To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B
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Remus Lupin looked close to dying in the corridor.
Not in any dignified way.
Not in any noble, poetic, quietly tragic way that would have suited the pale stone walls and the drafty old castle and the thin wash of afternoon light sliding through the high windows.
No.
Remus Lupin looked like he was about to collapse directly at Regulus Black’s feet from sheer wanting.
He had one hand fisted in the belt loops of Regulus’s trousers and the other pressed flat against the wall beside Regulus’s shoulder, trapping him there without really trapping him at all, because Regulus could have moved. He could have stepped away. He could have said no. He could have given Remus one of those soft little frowns and turned himself back toward class and sense and the rest of the day.
He did none of those things.
He stood there, breath shallow, cheeks flushed so badly the red had climbed all the way to the tips of his ears and spilled downward, warm and helpless, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. His mouth was parted. His fingers had curled into Remus’s sleeve at some point and stayed there, holding on as if he had not noticed himself doing it.
Remus noticed.
Remus noticed everything.
Especially with Regulus this close.
Especially when the scent of him had gone sweet and hot and unmistakable beneath the ordinary smells of wool, old parchment, stone dust, polish, and the faint trace of ink clinging to his cuffs.
Remus made a noise low in his throat and immediately looked embarrassed by it.
“Reg,” he whispered.
Regulus blinked up at him. “We have class.”
“I know.”
“In five minutes.”
“I know.”
“You cannot possibly know, considering your hand is still on my trousers.”
Remus whimpered.
Actually whimpered.
The sound tore out of him before he could stop it, thin and wrecked and humiliating, and he dropped his forehead to Regulus’s shoulder like a man admitting defeat at the altar of something holy.
“Don’t say trousers right now,” Remus mumbled into him.
Regulus swallowed. “What?”
“Don’t say anything about your trousers. Or my hand. Or class. Or five minutes.”
“But we do only have five minutes.”
Remus lifted his head so fast his hair fell into his eyes.
His pupils were blown wide.
“C’mon, Reg,” he breathed, voice breaking around the words. “Do you know how much we could do in five minutes?”
Regulus made a small, strangled sound and turned his face away, but Remus followed the movement instantly, leaning in as if pulled by a string.
He tugged again at Regulus’s belt loops, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to drag him half an inch closer.
That half inch was catastrophic.
Regulus felt him.
The hard, obvious press of Remus’s cock against him through their trousers, hot and thick and insistent, grinding by accident and then not by accident at all when Remus shuddered and did it again.
Regulus’s breath caught.
Remus’s eyes fluttered.
“Oh,” Remus said miserably. “Fuck. Fuck, Reg, please.”
Regulus stared at him, flushed stupid and soft.
“Remus.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not,” Remus admitted at once, voice trembling. “I’m really not. I would be if I could be, but I can’t. I can’t be sorry when you’re—when you smell like that.”
Regulus’s eyes widened.
Remus looked like he might bite through his own tongue.
“I didn’t mean—” he started.
Regulus’s grip tightened in his sleeve.
Remus stopped.
The corridor seemed too long around them, too open, too full of places someone could turn a corner from. The sound of distant footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the bend, then faded. A door opened far away. Laughter scattered and disappeared. The world was moving on without them, sweeping toward afternoon lessons and homework and normal things.
Regulus could not remember a single normal thing.
He could feel the damp heat between his legs.
He could feel the way his underwear clung to him.
He could feel Remus shaking with the effort not to push him harder into the wall and take exactly what he was begging for.
And Remus could smell it.
That was the problem.
That was the ruinous, unbearable, gorgeous problem.
Remus dragged in a breath and groaned like it hurt him.
“You’re wet,” he whispered.
Regulus’s knees almost went.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to be crude.” Remus sounded genuinely devastated. “I swear I’m not. I’m trying to be good. I’m trying so fucking hard to be good, but you’re standing here looking at me like that, and you’re all red, and you’re holding onto me, and I can smell how wet your pussy is, and I can feel you shaking, and I—”
He broke off, breathing hard.
Regulus’s throat bobbed.
“You said you were trying to be good.”
“I am.”
“You just said pussy in the corridor.”
Remus shut his eyes and pressed his forehead back to Regulus’s shoulder.
“I know,” he said, muffled and ashamed. “I know. I’m awful. I’m sorry. Please let me fuck you.”
Regulus made a sound that was nearly Remus’s name and nearly a plea and nearly nothing at all.
Remus lifted his head again, desperation written plainly across every inch of his face. No smugness. No teasing confidence. No clever little smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He looked undone. Wretched with wanting. Beautifully pathetic.
“Please,” Remus whispered. “Please, Reg. Just let me—just for a minute. I’ll be quick. I’ll be so quick. I’ll make it good for you. I’ll get you ready, I’ll be careful, I’ll—fuck, no, you’re already ready, aren’t you?”
