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Reg’s long fingers turned the old yellow pages every other twenty five seconds. That’s how long Evan counted before his dormmate turned another page yet again.
There wasn’t a single blue spot in the sky out there, not a single soul vaguing through the halls either, just plain silence. Yeah, fine, they were at the library, so it was supposed to be silent. But the whole day ? It was just off putting. Evan wanted to go back to their dorm and just sleep for the rest of the day, or maybe pick a bottle out of Barty’s trunk and make themselves a little get together in the common room, perhaps even get some adventure to remember later on. But no, Regulus fucking Black wanted to read specific books that could not be taken out of the library, so there they were. Evan knew Reg most of the time would do as he said to him, they worked fine like that, Evan set the rules, Reg set the pace, but apparently not today, and that was not exactly sitting fine to Evan.
“You’re supposed to be studying,” he heard his friend’s voice over the book cover. He could barely see his face behind that old dusty thing.
“We’re supposed to be relaxing, it’s Saturday, for fuck’s sake.”
Evan tried to snatch the book away from Reg’s hands, but the other boy was faster, taking it out of his range.
“I'm passing my time,” he rolled his eyes. “There is nothing to do down at the dungeons and the weather is no good to be outside. And I know for a fact that you have essays to be written.”
“As if you can’t do magic, silly.” Evan replied, picking at his nails, completely ignoring the comment about his overdue essays.
Regulus wasn’t paying him any more attention, just went straight back to his book.
His brows were furrowed over the book, perhaps because the words were hard to understand. Well, all words were hard to Evan understand, he was dyslexic after all. But not Regulus. Reg liked to read hard stuff. Evan knew that much about him, since their first year he was always after big heavy books to read under his covers at night, on the weekends, on every opportunity he had to not be studying for classes. Evan rarely acknowledged their titles, some he knew were in other languages, others were just plain difficult in English already.
This one was one of those. A hard-to-read title, probably in another language. Evan tried to read the words.
He gave up, there were no words, just weird looking letters. μεταμορφώσεις. Or whatever the fuck was that. There were curves and lines and twists. Fuck. Reading was hard.
Listening, whoever. Evan could identify any sound close to him, every sort of noise was obvious in his mind, as if all of them were already inside, waiting to be named. He could understand almost everything Reg and Barty spoke in French when they were in class and didn’t want to be overheard. He could understand when Reg cursed in Latin. He knew when Barty was practising dark stuff because he used Russian swear words to avoid being reprimanded by his dad. Evan knew it all, but couldn't read nor write shit to save his life.
Every time they were studying together he would watch Reg and Barty reading. Barty did it like it was nothing, relaxed over his chair, as if nothing mattered. But Reg, oh , Reg read like he was worshipping the pages with his very eyes. He even caressed the lines sometimes, soft and tender, like a lover. Evan wanted to take those long fingers and shove them in his eyes to make him read like Reg did. But maybe there were other ways to tend to Reg’s fingers without stabbing his own eyes. If only Reggie would look at him with those bright eyes filled with mysteries.
The moments Reggie did watch him with those very eyes were when Evan was attending to his body with the dedication and exclusivity of a collector praising his items. His care for each inch of Reggie’s skin was tender as potion master going through his mise en place. Reggie’s eyes would flutter and his lips would tremble, whispering Evan praises and pleases and mores and affections and oh so lovely sounds.
“Reggie,” he called.
“Evan,” his friend answered.
“That’s not who I called.” Reg’s eyes shot up. Bright and mysterious. He looked right to Evan’s, then looked around.
They had this agreement, you see, Evan would only call Regulus ‘Reg’ on their daily boring normal routines. But when alone, when playing, when going through each other's needs and wishes, Regulus would drop his proper collected posh boy persona and let his ‘Reggie’ come to the surface to marvel himself in Evan’s ministrations.
“That’s completely inappropriate,” he tried to argue.
“Reggie,” he called again, softer. “Come on, love.”
“I’m rather occupied, Evan.” Reg raised his book and hid behind it again.
Since only his voice was not working as it should, he took another approach.
Getting closer to Reg’s chair, very slowly, Evan rested his hand over his friend’s thigh, just there, resting. His skin was warm under the layers of uniform, honestly, even on a Saturday. He would not pressure Regulus if he said no, but he didn’t. The ‘no’ was a sacred word. It was worth the try. Sometimes Reggie would take his time to surface into his part, a bit of a brat, hard to control, harder to keep on a leash, but in the end he knew better. And, fuck, how Evan liked seeing Reggie on a leather leash.
Letting his hand rest meant dropping the weight of his arm over it, letting it sink a little bit on Regulus’s thigh, feeling the rough fabric of the uniform, so different from his other clothes, always light in weight and heavy in colours. “Reggie, what do you think about leaving this dusty library with me?”
Evan kept his voice quiet, almost as a whisper. He knew Reggie liked it when he was quiet. His voice had dropped a little bit over the summer, getting a lower tone, and he knew now how to make it rusky. And, at his understanding, Reggie rather liked the rusky part.
“Fais-moi compagnie, s'il vous plaît”, he let the ruskyness take over while leaning his body closer to Regulus’s.
