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“You’re having sex with your boss?!” Sirius exclaims.
Regulus is quick to shush him, eyes darting back and forth across the pub they’re settled in, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that nobody had heard him. This was The Atrium afterall, anyone who was anyone in the city came here. And he couldn’t have anyone knowing about this.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he tells his brother once he’s sure nobody’s overheard them. “This stays between us.”
Sirius snorts and takes a sip of his beer as he leans back against the leather booth seat.
“You do realise you’re talking to a journalist, right? An investigative journalist? An investigative journalist who specialises in politics?”
“I’m talking to my brother,” Regulus replies smoothly.
Sirius watches him, face as unreadable as ever. It frustrated Regulus to no end that no matter how good he got at reading people, no matter how much he could scan anyone’s face and immediately know where there were chinks in the armour, cracks in the facade to bury into, Sirius maintained a mystery. A consequence of having a shared childhood, he imagined. This was what the Blacks were good at, after all.
Lying. Manipulation. Politics.
Eventually Sirius’s lip curls before he gives a hearty chuckle.
“Low blow, Reggie,” he says before tipping the beer bottle towards him. “Spoken like a true politician, though.”
There’s pride in his voice when he says that. Pride and disgust in equal measures. Because Sirius despised politics and that entire world. Everything it stood for. Everything he’d been bred for and raised to be. Everything he’d rejected. But he was still ambitious. Still as cutthroat as ever. Still Regulus’s older brother. So there was pride there too, for the boy he’d basically raised himself. For Regulus making his own way in this world instead of following their family’s carefully laid out plans, a small rebellion of his own.
He may not have been Sirius, who was making a name for himself criticising the world Regulus was working so hard to become a part of. But he was still making his own mark. Still working to change that world. They were two sides of the same coin, the Black brothers. Working in tandem to change the political landscape; one from within the system and one from the outside. They’d gut the city like a fish and build a castle out of the bones.
Sirius leans forward, bottle swaying in front of Regulus’s face. Regulus sly smirk mirrors Sirius’s as their bottles clink together in a toast.
✬
It’s only ten by the time he leaves Sirius at the Atrium, a quick nod towards Evan and Barty who are busy whispering while Evan wipes the bar down. Evan nods back but Barty’s too busy gesturing wildly with his hands to even notice Regulus’s leaving. Barty wasn’t one for not being observant but it seemed something about Evan always demanded his entire attention. A rare sight, indeed. Regulus made a note of that for future reference.
He had been planning on going home, maybe working a bit on the binder he’d been building for James’s latest project before settling in bed with a book and Toujours curling up next to him but when the cold night air hits him he realises there’s something else he’d rather do. Or rather, someone.
He glances down at his phone, contemplating whether this was a good idea or not but before he can talk himself out of it he’s walking, pace brisk and heart beating loudly. His body seems to be deciding things his mind has not yet had the time to ponder tonight.
It doesn’t take long to get there — one of the many perks of the Atrium is it’s proximity to every important political space in the city — and once he does he’s relieved to find that there’s a light still shining inside. He takes the stairs two at the time, does his best to not look suspicious as he blips his key, slips inside the building and then into the Base before he reaches the door he’s looking for.
It’s closed but Regulus can see the light shining through the window, can hear the faint sound of music coming through the wall. He takes a moment to steady himself. To calm down. He’s not sure why he practically sprinted over here, why he’s suddenly so eager, so nervous.
His hands are sweaty and his breath and heart are both refusing to settle fully. But the thought of what lies on the other side of that door — or rather who — has heat pooling low in his stomach, his hands curling into fists. He’s itching to get there, to see and touch and taste. To hear that lovely voice, so raspy and deep when he moans Regulus’s name.
He takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair and reminds himself to calm down. You are Regulus Black, he thinks. You’re good at this. You’re so good at this. You know you are. And you’ve already got him eating out of the palm of your hand. Just calm down and stop thinking with your dick.