Regulus closed his eyes.
Remus groaned.
“You are,” he said, almost sobbing. “You are. I can smell it. You’re soaked.”
“Remus.”
“Please.”
“We’ll be late.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care.”
“I know. I know you do. I’ll care after. I promise I’ll care after, but right now I can’t. I can’t think about anything except getting my cock inside you.”
Regulus exhaled shakily.
Remus’s hand slid from the wall to Regulus’s waist, fingers curling there, clinging rather than commanding.
“Tell me to stop,” Remus whispered.
Regulus looked up at him.
His lashes fluttered. His mouth trembled. His cheeks were still bright, his eyes too wide, his whole body flushed with embarrassment and need and the doomed attempt at sense.
He did not tell him to stop.
Remus’s face crumpled.
“Reg,” he begged. “Please.”
Regulus’s fingers moved from Remus’s sleeve to the front of his jumper. He held on with both hands now, small fists twisting in the fabric.
“We only have five minutes,” he whispered.
Remus went utterly still.
Regulus swallowed again.
“And you have to be quiet.”
Remus stared at him.
Then his mouth opened, but nothing came out except a broken little breath.
Regulus’s blush deepened until it looked painful.
“Remus.”
“Yes,” Remus said at once. “Yes. Yes, anything. I can be quiet.”
“You cannot.”
“I’ll try.”
“You’re already whining.”
“I’ll whine softly.”
Regulus gave him one helpless look.
It was not stern. It was not cold. It was not sharp.
It was sweet and flustered and surrendering, and it ruined Remus completely.
Remus seized his hand.
Not roughly. Not cruelly.
Desperately.
He turned, dragging Regulus down the corridor at a pace that was just short of frantic. Regulus stumbled once, caught himself on Remus’s arm, and Remus immediately looked back as if the world had ended.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” Regulus breathed.
“Good. Good. Fuck. Sorry.”
“You’re still pulling me.”
“I know.”
“Remus.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”
He did not let go.
The broom cupboard was only a few doors down, half-hidden in a narrow recess where the wall bent inward around a support pillar. Remus yanked it open, saw darkness and handles and stacked cleaning supplies, then tugged Regulus inside with him and shut the door behind them.
The cupboard swallowed them whole.
It was cramped.
Ridiculously cramped.
There were broom handles pressing against Remus’s back, a shelf digging into Regulus’s shoulder, and barely enough room for the two of them to stand without touching everywhere.
Which, Remus seemed to realise at exactly the wrong moment.
He sucked in a breath.
Regulus stood in front of him, face tipped up in the dark, close enough that their mouths nearly brushed. The thin slice of light beneath the door cut across their shoes. Dust floated somewhere in the stale air. Everything smelled of wood, old rags, soap, and Regulus.
Mostly Regulus.
Remus made a sound like prayer gone wrong.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Regulus’s hands found him again, curling into his jumper.
“You said five minutes.”
“I did.”
“You said you could be quick.”
“I can.”
“You are not doing anything.”
“I’m trying not to come in my trousers.”
Regulus went scarlet.
Even in the dark, Remus could see it.
Or sense it.
Or feel the heat of it, maybe.
Regulus ducked his head, and Remus instantly followed, chasing him down with a needy little sound.
“Don’t hide,” Remus whispered.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“I know.” Remus sounded wrecked by it. “I know, love. I know. It’s making it worse.”
Regulus’s breath hitched.
Remus pressed closer, and the cupboard gave them no space to pretend it was accidental. His cock dragged against Regulus again, hard through their clothes, and they both shuddered.
“Oh,” Regulus breathed.
Remus’s knees nearly buckled.
“Can I kiss you?”
Regulus nodded.
Remus kissed him like he had been starving quietly all day and had finally broken.
It was not smooth. It was not composed. It was not some perfect sweep of romance made tidy by confidence. Remus kissed him messily, desperately, with a trembling mouth and uneven breath, one hand cupping Regulus’s cheek, the other clutching his hip like he needed something to hold onto. He whimpered into it almost immediately.
Regulus opened for him at once.
Eagerly.
Remus groaned and licked into his mouth, pressing him back until Regulus’s spine met the inside of the door. The wood knocked softly behind him. Regulus gasped. Remus froze.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t stop.”
Remus shook.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
“Reg.”
“I mean it, Remus.”
Remus dropped to his knees.
Regulus’s hands flew to his shoulders.
“What are you—”
“Need to taste you.”
“We don’t have—”
“Need to.”
“Remus.”
“Please.” Remus looked up at him from his knees, face flushed, eyes shining, lips already parted. “Please, sweetheart. Just a little. I’ll be fast. I know I said I’d fuck you, I will, I swear I will, but I need—fuck, I need to get my mouth on you first. You smell so good. You smell so wet. Please.”
