter Text

Mid Summer, 2012

In an isolated place in the French countryside, the Black family’s summer house was hidden between two mountains, nestled in a small and perfect valley like a fairytale dream. The skies were blue, the sun was shining and warming the earth, and a brilliant lake reflected the light, making the grass look emerald-green as if it were made of precious stones. In the middle of that paradisiacal scene stood a large house with a black wooden structure and a complicated scheme of roofs, contrasting with the dreamy valley, looking like a coffin among the flowers.

Regulus watched it from the shadows at the back of the house, in a hidden spot near the kitchens where his family members never bothered to go. His parents, aunts, and uncles were probably in the living room with his cousins, discussing some arranged marriage or making decisions that would ruin their freedom. He didn’t care much, Regulus was waiting for someone.

Suddenly, his vision went black.

“Guess who?”

“Hm… I don’t know…” he pretended, smiling, thinking that maybe if he spent more time acting like he didn’t know who it was, the person would stay close.

He could feel a naked torso almost pressed against his bare back, heat emanating from him with every breath, like the sun itself, just inches from skin-to-skin contact. If Regulus took even one step backward, he would fall into a long and intimate embrace he had longed for all those months. Even better than he had ever dreamed, because he would feel that skin he had been thinking about. But he knew wanting this was repeating a mistake, and for now, he was more than happy just to see him in a swimsuit.

“Hm… Pandora?”

“Ewww!”

When Regulus’s eyes were freed from the hands covering them, he turned to see who had been playing “guess who” with him, already knowing it was his cousin and new best friend—who would definitely be more than offended at being mistaken for his twin sister, Pandora.

He met Evan Rosier’s disgusted face, but his gaze didn’t linger there for long. As beautiful as Evan’s limpid blue eyes were, and as angelic as his light blond curls looked under the warm sun, Regulus found his body far more interesting to look at.

He was used to seeing his cousin’s face twice a week at their ballet classes, and many more times at home since the Rosier family had moved to the neighbourhood near the Blacks. But Evan’s uncovered skin was a new sight, one that made Regulus melt at the display of muscles sculpted by their shared dance training. His strong arms were so attractive that Regulus had a hard time remembering to stay composed—because if he got a boner for Evan, it would be very noticeable in his shorts.

Besides, Evan looked like a prince in that fairytale setting, devoid of any armour, perfect for making his cousin lose his mind and fall deeper into yet another incestuous desire.

“Why would you think it was my sister?” Evan asked, still disgusted.

“I’m just joking with you, silly. I asked you to come, remember?” Regulus laughed. “Come on! I have something for you.”

Even suspicious, narrowing his eyes at his cousin, Evan gave in—always having a soft spot for Regulus.

They sat next to each other on the grass behind the house, stepping out of the shadow to bathe in the sunlight. That’s when Regulus made the black velvet pouch he carried noticeable to his cousin, who immediately returned to his wary look. Regulus shook it lightly to make the clear sound of something glassy hitting against itself.

“Is that your marbles?” Evan asked, as if recognising the pouch.

“Yes… Mère said I’m too old to play with marbles and ordered me to give them to your brother.”

“Oh, that’s a shame… I mean, Felix is careful with his toys, but you loved your collection so much…” Evan made a sad face, and Regulus felt sad too.

He was trying not to think too much about that, but quickly remembered that mourning wouldn’t change anything.

It didn’t change, but Evan taught him that talking about feelings and thoughts could help ease the sadness. He taught him the power of comforting words and how a simple gesture like holding hands could make everything okay again. Regulus learned and put it into practice, because Evan didn’t have such a healthy relationship with his parents either.

They found support in each other to get through all their dilemmas.

Together.

But his mourning and his mother’s rules weren’t the reason he had called his cousin here. He called Evan because he wanted to try to express a bit of his thankfulness for all those months of deep and caring friendship.

“I’m okay with it. I just wanted to give you something first,” he said, opening the pouch, receiving a curious look from Evan while searching for a specific marble.

He found it, as if it had always been meant to be there—a deep crystal blue one, like the lake near the Black’s summer house.

Like the open sky.

Like Evan’s beautiful eyes.

Regulus leaned closer to his cousin to compare them better, holding the marble close to Evan’s face, his fingers almost touching his cheeks. It was never tiring to admire Evan’s beauty, especially when he looked caught off guard, his cheeks turning a deep pink from the sun’s heat, just like his perfectly exposed shoulders.

“That one’s for you.” Regulus offered him the marble, getting a little lost watching it travel to Evan’s fingers. “It reminds me of your beautiful eyes, so you should take it.”

“Thank you, Reggie… it’s…”

It was something. And it wasn’t just about giving his cousin a blue marble.

They were inches apart, palms resting on the grass, fingers nearly intertwining, bare legs sharing warmth in the little gap between them. Their eyes kept running over each other’s bodies, filled with a need that had been growing with each day of their new shared routine. The little marble was no longer their focus, their breath, the rise and fall of their chests, the air escaping towards their lips, was far more interesting.

Suddenly, Evan leaned in and kissed his cousin on the cheek.

Feeling the wetness of his lips on his face and watching him pull back, looking away in pure shyness, made Regulus smile, questioning if Evan was really the older one between them—even if only by a few months. Or if maybe he himself was supposed to be that shy, too, if his older brother hadn’t taught him how to kiss.

Wanting to share that experience, Regulus once again let go of all restraint, diving into that sin again, leaning forward to kiss Evan, giving him enough time to pull away if he didn’t want it.

After all, Regulus’s parents were cousins anyway. Why would it be a problem to kiss his cousin?

To fall in love with him too?

No, he couldn’t fall in love with Evan, because he also loved Sirius, and he couldn’t let that go.

But Sirius didn’t want him.

Or at least, he pretended not to.

Guilt, desire, the questions of right or wrong—all vanished the moment his lips touched Evan’s.

It was different, true, endearing and sweet—a small, shy kiss with a soft breath that made Regulus’s heart race and his mind come alive.

It was clearly Evan’s first kiss—, and Regulus’s first kiss with someone besides his brother, so he had to be thoughtful and gentle, and he loved doing just that.

He kissed once, then twice, soft pecks, until one of them lingered, holding their lips together, moving slowly, savouring it. Soon, their fingers intertwined, their legs touched, closing the distance between them. At the same time, Regulus’s free hand found Evan’s chest, letting his curiosity win as Evan let him explore.

They parted only to adjust their positions, both sitting with more support to embrace as they kissed again, deeper now, but with the same sweetness as before. Evan’s hand touched his waist, his back, his chest, sending goosebumps all over Regulus, filling him with the sensation that this was just so right.

At the end of their kiss, Regulus held Evan’s face, forehead against forehead, placing a few more gentle pecks as they separated by a few more inches, smiling at each other with all the love in the world. The sweetness and exploration of a new intimacy between them didn’t stop their bodies from warming up too much—but it was perfect the way it was.

“Regulus.”

They both jumped in place, parting with their hearts racing—Regulus even more so, recognising his brother’s voice before even seeing him.

Sirius stood in the shadows near the kitchen door, like he had just entered the scene of his younger brother and cousin sharing far too much intimacy. ‘Did he see us?’ was Regulus’s first thought, and one look at Sirius’s annoyed face, with arms crossed over his chest, gave him the answer.

“Aunt is calling you in the living room,” he said, his tone as cold as the shadow he was hiding in.

“M-Me?” Regulus asked, confused, mind racing in panic, though he kept a calm expression.

“No. Him.” Sirius nodded at Evan.

Even if it didn’t make any sense, Evan stood up, sharing a worried look with Regulus—asking the same question with his eyes: Did Sirius see us kissing? Regulus smiled to comfort him, silently telling him that everything was and would be okay. Deep down, Regulus knew he wasn’t the most reassuring figure at the moment, caught red-handed and all, but he never expected Sirius to tell anyone or act violently.

After all, there was no reason to be afraid of Sirius.

Evan gave Regulus one last look, and an intense one at Sirius, as if they were fighting silently, warning each other, and as soon as he walked through the kitchen’s door, leaving the brothers alone, Sirius moved closer to Regulus, sitting exactly where Evan had been seconds earlier. He didn’t leave any gap between them like Evan had, gluing his body to his younger brother, but soon, even that wasn’t enough.

He laid Regulus down on the grass, getting on top of him, their bodies almost flush, except at the chest so they could look each other in the eyes. The sun made a halo around Sirius’s head, like the holy image Regulus always carried of him, a curtain of black curls and a face far too sinful to belong to heaven. The hard thing rubbing against Regulus’s thigh was proof of that, and also confirmation that Sirius had seen him and Evan kissing and wasn’t nearly as mad about it as he pretended to be.

Perfectly relaxed on the grass, Regulus wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss, knowing this one would be completely different from the one shared with Evan.

Since Sirius had gone to school, promising that their last night at 12 Grimmauld Place would be their last kiss, Regulus had respected his decision, and for all those days, hadn’t tried to touch him. But not without starting a new game: how long would Sirius resist him?

After months alone with his parents, Regulus knew he had changed, he wasn’t the innocent little brother anymore. He wanted to play, to tease, to make Sirius lose control. After all, their last night together had made it clear Sirius was just holding himself back, needing only a little push to give in.

And that push had been seeing his younger brother with their cousin.

Sirius let himself be pulled down until their kiss started, intense as only they could make it, full of hands and touch, showing each other how much they had missed this.

The taste of their tongues, Regulus’s hands sliding inside Sirius’s shirt, while his whole body lay exposed for his brother to touch, except for his shorts. But even though he wasn’t completely naked, Sirius could feel perfectly Regulus’s erection was beneath him. It clearly surprised him during the kiss that his younger brother had become a man, he opened his mouth, and Regulus took advantage, taking the lead.

He sucked and bit his brother’s lip, stealing his breath, making him melt until his arms nearly gave in, their kiss as deep as possible. Sharing that moment with Sirius, under the sun at their summer house, after months of missing him, was all Regulus could ask for. The fact that he could now do to Sirius what Sirius used to do to him filled him with delight.

They parted only when they ran out of air, but didn’t move an inch farther apart, breathing against each other’s faces.

Regulus was tempted to slip his hand inside Sirius’s shorts, but he decided instead to savour the look of surrender on his older brother’s face.

Sirius looked blissfully lost, and Regulus loved seeing him like that.