He takes a final deep breath, shakes his shoulders in an attempt to loosen up and presses down on the door knob. He doesn’t bother knocking. It’s not in his nature to. He much prefers having the upper hand — seeing the look of surprise on James’s face when he opens the door carefully, leaning against the door frame to watch his boss from the entrance.
James is a mess. He always is but somehow, this late at night when he’s the only one still left in the office, it’s worse. He’s pushed the sleeves of his white button down up to his elbows, opened several of the buttons so that his chest hair peaks through just right when Regulus tilts his head and lets his eyes linger there. His normally messy hair is starting to resemble a bird’s nest with the way it’s poking out in all directions. Regulus actively has to resist the urge to reach out and put his hands in it.
There’s a half-empty glass of whiskey next to a bottle of the amber liquor at the edge of his desk and his glasses are definitely crooked where they hang low on the bridge of his nose; as if he’s had to push them up repeatedly where he sits, hunched over the computer in front of him.
And still, he’s never looked hotter. How unfair was that?
When James glances up the surprise in his eyes is quickly replaced by a small smile and a raised eyebrow, mischief ripe in the warm gaze that travels over Regulus’s body.
Regulus has to suppress a shiver at the way he’s looking at him. As if he’s going to eat him. Ruin him. As if he’s prey.
He doesn’t think it’s eve crossed James Potter's mind that he might be the actual prey.
“Forgot something, mr. Black?” he says as he straightens up, pauses the music and leans back in his chair.
“Hm,” Regulus replies, not moving from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “I did, actually. Maybe you could help me find it?”
James rolls his chair back with the push of his legs, making to stand up only to stop when Regulus starts moving towards him.
His movements are slow. Deliberate. He’s putting on a show for James. Forcing him to look at him, to see him.
Keep your eyes on me, he thinks. Notice me.
James’s legs spread wide, making a space for Regulus to settle between. Regulus brings his hands up, rests them on wide shoulders. He can smell the alcohol on James’s breath — sharp and sweet and intoxicating — and the clove cigarettes that James always smells like. Bad habit, he claims.
Regulus could think of other bad habits he’d rather have him indulge in.
James tilts his head back, looking up at him through thick, black lashes.
“How can I help you, then?” he wonders, hands coming up to rub at Regulus’s hip bones through his own button down.
Unlike James’s crinkled white one, which looks homely and comfortable, Regulus’s shirt is green silk. The material is thin enough for him to feel every movement of James’s fingers and the way they’re warm against his skin despite the coolness of the fabric acting as a barrier between where James’s fingers currently are and where Regulus wants them to be.
Regulus moves closer, hands intertwining at the nape of James’s neck as he settles himself firmly in his lap, straddling the man beneath him. He can see the five o’clock shadow on James’s face from this close. Can see the little scar at the top right of his lip. Can smell the muskiness of his sweat beneath the whiskey and clove. Can see the gold in his big, brown eyes. The silver in his hair. It’s barely there, just a few strands, but it shines so prettily in the dim light of the office.
“I think,” Regulus says, feigning innocence as he leans closer and rubs his nose against James’s. He pushes his glasses up with his own nose until they’re settled at their regular resting place before his gaze dips down to James’s lips. It doesn’t take more than half a second before James’s tongue is swiping over them, licking as if it’s an automatic response to Regulus’s heavy gaze.
“I think it might be right here,” he murmurs eventually against James’s lips before closing the gap between them.
It’s easy, Regulus thinks. So easy. James doesn’t hesitate for a second, doesn’t think at all. He just pulls Regulus closer with one hand at the back of his neck, the other resting at the base of his spine.
It’s rough immediately as James moans into his mouth and Regulus takes full advantage to let his tongue slip in. His fingers rub harshly against James’s neck, curling around the hair there and pulling.
James responds by nipping on his lower lip, so close to drawing blood Regulus wants to whimper and beg for more. Beg for rivulets of red to flow down his chin. It’s hot and wet and needy and he’s not sure who’s in control anymore as he starts rubbing against James, hips moving on their own accord.