Regulus stared down at him, breathing in tiny, uneven pulls.
The sight of Remus on his knees in the broom cupboard, begging like that, hands shaking against Regulus’s thighs, made something in Regulus loosen completely.
“All right,” he whispered.
Remus made a broken sound and leaned forward at once, nuzzling desperately at the front of Regulus’s trousers.
Regulus gasped, head knocking lightly back against the door.
“Remus.”
“I know, I know.” Remus fumbled with Regulus’s belt. “I’m sorry. I’m trying. My hands won’t—fuck, they won’t work.”
Regulus looked down through his lashes.
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Because of me?”
Remus stopped.
Then he looked up.
“Yes,” he said, voice raw. “Completely because of you.”
Regulus’s mouth parted around a silent little breath.
Remus finally managed the belt. Then the button. Then the zip. Every small sound was thunderous in the dark cupboard. Regulus trembled as Remus tugged the fabric down just enough, fingers hooking carefully into his underwear and drawing that down too.
The smell hit him harder.
Remus actually swayed.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Regulus covered his mouth with one hand.
Remus caught his wrist gently and tugged it away.
“No,” he whispered. “Let me hear you.”
“You said quiet.”
“I lied. I’ll be quiet. You don’t have to be.”
“We are in a cupboard.”
“I know. I know we are. I know. Fuck.” Remus pressed his forehead to Regulus’s thigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not making sense.”
Regulus’s fingers slid into his hair.
The touch was soft.
Permission-soft.
Remus turned his head and kissed the inside of his thigh.
Regulus made a little sound, high and breathy.
Remus kissed him again, higher.
Then again.
Then his mouth found the wet heat of him, and the entire cupboard seemed to tilt.
Regulus slapped one hand over his own mouth, the other gripping Remus’s hair.
Remus whimpered against his pussy.
The vibration made Regulus jerk.
Remus held his hips, not pinning him, just keeping him steady, keeping him from slipping when his knees softened. His mouth was hot and eager and messy, licking through the slick folds of him like he could not help himself, like he had forgotten the time, the place, the lesson bell waiting somewhere beyond the door.
Regulus’s head tipped back.
“Remus,” he whispered through his fingers.
Remus answered by dragging his tongue over his clit.
Regulus’s hips jerked forward.
Remus moaned.
Too loud.
Regulus tugged his hair.
“Quiet,” he gasped.
Remus pulled back just enough to pant against him.
“Sorry. Sorry. You taste so good. I can’t—Reg, I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“I know.”
“You promised.”
“I know, love, I know.”
Then his mouth was on him again.
Regulus shook apart in increments.
A gasp into his palm.
A trembling thigh.
A soft, broken sound that barely survived his throat.
Remus ate him like he had begged for the right to do it and intended to spend every second proving he deserved it. His tongue slid wet and hot through him, pressing inside just enough to make Regulus’s hand tighten in his hair. His nose brushed his clit, and Regulus nearly folded.
Remus groaned again, quieter this time, but no less wrecked.
Regulus could hear him breathing.
Could hear the small, desperate sounds he made between licks.
Could hear the faint shift of fabric as Remus rubbed himself against nothing, hips twitching helplessly like he needed friction so badly he might die from the lack of it.
Regulus looked down.
Remus was on his knees, flushed and messy, grinding faintly into the air with his cock trapped hard in his trousers, mouth slick and eyes half-lidded. He looked ruined.
Regulus made a sound so soft it was almost not a sound at all.
Remus looked up immediately.
His mouth was wet.
Regulus nearly came from the sight alone.
“Need you,” Regulus whispered.
Remus froze.
Regulus’s voice shook.
“Please.”
Remus’s eyes went wide and desperate.
“You need my cock?”
Regulus nodded, face burning.
Remus made a noise that sounded like it hurt.
“Say it.”
Regulus swallowed.
“Remus—”
“Please,” Remus whispered. “Please, Reg, I’m not trying to—I just need to hear it or I’m going to lose my mind. Tell me.”
Regulus’s fingers stroked once through his hair, gentle even now.
“I need your cock,” he whispered. “Please.”
Remus scrambled to his feet so quickly he hit his shoulder on a shelf.
“Fuck—ow—sorry.”
Regulus reached for him instantly. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Remus caught his face and kissed him again, licking into his mouth with a whimper. “I’m perfect. I’m better than perfect. Fuck, you’re so sweet. You’re so fucking sweet.”
Regulus clung to him.
Remus’s hands went back to his hips, then his waist, then trembled uselessly at the open front of Regulus’s trousers as if there were too many things he wanted to touch and not enough time.
“Turn around?” Remus asked, breathless. “Can you turn around for me?”
Regulus nodded at once.
Remus groaned.