“What’s wrong, Siri?” he teased with a bright smile. “Feeling dizzy?”

“You’re making me crazy, Reggie,” Sirius whispered. “I want to do so many things to you…”

“Why don’t you try right now?” Regulus kept the teasing tone, lifting his hips, making himself obvious to his brother. “I’m ready for you.”

“In the backyard of our summer house? Where anyone could see us?” Sirius shot back, kissing his brother’s cheek adoringly. “Especially our little cousin… who somehow got so close to you while I was away?”

Regulus quickly looked around, just to make sure no one was coming to catch them teasing each other with such impossible scenarios.

And there was Evan—watching them from the kitchen window.

Sirius certainly knew he hadn’t left when he was told.

.

Monday Morning

A damp cloth was Evan’s tool for cleaning the dust off the big shelves that he and Barty had brought to their new rented apartment, in the Potter building, inside a high-security condominium. It wasn’t a very effective method, and it made him sigh as he looked at the shelves that were already clean and the ones still left to do. It was going to be a complicated job.

At the same time, it felt satisfying to see things taking shape: slowly cleaning the shelves, opening a new box, taking everything out and putting it in the right place. There were fewer boxes with each passing day, and with the arrival of the new piece of furniture for their living room, soon all the visual clutter next to their gigantic couch would be gone. With that in mind, he opened another box, trying to be as quiet as possible not to wake Regulus in his room upstairs.

Or at least, the room that should have been his, if his cousin had accepted to live with them.

Ever since they decided to follow their friends back to that city and share a small apartment, Evan hadn’t been comfortable with the place Regulus had chosen to live. Mostly because he and Barty could afford a really nice place for themselves, one worthy of someone as special as Regulus, who deserved all the comfort in the world. But even after all these years, Regulus still didn’t want to rely on his brothers when it came to money. Not wanting to leave him alone during such a big change, Evan had endured a place that wasn’t exactly up to his standards.

But a few months later, when his college friend James offered him a vacant apartment for rent, Evan thought he might finally convince his cousin to move in. He hadn’t succeeded—yet. Sooner or later, Regulus would give in and finally understand that he wasn’t bothering the couple.

In fact, both Evan and Barty were in love with him, trying their best to make this love feel as familial as possible, just so Regulus wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Just to avoid reminding him of the past.

To avoid reminding him of Sirius—the biggest coward of all.

The distance was helping, for now, and Barty always reminded Evan of their promise: not to touch Regulus, not to let their feelings slip, and to hide their love. As soon as they managed to calm themselves down, they would insist on asking him to live with them again. They knew that pressuring Regulus wouldn’t help. They had to wait for his time. Like waiting for a cat.

A little black cat who, just the night before, had accepted to sleep in their apartment and let his brothers take care of him during the flu that had hit him that Sunday afternoon.

Hoping to finish the job quickly so Regulus wouldn’t inhale any dust when he woke up, Evan grabbed some books to put on the shelf, but not before looking for something special at the bottom of the box.

It was a tiny blue marble, the one Regulus had given him when they were kids, carefully protected in an acrylic box so it wouldn’t get lost among his and Barty’s books. He smiled at it, remembering his first kiss and the sweetness of that innocent moment, when life was simple and there was no guilt in loving Regulus the way he did.

Before he learned that Sirius had held the most precious treasure in his hands, living under his roof, sharing his life—only to later abandon him to face hell alone.

Evan placed the marble on the middle shelf, where it could easily be seen from anywhere in the living room.

At least it could, if his vision hadn’t suddenly been covered.

“Guess who?”

A small voice asked from behind.

Small because of the sore throat, probably so inflamed that even getting the words out must have cost him.

“A sick black cat?” Evan guessed.

He was absolutely right, and Regulus dropped his hands from Evan’s eyes, instead wrapping his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder. Being held like that,  even though he was taller than his cousin, made Evan feel safe and, at the same time, hoped that Regulus would finally allow himself to be protected and cared for by his brothers, to be hugged by them.

It didn’t have to be romantic. Evan would be more than happy to hold him like a proper family member, if only Regulus would let him.

“Do you still have this?” Regulus asked, curious, looking at the marble.

“I guard it like my most precious treasure.”

Turning to his side, Evan found Regulus’s cheek just an inch away. Without thinking, he filled that space with his lips, kissing the soft, warm skin like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Even more so when he noticed his cousin closing his eyes to receive it, his expression softening as Evan pulled back: eyes still closed and relaxed, lips parted and dry, cheeks pink from both fever and embarrassment.

It was rare for Regulus to enjoy physical contact—let alone initiate it, like he had just done, hugging Evan, touching him. He never allowed himself to be held, with rare exceptions like Pandora and Dorcas, always denying his brothers.

Evan thought that after everything that had happened between Regulus and Sirius, his cousin was probably repulsed even by the memory of kissing family, and with Barty as his adoptive brother now, he certainly wouldn’t want to repeat past traumas by being physically close to them.

Regulus hadn’t even needed to ask them to stop with the usual hugs and small kisses,  the very first time Evan had overstepped, Regulus’s reaction had been enough to send the message loud and clear.

But since Regulus had appeared at their door that Sunday evening, eyes glassy from the fever, he had let his brothers care for him the way they had always wanted to.

Evan couldn’t tell Barty about this little “guess who” game and the hug. Barty would die of jealousy and envy.

But suddenly, Regulus pulled away:

“Sorry… I’m sick… and hugging you… I’ll pass you the flu.”

“Please, don’t be,” Evan said desperately. “You can hug me as much as you like. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

And there it was. His love for Regulus spilling out all over the place.

Honestly, it was painfully hard to keep it bottled in.

“Thank you, ‘Van,” Regulus said, shyly, his cheeks darkening to a deeper pink, but, thankfully, not showing any signs of rejection.

Enough to make Evan’s heart explode from how cute he looked.

“I’m going to heat up the breakfast Barty prepared. Go put on something warmer, doll,” he said, noticing Regulus was trembling in his thin pyjamas. “I’ll find some meds for your fever.”

Receiving a small nod and watching his cousin head upstairs, Evan made his way to the kitchen, wondering if their neighbours were still home, or if they might have something for the flu, because he had nothing in the apartment. Barty had promised to sneak out of work to bring medicine later, considering his boss wouldn’t be working that day, but Regulus’s fever was so strong they couldn’t really wait.

He hadn’t even reached the kitchen when he heard the doorbell.

Thinking maybe it was one of the neighbours with good timing, Evan went to answer it.

On the other side stood Remus, already with a polite smile on his lips and a wet cardboard box in his hands.

In a suit and tie, hair messily pulled to the side, ready for work—beautiful like a fantasy.

"Good morning, neighbour! How can I help you?" Evan greeted warmly.

"Good morning, Evan! I was heading out to work when I saw this box left outside your door," Remus explained. "The mailman probably didn’t know where to leave it, so he just left it on the doorstep. It got a little rain last night."

"Oh! Thank you so much!"

Evan quickly reached out to take the box from him, not wanting Remus to carry any more weight than he already had just to deliver the package. There had been so many boxes that Evan and Barty were supposed to receive lately that he couldn’t imagine which one this wet, slightly sagging package could be.

He didn’t have much time to think about it. As soon as he took the box, the bottom gave out.

A bunch of cuffs and chains, still inside their clear plastic bags, tumbled out—and an abnormally large, oddly-shaped dildo rolled right to Remus’s feet.

Evan’s heart stopped dead in his chest.

His cheeks burned.

"Shit... the Longbottoms really need to reinforce their boxes," Remus said, frowning as he stooped halfway to catch the dildo.

He looked up at Evan.

Evan looked at him.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the hallway of the building.

They stared at each other for several long seconds

"O-Oh, well—"

"Yeah, that’s..."

"Right."

Neither of them knew what to say.

They stood there, frozen in time, unable to react.

Then again... they didn’t need to be that embarrassed about it. Because even if Evan had bought an unusual toy, Remus had clearly recognised it immediately as one of the Longbottoms’ products.

"Yeah… definitely not the best way to start a neighbourly relationship," Evan sighed.

"It’s fine... what a situation," Remus said, giving a sheepish laugh.

Evan allowed himself a nervous chuckle too, wondering if this was some kind of cosmic joke, but at least, thankfully, his neighbour laughed along with him. Trying not to let it show just how mortified he was, Evan crouched to gather the dildo and Barty’s new set of chains, which he had planned to install later that afternoon, assuming he could manage to leave Regulus alone for a few minutes.

"Well... awkward situations aside, it’s nice to meet someone who appreciates the Longbottoms’ work," Remus said politely, flashing an enchanting little side-smile that made Evan’s heart skip embarrassingly fast, almost enough to make him forget what he was holding in his hands.

“We could… exchange reviews, if that’s not too weird,” Evan commented. “I had some trouble with some of their products last year, we almost drove them insane because of a malfunction.”

“Really? That’s weird…” Remus said, sounding concerned. “I’ve never had any trouble with theirs.”

“It was a particular case… you can tell I keep buying from them.”

Under a different name, of course, since we’re probably blacklisted by the Longbottoms because of Barty’s curses , Evan thought.

“Well, but It’s fine by me. Not every day you meet someone nearby to trade experiences with," Evan replied smoothly. "I’ll test it on my sub once we’re fully settled in the apartment... and I’ll let you know."

"Oh, you’re a Dom too?"

Evan nodded, internally cursing for letting that detail slip out... but honestly, holding a giant twisted purple dildo and a pile of chains, it wasn’t like he had much of a way out now.

And in truth, part of him felt relieved—moving to a building where the neighbours wouldn’t be horrified by the occasional noise or… other things… coming from their apartment.

He had only one person to thank for that. Clearly, this was part of a mischievous friend’s master plan.

"Yeah… probably all part of Jamie’s scheme to build himself a BDSM-friendly condo block," Evan joked. "Sneaky boy."

"Right… wait." Remus blinked, frowning a little. "James is into BDSM too?"

"You didn’t know??" Evan looked just as confused. "He told me he’s never practised, but... well, that’s gossip. I’ll shut up now."

"Oh, I’ll ask him myself... if you don’t mind me bringing up this… rather memorable situation."

"No problem," Evan replied, trying to smile as politely as he could manage despite how much his face was still burning. "Who knows what Jamie’s plans really are…"

Whether James’s plans would end in a big swinging community, Evan wasn’t sure—but he wouldn’t mind finding out if his new neighbour’s arms were as strong as they looked, wrapped in that suit this morning.