James is wearing smart pants today and the fabric doesn’t do much to cover the feel of the growing bulge underneath him, hard in a way that feels devine against the cleft of Regulus's ass. Regulus grins into their kiss.
He’s going to get what he wants, he can feel it.
James has abandoned his lips by now and started trailing a path of kisses along his jawline, down the column of his throat. It’s moments like these where Regulus wishes he could suck bruises into his skin, bite until he leaves a mark. He knows he can’t. Neither of them can. People would ask questions. They can’t have that. So they’ve taken to marking each other in places other people can’t see. Like just below his collarbone, where James has stopped now.
Regulus winces at the sharpness of James’s teeth penetrating his skin but before the pain fully settles James is already licking over the mark, soothing the sting with hot wetness and a wicked tongue.
Regulus’s hands are in his hair now, holding James’s head close to his chest as he keeps on rubbing against his crotch. It’s not enough though, he needs more friction. He’s hard in a way that almost aches and there’s an itch only James can scratch deep inside him.
He’s too impatient for this right now. He needs more and he needs it immediately. So he pulls at James’s hair, relishes the moan that elicits from the other man and demands just that. More.
“Take your pants off,” he pants as he readjusts the glasses on James’s face. He should honestly just take them off at this point, he muses. There’s no way they’ll be able to stay on for much longer.
James tsks.
He brings a hand up to Regulus’s face. Strokes up and down his cheek with a finger. Lets it settle just beneath his lower lip where his pout juts out a little bit before he presses a thumb against it.
Regulus’s mouth opens automatically. He lets him explore the inside of his mouth as he feels himself going soft. Pliant. Feels the heat coiling in his lower abdomen. He wants to suck it but there’s a look on James’s face that stops him.
“Now, mr. Black. Is that how you speak to your boss?” he says, voice low and dangerous.
Regulus can’t help but to squirm on his lap under James’s heavy gaze. That voice. It does something to Regulus. Something heady. Intoxicating. Mercurial. He feels like an oil spill. He feels like a match. He feels like a goddamn explosion.
“I’m sorry, sir. Take your pants off. Please.”
He’s not above begging. Not right now at least. He’s desperate to get James’s cock in his hands, his mouth, wherever. He just needs to touch him. Feel him. Have him.
His graceful fingers work their way down James’s button down, opening whatever’s left of it, and runs his fingers slowly up and down his upper body, marvelling at the tan skin and the muscles that tighten under his touch. Wherever Regulus's fingers go a path of goosebumps follow.
James Potter is unfairly fit. He’s an Adonis come to life, a real life Greek god. The kind they wrote heroic stories about. The kind they painted and made statues of. Regulus thanks his lucky stars for this. For him.
James was beyond anything Regulus could’ve ever wished for. And he’d chosen Regulus to pay attention to. Regulus to kiss and hold and touch and taste. Regulus, above all others. And there were plenty of others.
Regulus had seen the tweets and read the articles. Heard the talk in the Atrium and the office. Seen the videos people would make of him set to seductive music. And yet James only wanted him.
It was a powertrip in and of itself, that knowledge.
James watches him quietly as he circles a nipple. As he leans down and presses his lips right above where his heart is. As his mouth starts trailing down, down down.
“Hm,” he says before Regulus can move beyond his navel. He looks up to find James looking thoughtfully down on him.
“I don’t know. I’m not too fond of this attitude, baby,” he says as he brushes a curl behind Regulus’s ear. His touch is gentle. Soft. So unlike his voice.
Regulus swallows. Comes back up until his face is hovering just above James’s. He likes sitting on his lap like this. Likes having James looking up at him for once. Likes how powerful it makes him feel.
He skims his lips against James’s jawline, leaving a path of soft, barely-there kisses all the way up until his ear. Sucks on his earlobe for good measure.
“I promise I’ll play nice. I can be so good,” he whispers against his ear, lips grazing the shell of it. “So good for you, daddy.”
He doesn’t think when he says it, it comes out on instinct. He’s never used it before either but it’s too late to take it back now so he goes with it.