“Fuck, don’t just—don’t just do it, I’m already—”
Regulus turned.
Remus stopped speaking.
Regulus faced the cupboard door, hands braced against the wood, trousers and underwear shoved low enough to bare him. His shirt had ridden up slightly where Remus had tugged at him, showing the pale dip of his lower back. His thighs trembled. His head tilted forward. Even without seeing his face, Remus knew he was blushing. Knew he was biting his lip. Knew he was waiting.
Obedient and flustered and wet.
Remus nearly choked.
“Reg.”
Regulus looked back over his shoulder.
That was almost the end of everything.
Remus pressed against him, chest to his back, cock hard against the curve of him, and buried his face in Regulus’s neck.
“I’m not going to last,” Remus whispered, sounding ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Regulus leaned back into him.
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I wanted to make it good.”
“It is good.”
Remus shuddered.
“I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Regulus’s hands curled against the door.
“I still want you to.”
Remus’s breath punched out of him.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
“Yes, Remus.”
Remus nodded against his neck, breathing hard.
Then he fumbled his own trousers open.
The sound of his belt, his zip, the shaky, desperate way he freed his cock, all of it seemed too loud. Regulus pressed his forehead to the door and trembled.
Remus hissed as his hand wrapped around himself.
“Fuck.”
Regulus shifted back slightly.
Remus made a strangled noise.
“Don’t move.”
Regulus went still at once.
Remus immediately kissed his shoulder.
“Sorry. Not like that. I mean—fuck, sweetheart, just give me a second. Please. If you move like that again I’m going to come before I get inside you.”
Regulus’s voice was tiny. “Oh.”
Remus laughed once, breathless and broken.
“Yeah. Oh.”
A distant sound rang through the corridor.
Not the bell.
Not yet.
But close enough that Regulus stiffened.
Remus felt it instantly.
“I know,” he whispered. “I know. Five minutes.”
“You said that already.”
“I know.”
“Then hurry.”
Remus groaned so hard it nearly became a sob.
“Regulus Black telling me to hurry and fuck him in a broom cupboard is going to kill me.”
Regulus hid his face against his arm.
“Remus.”
“I’m doing it. I’m doing it. Fuck, I’m doing it.”
He guided the head of his cock against Regulus’s wet pussy and stopped breathing.
Regulus’s whole body shivered.
Remus pressed there, just feeling him for one catastrophic second, the blunt head of his cock sliding through slick heat, catching against him. Regulus was so wet it was obscene. Remus’s hips jerked forward before he could stop them, and the head slipped inside.
They both gasped.
Remus slammed one hand against the door beside Regulus’s.
“Fuck.”
Regulus’s fingers spread against the wood.
“Remus.”
“I know. I know, love. I’m going slow.”
“You don’t have to.”
Remus’s head dropped between Regulus’s shoulders.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“But—”
“I’m serious. Don’t. I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
Regulus went quiet, but his hips tilted back, soft and offering.
Remus whimpered.
“Reg.”
“Please.”
Remus pushed in.
Slowly at first, because he had promised, because even desperate and whining and half out of his mind, he still knew the shape of care. He pressed forward inch by inch, cock sinking into Regulus’s wet pussy, heat taking him in so easily it made his vision spark.
Regulus made a broken little noise behind his teeth.
Remus stopped at once.
“All right?”
Regulus nodded quickly.
“Words.”
“Yes,” Regulus whispered. “Yes, I’m all right. Keep going.”
Remus kissed the back of his neck.
“Good. Good, sweetheart. Fuck, you feel—oh my god, you feel so good.”
He pushed deeper.
Regulus’s mouth fell open soundlessly.
Remus slid one arm around his waist, holding him close, steadying him as his cock sank in further, stretching him open in the cramped dark. Regulus was tight and slick and hot around him, fluttering helplessly with every inch, and Remus could not stop the helpless sounds spilling from him.
“Sorry,” he panted. “Sorry, I know, I’m being loud.”
Regulus reached back blindly and caught at his hip.
Remus went still.
Regulus’s fingers dug in lightly.
“More.”
The word was barely there.
Remus heard it like a commandment.
He pushed the rest of the way in.
Regulus’s body bowed.
Remus clamped his mouth against Regulus’s shoulder to smother the sound that tore out of him. His cock was buried deep inside Regulus’s pussy, hips flush to him, body shaking so badly the broom handles rattled softly behind them.
Regulus noticed anyway.
“Are you all right?”
Remus laughed against him, wrecked and breathless.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m inside you in a broom cupboard between lessons after begging you to let me fuck you for five minutes. I have never been less all right in my life.”
Regulus made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh if he had not been trembling so much.
Remus kissed his shoulder again.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Fuck, Reg, you’re perfect.”
Regulus’s face pressed into his sleeve.
“Move.”