Dressed for work, Remus was irresistible. Powerful in a quiet, self-assured way—without the stiff, over-polished look most office managers had. A few undone buttons, his hair a little tousled, and that warm, calm energy that made Evan want to lean against him and stay there.

Evan didn’t know exactly what Remus did for a living, but whatever it was, the suit fit him perfectly. It highlighted both his body and his personality.

Seeing him like this on the first morning they met, Evan had already let himself fantasise, just a little, about receiving a… more personal "welcome to the neighbourhood" tour. Maybe something that involved seeing Remus’s bedroom furniture up close.

But that was just a thought. Evan respected other people’s relationships. If Remus and his sub were into switching... or if James and his new partner were too... well, maybe there could be a lovely little party in the building someday.

Just a fantasy for now.

Technically, his and Barty’s agreements didn’t yet include bringing anyone else into their dynamic... except for Regulus, of course, but even then only in name, never in practice—always respecting Regulus’s boundaries. Well, maybe Barty’s mysterious boss too.

Still... it was a nice thought.

"Hey, if it doesn’t bother you, do you have any meds for the flu? My doll has a fever, and I don’t have any with me" Evan asked suddenly, only realising too late that he had just referred to Regulus the wrong way.

"I’ll check what I’ve got," Remus offered helpfully.

"Thank you! I’ll bring these inside. Feel free to come in."

Evan entered the apartment as quickly as he could, heading straight to the kitchen and hiding his package in one of the cabinets to spare Regulus from seeing the new toy he planned to use on Barty. Being quick enough, he took advantage of Remus not being back yet to heat up the scrambled eggs his sub had prepared that morning for him and his cousin to eat together, knowing Regulus wouldn’t refuse that hearty breakfast, especially with the seasoning he liked. A glass of orange juice would be good to help him replenish some vitamin C, so Evan squeezed some fruit while stirring the pans, thinking of serving three people and thanking Remus for the medicine he would probably bring.

As he was grabbing the plates, he noticed Regulus silently approaching the kitchen island. Turning to face him, Evan almost died from how adorable he looked. Bless his boyfriend who gave him that plush cat , Evan thought with a smile.

Since arriving in Regulus’s life, Mr. Jam had become an important companion for his cousin, so much that he couldn’t stay home alone, being brought to their apartment to spend the night with his owner. That night had produced one of the cutest scenes for Barty and Evan: Regulus sleeping clutching his giant plush toy in his room.

Apparently, Regulus’s inseparable friend would accompany him to breakfast as well, when he appeared in the kitchen holding Mr. Jam. If Regulus and Mr. Jam weren’t already a cute combination, his habit of stealing one of Barty’s jumpers to keep warm and his small, feverish watery eyes made him even more adorable. Still, impure thoughts crossed Evan’s mind, seeing the bare feet and thighs exposed in shorts, even though Regulus was trembling with cold.

“What are these little feet doing barefoot on a cold tile floor, sweetheart?” he asked in a sweet tone.

Regulus squeezed Mr. Jam even tighter in an almost childish way, making Evan wonder how feverish he really was. As adorable as he was, his cousin didn’t usually allow himself to be so vulnerable, not even with them who had known each other for many years. He began to worry if he would have to take Regulus to the hospital. Evan knew how much Regulus hated the white hallways and the hospital environment in general. So he committed to taking good care of him that day, to avoid drastic measures.

With all the gentleness in the world, taking advantage of his cousin leaning on the counter, Evan approached and held him by the thighs, setting him down on top of the island. His intention was to do it as quickly as possible, but one of Regulus’s arms dropped from Mr. Jam and wrapped around Evan’s neck, and with that, Evan didn’t want to move. His cousin was so warm, the heat radiating from his skin like the day of their first kiss under the sun at the Black family summer house.

He was beautiful, celestial, one could say, a person with a delicate and innocent appearance, but full of resilience and power that made him unique. His lips, with a well-defined cupid’s bow, red from the flu, were as close to Evan as they had ever been, and he couldn’t stop looking at them.

He couldn’t keep that love to himself no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t stop himself from holding Regulus’s waist, from getting as close as possible.

Evan didn’t kiss him, but hugged his beloved, leaning in slightly and resting his head against Regulus’s chest, sharing space with Mr. Jam.

“I shouldn’t be this close… I’ll make you catch the flu, but…” Regulus said, his voice echoing in Evan’s ribcage and ear.

“Oh, please stay close, love,” he begged.

If Regulus’s concern was about that and not the physical contact itself, Evan didn’t mind. He wanted as much closeness from him as possible, or at least as much as Mr. Jam wasn’t taking up. All the closeness he was allowed to try to soothe some of that love and desire to care for his cousin. But besides not wanting Regulus to feel uncomfortable, Evan had promised Barty he wouldn’t touch Regulus. Keeping a distance was necessary to keep their family safe.

After all, if one of them couldn’t have him, neither could the other.

Evan reluctantly pulled away, and with a gentle smile, offered breakfast to his cousin.

They ate together on top of the kitchen island, Regulus as always with some resistance but always encouraged by Evan.

Even after finishing breakfast, Remus still hadn’t returned with the medicine. Evan didn’t mind much; after all, he was sure his neighbor had work and other things to do. Still, looking at how Regulus shivered with cold and seemed slow in thinking, maybe going to the doctor was better. If only I still had contact with the family doctor… no, maybe I can at least call someone here , he thought.

“Shall we go to the living room?” Evan suggested, leaving the dishes in the sink. “Do you think you’ll need to see a doctor?”

“No,” Regulus said immediately.

“Okay, no doctor then,” he said alertly, not wanting to upset his cousin.

“A bit more rest and I’ll be fine…”

Nodding, Evan saw his cousin jump down from the counter with Mr. Jam and head to the living room quickly, as if running away, which made him sigh deeply. As always, he had to be careful not to startle his cat, and if he wanted to insist on the matter, he would need to be a bit more cautious.

That was Regulus’s game, one he secretly enjoyed playing.

Lost in thought, imagining how to convince Regulus to go to the hospital without triggering his traumas, Evan started tidying the kitchen when he heard soft knocks on the door.

In the end, Remus had really returned, and as the polite person he seemed to be, wouldn’t just barge in. Evan went to the door to answer it, quickly glancing at the living room to see where his little cat was. Regulus was lying on the sofa clutching Mr. Jam, so Evan saw no problem inviting Remus in for some juice.

“Hello, I didn’t have medicine for the flu, only something to reduce the fever,” he said as soon as the door opened.

“No problem, that’s already a great help,” Evan thanked him. “Would you like to come in and have some juice? As a thank you.”

“Well, I would appreciate that, but I can’t stay long, no one is in my office today and my sub has already delayed me enough this morning.”

Noticing how his clothes looked a bit more rumpled than a few minutes ago and his lips were redder, Evan could tell how much his sub had delayed him. He didn’t want to keep his neighbor waiting too long anyway, considering he still intended not to use the medicine and take Regulus to the doctor.

They went inside the apartment together towards the kitchen, but Remus stopped halfway, eyes wide toward the living room, specifically at Regulus. Evan understood why, his shorts didn’t cover much, and the thighs, which were gaining muscle from his training, were wonderful to admire. He didn’t mind his neighbor admiring his cousin; after all, none of them could have him.

“Let’s keep our voices down so we don’t wake my doll, Remus,” Evan laughed, watching his neighbor get more and more agitated.

As if shocked, Regulus jumped up, but immediately gave in to dizziness, resting his head in his hand.

He really was very ill, but some of Evan’s concern was replaced by the strangeness of Remus’s reaction to Regulus and vice versa.

They stared at each other intently, wide-eyed and lips parted in complete shock, both pale as if they had seen ghosts.

Evan had always been good at reading people and understanding what they were thinking, but looking at Remus’s handsome face, he couldn’t say exactly. Indeed, Regulus was wonderful, the most beautiful person in the world, but beyond the normal fascination people had with his cousin, there was also fear and a bit of relief — he couldn’t say why.

On the other hand, even visibly worn out by the cold, Regulus looked at Remus as if caught in the act but at the same time with some affection.

“‘Van… I need a doctor, I’m just seeing my boss by your side,” he said, rubbing his forehead confused.

It was Evan’s turn to widen his eyes, Remus closing his with the expression expected of someone who just discovered their personal assistant is their neighbor.

Or rather, discovered their personal assistant is their neighbor’s “doll.”

Sleeping on his sofa with short shorts.

Possibly waiting to use a monstrously sized dildo.

Evan thought it best to clarify as soon as possible.

“So, you’re my cousin’s boss?” he asked Remus, who took a deep breath, without the slightest relief Evan had hoped for.

Maybe he had made things worse with his poor explanation.

What an embarrassing morning, I guess I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today, he thought,  trying to come up with a decent explanation or justification for the whole scenario.

That same awkward silence from earlier filled the apartment again, the cheeks of the three of them flushing, none able to face each other, and still a strange, dense atmosphere surrounding Regulus and Remus, who seemed to share some odd tension between them, bigger than a boss guessing their employee’s sex life.

That was strange, after all, from what he had heard his cousin say, Evan believed the relationship between them was good enough for Regulus to want to freely do things to please his boss. If something had recently happened to cause those exchanged looks full of forbidden attraction, Regulus hadn’t said, and that left a bitter taste in Evan’s mouth.

The same bitter taste must have been in Remus’s mouth, who started looking at him as if Evan had something he wanted.

“That’s… another awkward situation,” Remus said with an awkward smile.

“Yeah, it’s…”

“Well… uh… the medicine is for Arthur?”

Who’s Arthur? Evan almost asked but quickly remembered—that was his cousin’s name, the one he hadn’t quite adapted to yet.

Regulus didn’t react. Not even a muscle moved. He just stood there, petrified, staring at them.

“Yes, my cousin has the flu… He contacted you to tell you that, right? As his boss?” Evan asked, speaking for them both.

“Yes, he did,” Remus agreed, sounding a little confused. “So… I’ll leave you two, then…”

“It’s not a disturbance. And thank you for the medicine,” Evan added quickly, trying to ease the situation.

“You’re welcome,” Remus replied, as polite as always but sounding rushed this time. “I should go now and—”

“Wait! Mr Lupin, please!” Regulus stood up, looking at his boss with hopeful, almost pleading eyes.

