Archive of Our Own ^beta

Regulus’s phone buzzed against the kitchen counter just as he finished folding the last of the laundry, Sirius’s ancient Bowie tee neatly creased atop the pile like a flag of surrender.

Dinner tonight?
Wear something black. Look hot. You always do, but like. Extra. Xx
Don’t ask questions.

Regulus rolled his eyes fondly and smiled despite himself. James Potter never did anything at half-volume—not music, not arguments, and certainly not romance. The texts had started a few hours ago, casual enough at first. You free tonight? Wanna grab dinner?, followed by a suspiciously quick confirmation of the place, the time, and very little detail.

Now, Regulus eyed the latest message like it might combust. Something about it had James-shaped chaos written all over it. And yet, there was no real reason to say no. They’d both had long weeks, James had barely looked up from his production schedule in days, and Regulus missed the ease of their private bubble, the quiet that only seemed to exist when they were wrapped around each other on slow nights.

He texted back.

Fine. You’re lucky you’re pretty.

A second later:

That’s what I keep telling people, came the reply.

---

Later that evening, Regulus stood outside a sleek little restaurant tucked between a florist and a shuttered boutique. It was lit in soft golds, the windows frosted just enough to obscure what was inside. He glanced up at the name—La Fiole—and blinked. He knew this place. It was new, expensive, and impossible to book. He raised an eyebrow.

The door opened before he could knock.

James stood there in a tailored black button-down, sleeves pushed to his elbows, collar unbuttoned just enough to be a problem. His curls were half-tamed, gold catching on the warm lighting behind him. He was grinning, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You actually showed up,” James said, stepping back to let him in.

Regulus arched a brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“No reason,” James said too quickly, “except I did maybe reserve the entire place. For us. Tonight.”

Regulus stopped in the doorway, blinking once, then twice. The dining room was empty save for one beautifully set table for two, candlelight flickering between wine glasses. The air smelled like fresh bread, lemon, and something warm with garlic.

He turned slowly. “You rented an entire restaurant?”

“Technically, I bribed the owner to close early.” James scratched the back of his neck, sheepish now. “I just... had a plan.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “A plan?”

James looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Yeah. A plan. For after dessert. Possibly during dessert. Depending on how fast we eat.”

Regulus stared at him.

James held up his hands. “Listen, I was thinking about you. In that shirt you wore last weekend. And the restaurant has a very nice kitchen. With very sturdy counters. So…”

Regulus groaned into his hands. “You’re insufferable.”

“But romantic!” James added quickly, stepping closer, eyes softening now. “You deserve a night just for us.”

Regulus’s hands dropped. He looked at the candlelight, the table, the stupid grin on James’s face. He shook his head slowly, but he was smiling.

“Fine. But if you try to take my trousers off before the starter, I’m leaving.”

James beamed. “Deal. For the record, I had you leaving after the appetizer in my head.”

Regulus sighed. “God help me.”

James leaned in. “He already did. He gave me you.”

---

Regulus was halfway through his cake—dark chocolate mousse with raspberry reduction—when James began looking at him like a man with religion burning in his veins.

He should’ve known. Should’ve expected it, really, with the way James had been vibrating with intention all evening. The man was nothing if not obvious when he had plans, and right now, he was staring at Regulus like the world might end if he didn’t get his hands on him immediately.

Regulus spooned another bite of cake, slow and pointed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

James leaned back in his chair, wine glass untouched beside his elbow. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to fuck me through the air.”

James grinned lazily. “Can you blame me?”

Regulus rolled his eyes but felt heat prickle up the back of his neck. He'd worn tight black jeans—painted on, practically—and a silky black shirt unbuttoned just low enough to tempt. James had requested “extra hot,” and Regulus had complied without protest. He always did. He liked the way James looked at him when he dressed like this—like Regulus was a god on loan from the sky.

He swallowed another mouthful of cake, meeting James’s gaze over the rim of the fork.

That was apparently all the invitation James needed.

He stood slowly, pushing his chair back, then walked around the table. Regulus watched him come with cautious amusement until James grabbed his plate and shoved it aside with a clatter—silver cutlery nearly toppling to the floor.

“James,” Regulus warned, eyes narrowing.

“Shh,” James murmured, already sliding hands under his thighs. “Just shift a little.”

“Are you trying to get me on the table?”