He bites down gently on the earlobe for a second, tongue swirling the sting like a balm, before leaning back to watch James’s reaction.
He can feel the way James has tensed under him, the tenting of his pants impossible to ignore now. His breath had hitched quietly at the sound of Regulus’s words too. And the look in his eyes? Oh, he loved that.
The pupils were blown wide, the black of them swallowing most of the lovely golden brown. Regulus had never seen anyone look like that, nevermind direct such a look at him. As if he were intoxicating. As if James was on a high. As if Regulus could hold his heart in his hands and feast on it; blood running down his chin and staining his pale hands carmine and James would still thank him and beg for more.
“Oh,” he said, a smirk growing on his face. “Oh, you like that do you?”
He can feel James’s grip on his hips tighten as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Say it again,” he says breathlessly. Regulus rubs down against him just because he can. Because he wants to feel James’s fingers tighten further on him. This, at least, is allowed. Fingerprints against his hips. A secret mark.
He pouts, feigns innocence as he throws his hands over James’s shoulders again.
“What happened to ‘please’?”
James growls and before Regulus can even think to speak again he’s being pulled closer, James’s lips meeting his harshly. It's bruising, the way James Potter kisses when he allows himself to let go properly. To not treat Regulus as if he's something fragile or delicate. He doesn’t hesitate to bite down properly this time and Regulus feels the sting when the skin breaks, feels the metallic taste coating his tongue, his teeth. James wastes no time to lick the tiny droplets of blood up before he murmurs against his lips:
“Don’t play with me, baby. Are you going to be a good boy or not?”
He trails kisses down Regulus’s neck and Regulus can feel one of his hands moving lower and back towards his ass. He moans into James’s mouth as James starts kneading there. It feels so good, the kneading and the kisses combining to make him feel devine, and before he knows it he’s humping James frantically again, trying to scratch that itch.
“Yes,” he pants as James starts to undo his shirt, lets it slip off of his shoulders and to the floor. He wraps his mouth around a stiff nipple and swirls his tongue around it expertly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there gently.
“Yes,” Regulus repeats but it’s more of a whisper this time. He’s having a hard time concentrating. James is everywhere and yet he still wants more.
“Please, daddy,” he manages to get out.
James looks up at him, glasses skewed and lips plump and shiny with spit.
He looks absolutely debauched with how swollen his mouth is and the way his hair is sticking up in every direction even more than before. Both of these things because of Regulus. Something akin to butterflies but sharper starts moving in his stomach. Something with razor sharp edges that will cut him if he’s not careful.
“Please what?” James says and Regulus isn’t sure how to answer that.
He wants so many things, all at the same time. He has to think. Swallow.
He buys himself some time by gently prying the glasses off of James’s face and carefully setting them down on the desk, nowhere near them. Just in case.
He had a feeling they’d be using that desk in a few minutes and it would be a shame to ruin the glasses. Regulus was quite a fan of them and the way their owner looked in them.
“What do you want, baby? Use your words,” James continues as he goes back to peppering kisses down Regulus’s chest.
“You,” he manages. “Want you, please.”
James shakes his head as his head moves further down; towards his navel and then his abdomen before he kisses along the v-shape his hip bones make, tracing the outline with his mouth.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, Reg. C’mon, I know you can do it.”
He’s not sure why those words make the heat that’s been pooling low grow hotter and he refuses to psychoanalyse it right now. All he can think about, all that he can feel, is James’s tongue moving from left to right, sucking bruises right along the edge of his pants.
“Need you inside of me. Please, daddy.”
James hums in approval. Raises an eyebrow.
“Impatient today, are we?”
Regulus blinks down at him. All he can manage to get out is:
“Just want to feel you. Need to feel you inside me.”
He’s slipping. He can tell. The world is going quiet, his only focal point being James Potter pulling his pants down, peeling his underwear off before doing the same with his own.