Docile, like he never allowed himself to be with anyone else.

It wasn’t just because of the flu—there was something deeper between him and his boss. A connection strong enough to make Regulus let his guard down like that. This man, until now just the polite neighbour to Evan, clearly had a place in his cousin’s heart.

A place he shouldn’t have. Not as his boss.

And worse—something had happened between them.

“What happened to ‘Remus’, dear?” Remus asked, wearing his most enchanted smile.

Yes, Regulus could be utterly enchanting when he let his walls down and allowed people into his heart—but this shouldn’t be happening, not with Remus. What’s the nature of their relationship for him to call our Regulus ‘dear’ with that kind of intimacy? Evan wondered, growing more suspicious by the second, feeling his chest burn.

“‘Van, can I talk to Remus for a bit? In private?” Regulus asked softly.

“Of course. I’ll be upstairs,” Evan said, trying to keep his expression calm.

He climbed the stairs until he was out of sight,but of course, Evan wasn’t going far. No chance. He positioned himself to listen, taking advantage of the echo in the still mostly empty house, telling himself it was for Regulus’s own good, just in case the neighbour said or did something wrong.

He heard their footsteps approaching the sofa, sitting down side by side.

“I thought you were lying about being sick just to avoid going to work… and seeing me,” Remus said first, his tone a mixture of sadness and relief.

Why would he think Reggie would want to avoid him? Evan thought, increasingly worried.

“No, that’s not the case,” Regulus denied, sounding helpless. “I’m so sorry, Mr Lupin.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m the one who should apologise.”

“No… I lied to you… and I think there’s been… a bit of a misunderstanding between us,” Regulus said weakly, in that vulnerable tone he only used with people he trusted. “I met my boyfriend a few months ago. He’s my personal trainer… and I was afraid that telling you would make you think less of me.”

“Never!” Remus replied immediately. “I would never think less of you, especially not because of that… If it’s wrong for you to date your personal trainer, it’s even worse what I did to you on Friday.”

What did he do on Friday?! What’s going on?! Evan thought, alarmed.

“I have a… thing… for getting into problematic loves,” Regulus admitted, his voice aching.

That broke Evan’s heart. After all, he was one of those “problematic loves” Regulus spoke of.

His older brother had been the first, and Evan knew well how much love Regulus still carried for Sirius, even after Sirius ran away and left him behind, to suffer under their father’s cruelty, only to end up in a psychiatric clinic, broken. But before that, in those simpler times, when Regulus and Sirius played their dangerous game, Evan too had fallen into that sin—loving them both, desiring them both, dreaming of an impossible future with his two cousins.

Then came Barty, entering their friend group with clear eyes for Regulus. Eventually, that same desire had pulled them together in an even stronger bond, a new love that never diminished Evan’s feelings for his cousins.

His love only faltered when it came to Sirius—for being a coward and leaving Regulus. But for sweet, beloved Regulus, that problematic love had stayed, unrequited but alive.

And Evan still believed Regulus felt something too, even if just a trace of longing, but Regulus avoided his touch, called them brothers, built walls to keep them away. He clearly wanted nothing more from them.

“But I’m accepting and embracing those problematic loves nowadays,” Regulus continued, with a tired little smile. “I’m done holding myself back… with my teacher’s help… if you know what I mean.”

Teacher? Is he talking about his personal trainer? Evan thought—but then his eyes widened with hope. Maybe… by embracing these ‘problematic loves’, he means letting himself grow closer again? To me? And Barty?

“When we talked… he was just my boyfriend… and I think that’s when the misunderstanding happened.”

“Oh! Just a boyfriend… and not a…?” Remus asked, leaving the word hanging.

Not a what? Evan wondered.

“Yes… we negotiated yesterday. Didn’t even go to… the practice.”

What are they talking about? What kind of negotiation?! Why won’t you two just be clear?!

“We agreed that I can… be with you as well. But only for… intimacy.”

Evan clapped his hand over his mouth to stop from gasping. Is our sweet Reggie seriously saying that he and his boyfriend agreed that he could sleep with his boss?! My neighbour?! A Dom?!

His heart nearly stopped.

“But even for that… I want to wait. To be properly trained. And after that… to give myself to you.”

That was the confirmation. Regulus was a sub.

Evan was stunned, unable to even breathe.

“Right… I can respect that. I won’t do anything or act like that again,” Remus promised, voice calm and reassuring.

Again , Evan repeated inwardly, feeling his heart freeze and race at the same time.

“No… I want it… I want you,” Regulus said outright, every word deliberate. “But I want us to work on your communication first… I want to build something between us… and someday… introduce our partners to each other… and maybe… try something… the four of us together… and the two of us…”

“Right… I feel the same,” Remus agreed. “I want you, dear… more than I thought possible… and if we work on this… on our communication… and on our relationship beyond the professional… I think… someday… we can make it right.”

“Right… we can make it.”

“Yes, we can make it.”

By the end of their conversation, Evan couldn’t stand leaving them alone for another second.

Regulus had a boyfriend. Evan could respect that, and honestly, he could even feel happy for him, considering how this guy, also his cousin’s personal trainer, seemed to be doing him good. It would be a lie to say Evan wasn’t jealous, that he and Barty hadn’t wished to be that person for Regulus, to love and care for him with all they had to give.

But Regulus being in a relationship was always a reminder that Evan and Barty needed to let go. Regulus loved someone who wasn’t his brothers.

Regulus would be disgusted if he knew how deeply they loved him.

As his cousin and adoptive brother, they had promised not to touch him, not to let it show—not to lose him, to respect his past and his trauma.

Even if Regulus accepted, he was monogamous. He wouldn’t want both of them chasing after him.

But this conversation Evan had overheard… it changed everything.

If Regulus was dating his personal trainer… and was still okay with wanting his boss… would it really be so wrong if his brothers loved him?

No… this was a different situation.

But still… Evan’s chest burned with hope.

And jealousy.

He came down the stairs wearing the calm face his family had taught him to keep: Be calm, be polite, never let your feelings show.

He saw Regulus and his neighbour, sitting side by side on the couch, just a small gap between their legs, eyes locked on each other like they were already in love.

They both looked up at him when they noticed him coming… caught red-handed.

Regulus , Evan almost said, just like that day when Sirius caught them sharing their first kiss.

“Love, are you done?” he asked instead.

“Yes… I think I am…” Regulus gave a small, tired smile to Remus. “Sorry, I won’t go to work today. I’m not feeling good…”

“I think it’s better if we go to the doctor, dear .” Evan suggested.

“No… it’s bad…”

He moved closer, kneeling in front of Regulus like he was comforting a child. He cupped his cousin’s face, taking in how heartbreakingly beautiful he looked, eyes closed, simply receiving Evan’s affection, as if just seconds earlier he hadn’t been agreeing to let another man hit on him.

Perfect. Not a single point on his face could be considered anything less. Porcelain. A doll.

Taking advantage of the fact that Regulus’s eyes were still closed, Evan shot their neighbour a death glare, mouthing silently: “Touch him, and I’ll kill you.”

Remus’s eyes widened in surprise.

But before Evan could savour that reaction, he found himself being pulled into a hug. Regulus’s arms wrapped around him, catching him off guard.

Still fuelled by jealousy but never wasting an opportunity to enjoy moments like this, Evan shifted easily, guiding Regulus into his lap like it was second nature. Years of ballet practice with him had made it effortless, moving him until he fit perfectly, both legs draped to the side, face hidden in the crook of Evan’s neck.

Now seated on the couch, Evan realised he was right next to Remus. So close that the only reason their legs weren’t touching was because Regulus’s was in between.

Evan glanced sideways at his neighbour, and at this distance, the burning rage that had brought him here faded just a little. Remus was beautiful. 

Too beautiful, and too close. 

Worse, he wasn’t pulling away. Actually, he leaned even closer, locking eyes with Evan as his hand slid down to stroke Regulus’s bare thigh, making the younger man shiver with joy.

“Best of luck,” Remus mouthed, his face so close Evan felt as if they were about to kiss.

But they didn’t. They just stayed there, breathing the same air, perfectly comfortable with the tension crackling between them.

“Is it okay like this, sweetie?” Evan asked softly, making sure he hadn’t crossed any line with Regulus.

“It’s perfect, ‘Van…” Regulus murmured sleepily, tightening the hug around his cousin… and, without any subtlety, opening his legs just slightly for his boss.

Even sick, he’s still a tease… Didn’t he just say he wanted to go slow with Remus? Evan thought, disbelief mixing with resignation as he watched how Remus didn’t push further, his touch stayed light, almost innocent, just resting on Regulus’s thigh.

“You can rest now… and we’ll go to the hospital later, alright?” Evan offered gently.

“Uhm…” Regulus whined in complaint, but didn’t exactly refuse.

“My sub’s at home… If you need a ride to the hospital, just say the word,” Remus offered. “Or I can take you on my way to work.”

“No need. I’ll take him later,” Evan answered politely but firmly. “They’ll probably give him something for the fever…”

“No…” Regulus moaned, miserable.

“Yes, love… You need to,” Evan soothed, giving Remus a side-eye. “But I promise it’ll be quick… and tomorrow you’ll be all good and ready to come back to work for Mr Lupin.”

Remus smiled, victorious, then casually rested his arm along the back of the couch, behind Evan, like a hug without touching.

In that position, Evan couldn’t stop the memory from surfacing, the parties at 12 Grimmauld Place… sneaking upstairs to Regulus’s room… finding him perched in Sirius’s lap, just waiting for Evan to join their kisses… matching lips, breathing the same charged air…

If the waltz downstairs played loud enough, they knew they could take things even further.

Secretly, Evan wanted to recreate that scene.

This time… with his cousin and his boss.

…

Monday Night

“… and we stood like that for some time, until Remus went to work… And after that, Regulus slept in my lap for a moment. Right after, I took him to the hospital… it was… sad,” Evan finished telling Barty about his morning.

The two of them were in the kitchen, the only spot in the house with the lights on late at night, leaning against the counters, just sipping coffee and talking before bed. It would’ve looked like a typical couple’s routine, if Barty wasn’t swinging his new gigantic dildo as if it were a simple toy. Evan was trying to have a serious conversation, admitting his guilt about touching Regulus and desiring Remus, but it was hard to stay solemn with that purple phallic thing swaying from side to side in his sub’s hand.

“Our baby boy is okay? Or do you prefer calling him a cat now?” Barty asked.

