jateshi | Fic for xylodemon Sirius/Regulus, NC-17)

Title: He Owns Me, Claims Me, But Wants Another
Author:

jateshi
Pairing: Sirius/Regulus, implied Sirius/James and James/Lily
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, drunkeness, non-con
Word Count: 1,817 words. Some 'drabble'...
Disclaimer: I don't own either Regulus or Sirius. I'd like to, but I don't. Rowling (J. K. Rowling that is, you uneducated slackers) owns them both, as well as the general world of Harry Potter, and I promise to return 'em when I'm done.
Author's Note: Written as part of my celebrating 150+ by writing drabbles for people post. They're ... uh ... kinda a bit longer than drabbles. I suck at writing drabbles. ANYWAYS!

xylodemon asked for "Sirius/Regulus, drunk and confused" and I hope you like it. :3 Not quite uh...confused, but sure as hell fun to write.

He Owns Me, Claims Me, But Wants Another

Hastily throwing the door open, nearly bolting from the sitting room when the entrance way almost shuddered under the force of the 'knock', Regulus groaned and sagged towards the ground when he was forced to catch the forward-falling body. The impact was rough and hard, bony sharp angles slamming against his chest and a wayward elbow jabbing quick into his gut. He hadn't been expecting anyone at all - he knew Mother wasn't either since she'd sent Kreacher off to the Malfoys on an errand and had said that the house-elf was not expected back until breakfast the next morning.

"Y'smell really nice..." The words were spoken against his shoulder and barely understandable as speech - they were muffled, indiscernible through his shirt and further slurred by something else. The body was trying to prove his point with his nose buried against the crook of Regulus' neck, the older Black brother giving snuffling and sniffing like a common street animal.

"Bloody hell," Regulus muttered, harshly grabbing Sirius by the shoulders and pushing him back. Cold silvery eyes raked over the older boy's appearance - lightly unfocused eyes, a faint tinge of red on his cheeks, shirt almost completely undone with buttons conspicuously missing - and then closed. The great Sirius Black was stone-cold drunk, one shot away from complete unconsciousness but blissfully unaware of it; he no more knew he was drunk enough to mumble some pet name than he had to be for-

"B-b-bloody hell, Sirius!" He wasn't panicking, Regulus wasn't letting the fact that his brother - hard lines down his stomach accented by the dim light, somehow his shirt going from draped and modestly covering his torso to sliding back and falling off his chest, leaving his skin bare - had moved disturb him. Sirius had moved closer and his palm - sweaty, firm, and it knew exactly what it was doing (but did Sirius?) - was roughly pressed against the zip of his trousers, Regulus surprised when words failed him. Words, the defense the great Black family was skilled at using, fled his presence, abandoning his side and left him with nothing to drive-back Sirius with because Regulus himself didn't know what to do. His mouth fell open in protest - he had the same silver-coated tongue Sirius used to get out of detentions, surely it wouldn't desert him now - but Sirius had moved ever closer and the air tasted of liquor when Sirius spoke into the thick silence.

"Left me," Sirius was mumbling, stuttering, something dark in his eyes when he looked at Regulus. Those silver depths - they captivated the attention of the masses, flashed with mirth when the Gryffindor wanted to charm someone - were murky and cold, Regulus fancying that, for a moment, if they were actual water then his reflection would be the float stem from a wrecked ship. Even further at the back of Sirius' eyes, burning like a drowning fire sinking under whitecaps, Regulus read hatred and pain mixed with animalistic lust and, drawing in another alcohol-laced breath from the small amount of air between their two bodies, he watched.

Fingers - Sirius knew what he was doing, had to know when Regulus found himself groaning under the assault before the sound was cut off by a mouth smelling like the bottom of the bottle of Firewhiskey crushed against his - tugged the zip downwards and instead of rubbing his palm against the smooth fabric Sirius was wrapping first one finger and then another around the base of his cock and squeezing. Bitterly, teeth sinking into Regulus' lip as the younger boy struggled feebly, Sirius laughed, the sound grating against Regulus' ears. "Gone off with that whore didn't you? Dropped your best mate-" A calculated shove, Sirius painfully kissing him still to stifle the yell he'd anticipated from the body in front of him and he drove Regulus back, pressed him up against the wall and went from ravaging his mouth to biting the side of his neck.

Pain mixed with something else - it was something Regulus disowned, balling his hands into fists and squirming against the wall, against his brother. Sirius read the budding resistance in his stance, the way his back lowered in preparation to throw his weight up and unbalance him and cut it off, letting Regulus' cock go but flipping him, pressing his chest and face flush to the wall. "-and went off with that whore, chasing her tail like it'd lead you to Eden."

