Just some stories on Ao3, I wanna put in a book so u all can read them over and over again like a collection you know. ( So far lots of Jegulus (with a side note of Wolfstar)and Roskiller but there will be different stuff as we go on)
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The universe doesn't grant Regulus the mercy of a few moments to make sense of the situation. All his thoughts are eclipsed by the sensation of James' scaldingly warm hand against his cheek. Regulus parts his lips as if to speak, staring up into that endless cosmos of James' gaze. All caramel space and shining crescents. Regulus wants to get lost there, and wonders if he already has. He meant to say something- anything he's sure of it. All speech is lost to him.
James has him stunned, completely stupefied by that otherworldly smile and as he watches those eyes slide from his hazel to his lips- Regulus only pushes out a surprised exhale of air in reply. A pink tongue dashed out to wet his reddening lips. James hums thoughtfully at that, one thumb branching out to just barely slide across that moist lower lip. Regulus just barely manages not to whine out right at that. Honestly, it's quite an achievement.
"So quiet for me, Regulus," James whispers and the way the space closes between their bodies is as frenetic and all-consuming as the final meeting of two black holes on a collision path. He willingly falls into James' gravity.
"What's going on in that head of yours, I wonder?" He asks, all the while leaning ever closer. His other hand is now burning an imprint against Regulus' waist- encouraging him yet closer. Regulus obliges, and shifts ever nearer like a man possessed. James arranges him with strength only a seasoned quidditch player might possess until he somehow impossibly finds himself straddling James' waist.
And Regulus? Well, he can barely recall how to breathe. Doesn't seem to remember how anything so unimportant even works. How can he think of anything but James and those hands? He wants to answer James and wants to be good. Lips part in an attempt and well- this time he does whine. It should be embarrassing. It really should. But, he can fucking feel the way James reacts.
"Fuck. Are those pretty noises all for me, love?" Murmurs the Gryffindor, and finally after so many eternities, after eons of Regulus trembling on the precipice of wondering if they will or won't. James shifts his grip from his face, gently sliding the pads of his fingers downwards until they rest against his throat. It feels so intensely vulnerable. The trust he's giving James- it doesn't register to worry. He knows he's always safe with James.
The chaser guides him forward. At first, the kiss is agonizing soft. The pads of their lips barely brushed, pink tongues shyly meeting for fleeting moments. It's barely a kiss. So, why is it that Regulus feels dizzy already? Are all kisses like this? Sweet and worshipful.
To be fair, he has nothing to compare it to. Who in their right mind would have wanted to kiss someone like Regulus Black? The other is Black. Once you get past the blood purity and money and you're confronted with a spiteful, scornful, social reject- that's when they leave. They always do. Regulus doesn't blame them. But, of course, who else but James Potter would turn his entire world on its head like this? The bastard.