“I’m serious, love,” Evan said softly, prompting a laugh.

“No, you’re not. Wasn’t Sirius the fucking asshole who hurt our baby?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point…” He sighed. “I think it’s time we review our terms — especially about polyamory.”

“Yeah, sure,” Barty said, stepping into Evan’s personal space and playing with the buttons of his pyjamas, clearly not in the mood for that kind of talk at this hour. “We have our Reggie, who we love more than anything and want to include in our relationship. You’ll be his Père, and I’ll be his Papa or whatever.”

“You’re a little yourself, honey. A very disobedient one.” Evan laughed, running his fingers through his sub’s hair, especially the green highlights he loved so much.

“That doesn’t matter,” Barty dismissed, shifting the topic. “And I have my boss, hot as fuck, who I want to bend me over that tattoo table and fuck me senseless…”

“And you don’t even know his name, because you never introduced yourself…”

“Mere details. I’ll get it before I start moaning the wrong name. And you’ve got our hot neighbour I haven’t had the chance to see yet… and of course, your colleague, the owner of these flats.”

“Correct,” Evan agreed, momentarily forgetting the conversation, hypnotised by his sub’s beautiful, sharp features, the piercings he loved to kiss and bite, that warm breath so close to his mouth, always there for him.

“You’re gonna fuck the whole neighbourhood, Sir,” Barty teased.

“Who said I want to fuck them?”

A shiver of joy lit up his sub’s eyes, and a bright, mischievous smile spread across his lips. He loved when Evan bottomed — apparently not just for him, but for others too. That was especially significant considering Barty didn’t usually top Evan. That was the ultimate prize, granted only when he was truly a good boy. Given his bratty behaviour, it was a rare reward.

“We can sort out those details later. Right now, you need me,” Barty declared.

“Who said that?” Evan teased, tugging his hair just enough to look him in the eye.

“It must have been difficult taking our baby to the hospital… We know how stressed he gets, and how much we hate seeing him like that… Let me help you relax…”

It was true. And Barty had always been the best at reading Evan’s composed exterior to uncover what he was really feeling. It had been that way since school, the day they met, when Evan tried to come off as arrogant, but a single grin from his irritating classmate made it clear the act wouldn’t hold. Barty always knew when he was truly happy, sad, or pissed off — and somehow took it upon himself to be his guard dog, expressing everything Evan couldn’t.

On the other hand, Barty didn’t have the social grace to stay out of trouble, a skill Evan had been taught since childhood as a member of the Rosier-Black family, and one he had often used to get Barty out of hot water.

They balanced each other, reading between words and gestures. And after surpassing their competition for Regulus’s attention, they had come to share secrets and dreams, slowly opening up the deepest parts of themselves.

They had fallen in love naturally, the way people talked about “the Barty-Evan” as if they were a single entity.

So, after the stressful day Evan had narrated, Barty knew exactly what he needed. The tension in his shoulders, the tremor in his arms, the way he tapped his nails on the counter, Barty was always tuned into his Dom’s signals. And he knew exactly how to ease that tension.

He was trained to.

Barty knew when his Dom needed worship — and the kitchen floor was the perfect place for it.

He knelt before Evan, and with permission, lowered his pyjama trousers to take his cock into his mouth with total devotion, slowly guiding him to a pleasure that would erase the weight of the day.

With his hands resting on Evan’s warm thighs, Barty licked slowly, as if just sampling his Dom, savouring the taste and texture with his eyes closed in worship. He sucked not for his own pleasure, but for Evan’s, because Evan deserved everything his mouth and body could offer. He was magnificent, the best person Barty had ever known, and that’s why he gave himself so completely.

Stimulating him gently at first, he soon had a powerful erection in his mouth, pulsing, difficult to take, but Barty was determined to please. He used his tongue to explore every sensitive corner of his Dom’s cock, and when he heard the first moans, he looked up eagerly, wanting to see Evan’s face slack with pleasure, those tense shoulders finally softening as his mind slipped into relaxation.

Evan thrust forward into his mouth, taking what was his by right, Barty’s body, ready to serve, sucking harder now, moving his head in rhythm to give as much pleasure as possible. Tears welled in Barty’s eyes as his Dom gripped his hair, holding eye contact, trembling with arousal, his cock slick with spit and lust.

As the moans grew louder, breaths more ragged, shifting from relaxation to need, Barty stood up so his Dom could reach his neck, and let himself be pulled by the throat into a long, hungry kiss.

He placed his hands behind his back, even though he longed to hold Evan, to touch him, waiting for permission. He kissed hard, but tenderly, biting his lips, sucking his tongue, stopping only when Evan wanted to play with his piercings, tugging, making him moan from pain and the lack of air when his throat was gripped just right.

“Come here,” Evan ordered, and Barty finally got to wrap his arms around his Dom, holding him tightly, trying to make all those fears disappear.

“I’m going to mark you.”

“My body is yours, Sir,” Barty offered, truly eager to show off the hickeys the next morning.

With consent given, Evan didn’t hold back, biting into his exposed neck, sucking, making Barty moan loudly, taking full advantage of the privacy. Regulus was asleep in his room, but here they didn’t have to hold back like they used to in the small flat. Barty’s voice echoed a little and Evan needed to hear just how much he was loved.

Barty was pushed against the kitchen island as Evan needed more space to mark him, and he kept kissing him deeply between each hickey, moaning louder when his Dom’s short nails scratched his back hard enough to draw blood. He wished they did, when he bit Evan’s lips to cope with the sting, he wanted to feel that pain the next morning, his blood boiling with lust.

Barty loved pain born from love too strong to be contained, and Evan was the one person who could give it to him safely.

His world turned upside down when, mid-kiss, Evan laid him on the kitchen island, spreading his legs and pressing him down, his back scratches now cooling against the clean marble. Barty had his lips taken again in a feverish kiss, one that slowly calmed Evan, even as it aroused them both.

“I can’t believe our first time in the new house is on the kitchen island, fucking cool,” Barty said when Evan let him breathe.

“Are you ready for that, slut?” his Dom teased.

He couldn’t answer, not when Evan’s lips were on his pierced nipples, pulling, sucking, biting. That was already a sensitive spot, but after days without being touched, he was more vulnerable than ever to his Dom’s skilled mouth.

Evan kissed like an expert and choked him until Barty had no breath left, only letting go to mark him again, biting, sucking, blowing over the sore skin, making him shiver. He pinched and twisted the piercings, mixing pain and pleasure in just the right balance, leaving Barty laid out on the island, fully surrendered, waiting to be taken.

“Hm?” Evan asked. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Barty struggled to remember what the question had been in the first place.

"Yes, Sir, always ready."

It was one of his standing orders: to always be at his Dom’s disposal, always clean and stretched, ready to take him whenever he wanted. And fresh out of the shower, Barty was more than ready to take him right there and then. He didn’t mind the pain, in fact, he liked it when it hurt, but Evan was always prepared to do things safely. With casual ease, he pulled a bottle of lube from one of the kitchen drawers.

"Always well prepared, Sir," Barty teased, grinning.

Seconds later, his thigh stung with a sharp slap, followed by several more as Evan slicked up his cock with one hand and Barty’s entrance with the other. Evan was annoyingly good at multitasking, never holding back with his hands, slapping, gripping, making sure to leave marks, driving Barty wild with the burn, until suddenly something thick pressed against his hole.

"Deep breath, relax for me, love," Evan instructed, his voice low, his touch suddenly gentle as he stroked Barty’s chest in all the places he knew would make him shiver.

He kissed along Barty’s neck and ears, toying with the belly button piercing that drove him crazy, knowing exactly how sensitive he was there, how it made him loosen up and open up for him. Barty was losing his mind under the mix of sensations, especially the wet slide of Evan’s tongue behind his ear, making him moan and take him down to the base, eager to be a good boy for him tonight.

Evan started moving slowly at first, but the moment he felt how ready Barty was, he picked up the pace until Barty was seeing stars, moaning with every deep thrust, spreading his legs wider, giving Evan everything. For the first time that night, Evan wrapped a hand around Barty’s cock, stroking him in time with the relentless rhythm of his fucking, driving him insane with the overload of pleasure.

Barty wore that cocky smile of his, watching the bliss twist across his Dom’s face when he clenched around him, proud of himself for taking him so deep, for making him feel good. There was nothing that turned Barty on more than serving Evan, whether as a submissive, a pet, or just a willing hole for him to use.

He loved being bent over whatever surface Evan chose, fucked hard until he was dripping cum, mercy be damned. Barty liked it when it hurt. He liked being completely at his Dom’s mercy, and that night, he was ready to give him one hell of an orgasm. Maybe it was the thrill of christening the kitchen… or maybe it was just Barty behaving so well for him.

But suddenly, Evan froze, eyes wide, leaning down to whisper in Barty’s ear.

"Love… yellow… he’s at the stairs."

Barty’s cock throbbed at the news. He didn’t need Evan to spell it out. 

Regulus was watching them.

"Keep going, Sir. If he didn’t want to see, he wouldn’t be there," Barty begged.

With consent from both sides, Evan kept going, harder than before.

That wasn’t just sex. 

Evan wasn’t just fucking Barty for his own pleasure. 

They were putting on a show for the man they both loved, the one standing there, watching his brothers fuck.

So Barty moaned louder, telling Evan how much he loved him, how good he was at everything he did, hoping to lure Regulus closer, hoping he would watch how Barty spread his legs and served his Dom like he was born for it. 

He wanted Regulus to see him, to learn how to please Evan.

For his part, Evan drove into him with even more force, and with their new audience, Barty could feel him holding back, fighting the urge to come too soon. Evan wanted to give Regulus a real show, a glimpse of how good he could make someone feel, how easily he could break him apart.

Both of them loved having their little brother watching. But what they really wanted… was for him to join.

Between gasps, moans, and the slap of skin on skin echoing through the house, Barty came the second Evan started stroking him again, but the real high was feeling his Dom spill inside him, collapsing onto his chest, body finally relaxed.

Barty could’ve spent hours just running his fingers through Evan’s blond hair, keeping him inside, even soft, but this wasn’t the place for that. Not when they just had an unplanned audience.

"What are we gonna do?" Evan asked, tension creeping back into his voice.

His anxiety, which had started with Regulus, came rushing back now that the little brat had decided to watch his brothers in an act of love.