The wall was cold and unyielding stone, the pocks and bumps imprinting onto his skin with every press Sirius gave between his shoulders. Sirius' breath curled around his ear, the air bouncing off the stones before it slid against the stone to his face, a shiver of fear as he was confronted with the new experience of hearing sounds but having no idea what they meant. There wasn't a girl tucked away in the corners of his memory which had ever made any of those sounds that he could recall, not a single one which stole their hand around and tugged his trousers down, sliding fingers under the elastic of his pants and circling back around his waist, the elastic and fabric stretched taunt with the motions.

Now he'd admit to feeling fear, clenching his arse when Sirius' finger drew down into the natural dip of his spine. He could feel the nails digging into his back, breath hitching in his throat and biting his lip - he wouldn't say anything, not when all his mind could think to say was "Don't stop" and encourage Sirius to keep whispering against his ear. Sirius was calling him a wanton fuck, so ready for a cock to be buried in his arse that look at how he was whimpering, spreading his legs. Now Sirius was asking that wasn't he the most perfect little slut and when Sirius said that Regulus heard what sounded like a moan follow it, his brain helpfully telling him that it was his mouth moaning. Somewhere between teeth brushing and then biting against the shell of his ear and a belated recognition that he could feel the movements of air currents against his now-bare arse his voice was begging softly, eyes closed.

"Got to do better'n that James," Sirius spat out, abruptly pulling his head away and slamming Regulus' head against the wall by the back of his neck, pinning him against the wall with one hand with the other sensuously slipped around to cruelly twist a nipple through his shirt. Cloth and heat and muscle pressed sharply on his arse, rubbing downwards and then forcing his knees apart, alternately teasing and torturing Regulus with pressure and sensation on his cock. When Regulus found his throat forming a particularly long plea - the words were tumbling from his lips, a mixture of apologies for whatever he'd done to Sirius and promises that he'd never do it again side-by-side with an entreaty that Sirius do more - something changed.

The air stayed the same - dull, hot and heavy with the scent of Firewhiskey, sperm and sweat - and he stayed where he was, so intimately against the wall that the stones were slick with saliva from his mouth and every groove and dip was well-known by now, but still something changed. It was Sirius who was different, Sirius who wasn't his older brother he once would've done anything for but a dark force, a jaded and enraged memory which growled "Going to fuck you like you do your slut" and considered that enough preparation before a rough finger wedged its way through his clenched arse and began rudely pushing into his sphincter.

"Not how you wanted this, James?" Sirius knew - he always knew what James wanted, even if the other boy was sure that he wanted Lily and kicked him from his bed. Sirius could tell, from the choked half sob James gave at the finger that he'd wanted this to be tender, loving. "Wanted it to be like it used to be, before her but you left me, dumped me, said you didn't want blokes anymore-" He slammed the boy's head against the wall harder when he cried out as another finger joined the invasion, cruelly kissing the back of his neck as if trying to apologise for the hurt. But Sirius didn't want to apologise to him for what he was doing - his fingers slowed, stroking in and out, pushing further and further inside his lover. There it was - now his lover was whimpering again, Sirius licking a trickle of sweat from his spine as the pain seemed to give way to pleasure again.

He was always such a whore, once you reminded him of his place. And he begged so prettily, asked so sweetly for Sirius to fuck him hard - once you got through his defences. Maybe a few days with a bird was good for one thing though, Sirius biting his lip and grinning in anticipation of sinking his prick inside him again - he felt so tight under his fingers, his moans hitching just a little more innocently in his throat. He was saying something about how he'd tell Mum, when Sirius pried his ass just a little it wider and pushed his cock in, using only his spit to ease the passage.

James was crying about how he'd never forgive him, how he deserved to be pushed aside if this was what he did but then he made James take those words back so easily. Oh, he knew what to do to make James whimper, make him beg - his fingers were slicker than when he'd used them to stretch the other boy and he touched every sensitive spot on James' cock until he was begging again. He was begging Sirius to fuck him harder, Sirius asking him who owned him and coming deep inside his tight, sweet arse when that soft voice shouted "Sirius!"

Regret flooded him as he pulled his cock out. He wasn't sorry that he'd done it, that he'd shove the boy against the wall and fucked him - raped him Sirius wondered disinterestedly - but instead he was regretting that he'd gotten piss-assed drunk. He was sad that the fog from the alcohol was wrapping around his head again now that his anger was sated by the still-crying boy who'd slid down the wall and sunk to the floor. But James had finally done the one thing he'd never done before - admitted that he, Sirius Black, owned him, and that soothed him better than every drink had. Maybe he'd apologise to him tomorrow, explain why it was his fault in the first place that he'd had to be so forceful - now though, he was going to go to bed.

James, after all, could clean himself up.