When Regulus agreed to be dragged along to this guys birthday party as part of him and his brother reconciling, this isn't how he thought it would go.

He thought it would maybe go something along the lines of he got a drink or two or three, say hi to the birthday boy, meet his brothers boyfriend and other two "best friends in the whole- the whoolle wide world reggie" he had slurred just slightly (just preparty drinks things), and then maybe, maybe if he got drunk enough, dance a bit. You know.

Most of those things did happen, to be fair. But the one thing he didn't see coming was James Fleamont Potter.

James potter, with his fucking dancing and his fucking hips and that fucking crop top. He had a waist that regulus just wanted to sink his teeth into, one that would look much better with handprint bruises, and his tattoo, that fucking tattoo, the stag antlers just barely peeking over his jeans.

Just barely, that is, until James hooks a finger in his waistband and starts swaying his hips to the beat of the music, other arm holding his bottle above his head, the head that's thrown back exposing a neck Regulus just wants to wrap his hands around and squeeze.

The worst decision he could make is walk over to him.

So he walks over to him, drink in hand (there's no way he's leaving it unattended) and smiles his most innocent smile. He looks up at James though his eyelashes, a perk of being the smallest black brother.

"And who might you be?" James grins. "No no, noono let me guess. Baby Black."

"Oh fuck that Nickname sucks, Potter" Regulus all but shudders

"Potter? Not James?" He pouts. Regulus wants to bite that lip, bite down on it and pull antil it bleeds. He wants to watch the blood run down James's chin and then lick it off.

He's so fucked. He stands up on tiptoe, so he can be right next to James's ear. He'll blame it on the music.

"James" he murmurs, low and dark and sweet all at the same time. He could have sworn James shuddered at the name.

"Regulus." James copies his tone, in his own ear, and if he sounded anything like that whilst saying James's name then he's surprised James is still upright. It makes his knees buckle for a second.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, and a slower song comes on.

"Dance with me?"

Regulus nods. Its polite, isn't it? It's rude to say no to the birthday boy. Even if, technically, it stopped being his birthday about an hour ago. The pair dance, and get far too close, and Regulus has his hands on that fucking crop top and on James's stupid little waist. It's fucking- it's not tiny, but it's not big. It's muscled. Seriously, the man is sculpted from clay or some shit.

Regulus tugs at the crop top. It reaches to a little above his belly button, and Regulus really really wants to rip it off.

"Now now honey, what are you doing that for?" Regulus blushes at the pet name, and it's almost impossible to hide because of how pale he is. James smirks, fucking smirks. Its usually something regulus Hayes, but on James it makes him want to kiss, and scratch and bite and make James his.

"Do you maybe want to go upstairs?" James asks, almost hesitantly, despite how confidently he's now murmuring in Regulus's ear and- and oh fuck, and kissing his neck.

He nods, frantically, resisting the urge to bite his lip.

"Not good enough, baby, I want to hear you say it" James says, standing up straight again, cocky smile back in place.

Regulus can play that game too. He stands on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around James's neck and breathing in his ear.