dangerous game (devon)

[mitzeh]

It had been a bad day that had turned into an even worse evening. By the looks of it, the night wasn’t going to be any better.

Whoever thought that Sirius was the only rebellious one of the Black brothers obviously didn’t know Regulus very well. Sure, he wasn’t as loud and obnoxious as his older sibling, and he was obedient to anything his parents told him – but, really, his parents were about the only authority he respected. That, and he had spent last four years and some in the Slytherin house, where rules were never held in high regard. Regulus was quiet and calm, but he had catlike movements and he knew how to sneak out of his common room after the curfew without being caught. Not that sneaking out of the common room was the hard part, no. It was a popular belief among Slytherins that you could do whatever you wanted as long as you didn’t get caught – had someone been there, they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash upon seeing Regulus head towards the exit somewhere around first am. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
The harder part was not running into one of the teachers patrolling the corridors or, even worse, Filch. But Regulus had some experience in that matter, so he wasn’t too worried about that; truth be told, there were very few things he could be bothered to worry about right now.

He kept replaying his meeting with Sirius earlier this day. It had been completely unplanned for once – both of them just happened to have sought refuge on the Quidditch field. Provided that neither of them had been in a very good mood to start with, it wasn’t really all that surprising that they had ended up cursing each other, both verbally and magically, in no time. Regulus didn’t even know why it was getting to him so much. Merlin knew they’d had enough of these shouting matches in the past year, in the past few years to be honest, one more shouldn’t really be as upsetting as it obviously was. And yet here he was, taking a swig after swig from the bottle of whiskey that had been full just moments before and now it was getting dangerously close to being half empty, as he wandered down the corridors. He needed the quiet and he didn’t give a damn whether he was allowed to be here or not. His steps were getting slightly less coordinated as he proceeded in draining the bottle, but he didn’t care about that either. It wasn’t like there was nothing left, he kept a few more stashed under his bed – and he wasn’t the only one, of course. He didn’t even know why they bothered hiding the alcohol when literally everyone in the House had it, maybe with the exception of younger students.

The boy took a deep breath, trying to clear his head as he leant against the wall for more stability. It was getting harder and harder every minute; technically, he knew he should get back to the dungeons before someone caught him, but he simply couldn’t make himself go back to bed just yet. He wanted to stay right where he was – in the dark, his back against the cold wall, with no sounds except soft murmuring of the portraits around him.

[DEVON REDWOOD]

Devon wasn't a bad kid. Or at least he didn't think he was. He listened to his parents and teachers, and sometimes obeyed. But the fact was, he had opinions of his own, and if they conflicted with those of the authority figures, anyone could guess who he would listen to. For example, he thought the rules about curfews there at Hogwarts were completely uncalled for, and found himself sneaking out many nights.

He had been down near the Slytherin house that night, visiting his twin and just having a conversation with him. Alastair was extremely concerned with exams and OLWs that year, and that added to the fact that they were in the most opposing of houses mean that they didn't get to spend very much time together at all. So, even if it meant risking detention for a week, Devon would make his way down to the dungeons just to talk to Alas for a while.

Now he was heading back to the Gryffindor house, though the moving staircases always gave him a bit of trouble when he was in a hurry and he ended up getting off at the second floor despite trying to get to the seventh. Not that he minded. He was a night owl and had no problem with wandering the halls of the huge school, other than getting caught.

A bag of chocolate candy in hand, he made his way down the hall, pausing after a moment of walking. He heard something, he thought, and stopped munching to listen more carefully. Yes, he was sure those were footsteps. He tucked his bag of sweets into the inner pocket of his robe and moved closer to the wall of the hallway he was moving down, watching down the hall for whoever was approaching. He'd be damned if he got caught by a teacher or, worse that stinking git Filch. The excuse of getting lost because of the stairs didn't really apply in fifth year students.