The only thing he can think of is James holding his fingers up to his mouth, wordlessly asking him to make them wet. To suck. To take them down his throat as he makes the most obscene and desperate noises. The only thing he can feel is one slick finger opening him up, then two and then three nestled in the tight heat. The only thing he can hear is himself, whining at the burn, James’s breath, hitching, when he starts scissoring him open.
James tells him he’s good. He’s so good. He’s doing so well. He’s a good boy, a perfect hole for daddy. It makes him slip even further. He wants to be good for him. Wants to give him everything he wants. So when James finally holds his palm out for Regulus, asks him to spit into it before he covers himself in Regulus’s saliva and then aligns himself with Regulus’s aching, wet hole it takes everything in Regulus not to cry out.
It’s late and they’re the only ones in the building, sure. But they weren’t meant to be here. They weren’t meant to be doing this. They weren't meant to be a them, no matter how casual. It was as much of a thrill as it was a fear that they might be discovered.
It takes James a couple of tries, a few careful thrusts, before he’s finally bottoming out and filling Regulus up. He doesn’t moan but he does whine, a tiny thing against James’s shoulder where his head has come to rest.
They don’t move for a moment, just sit there and feel it. Regulus feels whole like this, he thinks. Feels right. When he looks up at James through long lashes James is already looking at him, a look of poorly concealed adoration painting his face beautiful.
It’s just a moment, really. Just a blink of the eye moment in a myriad of moments between the two of them. But it leaves Regulus breathless.
He needs to kiss James, he realises. Needs to feel his lips against his own.
So he leans forward silently asking for what he wants and James, who can read him already — something that should terrify him, truly —, is quick to grant him whatever he wants.
It’s soft, the kiss. So unlike every other kiss they’ve had tonight and Regulus should find it ironic that it’s now, when they’re actually having sex, that they’re all soft lips and sweet tongues but he doesn’t. It feels right somehow.
“You’re so tight for me, baby,” James murmurs against him. He pulls back, rests his forehead against Regulus’s. “It’s like you were made for me. So perfect.”
Regulus swallows. He likes the praise more than he cares to admit. He’s not usually good with it. With compliments.
He’s unused to them, is the thing. Never got them as a child, unless it came from the rare professor or Sirius. But somehow, with James, it’s okay. Maybe it’s because it’s sex and that’s something he knows he’s good at. Has been told many times before. Can more easily accept as a compliment. He doesn’t know. All that he knows is that those words do something to him. Force him to move, unable to sit still any longer. Too impatient.
James doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he does his best to help. His hands are back at Regulus’s hips, helping him move up and down as much as he can while he rocks into him from below. It’s a bit awkward seeing as they’re in a rolling chair but James has the brilliant idea to press down on the stopper before they crash into the wall.
Regulus is riding him like his life depends on it but the thing he’s found about fucking an older man is that James has stamina. He’s not going to come as easily as some of Regulus’s previous partners have. So he’s riding him but the itch inside him? The one that he’s dying to scratch? The one only James seems to be able to scratch these days? It’s only just being grazed. Barely touched at all. Definitely not enough to satisfy.
Before Regulus gets the chance to say this James is standing up, hands coming around Regulus to hold him up as he pumps into him, helping him find a steady rhythm. He puts Regulus down on the desk, lets him rest his ass on the edge of it as he keeps going until finally, finally he finds the spot inside Regulus that leaves him seeing stars.
He can’t help the moan that escapes now. It comes from somewhere deep within and it’s loud and James is leaning in to swallow it down immediately.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” James pants against his mouth. He keeps putting pressure against the same place over and over again and Regulus’s so far neglected cock that’s already hard and red and leaking so much precome it’s pooling and dripping down him, hurts. He’s so close, he can feel it, so he wraps his legs around James, crossing his ankles at his lower back and pulls him closer by the ass.
“Wanna feel you come inside me, daddy,” he manages as he’s moved up on the desk with each of James’s punishing thrusts.
That dark look in James’s eyes comes back at that, the headiness pulling at something in Regulus’s navel.
“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, baby?” he gets out and it’s guttural, more a growl than any actual words. Animalistic.
