Only the Brave

Chapter 38: James' birthday

Regulus wakes up in James' arms.

The fire died some time during the night, but neither of them wanted to leave the bed to rekindle it. Embers smoulder in the chimney, an orange-y glow that barely reaches the rug spread in front of it. Regulus' pocket watch, on the bedside table, tells him it's very early morning. It's Sunday, so they're not in a rush.

Carefully, Regulus props himself up on one elbow and gazes down at James. He looks young in his sleep, smooth brown skin, small grin on his lips. Thick, dark eyelashes resting gently against the curve of his cheekbones. His hair, as unruly as ever, sticks up in places where Regulus tangled his fingers and tugged to make James growl from deep in his throat in that way that makes Regulus' toes curl.

One of James' arms is thrown over Regulus' waist, pinning him to the bed, keeping him close. Lightly so as to not wake him up, Regulus runs the tips of his fingers over the curve of James' bicep, his shoulder. There's something about the shape of his muscles that never fails to make Regulus' mouth water.

He's got favourites. Of course, he does. James' thighs. James' hands. His eyes and his smile and the strong lines of his neck. James' mouth. Salazar have mercy on him, James' mouth and the wicked things this man can do with his tongue will be the death of Regulus.

But despite having a list of favourite things, there isn't a part of James Regulus doesn't love. If someone had asked Regulus what the perfect man looked like, he would have asked for James with his little flaws and all his beautiful goodness.

James might not be perfect in the strictest sense of the word, but to Regulus he is. James is perfect for Regulus. And in this moment, in bed on a Sunday morning while he watches him sleep, Regulus wishes so hard for time to stop that he feels he might crack with it.

But it won't. It never does. And yet... Regulus knows he'd do it all again, just to have this. He'll go through hell again for the memory of what being loved by James feels like.

Because for the span of a few months, he has known happy. Held it in his hands. Kissed it on the lips. Regulus knows what it feels like to lose James now. He's ready. And he's a little bit afraid, but he wouldn't change a thing. Not even if it kills him. And it might. It probably will.

The hand that's splayed against Regulus' lower back twitches before James' fingers slide up to spread in the space between the wings of his shoulder blades. He's waking up.

"Mmm," James says, eyes still shut and pulling Regulus closer. Smiling, Regulus lies back down and allows James to bury his face in the crook of his neck. "Good morning," James murmurs there

"Good mo—oh," Regulus gasps because James' tongue is suddenly gently lapping at the sensitive spot near his earlobe. "James?"

In response, he gets a bit of teeth. Regulus' body reacts immediately. He knows that James can feel him hardening against his stomach, and he bites Regulus again in encouragement.

Regulus moans, one hand clutching James' neck, the other sliding up his arm to grasp at his shoulder. James trails a path of wicked, open mouthed kisses from Regulus' throat to his jaw, then to his mouth. They kiss, languid and wanton. James' hand fleets featherlight down Regulus' back, over the curve of his buttock and hooks under his thigh to bring his leg up and over James' waist.

"We never have morning sex," James says against Regulus' mouth. "And that's simply not acceptable."

Delirious with how much he fucking wants this, Regulus makes a noise of agreement that gets swallowed up by another kiss. He snakes a hand between their bodies and closes his fingers around James, making him growl into his mouth. They're pressed so close Regulus can feel the vibration of it in James' chest.