Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/285871.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Regulus_Black/James_Potter
  Character:
      Regulus_Black, James_Potter
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-30 Words: 1004
****** Let the Rain Come ******
by BeesKnees
Summary
     Regulus and James, post-Quidditch game.
     Written for kink-bingo 2010; wet and messy.
James didn't even wait to get back to the locker rooms. Regulus had no idea how
someone hadn't seen them. Out of nowhere, James had hooked his fingers into the
back of Regulus' sopping Quidditch robes and had hauled him backwards, nearly
tripping him in the process.
Normally, Regulus would have argued. He would have protested, because this was
far too obvious – they were both expected somewhere shortly. But, at the
moment, he was exhausted. He was worn down. Every inch of him was soaked and
freezing. He was also liberally covered in mud – sometime during the second
half of the game he had taken a rather sloppy dive and, without warning, he had
slid off the end of his broom, landing on the pitch. He could taste mud every
time he spoke now.
James didn't seem to care. James never cared, however. He was also willing to
take the risks that Regulus didn't want to. He didn't bother to grin or make
any teasing remark; he simply pushed Regulus up against the side of the
Quidditch shed, devouring his mouth instantly. Regulus groaned before he could
stop himself, the sound spilling out of him. It was barely audible over the
sound of the rain hitting the ground, thunderous and loud.
James' tongue pushed into his mouth, demanding and possessive, entwining with
his. He pushed closer and closer until Regulus' lips felt numb. Regulus reached
up to grab thick handfuls of James' hair, which is plastered to his head,
making it look darker than normal. This was perhaps the most tame Regulus had
ever seen it. It was slick underneath his fingertips. The wet fabric of their
robes muted everything, made Regulus' skin feel too heavy.
When James finally pulled away, Regulus huffed unevenly against his mouth. The
corners of James' mouth were streaked in the mud that covered Regulus.
“You looked ridiculous when you fell,” James said, his tone cocky. He grinned,
arrogantly, apparently unaware of how ridiculous he looked as well.
His hands were slipped down, underneath the robes to the jumper that Regulus
was wearing. Regulus could feel it peel away from his skin as James' chilled
hands met his skin. His right hand pushed up until it found his already
hardened nipple. James' gaze was intent on him as he began to rub his thumb
over it small circles. Regulus pulled in a shuddering breath.
“You try catching a Snitch in this slop,” Regulus answered with a scowl,
wishing that his voice was more even. He glanced away then, back toward where
the pitch was. “We shouldn't,” Regulus protested, his thoughts beginning to
turn back to normal. “Not now.” He was always too caught up, wound too tightly
after a game – and James knew that. James' fingers always seemed to find him
after every Quidditch game, every practice, knowing that he wouldn't be willing
to say no then.
“No one's going to notice if you're a little more damp when you go back,” James
insisted, biting at the corner of his mouth to reclaim his attention. At the
same time, his hips were grinding demandingly forward.
Regulus let out a strangled noise of surprise, but looked back at James. He
readjusted his hold on his hair, practically jerking his head to the side
before thrusting his hips forward in return, not about to be completely
dominated by James. His cock was already swelling in the confines of his
trousers. The pressure of his wet Quidditch pants was too much – it was almost
painful really, but created a delightful sense of friction every time he thrust
forward against James' erection.
James made a sound that was almost like a growl and jerked his hands out from
underneath Regulus' jumper. He reached down, grabbing at his hips, and pinned
them roughly up against the shed. He pressed in closer, one of his feet sliding
in between Regulus' as he began to move forward with a reckless abandon.
“I'll never be able to get your uniform off of you like this, you do realize,”
James said in a low voice, the words practically whispered into Regulus' ear.
“Sticking to you like this, it would take forever to get it off and on again.”
Regulus couldn't help but make some sound of protest, but there was nothing he
could. James' entire body was undulating against him, driving him utterly
insane. He could feel the heat growing tighter inside of him and, after a
moment, he leaned as far as he could, so that he could drag his tongue along
the side of James' face, gathering up the raindrops that were streaking there.
He pressed his mouth in closer, sucking the rain off the arch of his cheekbone
before sliding back to find the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. The skin was
cold and pliant beneath his mouth; he wrapped his lips around it and then began
to tease it with his teeth, enjoying every single muffled sound he was pulling
out of James.
James' hands slipped away from his hips and back then, grabbing tightly at his
arse through his robes and trousers. That touch was blunted, but no less
effective. Regulus moaned into James' ear, beginning to rut against the other,
able to feel his feet sliding in the mud beneath them as he struggled to get as
close to James as possible.
“Fuck,” James groaned. His teeth sank into his own lower lip, his head tilting
back slightly. His fingers dug into Regulus' robes, his knuckles going white
before his body suddenly jerked and he went still. Regulus could do little but
follow shortly afterwards; he whimpered before coming on the inside of his
pants, white flaring in front of his eyes. His toes curled on the inside of his
boots, his tongue darting out to taste his own lips again.
Regulus let out a heavy breath and practically sagged back against the shed,
suddenly unable to hold up his own weight properly.
“I hate playing Quidditch in the rain,” he half-mumbled.
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