"Go to his room? And maybe cuddle in his bed?" Barty suggested.

"But if—"

"Evan, stop that. Your ‘if’ is going to kill you," Barty cut in, direct as ever. "Reggie isn’t innocent, and you’re not Sirius. You’re not gonna hurt him the way he did."

They usually agreed on almost everything, but lately this had been their biggest point of contention: Regulus.

Evan was convinced that their sweet little cousin still only wanted familial, platonic love from them, that his refusal to move in with them was proof of that. But Barty… Barty saw the shift. He noticed how Regulus’s hesitation had turned into something more certain, more aware of the love and desire Barty knew had never really gone away.

Tonight was the proof. And Barty wasn’t about to let Evan sink into his anxieties and miss the chance.

Especially not when he knew Evan’s biggest fear was turning into Sirius, when in truth, Evan didn’t have an ounce of that kind of cowardice in him.

"Love… neither of us can deny it anymore. The love… the want… Goddamn it, the other day he was showing me his dick in those tight leggings, for fuck’s sake! That wasn’t an accident. He did it on purpose. He wants us. And even if he doesn’t, you know damn well our Reggie is more than capable of making it clear when he doesn’t want something."

"Yeah… he can…" Evan admitted, voice quieter now.

"So, are we gonna start working on it? Or just sit here and wait for our neighbour to bend him over that kitchen island next door and fuck him the way you just did me?" Barty added, with that typical acidic bite of his. "Not that I would mind if they want that… but honestly, I would rather be included."

Evan stayed quiet for a long beat, still hesitant. So Barty took the lead, with his Dom’s silent consent.

He took Evan’s hand and led him to their room to clean up. After changing into fresh pyjamas and putting on their best faces, like they hadn’t just fucked each other into the kitchen counter, Barty led him to Regulus’s bedroom door. Evan let him be the one to knock.

They stepped inside.

A dry cough came from a pile of blankets on the bed where Regulus lay. Without missing a beat, Barty found his back and slipped in behind him, wrapping himself around his little brother like he always used to. Regulus was warm, just like he remembered, and melted into Barty’s arms without resistance.

Without a word, Barty and Evan’s eyes met. Even full of nerves, full of fear, Evan moved to the other side of the bed and embraced Regulus from the front, crushing Mr. Jam between them. Still hazy from orgasm, Evan’s body relaxed even more against Regulus’s, who took him in completely.

They were home.

"After I get better… can you still hold me like this? Please?" Regulus whispered, voice barely there.

"Of course, love," Evan answered, looking at Barty with new hope in his eyes.

"Every time you want, baby," Barty grinned back.

Chapter Text

Late-Summer, 2012

"What do you think, Siri?" Regulus asked, in a not-so-innocent tone, showing off his new uniform to his older brother.

“I want to eat you,” was the only thing Sirius could think. “I want to take every single part of you and devour it. I want to make you sit still by my side, looking only at me, and no one else. I want to consume you whole — your eyes, your voice, your smile. Everything.”

"Meh," he replied, in a disinterested tone.

"You keep repeating that ‘meh’ of yours!" Regulus scolded. "Don’t you have anything else to say?"

“What do you want me to say? I’ve seen the same uniform the whole school year. There’s nothing new to show off."

That was a big lie.

Not because Sirius hadn’t seen the uniform worn by younger students, which differed only in the tie colour, an emerald green, but because he was utterly mesmerised by his little brother in it. Like it was a bloody wedding gown.

Regulus was beautiful no matter what he wore, but seeing him like that, older, confident, upgraded… that uniform was driving Sirius mad. Especially when he imagined replacing those dull black trousers with a skirt, like the girls of his class. Especially the ones who broke the dress code and made it a little shorter, earning punishments for it.

In Sirius’s opinion, such standards were stupid, outdated, and sexist — but the idea of Regulus being picked on for his skirt size, being humiliated and punished... it made Sirius fantasise.

And now, Regulus was trying on shirts, trousers and ties as if they weren’t all the same thing.

‘What a pathetic excuse to strip in front of me. I can see you’re getting hard from this,’ Sirius thought, still faking disinterest, not wanting to give his little succubus of a brother another weapon to use against him.

"Well, 'Van hasn’t seen it yet, so I’ll show him instead.’

And there it was. The ultimate weapon: talking about their cousin Evan.

It was pathetic how effective it was, every single time. Especially after what had happened that summer.

Regulus and Evan had kissed. Not once, not twice — every time they had the chance. It left Sirius wondering how long it had been going on, and how far it had gone.

Did it start when the Rosiers moved nearby? Or was it something new?

Did they just kiss? Or had they done more?

‘Is Reggie still a virgin?’ Sirius couldn’t help but wonder.

As much as he wanted to forget, to pretend it never happened, Regulus wouldn't let him.

He paraded around with bitten red lips and acted far too touchy with Evan in public. A few times during the summer, Sirius had caught them kissing in his own bedroom, just waiting to be caught.

His little devil of a brother would fake innocence, pretending nothing had happened.

His little devil of a cousin would smirk arrogantly.

It made Sirius boil with rage.

And at the same time, boil with arousal.

Then Regulus turned toward the bedroom door, making Sirius’s heart jump.

"Where are you going?" he asked, worried.

‘Are you going to show your uniform to Evan?’

‘Are you going to undress in front of him?’

‘Have you already done it?’

Regulus gave him a gorgeous, smug smile.

"No, Siri. I was going to ask Kreacher to hem my trousers," he replied with that fake innocence of his. "They’re a little long, see? Or weren’t you paying attention to that while I was showing you the uniforms?"

He gave a slight shake of his legs, revealing how the hem covered too much of his feet, and his perfect little toes.

Sirius clenched his jaw, annoyed.

Of course he hadn’t been paying attention to the length of the trousers.

He had been too focused on the transparency of the shirt fabric.

On how tight the trousers looked on Regulus’s thighs — and between his legs.

And especially on how much he wanted to peel each of those pieces off his body.

For a second, he almost told his brother to fuck off.

"I’ll be right back," Regulus announced with a victorious smile, leaving the room and letting Sirius suffer alone, lying back on his bed.

"Bloody hell, he’s impossible," he cursed, covering his eyes with his hand.

That didn’t help at all.

Being surrounded by his brother’s scent in the bedroom, remembering how often it lingered in the air as he dressed and undressed... it only made Sirius more desperate. Desperate to touch him, to kiss him, to drown him in love.

He had slipped up with Regulus during summer. He couldn’t do it again.

For the future. For the promise.

But Regulus was making it so hard.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened again — and Evan Rosier walked in, closing it behind him.

When he turned and saw Sirius there, his eyes widened in panic.

A large bruise was marking his left cheek.

"Where’s Reggie?" he asked immediately, looking lost.

"He went out," Sirius said, worried, stepping closer to his cousin. "Are you alright?"

He didn’t get a proper answer. Evan started crying right there, breaking down on the spot, revealing he had only been holding himself together long enough to make it there.

Sirius didn’t need to ask what had happened, even if he didn’t know his cousin as well as Regulus did. And because of that, he knew exactly what to do.

With the same tenderness he used to comfort his little brother whenever their parents beat or cursed him, Sirius wrapped his arms around Evan, pulling him close to his chest.

He held him tightly, trying to offer some sense of protection, running his hand through Evan’s hair and whispering calm.

He felt the sobs vibrating beneath his palm on Evan’s back, his cousin’s body trembling as he cried and cried, fingers clutching the back of Sirius’s shirt like it was the only safe thing left in the world.

Little by little, Evan began to settle, but he truly let go when Regulus quietly entered the room and wrapped his arms around him from behind, sandwiching him between the two of them.

"Your mother again?" Regulus asked gently, kissing the nape of Evan’s neck.

He nodded. Regulus gave a small hum in response.

Then he looked at Sirius, a deep, intense look, full of worry and, at the same time, overflowing with gratitude.

He pressed his cheek against Evan’s shoulder and rested there for a moment, both of them holding their cousin together in silence.

‘How much did Regulus have to endure on his own while I was away?’ Sirius wondered.

He hadn’t had the chance to properly ask since coming back, but judging by how calm their parents seemed lately, he had assumed it hadn’t been too bad.

Yet watching them now, holding each other, Sirius realised Regulus hadn’t been truly alone, not thanks to Evan, who had been there for him.

And that thought brought Sirius a quiet sense of relief.

He held Evan tighter, trying to show gratitude, not for Evan himself, of course, but for the fact that he had been there for the only person Sirius would ever truly care about: Regulus.

He certainly wasn’t starting to worry about the Rosier family.

And he absolutely wasn’t beginning to feel some twisted, growing sense of protectiveness towards Evan as well.

No.

He was just hugging him as a form of repayment. That was all.

It definitely didn’t feel like heaven, having both his brother and their cousin in his arms.

…

Sunday Morning

Taking deep breaths and counting the seconds, Regulus anxiously waited for James, this time with an intensity he had never felt before, not even during the anticipation of their previous dates. But this time was different. This time was special. They were about to take another important step in their relationship.

He had been instructed to wait by the door, ready to welcome his Dom, who could arrive at any moment. That was his first rule, and Regulus was determined to be a good boy.

Seated on the stairs leading up to his apartment, his senses were sharpened, his ears tuned to catch the exact moment James’s car would park outside. He waited for the sound of the engine shutting off, the footsteps approaching, all while breathing slowly, just as James had told him, preparing himself for what was about to begin.

Their first official scene.

The moment James would formally claim him as a submissive under his training.

And then, within less than a minute, it happened.

He stood quickly, spine straight, positioned in front of the door, just waiting for the signal.

Two quick knocks, two slow ones, the exact rhythm James said he would use.

From that moment on, Regulus was entirely his to be lectured, shaped, and guided.

He opened the door and stepped back, waiting for James to enter and close it behind them. Before admiring his beauty, his outfit, or even trying to decipher the expression on his face, Regulus stepped into his Dom’s space, just as instructed the day before, and gave him a simple kiss on the cheek. Then he quickly stepped back, clasped his hands behind his back, and kept his head low.

"Good morning, Professeur."

"Good morning, love," James replied warmly. "Good boy."

Gently, James caressed Regulus’s cheeks like he would with a tame animal, then lifted his chin, greeting him with a soft, affectionate smile. Only then was Regulus allowed to look at him, and he drank in the sight with hungry admiration.

