A/N: Shit just got weird. If you had told me this time last year that I would be writing fanfic, I'd have said, "Hm, maybe." If you had told me I'd be writing slash, I'd have said, "Woah, slow down!" If you had told me I'd be writing incest, and SiriusRegulus at that, I'd probably have laughed at you and then proceeded to ignore you forever.
And yet here I am. Written for Gamma Orionis' Incestuous Challenge.
Warning: Tread carefully; here lies scenes of a sexual nature. Also, incest. Also, references to child abuse. (What is my life?)
Pairing: Regulus Black/Sirius Black
Prompt: 2. Damage
Touch him.
Go on.
Put your hands on his skin, play his ribcage like piano keys, make him sing under your fingertips.
Go on.
(Pervert.)
Touch him, just the way Daddy touched you, the way Daddy broke you, the way Daddy ruined you - both of you. You are damaged goods now. Lost little boys. It is too late for you.
So stop worrying.
Just do it.
You say, "Reg, we shouldn't," even though you mean, "Reg, just kiss me," and he somehow hears what you mean through the words you try to hide behind. His lips are warm and his face is smooth under your fingertips.
"Sirius," he moans, and his throat trembles beneath your hand, his voice pulsing under your palm like vibrato confessions that you want to hear again and again and again. Your fingers tighten around his throat and his moans are weaker now, his face flushed. You grind your hips against his and sigh into his mouth.
"Regulus..."
(You're so sick, you know that?)
You trace his sides with your hands, dig your nails into his hips and he screams, but you silence him with your mouth and, oh, he is desperate for you, isn't he?
You feel him, hard against your leg, and you can almost taste the need on his tongue, the touch me that he will not say.
So go on.
Do it.
Touch him, just there. Yes, just like that, oh god, Sirius. Touch him.
And when he spills over into your ready hand, don't let your eyes leave his. Pretend it's okay. Pretend it's normal.
(You're disgusting.)
"Thank you," you hear, and you kiss him again. This time it's sweeter, sorrier, an apology for all the times you should have stopped but didn't.
"No more," you whisper, but you both know that's a lie.
You are back in his bed the next night, and he in yours the night after. It is so, so wrong. But you can't stop.
So go on. Don't be shy.
Touch him, Sirius. You know you want to.
Just...touch him.