James didn’t answer with words. He leaned in, hands firm, and lifted—coaxing Regulus up by the waist and onto the linen-covered tabletop, plates and glasses pushed just far enough to avoid catastrophe. Regulus let out a soft noise of protest, but didn’t fight. He just raised an eyebrow.

“We said after dessert.”

“You’re still eating,” James murmured, already pressing kisses up Regulus’s throat. “So technically, I’m right on schedule.”

“I hate you,” Regulus said breathlessly.

James smiled against his skin. “You love me.”

Then he dropped to his knees in front of the table, eyes shining.

Regulus didn’t even have time to recover before James’s hands found the button of his jeans.

“James—”

But the sound choked off as James popped the button open and tugged the zipper down in one slow, practiced motion. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to peel the jeans down, inch by inch, revealing—

Nothing.

No boxers. No briefs. Nothing but skin, flushed and soft and perfect. James paused for a second, stunned, then let out a low, reverent sound that made Regulus’s stomach flip.

“You weren’t wearing anything,” he said, almost in awe.

“I figured you’d get impatient,” Regulus muttered, cheeks pink now.

James looked up, eyes wild with affection and want. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Then he spread Regulus’s thighs.

The shirt was still buttoned, but James tugged it open enough to watch Regulus breathe, the soft planes of his stomach visible in flickering candlelight. He placed one hand gently on the inside of Regulus’s thigh, warm and grounding, before he leaned in.

“Eat your cake, Reg,” he whispered. “I’ll eat mine.”

And then he was there, lips brushing over Regulus’s cunt in a kiss that made the table shake.

Regulus’s breath hitched.

He grabbed the edge of the table with one hand and the discarded plate of cake with the other, fingers tightening around the fork.

James’s tongue was slow at first, languid, like he had all the time in the world. He kissed and licked with aching care, mouthing at Regulus’s folds like they were sacred—like this was what he’d rented out the entire restaurant for. Nothing else existed. Just this. Just him.

Regulus let out a soft gasp, head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck…”

James hummed in response, tongue pressing a little firmer now, lips sealing around his clit and sucking gently. He pulled back just enough to breathe, then dragged the flat of his tongue from bottom to top in one long stroke.

Regulus swore.

The fork slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. Cake forgotten. Hands clenched into fists on the tablecloth.

James looked up, grinning.

“Told you.”

Regulus could barely breathe. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a generous menace,” James corrected. “And this—” he leaned back in, tongue tracing circles, “—is a public service.”

Regulus let out a shaky laugh that dissolved into a moan when James found the perfect rhythm—tongue flicking, lips gentle but insistent, the pressure building fast and bright.

James didn’t stop.

Didn’t tease or edge him like he sometimes did when they were in bed with hours to spare. Tonight, he wanted to worship. To press Regulus open and show him just how fucking good he could feel when someone looked at him and knew—knew his body, his nerves, every twitch and tremble that meant he was getting close.

“James—” Regulus gasped, heels digging into the table’s edge now. “I—if you keep—”

“I know,” James said softly, not pulling back. “Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

And Regulus did.

It was sharp and fast, a wave crashing over him with dizzying heat. His back arched, thighs trembling, mouth parted around a soundless cry. James held him steady, licking him through it, soft and gentle now, like he was saying thank you with every movement.

When Regulus finally slumped back against the table, chest heaving, James pressed one final kiss to his thigh and stood.

He looked wrecked. Lips slick, hair a mess from Regulus’s hands, pupils blown wide.

Regulus blinked up at him.

“You’re—” he paused, still breathless. “You’re out of control.”

James leaned down and kissed him, slow and filthy, letting Regulus taste himself on his mouth.

“You love it,” he murmured.

Regulus didn’t argue.

---

James wasn’t subtle when he reappeared from the kitchen, cheeks still pink and curls askew. Regulus, now lazily reclined on the table with his shirt hanging open, looked up at him with one arched brow and a barely-concealed smirk.

“You disappeared,” he murmured.

James held up a tray like it was holy. “I made them bring out all your favourite cakes again.”

Regulus blinked. “All?”

“All.” He grinned. “Lemon. Pistachio. The raspberry tart. The hazelnut thing you pretend you don’t like but always steal from my plate.”

Regulus laughed—hoarse and breathy. “So you bribed a chef twice in one night.”

“I’m a man of priorities,” James said, setting the tray carefully on the table beside Regulus, who had barely shifted from where he’d come undone minutes before. “You’re the top three.”