James looked even more stunning than before, dressed in a full suit that made him look perfectly the part of a strict professor. With his glasses on, the transformation was complete. His eyes still held that mischievous sparkle, his charming smile still playful, but this time, there was authority behind it. They were playing, and James was the master. Regulus had agreed to the game, had surrendered control, and now it was in James’s hands to lead.

Regulus closed his eyes to receive a kiss, calm and measured, a “hello”, but also a reward for following his first instruction so well. It was simple, but that kiss made Regulus’s entire body melt. His heart raced with joy: he was James’s good boy.

"Are you alright, love? How are you feeling today?" James asked, carefully observing his face.

"I’m excited," Regulus confessed, blushing.

"Me too. You look adorable as always, my love," James smiled. "Take me upstairs, hm?"

Nodding, legs trembling slightly, Regulus led the way up the stairs. James followed close behind, stopping a few steps away once they reached the threshold.

"Before we go in, I want you to tell me the safeword we agreed on," James said with a tender tone. "Can you do that for me, love?"

"It’s ‘halo’, isn’t it? And then there’s red for no, yellow to slow down, and green for okay," Regulus replied, a little caught off guard by the question.

"Perfect. We’re going to reinforce that before every scene, alright?"

"Yes...?"

"When you agree, you call me ‘Sir’, remember?"

"Yes, Sir," Regulus corrected himself instantly.

"So perfect, my love…" James stroked his cheek again, rewarding his attention. "Just to reinforce: from now on, every time we meet, you’re going to greet me with a kiss and a respectful ‘Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening, Prof’, alright?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy," James praised again, and Regulus felt like melting just a bit more. If this continued, he would be nothing but a puddle by the end of their session.

"Today, I’m going to explain how everything will work, the rituals I have prepared for us, and how our scenes will unfold. If you have any questions, or if I go too fast, you’ll ask me, alright? I’m introducing you to your new school system, sweet thing."

"Yes, Sir."

"So, as agreed, until the special room in my apartment is ready, we’ll be using your place for our scenes. Today we’ll use the dining table."

They stepped into Regulus’s apartment. Nothing had changed since James’s last visit, and yet, the purpose of this one made everything feel different. The modest dining table near the half-wall dividing the kitchen from the living room suddenly became a student’s desk in Regulus’s eyes, or perhaps the teacher’s, depending on how the scene was set.

"Let’s go to your room. There’s something we need to take care of first."

Nodding again, Regulus led the way down the hall and opened the door to his bedroom. It was small, but enough for a double bed and a wardrobe, all he needed, living alone.

Only now did he notice the large sports bag James carried, which he set down on the bed with a heavy thump.

"So, every time I arrive, you’ll welcome me with a kiss," James began, opening the zipper of the bag. "And when I tell you to get ready for class, you’ll come to your room and put on your uniform. Before you ask, it was all thrifted and not expensive. Just a few uniform-like pieces so we can begin the practices. One day we’ll go shopping properly, yeah?"

"Right. Thank you, Sir," Regulus said, eyes fixed attentively on the bag.

James pulled out a white dress shirt, and at first, Regulus assumed it was like the ones he wore to work, until he realised it was two or three sizes too small. He usually wore loose clothing, but this shirt was clearly made to cling to his body, possibly even slightly transparent.

And then came the real surprise: a black pleated skirt, and a set of white lace lingerie.

Just seeing the uniform James had prepared for their scenes was enough to leave Regulus breathless, and already aroused, imagining what James would do to him in those clothes.

"This one’s not thrifted," James pointed out, showing the lingerie and a pair of knee socks.

Thank God , Regulus thought wryly, but saying it aloud didn’t feel right anymore. Not today. From this day forward, Regulus wanted to show nothing but the utmost respect for his Dom, who was dedicating himself so thoughtfully to guiding him.

But there would be time for disobedience in the future.

"So, your first rules about clothing: one — always wear the uniform. Two — keep the uniform neat and clean."

"Okay, I’ll remember..." he murmured, then quickly added, "Sir."

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it easy for you," James reassured him with that same gentle, welcoming smile. "Today we’re setting your rules. We’ll work on them together."

That made Regulus relax a little more, letting go of a tension in his shoulders he hadn’t even realised was there. For a brief moment, he had worried their school-play dynamic might feel too close to his real-life anxiety from actual classrooms, where being called on had felt like a punishment. But James was proving that this would be nothing like that. He was planning it all carefully, gradually, with the goal of easing Regulus into the dynamic, not overwhelming him.

"Thank you, Sir," he said, a little shy, but deeply relieved.

"For what, sweet thing?" James smiled, clearly charmed. "Oh, you’re going to kill me with your cuteness before we even start class... Ahem! So! Focus… As I said, before each scene, you’re going to dress in your uniform on your own. But today, I’ll help you. Excuse me..."

With his usual delicacy, James reached for the hem of Regulus’s T-shirt, looking deeply into his eyes, wordlessly asking permission, even though his intent was obvious. Regulus raised his arms to help, then held them slightly away from his sides, not wanting to get in the way of his Dom. James unfastened his trousers and helped him step out of them, placing both pieces of clothing neatly on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

Now only in his underwear, Regulus felt himself flush. James had already seen him naked before, but being this exposed, while already hard, made his embarrassment sharper. His arousal was obvious through the fabric, and the idea of putting on the delicate lingerie in that state made him feel both shy and humiliated.

How am I supposed to fit into panties like this? he wondered, just as James stepped closer, sliding down his underwear without hesitation.

His erection sprang free, stiff and unapologetic. Regulus instinctively moved to cover himself, but James gave him a soft slap on the thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a message.

"Don’t cover yourself, love. Keep your legs apart and your hands at your sides."

He obeyed immediately, watching as James knelt and slid the delicate white lace panties up his legs, over his ankles, thighs, and finally into place. It was snug, but it would have fit perfectly if Regulus weren’t already painfully aroused. It made him wonder how James had gotten his measurements so precisely.

The same went for the thigh-high stockings and the garter belt, with its cool metal clasps brushing against his skin and only making his arousal worse. The bulge in the lace was undeniable now. James finally rose again, gently fastening the matching bra, and the soft touch of lace across Regulus’s sensitive chest only added to the aching tension.

"You should see yourself right now..." James said, voice low and full of hunger. "Do you have a full-length mirror?"

"I have one in the other room... I don’t use it much."

"Perfect. I want you to use it — if that’s alright with you."

Regulus didn’t like mirrors. They often haunted him with the reflection of Sirius, a ghost of resemblance that brought discomfort. But this felt different. This context was different. He agreed and led James into the next room, pointing toward the wardrobe door with the mirror.

He hesitated, casting a nervous glance toward the bed, where Mr. Jam, his plush toy, lay waiting, uncomfortable with the idea of being seen like that by him.

But James gently guided him in front of the mirror.

The person in the reflection was Regulus Black.

"You look so sexy in this lingerie, my love," James whispered into his ear, wrapping his arms around him from behind. "You can’t even control how turned on you are from becoming my pretty student."

His flushed cheeks and bitten lips betrayed his failed attempts at self-control, giving him a sweet, innocent look. But the image was layered, his hardened pink nipples barely covered by the lace bra, the prominent outline of his erection visible through the panties, both betraying just how aroused he truly was.

His body twitched at James’s words, pressing harder against the lace and nearly dripping.

Regulus stared at his own silver eyes in the mirror, wide with desire, not just for James, but for himself as he became this version that belonged to his Dom. He looked perfect. Like a secret dream come to life. Seeing himself this way, ready to follow every command, felt like stepping into paradise.

"I’m going to keep dressing you, love. Hold on."

He waited patiently while James slid the tight dress shirt up his arms, buttoning it slowly, one by one, close and intimate. The kind of closeness that confirmed what Regulus already knew:

His body belonged to James.

Like a doll, a possession, he offered himself fully, to be undressed and dressed, guided from room to room, told what to do and how to behave. Ready to follow every rule his Dom laid out, because James made him feel safe.

James made him feel beautiful, encased in that crisp, fitted shirt that still revealed the bra beneath, even if it no longer showed his nipples.

James made him feel sexy, in a short, swishy skirt that barely covered the tops of his stockings, especially with his erection lifting it slightly.

Regulus felt good. Looking at himself in that mirror, he felt like someone who could be loved.

He felt even better when his Dom embraced him from behind, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before resting his chin on his shoulder.

"When you finish dressing, when you’re ready for me, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, perfect as you are, and say, ‘I'm perfect’," he instructed in a whisper. "Say it, love."

"I’m perfect," Regulus repeated.

"With conviction, love."

His eyes locked with the reflection, focusing not on James but on his own face. Regulus looked sweet, beautiful, and undeniably hot in that uniform, ready to be lectured by his teacher, to be claimed as his student.

He was the version of himself he had always dreamed of, without the weight of expectations, without guilt in his heart. Free to love, free to express desire, even the kinds frowned upon by society. Regulus was free to feel and give pleasure, to dress like this, to think about Sirius, about Barty and Evan, about Remus, and to listen to his Dom speak about his friends. Free to be guided without resistance, to obey without question, to be a good boy for his Dom.

But also free to make mistakes. To answer questions wrong and be corrected gently, never cruelly. To break rules and be punished in ways that didn’t wound, that even involved pain, but no violence. Spankings and discipline, yes, but within the safety of their boundaries.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I’m just perfect," he said, staring at himself in the mirror.

"Say: ‘I’m my teacher’s perfect pet’," James whispered, hugging him tightly from behind.

"I’m my teacher’s perfect pet," Regulus confessed softly, just for his Dom.

"Good boy. So good..." James murmured, kissing his Sub with deep affection. They stayed like that for a while, gently swaying in place, simply enjoying the moment, watching their reflection together in the mirror. 

Regulus slowly grew used to the image: James’s perfect pet, held safely in his arms, ready to be trained, to be more than perfect for him.

"When you’re ready, you're going to meet me in your living room, and in the future, in our playroom," James said, finally stepping back with reluctance, though he still held Regulus’s hand warmly.

He led him down the short hallway to the living room, stopping in front of the kitchen table where he had left his sports bag. It seemed lighter now, having already removed the uniform pieces back in the bedroom.

"Right here, I’ll inspect your uniform to see if it meets our standards," he announced.

"Rule three — your skirt must not be more than four centimetres above the knee.

Rule four — your underwear must be white.

Rule five — you’ll always wear a bra."

