Regulus didn't bring up the noises, not wanting to cross any boundaries after Sirius had let him move in. Reconnecting had been strange enough on its own.

After the second and third time, Regulus needed to stop lying to himself. Denial isn't healthy, or at least thats what his therapist says, but he doubts getting wet over listening to his brother have sex is healthy either.

His hand moved on its own, slipping past Sirius' boxers that'd somehow ended up in his laundry. Fingers brushed over dark curls, teasing touches that were meant to seem mindless.

Regulus knew what he was doing. It was wrong, getting soaked at the sound of Sirius' moans and voice. The guilt of it all didn't stop his imagination, cock aching at the visuals his mind conjured up.

He wondered what position they were in. Pretty pictures of Sirius chest down and ass up plagued him. Remus' large hand on his brother's lower back, keeping him place.

It was enough to make his hand move again, two fingers spreading his folds open. Regulus hadn't been this wet before, the slick making it hard to ignore what was happening.

The French started up again and he had to bite back a moan. Sirius' voice always got deeper when speaking their native tongue. It was decadent, warm. Regulus could listen to his brother speak all day.

Sounds trickling into his room weren't the only consequence to their thin walls. The headboard of Sirius' bed hitting it made Regulus' vibrate, forcing him to feel every thrust. If he focused well enough, he'd be able to sync up with their movements.

Oh. Oh.

Regulus switched positions, straddling a pillow with two hands pressed against the wall, both for stability and to feel the vibrations of his brother's bed more efficiently.

Rolling his hips, his breathing turned shaky, the friction of fabric against his cock making his body tremble. Regulus kept his eyes shut, focused on making his movements match theirs.

He imagined the two older men, how they're probably sweaty and flushed, bodies bare against one another. Regulus craved the feeling of being sandwiched between them, to smell their scents and feel the desperation burn his skin.

Regulus was a sick pervert, and the filth of it all pushed him over the edge, hips stuttering against the pillow. He had to remind himself to breathe, his orgasm consuming every sense Regulus had. Common sense being the main victim.

His forehead fell to rest on the shared wall, slowing vibrations keeping him grounded. If Regulus wasn't currently recovering from what was unfortunately the best orgasm of his life, he would've noticed the telltale sign of the two men finishing soon after him.