Regulus sat up slowly, thighs still parted, shirt open, cheeks flushed and glow-soft. “And the others?”

“Cake,” James said seriously. “And getting inside you.”

Regulus snorted but didn’t argue. Instead, he plucked a fork from the tray, speared a piece of lemon sponge, and let it melt on his tongue with a little sound that nearly broke James in half.

“Fuck, Reg,” he said, voice low.

Regulus licked a bit of glaze off his finger—intentionally. “Problem?”

James stepped closer. “Get on me.”

Regulus tilted his head, amused. “Romantic.”

“Now,” James growled, already pulling his shirt over his head and working at his jeans with frantic fingers. “You, me, and dessert. You’ve got a job to finish.”

Regulus bit his lip, then slid gracefully off the table and into James’s lap as he sat back into the chair again. He didn’t bother asking if the door was locked this time. He didn’t care.

He straddled him easily, thighs bracketing James’s hips, cake still in hand. James’s cock was already hard—hot against Regulus’s inner thigh. He reached between them and guided it to his entrance, slow and slick and easy from how well James had already worked him open.

He sank down in one slow motion.

James’s head hit the back of the chair with a groan that scraped straight from his chest. His hands flew to Regulus’s hips, holding him tight, grounding himself as Regulus rocked down until he was full.

“Oh fuck,” James breathed.

Regulus exhaled through his nose, shivering slightly. “That what you wanted?”

James looked at him like he was watching the stars collapse. “Always.”

Regulus grabbed another piece of cake and took a slow bite—eyes fixed on James’s the whole time—as he began to ride him, hips moving with lazy, unhurried rolls that made them both gasp.

The contrast was obscene.

The sweetness of sugar on his tongue. The stretch of James inside him. The way they breathed into each other’s mouths like the room might disappear if they stopped touching.

James buried his face against Regulus’s chest, groaning into his skin. “You’re going to kill me.”

Regulus swallowed a bite of pistachio cream and smiled.

“Then die sweet.”

Regulus moved like he had all night—measured, in control, the perfect blend of tease and torment. James, on the other hand, was wrecked.

He tried to hold still, let Regulus ride him at his own pace, but his hands betrayed him—gripping tighter at his waist, thumbs digging into soft skin as Regulus rolled his hips just right.

James was panting now, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

“Fuck—baby, you feel so good—” he gasped, voice breaking on the words. “Tight—warm—fucking perfect, Regulus, perfect—”

Regulus bit down on his bottom lip, the praise hitting harder than the rhythm. He tried to glare, to hold the smug upper hand like he always did when they played like this. But his thighs were shaking now, pleasure winding tighter through his belly, his chest, heat building fast and sharp where they were joined.

He took another bite of cake—just to ground himself—but dropped the fork entirely when James thrust up once, hard.

“Shit—James—”

“That’s it,” James murmured, mouth brushing his collarbone, his chest, his jaw. “You look so fucking beautiful like this—making a mess on my cock with dessert still on your lips—”

Regulus let out a choked sound and buried his face in James’s shoulder, hips stuttering.

“Always take me so well,” James whispered, voice full of awe. “Every time. Like you were made for me. You are, aren’t you?”

“Stop,” Regulus groaned, face burning hot now. “You’re so—fuck, James—”

James leaned up, cupping his face, lips brushing his cheek. “You’re my favourite thing in the world. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Fucking angel.”

Regulus clenched around him with a gasp, body twitching.

James felt it—felt the way he trembled—and angled his hips just right, pressing up into him with perfect pressure. “Gonna come for me?”

Regulus nodded frantically, gasping, “Yes—yes, I’m—”

“Good. Let go. I’ve got you. Always.”

That did it.

Regulus came with a shudder, nails digging into James’s shoulders, his moan muffled against James’s neck. He clenched down tight, hips jerking helplessly as he fell apart completely, flushed and trembling and utterly beautiful.

James followed seconds later, buried deep and groaning like Regulus had pulled the air from his lungs.

They stayed tangled like that, catching their breath.

Then James kissed his cheek, slow and reverent.

“You’re everything,” he murmured. “You know that?”

Regulus tried to reply, but only managed a breathless sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.

James grinned.

And Regulus, cheeks pink, buried his face against his shoulder and muttered, “Shut up.”

James just kissed his hair. “Never.”