Remus did.
The first thrust was shallow and careful.
The second was less careful.
The third made Regulus’s knees dip.
Remus caught him immediately, arm tight around his waist, hand splayed low over his stomach.
Regulus nodded quickly, breath coming in little punched-out sounds.
Remus fucked him with desperate, uneven thrusts, trying to be quick and quiet and good and failing at least two of those things with every second that passed. The cupboard was too small for rhythm at first. His shoulder knocked the shelf. Regulus’s hands slipped on the door. A broom slid a fraction and tapped the wall.
They both froze.
Silence.
Nothing outside.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Regulus exhaled.
Remus whimpered.
“I can’t stop,” he whispered.
Regulus turned his face just enough that Remus could see the line of his cheek, flushed bright in the dark.
“Then don’t.”
Remus’s restraint snapped thin.
He fucked into him harder.
Regulus’s mouth opened around a gasp, and Remus clapped a hand gently over it from behind, not forcing, just catching the sound before it could escape too far. Regulus’s fingers flew to his wrist, holding him there.
Remus groaned against his ear.
“Is this okay?”
Regulus nodded frantically.
Remus’s cock dragged deep inside him, out and in, out and in, slick and hot and rough with hurry. Regulus’s pussy clenched around him every time Remus drove back in, taking him so well, so wet, so sweetly that Remus kept breaking into helpless little pleas.
“Fuck, fuck, Reg, please—”
Regulus made a muffled sound against his palm.
“I know,” Remus panted. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so close. I’m pathetic. I know. I wanted to last. I wanted to make you come first.”
Regulus shook his head quickly.
Remus’s breath hitched.
“No?”
Regulus tugged his hand down just enough to whisper, “Touch me.”
Remus almost came on the spot.
“Oh my god.”
“Please.”
Remus slid his free hand down between Regulus’s legs.
The moment his fingers found his clit, Regulus bucked.
Remus’s hand flew back over his mouth to catch the cry, and Regulus moaned into his palm, body shaking.
Remus pressed tighter to his back, fucking him deep, fingers rubbing clumsy, frantic circles over his clit.
“Like this?” Remus begged. “Is this good? Tell me it’s good. Please tell me.”
Regulus nodded, eyes squeezed shut.
Remus was panting against his hair now, entirely gone.
“You’re so wet. Fuck, you’re dripping. You’re making such a mess on my cock. Reg, I can feel it. I can feel how much you want it.”
Regulus whimpered into his hand.
Remus’s hips stuttered.
“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I can’t shut up.”
Regulus reached back with one hand and clutched at him, nails catching in the fabric at his thigh.
Remus fucked him harder, still trying not to slam him into the door, still trying to keep enough control not to hurt him, but the desperation was taking him apart. Each thrust shoved Regulus up onto his toes. Each rub of Remus’s fingers made him shake and tighten. The cupboard filled with the wet sound of Remus’s cock driving into him, the harsh drag of breath, the little muffled noises Regulus could not stop making.
It was filthy.
It was hurried.
It was five minutes turned into a fever.
Remus pressed his mouth to Regulus’s ear.
“Come for me,” he whispered. “Please. Please, Reg, come for me. I need it. I need to feel you come around my cock. I need it so bad. Please, sweetheart, please.”
Regulus shook his head once, helplessly.
Remus rubbed his clit faster.
“Yes,” he begged. “Yes, you can. I know you can. You’re so close. I can feel you. You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, you’re going to make me come. Please come first. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, Reg, please.”
That did it.
Not the fingers, though they helped.
Not the cock, though he was buried deep enough to make Regulus feel split open and full and mindless.
It was Remus begging.
Remus whining into his ear as if Regulus was the one holding him together. Remus sounding ruined and needy and desperate enough to shatter. Remus asking like Regulus coming was mercy.
Regulus came with Remus’s hand over his mouth.
His body locked tight, pussy clenching around Remus’s cock in hot, pulsing waves, thighs shaking so hard Remus had to hold him up. The sound he made was smothered but still broken, still sweet, still unmistakable.
Remus made a noise like he had been punched.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Reg—”
Regulus trembled through it, hips twitching, hand clawing weakly at the door.
Remus’s thrusts went ragged.
“I’m going to come,” he gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m going to—Reg, where—”
Regulus, still shaking, whispered against his palm, “Inside.”
Remus broke.
He buried his face in Regulus’s shoulder and came with a strangled whine, hips pressing deep, cock pulsing inside Regulus’s pussy as he shook apart behind him. He clutched him through it, babbling soft nonsense into his shirt, words dissolving into breath.
“Thank you—fuck, thank you—Reg, oh my god, I love—fuck, I can’t—”
Regulus leaned weakly into the door, still clenching around him, still catching his breath.
Remus stayed inside him.
Neither of them moved.