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

The dark haired boy straightened abruptly upon hearing someone else’s footsteps. It was a rather funny sight, should anyone be watching – technically, he was alert and perfectly aware of his surroundings, but his body didn’t seem all that willing to cooperate; he stumbled, barely managing to keep his balance, waving a hand around to make it easier. Regulus Black, top student in most of his classes and the heir to one of the most influential magical families in Great Britain, wasn’t exactly the poster boy for dignity at this very moment. He was far from being completely wasted, yes, but the alcohol he had consumed in the past two hours or so had taken its toll on him. He cursed under his breath, took a few rather unsteady footsteps towards the end of the corridor, and then promptly dropped the bottle of whiskey he had forgotten he was still holding. Or was supposed to be holding. Whatever.

Regulus cringed at the sound. He was drunk, but not that drunk; he knew the noise he had made was enough for Filch to come running in no time. And Salazar, wouldn’t the old bastard find it delightful to punish a stuck up Slytherin for wandering around the castle at night with a half empty bottle of scotch in his hand! The boy sobered, if only a little, at the mere thought of his parents’ reaction. Fuck, he thought, making his hasty exit and trying not to fall over in the process. Yes, he knew how to hold his liquor all right, but for Merlin’s sake, he was fifteen and miserable and half a bottle of fine scotch would make anyone a little tipsy, wouldn’t it?

Since no one had emerged immediately from the side of the corridor where he the sounds had come from, Regulus deduced it was another student rather than a teacher or the janitor. And since another student would be punished as severely for not being in their bed at this hour of the night, it was relatively safe to take that route. Even intoxicated, the youngest Black could be perfectly logical. To some extent, yes, but still. As he turned around the corner, he cursed again after all but bumping into someone – and then raised his eyebrow upon seeing who exactly it was. “What the hell are you doing here, Redwood?” he asked, his words just a little slurred, before his eyes fell on the other boy’s badge. Gryffindor. Oh. “You’re not Redwood,” he accused, furrowing his brow. “Not the right one,” Regulus quickly clarified. Before he could say anything further on the subject, however, he heard heavy footsteps coming from much too near for his comfort. Filch, probably. Great. Not giving the Gryffindor a chance to say anything, much less protest, Regulus grabbed the other boy’s wrist and pulled him into an empty storage room just a few feet away. Quietly shutting the door behind them, and then locking it with a spell for good measure, he turned towards Devon. “Now, before you think about doing something stupid,” he whispered, probably aiming for threatening, but not succeeding since his breath smelled like whiskey and his body was kinda pressed against Redwood’s because of painful lack of space, “think about the detention we’ll get if Filch finds us. Which he will. If you do something stupid. So don’t even think about it.”

[DEVON REDWOOD]

In the otherwise silent hallway, the shuffling, stumbling, uneven footsteps were incredibly loud. Unless Filch had a new habit, Devon knew it had to be a student wandering down the hallway like this. He couldn't immediately think of anyone who made a habit of getting drunk late at night and traipsing through Hogwarts, but he didn't have much time to think it over. The sharp sound of shattering glass broke through the quiet and Devon winced. He needed to get away from that noise if he hoped not to get caught.

Too late, he thought, as the dark hid both himself and the second student running almost right into him. A hand wrapped around his wrist and he frowned, his wand coming out. "Lumos." The tip alight, he recognized Sirius's younger brother, the Slytherin one. Regulus, Devon thought, just as Regulus got his name right. He could smell the alcohol on Black's breath even from here, and he turned his face away.

"Ugh, let go of me, you silly --" His eyes jerked up as he again heard footsteps coming from down the hall. "Nox!" His and Black's thoughts reflected each other's and he stumbled after Regulus, who had reacted a bit more quickly despite his drunken condition.

The closest hideaway was a tiny storage closet. Devon was aware of just how tiny it was as Black spelled the lock tight and breathed on him again. He could feel the other boy's body against his own and it made him feel mildly sick, the smell combined with the warmth he was suddenly being subjected to. A broom handle fell against his shoulder and head and he struggled to right it and keep it at bay. "Damn it," he whispered angrily. "Black! What the hell are you doing out here this late? And what the hell have you been drinking?" He struggled for more room and only ended up with the broom handle against his head again. "Would you get off of me?"