Regulus nods against him quickly, hands coming to rest in James’s hair so that he can pull. He loves pulling at his curls, wrapping them around his fingers and hearing James hiss. He knows James likes it too, the way the pain mixes with the pleasure. Maybe James was as much of a masochist as he was.
Before Regulus can respond James is carefully laying him out over the desk until he’s on his back, legs still wrapped around the older man. One of his hands comes up to Regulus’s throat, thumb stroking against his jaw as he does, the other one skirting around his cock but never quite touching it.
Regulus looks up at James’s face, hovering above him.
“So filthy,” James says. “Such a little whore, wanting me to come inside you. Letting me fuck you right here, in the office. Imagine if they could all see you right now. Cold-hearted Regulus Black, spreading his legs for his boss’s cock. Reduced to tears and moans like a proper slut. Bet you’d like it if I squeezed you right here, too. Bet you’d beg for it.”
Regulus whimpers as he feels James’s hand moving up and down his throat, tracing the larynx. He’s about to burst. He can feel it. Between James hitting his prostate, the fingers ghosting over his cock and the hand at his throat he’s going to absolutely explode. He won’t be able to hold it in.
“Please,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “Please choke me, daddy.”
It’s instant, the way James’s hand squeezes around him. He can feel the breath slowly leaving his body as he struggles to keep conscious. Can feel the tears gathering at the corner of his eyes before they overfill and spill down onto his cheeks. They’re warm and salty and James is kissing them away, licking them up.
He’s struggling against James’s hand on his throat but the other one, the one that’s slowly been tracing around the outline of his cock bulging against Regulus’s stomach, dangerously close to his own cock, finally wraps itself around him.
James’s hand is surprisingly soft, his calloused fingers warm and perfectly tight around Regulus. There’s enough precome for it to not be dry but James spits into his hand anyway before circling his head, thumb running over his slit over and over again until Regulus is jerking into his hand.
“You’re doing so well, my love. Such a good slut for daddy. Look at you, laid out on my desk. So beautiful. So perfect.”
It’s too much, the combination of words and touches. There’s stars in his vision as he starts pleading with James. Asking for relief. For release.
“Please,” he manages to wheeze out. James’s grip on his throat loosens a bit, allowing him space to talk. “Please let me come. I wanna come, daddy. Please, I’ve been so good.”
James leans down to kiss his forehead, nudging a stray curl away with the tip of his nose.
“It’s okay, darling. You can come. You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you? Been so good for daddy. M’so proud of you, baby.”
He can see the bulging veins in James’s arms, straining where they’re holding him up so that he doesn’t crush Regulus. Straining while a hand continues to choke him, the other one moving up and down his cock as James fucks him.
It doesn’t take long for him to come after that, involuntary moans leaving him as he clenches down around James and his toes curl, the heat in his stomach spreading throughout his body until his vision goes white and static fills his ears. He closes his eyes when it happens, unable to keep them open while the world stops for a second or two.
James keeps going, a moan matching Regulus’s leaving him when Regulus’s hole flutters and becomes tighter around him. He lets go of Regulus’s throat, hand coming down to run through the mess Regulus has made over his stomach. His fingers dip into the stickiness before his fingers are back at Regulus’s mouth. Regulus doesn’t even think about it, just opens his mouth and sucks eagerly.
There’s something so dirty about being fed your own come and Regulus can tell James likes it because his thrusts are speeding up and becoming erratic, the hand that’s come to grip his hip again tightening until it almost hurts.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he says, resting his forehead against Regulus’s again. Regulus, who has gone boneless and looks thoroughly fucked with his glazed eyes, flushed cheeks and kiss-bitten lips, dried blood and come painting them sinfully beautiful, only smiles up at him. He wraps his legs tighter around James, wraps his arms around his neck and pulls at the curls at the nape of it. Turns his head so that his lips rest against James’s left ear.
“Come inside me. Please, I need to feel you fill me up.”