For several seconds, the only sound in the cupboard was their breathing.
Then a bell rang.
Loud.
Violent.
Entirely unfair.
Regulus flinched.
Remus made a wounded sound.
“No.”
Regulus’s head tipped back against his shoulder.
“We’re late.”
“No.”
“We are.”
“I refuse.”
“You cannot refuse time.”
“I can. I hate it. It’s cruel.”
Regulus’s laugh came out breathless and shy.
Remus tightened his arms around him as if the sound had done something terrible to his heart.
“Don’t laugh,” he whispered. “I’ll get hard again.”
Regulus went still.
Remus paused.
Then, mortified, he buried his face in Regulus’s neck.
“I didn’t mean that as a threat.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“You said that already.”
“I’m going to keep saying it until I stop wanting to do it again.”
Regulus’s fingers slowly loosened from the door.
Remus kissed the side of his neck, soft now. Careful. Reverent in the after-wreck.
“Are you all right?” Remus asked.
Regulus nodded.
“Words, sweetheart.”
Regulus swallowed. “I’m all right.”
“Was I too rough?”
“No.”
“Too fast?”
Regulus hesitated.
Remus went tense immediately.
Regulus turned his face enough to look at him.
“You said five minutes.”
Remus stared at him.
Then let out a helpless, disbelieving little laugh against his shoulder.
“I did.”
“So.”
“So?”
“So you were… efficient.”
Remus dropped his forehead against Regulus’s back.
“I am going to die.”
“Please don’t.”
“I might have to.”
“That would make us even later.”
Remus groaned softly. “You’re so—fuck, I just fucked you in a broom cupboard. How are you real?”
Regulus blushed again, lowering his gaze.
Remus softened instantly.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m standing half-dressed in a cupboard.”
Remus looked down.
Then made a strained sound.
“Yes. You are. And I need to stop looking at that or we’re never leaving.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
Remus kissed his cheek, then carefully eased his hand down to Regulus’s waist.
“I’m going to pull out.”
Regulus nodded.
Remus did it slowly.
They both gasped softly.
Regulus’s knees wobbled.
Remus caught him at once.
“Sorry. Sorry. I’ve got you.”
Regulus leaned back against him for one fragile second, letting himself be held.
Remus pressed kisses along his shoulder, his neck, the side of his face, soft apology after soft apology.
Then he helped him dress.
It should have been simple.
It was not.
Remus’s hands were still shaking. Regulus’s legs were still unreliable. The cupboard was still too small. Every brush of fingers became dangerous. Every breath seemed to remind them both of what had just happened and what was still warm between Regulus’s thighs.
Remus fixed Regulus’s underwear with an expression of actual suffering.
“Don’t look like that,” Regulus whispered.
Remus glanced up. “Like what?”
“Like you’re going to beg again.”
“I am going to beg again.”
“Remus.”
“Not now,” Remus said quickly. “Not now. Later. Maybe. Definitely. But not now.”
Regulus’s blush came back in full.
Remus bit his lip and looked away from him as if that might help.
It did not.
He redid Regulus’s trousers. Button. Zip. Belt.
His knuckles brushed Regulus’s stomach, and Regulus sucked in a tiny breath.
Remus froze.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Regulus whispered.
“You breathed.”
“I have to.”
“I know. It’s awful.”
Regulus ducked his head, smiling faintly despite himself.
Remus stared.
Then he pressed a quick, desperate kiss to his forehead.
“Okay. We have to leave before I ruin both our lives.”
Regulus looked up at him. “You think being late to class will ruin our lives?”
“No. I think having you look at me like that while I know how wet you still are will.”
Regulus inhaled sharply.
Remus slapped a hand over his own face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I said it again. I’m awful.”
“You are not awful.”
“I dragged you into a broom cupboard.”
“I let you.”
“I begged.”
“You did.”
“I whined.”
“A lot.”
Remus lowered his hand just enough to look at him.
Regulus’s eyes were soft.
Remus melted.
“Did you like it?” he asked, voice suddenly quiet.
Regulus stilled.
Then nodded.
Remus swallowed.
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“You can always say no.”
“I know, Remus.”
Remus’s shoulders loosened slightly.
Regulus reached up and smoothed a hand over the front of Remus’s jumper, straightening where he had wrinkled it.
“I liked it,” he whispered.
Remus closed his eyes.
“Good.”
Regulus adjusted Remus’s collar next.
Remus opened his eyes and watched him like he was something tender and devastating.
“You’re very red,” Regulus said softly.
Remus gave a weak laugh. “So are you.”
“I know.”
“Do I look terrible?”
Regulus considered him.
Remus’s hair was a mess. His mouth was swollen. His face was flushed. His eyes were too bright. His jumper was crooked despite Regulus’s attempt to fix it, and there was a broom straw caught near his shoulder.