"And you’re going to check that, Sir?" Regulus asked, teasing just a little.

"Yes." With that, he pulled from his bag a yellow plastic ruler, the bendy kind. His teasing smile matched Regulus’s tone.

James had dressed him in a white lingerie set that clearly fulfilled the requirements, but the pleated skirt, originally within regulation, now sat visibly higher than intended thanks to the bulge between Regulus’s legs. In fact, Regulus was almost certain that his panties were already soaked with precum. Yet another rule broken.

With the ruler in hand, James measured the skirt. As expected, it was too short.

Regulus felt a nervous thrill twist in his stomach.

"Lift your skirt," James ordered.

Regulus obeyed, already feeling the wetness between his legs, the lace clinging where it shouldn’t.

His Dom smiled. He brought the tip of the ruler to the stained spot where the head of Regulus’s cock had leaked through the fabric. The light, teasing touch sent a jolt through his body. James lingered there, rubbing slowly, spreading the mess with subtle motions of the ruler, until Regulus was squirming, trying not to moan.

Then, calmly, he let the skirt fall back into place.

"If your uniform isn’t correct," James explained, "I’ll strike you with the ruler, the number of hits depending on the severity of the infraction."

He stepped back, eyes kind even as he remained strict.

"I’m going to give you one now, just so you know how it feels. You’re not being punished, it’s not your fault for being so happy to see me, alright?"

"Yes, Sir," Regulus answered, relieved, nearly smiling at the reassurance that he hadn’t failed right at the start.

"Alright. Here it comes."

James brought the ruler down hard against Regulus’s thigh. He jumped on the spot, a gasp escaping him at the sting of the material on his skin. The sensation lingered, not sharp like a slap, but persistent, spreading a slow burn that warmed him from the inside out. It was different from when James had used the ruler to stroke him, this wasn’t arousal in itself, but it became arousing. A mark. A reminder. One that might last even after the scene ended. And that, somehow, made it even better.

It reminded him, in a twisted, dangerous way, of the strange thrill he used to feel when punished by his older brother. Except now, it was something else entirely. Something irresistible.

"Are you alright? What’s your colour, baby?" James asked softly.

"Green. So green," Regulus whispered.

"Perfect. Good boy. Remember to keep your posture afterwards, love," James praised gently, his voice both warm and grounding. "Every time you stand in front of me, I want your back straight and your hands behind your back. Just like you're doing now… just like you always do… You have this habit, don’t you?"

"My parents told me to stand up and keep posture every time an authority figure entered the room…" Regulus admitted, visibly embarrassed. "I did it with my teachers and principals, and… I still do it when my boss enters the office."

"So, for months now, every time your boss, who’s a Dom, walks into the room, you stand and salute him in a submissive position?" James asked, half-laughing.

"…Yes…? Oh good Lord…" Regulus’s eyes widened, and he looked genuinely horrified at the realisation.

"You’re such a tease for him, love…" James chuckled, caressing his Sub’s cheek. "And such a tease for me too. Keep doing that, you’re perfect."

Regulus could see just how aroused James was. The outline of his erection was visible through his trousers, and the sight gave Regulus a secret thrill. It made him feel powerful, desired. Maybe even confident, in a quiet, dangerous way. He shifted a little in his skirt, drawing attention to himself.

"So, I gave you some homework this week, didn’t I?" James asked, as if trying to break the trance-like atmosphere between them. "Did you do it?"

"Yes, Sir," Regulus replied, immediately going to retrieve his notebook from the table where it had been waiting.

That week, James had asked him to answer a simple yet intimate question: Why do you want me to be your Dom?

It didn’t have to be long, just honest. A way of showing commitment. Regulus had taken it seriously. As he picked up the notebook, James pulled a few items from his bag as well: a folder, and a small black velvet box that caught Regulus’s eye immediately.

His collar.

"You may sit, love," James instructed.

Regulus obeyed, pulling out his chair and lowering himself carefully, still aware of his skirt, his posture, and the ache between his legs.

"Before we read our vows to each other," James continued, "you’re going to copy your rules into your notebook. It’s part of helping you remember them."

From the folder, he drew out a printed page with a list of points. Regulus skimmed it quickly, recognising the rules from their earlier conversation. He opened his notebook to a clean page, grateful that he’d thought ahead to buy one just for their sessions, and picked up his pen.

James stood just behind him, overseeing the task.

His gaze was heavy. Focused. And even though he wasn’t touching him, Regulus felt the weight of that attention like a hand against his back, encouraging, but impossible to ignore. He took a breath, trying to still his trembling hand, and began to write.

STUDENT'S RULES

MANNERS

1. Always respect yourself.
   
   
2. Always respect the professor.
   
   
3. Always greet the professor with a kiss.
   
   
4. Always maintain good posture: stand straight with your hands behind your back.
   
   
5. Wait for the professor’s order before sitting or standing.
   
   
6. Ask permission before going to the bathroom. (If it’s urgent or you don’t want to interrupt the scene, use the codes “blue” for urination or “litter” for defecation.)
   
   
7. Always wear the uniform.
   
   

UNIFORM

1. Keep the uniform clean and neat.
   
   
2. The skirt must not be more than 4cm above the knee.
   
   
3. Underwear must be white.
   
   
4. Always wear a bra.
   
   
5. Wait for the professor to check your uniform.
   
   

GENERAL RULES

1. Remember our safe words and communication signals: “halo” or “red” to stop the scene, “yellow” to slow down, and “green” to continue. “Blue” for urination. “Litter” for defecation. Use finger taps or snaps if saying the words is not possible.
   
   
2. Be kind to yourself.
   
   
3. Always ask if you have any doubts.
   
   
4. Remember to do your homework.

He finished in just a few minutes, considering there wasn’t much to write. The rules were simple, easy to follow or break, giving Regulus the choice to decide whether it would be a soft scene or a punishment one. If he wanted to be pampered and praised, he would dress neatly and obey his teacher’s rules. If he wanted to be punished or taste James’s more ruthless side, that was just as easy to achieve. Regulus put down the pen and waited for new instructions.

“Very good. You may stand up now and read them out loud for me,” James ordered, sitting on the chair across the table.

At that moment, Regulus got up and stood in front of his teacher’s desk, watching James shuffle some papers, waiting to have his essay corrected.

When James gave him his full attention, Regulus began reading the rules he had just written. He found it harder than expected, and although he knew he was in a safe space, his voice trembled on some lines. He hesitated when reading the rule about safe words, afraid to give the impression he was saying them aloud. James found it amusing and, with a sweet smile, encouraged him to continue. Regulus finished the last line, but as he reached the one above it, he hesitated and asked:

“My homework, will it be like the one you gave me last week, Sir?”

“No, love, I might give you some essays, but your homework will be related to your health,” James explained. “Eating three meals a day, drinking water, things like that, right?”

“Okay, I’ll try my best,” Regulus replied softly, knowing it would be a challenge.

“I’ll help you, love, don’t worry, okay?” he comforted gently, as always. “May I listen to what you wrote for this week’s essay?”

“Yes, Sir... but forgive me if it’s kind of sloppy.”

“That’s okay, baby. I just want you to be sincere.”

Regulus took a deep breath, preparing his heart to let those words spill out, to show James the love he kept inside his chest. This was the moment to reveal it, to let it be seen, to make that beautiful promise between them, to seal the commitment to be James’s.

“After years of seeing the world with the same sad eyes, you brought me the light, like the sun clearing my vision after so many years in the dark. Like the arrival of summer melting snow, making frozen things move again, to follow the course they were meant to. You brought life back to me, breaking the chains that held me. For the first time in my life, you made me feel right for loving too much. That freedom, that care in your eyes, that kindness you have for the world, the light you bring to all of us must be repaid somehow, and I would be the luckiest person in the world if you let me do that, to serve you and whoever you wish, as you please. I recognise I lack much knowledge to do it perfectly, but I would be the happiest sub under your training, proud to call you my professeur, my teacher, my coach, and my master. The love I build for your smile would move mountains to keep it on your face, happy, aroused, filled with the mischief I adore. I love you, Professeur, and if you want me, I’m yours to be taught.”

He finished reading, his heart pounding with satisfaction for having found a way to express all his feelings at once, with James’s guidance, and also with fear, awaiting his reaction. Regulus lowered the paper to meet James’s face, finding him rubbing his eyes, glasses in hand. ‘ Did I say something wrong? ’ was Regulus’s first thought, his heart sinking.

He got his answer when James stood and pulled him into a deep, needed hug.

Regulus let himself be enveloped by those arms to which he belonged, making his Dom his safe place. He felt love pumping from his agitated heart with each small kiss James placed, with all the whispered “thank you” and “I love you” straight to his soul. James’s hug was warm; his deep kiss, even without tongue, was so much better. They were sincere with each other, no lies.

“Come here, sit down, my love,” James commanded, placing Regulus gently in his student chair.

With affection, James looked up and cupped his face, caressing his cheek before going to the other side of the table and opening the black velvet box.

“From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special. And when I decided I wanted to know you better... that was the best decision I ever made. You’re sweet, caring, and so intelligent I wondered if you were real. And you are, as human as anyone can be, but at the same time the perfect angel I have been dreaming of.”

He leaned closer, placing the velvet box in front of Regulus, who patiently awaited instructions, mesmerized by his Dom.

“You’re perfect, my love. You’re the one I want to know, to touch, and to do everything in my power to make you the happiest person in the world,” James said. “Do you accept to be mine?”

“Yes, Sir,” Regulus answered with certainty, feeling his heart melt at hearing how much his Dom desired him. “I’m my teacher’s perfect pet.”

James smiled fondly, reaching to open the top of the box. Regulus watched eagerly as the training collar he deserved was revealed.

He nearly jumped at the pop of the box’s hinges and the reflection of his perfect image inside it. But soon, his attention was caught by the main object resting on a raised platform in the middle. It wasn’t what Regulus expected, but it was a brilliant idea of James’s.

Inside the box was an emerald-green tie with silver stripes, reminiscent of the one Regulus used to wear at school, and a silver chain with a small padlock. He noticed that at the end of the tie and on the padlock were engraved crests with the initials JFP, stylized in a way that looked like serpents rather than letters.One collar was for scenes, where he would be the student under his professor’s tutelage; the other was for everyday wear — just a necklace with a different pendant for common eyes, but a clear sign of ownership for them and others in their community.