touch.keep.whole

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe are property of JKR, Scholastic & other assorted publishers, and the WB. Summary from and title inspired by the late Jeff Buckley's "Mojo Pin".

"Reg."

Reg. Reg. Regulus.

Me, he thinks mildly as he sits up. Oh. It's him. Him. Brother. Blood Traitor (Mother says) (Mother says so much. so little. so.)

"Yes," Regulus nods, then sinks slowly sinuously sinfully against duvet blanket sheets. Rolls over.

"Knobhead." Sirius is hissing now and it's an ever so unpleasant noise.

"You've left. So leave," Regulus tells his pillow and something somewhere else breaks. Sirius always did have very bad self-control. Regulus only hopes it hadn't been his porcelain coffer, as it was an ever so lovely thing. Thing. Regulus likes things, things pure and whole and white. Clean and crisp and new. Sirius isn't any of these things and he shan't ever be. "That's why you've left. You shan't."

"What are you on about, you fucking twat?"

"Shan't. Shaan't." Regulus doesn't wish to know what sort of things Sirius will be, nor does he wish to know what sort of things Sirius is. He had known once what Sirius had been and Mother had been rather displeased. Regulus doesn't like to displease Mother now and he certainly hadn't then, so he quickly set out to forget.

"Reg." The mattress dips beneath him, beneath Sirius and him both, springs groaning moaning protesting.

Bother all, but Sirius can be ever so persistent when he likes, which is a little more than often or always.

"Me," Regulus says, black brow arching curving questioning as he shifts to stare up at him. Brother. Bother.

"Hullo," Sirius says, and his voice is all funny. All off.

Wrinkles form on Regulus's brow; he can feel them furrow and indent and confess confusion. "Shan't," he whispers to himself, but it isn't enough and Mother says Mother says-

"Hullo."

Another noise Regulus doesn't like comes from somewhere deep within Sirius, a noise that reminds Regulus of a weak kitten who'd got his tail stepped upon or perhaps a naughty first year being punished by his housemates for losing House Points by being shaved with pudding brew no matter if there's nary a hair to spare or be shore.

"Come with me." Sirius's eyes are black like berries or coal, and Regulus can't decide which is better - sweet succulent juice under his tongue or flakes of blackened earth on Blackened skin. There isn't any matter to the thing, though, as neither are better than snow and white horses running and fluttering and free.

Regulus laughs. Where would he go with Brother? To the other Blood Traitor's? "Shaaaaan't," he says in a sing-song voice, and Sirius, very bad self-control in very bad form, punches him.

Fist hits mouth oh oh oh and ah ah ah and Regulus sees lovely white stars and feels very whitebright himself. He blinks once twice thrice and focuses on Sirius, who isn't whitebright at all. He's rather red, really. Red-faced and raw, and crimson stains his knuckles. Me, Regulus thinks, and touches tip of thumb to bottom of lip and yes, it is Regulus there on Sirius's knuckles.

"I just."

"I just. I. just. shan't."

"Stop that," Sirius growls, and Regulus stops. The conversation is over, really. It was over before it started. began. begun? There is nothing to say nothing to do nothing to be because Sirius shan't won't can't and this isn't his house anymore. He'd left.

He'd left so-

"Leave. Mother says--"

"Sod all what Mother says!"

Regulus frowns. "Why?"

"Why?" Sirius chokes, and Regulus can't understand it.

He nods, and Sirius shakes his head, fingers touching the split in Regulus's lip that he'd caused.

"'Cos she's-- fuck, Reg. Don't you. Don't you just. Want. Out? It? Away?"

A rush of warmth and blood to his cheeks ought to be answer enough for him - Me? - but mayhap it isn't. Sometimes answers aren't so much answers as they are puzzles with layers and mysteries and never-will-bes.

"I'm home." Home. The word sounds strange on his tongue, like it ought not be there or it isn't being used the correct way.

"This isn't a home!" Sirius explodes, the springs groan moan protest, chest is flush against chest, and Regulus feels strangely whole.

Funny, he hadn't known he was only half until right here right now. Touch is nice but perhaps it's naughty. Perhaps not. He'd forgot plenty of things. Forgot lost hid but now maybe it's found and he should keep. Should be kept.

"It. Is." Regulus looks up into those coal-berries and for a moment cannot recall what snow and white horses look like, but maybe it's all right to be blind to the light.
"Now," Sirius breathes, and Regulus likes the glimmer in his brother's eyes. It says something. Yes.

If Regulus truly were the proper gentleman Mother is raising him to be, he would request that Sirius give him his space, his leave, his space, but some days Regulus doesn't believe being a gentleman is something a Black ought to be. Today is one of those days (Mother will say Mother will say) and he is no gentleman.

He is Regulus. Me.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and leans in. leans. in. Mouth opens and in he sucks Brother's exhale. Noses bump eyes of blackest black lock with one in the same. Black on Black and lingering moment of long agos hover between them, making Regulus's mouth water and eyes twitch.

"Now." Three little letters roll off lips teeth tongue like a benediction and Sirius is talking saying praying but Regulus hears none of it, only his own voice repeating that tiny word over over under over.

Mother would be displeased if she knew saw heard and Regulus cannot bear to think on it but there is here now Brothers and it is all. everything. whole.

"What," Sirius says.

"Do not," Regulus says with a laugh defiant and daring, like the way Sirius used to laugh when they'd hide in the wardrobe from Mother as boys, in the heavy darkness where touching could happen and stay and be put away.

It isn't meant to be kept away now.

"Won't," Sirius promises, and duvets blanket sheets are pulled yanked shoved out of the way. "Shan't." Timeless and timely and time forgot twisting turning oh.

Skin against skin and brother's mouth on brother's flesh. Regulus's hips rise search find and serve pray scream.

"'M gonna suck you," Sirius rasps. "You're gonna fuck m'mouth, y'twat."

"I will come with you," Regulus promises. Meaning can be doubled or singled but it does not matter, only this trembling quaking straining in his thighs and warm wet suction of Sirius's mouth, Sirius's wicked Black beautiful mouth that Mother so abhors for its lies (truths, Regulus knows) and betrayal (cannot betray the betrayers. cannot.).

Shall. Please. Shall. Sirius.

Sirius has very bad self-control and his mouth is no exception. It sucks and sucks and bites nips owns. Regulus wonders if it is possible to really actually die from this. It would be the perfect way to go, cock buried in the place it's meant to be, mouth open wide as though offering Hallelujahs to the Heavens, skin scorching hot, flesh and soul being consumed by Brother. Keeper. Other Half.

"Love." Love. Shan't. Leave. Puzzling.

Fingers press against a sacred place and Regulus gasps. Look. Believe. Sirius's eyes snap up to meet his own and he comes. Just. Comes. He shakes and rises and falls apart, shattering. Just like that.

Sirius's chest is against his now, his cock pressed between their bellies, and he sees white. No longer blind.

"Come with me," Sirius says urgently.

"I can't."

Shan't.