Regulus plucked it off.
“You look like you were in a broom cupboard.”
Remus grimaced. “Brilliant.”
Regulus smoothed his own shirt, then his trousers, then paused as he shifted his weight and felt the wet mess between his legs.
Remus’s eyes darkened instantly.
Regulus noticed.
“Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to ask if you’re okay.”
Regulus gave him a look.
Remus winced.
“And possibly also say something I shouldn’t.”
“Yes.”
“I’m growing as a person by not saying it.”
“Good.”
The bell’s echo had faded now, leaving the corridor beyond the door alive with the muffled rush of people moving between rooms. Voices passed. Footsteps hurried by. Someone laughed. Someone else complained about homework. The ordinary world had returned, shameless and bright and unaware.
Regulus looked toward the door.
Remus followed his gaze and immediately looked miserable again.
“Five more seconds,” Remus whispered.
“We do not have five more seconds.”
“We had five minutes.”
“We used them.”
“Extremely well.”
“Remus.”
“Right. Sorry.”
But he caught Regulus’s hand before he could open the door.
Regulus looked back.
Remus lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.
Not frantic now.
Not begging.
Just soft.
“Thank you,” Remus said quietly.
Regulus’s expression went warm and shy.
“You already said that.”
“I meant it.”
“I know.”
Remus kissed his knuckles once more, then let go.
Regulus opened the cupboard door just a crack and peered out.
The corridor was mostly clear.
Mostly.
He waited until two sets of footsteps disappeared around the corner, then slipped out first, smoothing his hair with both hands and trying very hard to walk like his legs were not trembling.
Remus followed a second later, closing the cupboard door behind him with unnatural care.
They stood side by side in the corridor.
Both flushed.
Both late.
Both pretending very badly that nothing had happened.
Regulus took one step.
Then stopped.
Remus almost collided with him.
“What?” Remus whispered, panicked. “Are you hurt? Did I—”
Regulus looked up at him.
His ears were still red.
His voice was very quiet.
“You still have your belt undone.”
Remus looked down.
His belt was, indeed, undone.
His trousers were fastened, but barely. His shirt was half caught. His jumper covered most of the disaster, but not all of it.
Remus went scarlet.
“Oh my god.”
Regulus pressed his lips together.
“Don’t laugh,” Remus whispered.
“I’m not.”
“You are thinking about it.”
“I am.”
“Reg.”
Regulus reached for him without a word.
Remus went still as Regulus stepped close in the corridor, close enough that Remus’s breath caught all over again. Regulus fixed his belt carefully, fingers deft despite the faint tremor still in them. Remus watched him with open, helpless adoration and an expression that suggested he was one kind touch away from begging again.
Regulus looked up once he was finished.
“There.”
Remus swallowed.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
They did not move for a second.
Then Remus whispered, “I want to kiss you again.”
Regulus glanced down the corridor, then back.
“Quickly.”
Remus kissed him.
It was supposed to be quickly.
It almost was.
Then Regulus made a tiny sound into his mouth, soft and accidental, and Remus’s hands flexed uselessly at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing him.
Ilya always has a mop of frizzy wild curls at the cottage because
They're always in and out of the water – lake swims, pool swims, hot tub, showers – so doing his curl routine each time would be crazy when he could be spending that precious time sucking his boyfriend's dick.
Shane's not the biggest fan of how Ilya's styling products feel. He'll tolerate it, but Ilya can tell by his face that the texture isn't his favourite. Less product = more hair touching.
Shane's hands are always in his hair. When they're kissing. When they're watching a movie. When they fuck. When Ilya sits with his head in Shane's lap. When they're napping on the couch together. Shane's hands are usually full of a handful of Ilya's curls.
Shane seems to really like it. One time Shane said Ilya's fluffy hair made him look like a duckling and he's been chasing that high ever since.
He just prefers this version of him that doesn't need to look perfect and be perfect to be loved and adored. Shane never makes him feel lazy for letting his hair get a little wild over summer. He kisses his temples and tells him he's so fucking beautiful.
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guy on the subway with one ear pierced, little gold hoop. other guy on the subway very quickly and subtly googling "which one is the gay ear". it is not the gay ear. visible disappointment on his face as he puts his phone away.
hollanov long distance era where ilya sometimes texts shane about the random things he finds during the day that’s shaped like a heart. heart shaped rock, heart shaped leaf, heart shaped clouds etc etc and says “for u my love” and shane spends and embarrassing amount of time staring at the heart shaped pillar detail and ilya’s “thinking of u” text because he thinks of ilya all the time too but he couldn’t imagine putting it into texts as accurately as ilya would. so shane goes on adventures to find heart shaped things too, and they send it back and forth to each other like secret messages, and they never have to delete them
if vampires existed in real life i think there would be shady companies advertising "organic blood" sourced from "willing donors" who are coincidentally all poor people being paid like $5 per blood donation. and like haughty vegan vampires who only drink a synthetic blood drink thats brewed in a way thats actively worse for the enviroment. and radical traditionalist vampires who go on tiktok and claim that true alpha chads have to drain and kill people and anyone who leaves their victims alive is a liberal cuck. enter the world of hypothetical insufferable vampire politics with me.