He saw the goosebumps rising over Reg’s neck, saw how Reggie was trying not to answer him, trying to keep his eyes on the page in front of him.
“Quaeso,” he pressed.
Reggie looked up at him, under his long dark lashes.
“Puisque vous demandez si gentiment.”
Got you. Smiling just enough so Reggie could notice it, Evan ran his hand over Reggie’s thigh and raised out of his chair.
“Let’s put these books away, shall we?” He politely suggested, moving his wand above the table in a fluid motion, sending all books back to their right places. All of them, except the one now resting by Reggie’s hand. The one with the weird letters. He picked it up, offered his hand to Regulus so he could stand up, and then rested it by his friend’s lower back. They stopped by the librarian’s table at the main doors of the library.
“Here it is, ma’am. Thank you so much.” He smiled at the lady behind the desk, who just picked the book back and didn’t pay them any attention besides nodding at the intact state of the book. Out they went.
They wouldn't go that far as to their dorm, there was no need.
“Urgeo,” he heard Reggie whisper without even turning to him.
He just smiled, Reggie knew better than to urge him.
There was an alcove just down the library's corridor, Evan had been there a few other times already, for different reasons. Now, he had a greater reason to need a secluded place in the middle of the school corridor. Leading Reggie by his lower back, he reached in front of him to pull the heavy tapestry out of their way.
“Cast for us, Reggie?” It was not a question, they both knew it, if Regulus didn’t put up the spells for their privacy, everyone would end up hearing him scream for Evan. Barty was living proof of that.
With a flourish, Reg pulled out his wand, cast the silencing and repellent spells he had been perfecting over the past couple of years and pocketed it right after. His chest was rising high and falling deep, he was trying to keep himself under control, but Evan would make sure he wouldn’t worry about that soon enough.
Evan got closer, impossibly closer to Reggie, while nuzzling his cheek he raised his hands to work the buttons of Reggie’s uniform one by one, counting each one as it popped free. As far as narrating went, Evan recited all the pieces of clothing Reggie was wearing as he took them off of his body and dismissed them on the floor. Not once Reggie pronounced his disapproval of his actions, nor the treatment towards his clothes.
“Wanna tell me what I’m doing to you?” He asked quietly, near Reggie’s ear.
“You’r-”
“No.”
“Me déshabillant,” he whispered back.
“Bon boy,” Evan praised, longing for Reggie’s response, which came in a shuddering breath right out of those glossy, honey sweet lips.
He knew Reggie could be an avid talker while he was high on his role, mumbling wishes, pleading caresses, reciting poetry even, but sometimes he would get easily confused on his words, mixing languages while the endorphins of Evan's ministrations were shooting up his mind. He knew how to make his little lover speechless.
“Excusez-moi, mon chéri,” Evan travelled his light kisses over Reggie’s neck then down to his sharp collar bones, leaving glistening affection behind. Once he was satisfied with the trembling of Reggie’s hands on his scalp and shoulder, he went a bit further down, kissing the marks the chest binder left at Reggie’s marble skin, contouring his small breasts, avoiding the softer flesh. Mumbling, Evan kept going down through his soft abdomen, “Your skin is perfect, mon douceur. If I could try a piece of Heaven, it would have the same taste as your skin.”
“E-Evan,” Reggie managed to articulate. “Please.”
“Please?” Evan looked up as he kneeled down on the stone floor.
“Keep talking to me.” English it was then. He could see those long lashes blinking rapidly, trying to keep his eyes open, looking down at the younger boy between his shaky thighs.
Evan kissed the skin just above Reggie’s pubes.
“How will I speak while my mouth is occupied, love?” His featherlight kisses sneaked down through the fine black hair there, rising goosebumps on every piece of skin his eyes could reach. “Unless you wish for me to keep only talking to you instead of going with my wishes, you say the word, you know how it works.”
Reggie shot his head back, leaning against the wall behind him.
“Tell me, Reggie.” Evan gave the whispers up to an assertive tone, using the huskiness of his voice to get his partner to answer him.
“Keep g-going as you want, maître,” he answered, taking half a second, but Evan got the verbal consent out of him.
With a smile, Evan got to his treasure. Inhaling deeply, he ventured himself in between Reggie’s thighs, taking in his smells, his sour-sweet taste, the texture of the hairy skin around his lips and moist folds. Regulus always tasted like Heaven, every piece of his skin made Evan’s senses perked up, drinking him up was like having magic itself flowing in his veins.
A louder moan made Evan look up, his licks went from light to heavier against Reggie’s dick, and that managed to incite a rougher reaction out of him. Reggie grasped Evan’s head to keep him in place. He knew Reggie liked to hold him still and take his pleasure, using him as a tool, and he was okay with that, he actually rather liked that he didn’t need to keep himself moving. He rather Reggie used him as he pleased, made him his toy, even though both of them knew who was in charge, Reggie always set the pace. Reggie knew that Evan’s dominating personality took over the best of them, kept Regulus in check and didn’t let him slip into an unknown deeper space where he couldn’t get back up. Evan helped Regulus let go of his need for control, and Regulus let Evan be his provider of trust and confidence; his safeport, to let go and still have a steady hand to guide him back.