James’s hips are losing their rhythm, the thrust becoming more and more desperate as he chases his high. Regulus isn’t sure he realises he says it but right before he comes he goes:
“Gonna breed you so good, baby, you’re gonna feel me for days.”
Regulus moans at the thought, his sensitive cock giving a little twitch at the words. But then James is flooding him and he feels the heat inside of him as James keeps fucking him through his orgasm, moaning out his name.
Eventually he comes to a stop, still inside of Regulus. Regulus has taken to running his fingers through James’s hair and James collapses on top of him, completely uncaring for the way they’re both sticky with Regulus’s come now.
James rests his head against Regulus’s chest, humming in appreciation at the way his nails scratch against his scalp lightly.
After what might have been a few seconds or a few minutes — Regulus can’t be sure, he’s still kind of out of it — James gets up and gets some wet wipes out from a drawer in his desk. Before Regulus can even sit up he gets to work on cleaning first Regulus and then himself, leaving little kisses behind as he does.
He throws the wet wipes away, makes sure to hide them under piles of shredded documents. He trusted the people who worked in his office but he still knew better than to leave damning evidence like that out in the open. Regulus watches him the entire time, eyes following his every move.
When James dresses him and then puts his own clothes back on he finally speaks.
“So,” he says as he does up the buttons of his shirt. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
He sounds completely normal again. No hint of anything that just transpired happening at all. Regulus is, against his will, impressed.
He’s reminded of his brother's words. A true politician. James might not be like the other politicians but at the end of the day he was still a politician and he knew all of their tricks and Regulus would do well to remember that, he thought.
“Hm,” Regulus says, shrugging noncommittally. James raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on either side of Regulus, who is now sitting at the edge of the desk, legs swinging lightly back and forth. “I don’t know. Think I might need to look some more.”
James laughs incredulously and it’s a loud, booming thing in the otherwise quiet space. Regulus can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sound. James Potter had an infectious laugh.
When James calms down he shakes his head before he looks down at Regulus again.
“You are such a brat, you know that?”
Regulus rolls his eyes, hands James his glasses. It’s a little bit unnerving having James looking at him without them when they’re not in the throes of passion. He feels too seen, somehow. Naked. Vulnerable.
He’s not a fan.
James takes the glasses from him. Puts them on slowly before he speaks again.
“Are you ever satisfied?” he asks, curiosity colouring his voice.
Regulus watches him for a moment. He’s about to quip back something along the lines of “you just saw me satisfied” but something inside of him tells him to be honest for once.
“No,” he says carefully. “Are you?”
James watches him for a moment, his look scrutinising in a way that makes Regulus want to squirm. He doesn’t though. He sits still, lets James look his fill.
“No,” he replies eventually.
Huh. He hadn’t been expecting that.
He lets himself smile this time. There’s a sense of camaraderie here, something inside him singing. Something saying: alike! Alike! Somebody who understands! Somebody who feels the same!
Regulus feels seen in a way he isn’t used to. It’s an ugly thing, in most people's eyes. Never feeling satisfied. It's not something most people are willing to admit to.
James smiles back, matching gestures for matching words.
Maybe he could do something with this, Regulus thinks. Maybe this would help in his quest for more.
Maybe this could be something more, a traitorous voice inside him whispered.
Regulus ignores it.
They don't talk more after that. They do end up sharing a clove cigarette though.
Regulus ends up finishing James's whiskey and they clean the office up together, putting everything back to its right place. When they're done James insists on calling him a cab but Regulus declines. He's still feeling the rush after everything. He thinks a walk might do him good. James doesn't question it but he does ask him to please text him when he gets home.
So that I know you made it there safe, he says.
Regulus refuses to let those words stir up something new in his stomach. The butterflies had just settled. He wasn't letting them loose again.
But he does as he's told. Walks home in the dark night, is greeted by Toujours when he makes it home, texts James.
He doesn't expect a reply, especially not since it's well past midnight at this point. But right before he drifts off, just when he's setting the alarm on his phone, a text comes through anyway.
Despite his best efforts, Regulus falls asleep with a smile on his face that night.