I’ve read a lot of “Ilya and the Centaurs are protective of Shane during their first game against the Metros” fics, an I LOVE them
but hear me out: Shane ask not to be coddled and Ilya resorts to ragebaiting him on the ice instead.
Ilya makes an offhand comment about keeping an eye on him during their game and Shane jumps because he’s a professional hockey player, has been for over a decade, he can take the heat thank you very much, and when Ilya points out the whole team will be probably coming for him, he’s like:
“Yes, I am the best fucking player in the league. The entire team coming for me is, like, a normal game night for me”
because he is The Shane Hollander and Ilya is kinda proud and very turned on by the sudden cockiness.
Until game night rolls around and ofc some of the team make comments about having Hollander’s back and Ilya has to swear he didn’t put them up to it (Shane won’t admit it but it makes him feel all warm inside, that’s his new team hell yes).
So 1st third he’s taking it like a champ but by the second, after he scores, the hits & chirps keep getting meaner & it’s getting to Shane. At some point he’s struggling to get up & Ilya skates by and says
“You good, Hollander, or do you need me to kiss your boo-boo?” with THAT tone and it makes Shane startle, but he chuckles and tells him to fuck off.
after that Ilya keeps chirping AT HIM, like he did back when they played against each other “no, no, don’t get up, I can score all the goals we need”, “taking nap, Hollander?”, “maybe you need to find softer sport, yes?”
And somehow Shane finds it easier to focus when he’s feeling annoyed and competitive and as usual Ilya is just pushing him to be The Best he can be (everyone else, Metros and Centaurs, is extremely confused by this… except maybe Hayden).
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OK but. For all his not being great with social cues, Shane was the first person to realize Ilya was playing and played along
The first time they meet Ilya is pretty standoffish and the only moment he adds to the conversation is when he calls out “You will not be so friendly when we beat you” which a lot of people would get mad at him being, you know, a cocky asshole as is his reputation. But Shane just smiles and says “That’s not gonna happen” then gives him the cute penguin wave and leaves
Ilya beats Shane in that game, then at the draft, then starts baiting him with the cycling, then gives Shane the sarcastic “Sorry” when Shane answers that the day was almost everything he’d dreamed of
And again Shane doesn’t get mad at him he just smiles and says “No you’re not”
Because Ilya is just playing! He’s just doing the thing hockey guys do and poking fun at other players. But he’s also objectively better than most other people so they take it more personally than they do other players
He’s a big puppy trying to play with other puppies but because he’s stronger they get upset and don’t want to play with him, Shane is the first one who plays back and doesn’t take it personally
Like no wonder he set up the commercial with Shane, that would probably be pretty nerve wracking on his own but he knows Shane is nice and won’t be mean to him or get mad at him, and when he starts laughing part way through other people might have gotten mad at him for not caring or not taking it seriously, but Shane just starts laughing too
He’s the only person able to match his skill at hockey, he’s the only person to actually begin getting him as a person since he arrived, he plays along with the banter and matches Ilya’s energy without ever taking it personally
And honestly given the reputation he had before he’d ever even set foot in North America, Shane was probably one of the few people in over a year who was just plain nice to him
HOLY SHIT GUYS, I WAS INSPIRED BY THIS POST TO TRY MAKE THE SONG AND YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT WHEN I DRAGGED THE TRAINING AUDIO OVER THE BACKING TRACK AND IT LINED UP PERFECTLY
holy shit, just got home, and there's thousands of messages from people asking how they can download this since I posted this morning (!?!)
guys I've done a super rushed submission to spotify and apple music on the off chance this somehow accidentally slips past their profanity filters (unlikely but would be hilarious if it does)
But god this cannot go viral. Please don't make this my legacy guys. Imagine having to explain this one to my grandparents.
Also because so many people have been asking It's also on Youtube until they inevitably nuke it from existence, or you can just download it straight from tumblr
Sorry I haven't gotten to all your very kind DMs but, yes yes yes you absolutely can play this at your club, drag show, or even more than one of you have asked if its okay to play it at your wedding. Please for all that is holy, send video if you do.
We weren't gonna reblog, because well *gestures*, but then you said you didn't want this to become your legacy and as an Australian it's therefore our sworn duty to ensure it absolutely 100% does.
Also the song slaps.
(Big language warning, in case the big word 'slur' wasn't a dead giveaway)
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