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

Regulus snorted, trying to muster up as much dignity as he could in his current state. He wasn’t very successful. “What does it look like I’m doing,” he said, rolling his eyes. Even though he had to lean on Redwood for balance, he was somehow able to give off the vibe of someone who thought himself much better and much more intelligent than those he was surrounded by. “Besides, I could ask you the same thing, right?” he pointed out, irritatingly logical despite the dizziness he was currently experiencing. Another question made him tilt his head slightly, eyes narrowing – not that Devon could see, since neither of them had bothered to cast Lumos again. “Whiskey. The best kind. I’d offer you some, but I dropped the bottle.” Which was a pity, really. The alcohol had been really good, the best quality indeed, as expected from someone of his social status. Of course, he still had some more back in his dorm. Had he mentioned that he still had more? He felt like it was important to state it.

“Now Redwood, think for a second,” he barked, rather amused than annoyed. “I’d love to get off of you, I really would, but this isn’t exactly a very spacious interior, is it?” So maybe a broom against your shoulder and head wasn’t very comfortable, but Regulus had reasons to complain as well. The door he had behind his back was even, true, but extremely hard, which made leaning against it a much less alluring option than clinging to the boy in front of him. Now that he was thinking about it, there were more than a few benefits of that. Redwood was warm and solid and stable, probably because he didn’t have anywhere to go either, still, he was much more pleasant to lean on than the solid wood behind them. So Regulus did just that – pressed his body against the other boy’s, hand on his shoulder so he would keep his balance. The only thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was that this position put his nose in the crook of Redwood’s neck, which opened way for some even more exciting possibilities.

Being a Slytherin was a complete opposition of being a prude, that was a well-known fact. A less well-known fact was that, while Sirius was definitely the more popular of the brothers, Regulus didn’t shy away from more than friendly interactions with other students as well. To tell the truth, the younger Black was much more discreet than his sibling, but also less prone to innocent flirting and more inclined towards straightforward, no-strings-attached sluttiness. It wasn’t a healthy behaviour, just like sneaking out of your dorm well after midnight to get terribly drunk just because you were feeling miserable wasn’t a healthy behaviour, but Regulus never thought about it. And he was definitely not going to start thinking about it now. “Actually, no, scratch that, getting off of you isn’t my priority right now,” he laughed under his breath, before following the idea that had popped into his head a moment ago. It wasn’t smart and it wasn’t anything he would have done if he was sober; it was actually good he had alcohol to blame for it, because Devon Redwood probably wouldn’t appreciate being kissed by a drunk Slytherin in some tiny storage closet with Filch sniffling around outside the door. The kiss was hard and dirty and Regulus was surprisingly adamant about it, pressing the other boy’s back to the wall – or a cupboard, he didn’t care – behind him, not giving him much chance to break it.

[DEVON REDWOOD]

Devon could feel his cheeks heating both from shame and anger. He had a terrible temper at times. Slytherins seemed to bring it out most in him, though perhaps it was because the Slytherins he had come in contact with were his brother -- who could easily send him over the edge in an argument -- and now this one who was pressing against him far too eagerly. "I may have been out late," he hissed, "but at least I wasn't completely pissed at the same time. Stop breathing on me, you smell like Hagrid's ass." He turned his face the other way, but he couldn't escape it.

"Don't yell!" he whispered, cupping his hand over Regulus's mouth. He really must have been pissed to forget his own words about alerting Filch so soon. He removed his hand again when he felt that the other boy would be quiet again, and shifted in the little closet again. There was certainly enough space for two skinny boys to stand without being all over each other, he thought, and even felt Regulus back off for a moment before he leaned even further against the Gryffindor. "Damn it," he muttered. He tried to pry Regulus's hand away from his shoulder only to realize that his nose was stuck rather firmly against his neck. He sighed, trying to ignore the quickening of his pulse. He couldn't hear anything outside of the closet for all their breathing and the blood rushing in his ears, the rustling of their robes against each other.

"What the hell are you saying?" he grumbled, his hands moving to flatten against Black's chest to try and push him off, at least a bit. He thought he was surely stronger than the Slytherin.

But suddenly he was pressed uncomfortably against a cupboard at his back, the handles of the cabinet pressing between his shoulder blades and Regulus pressing to his front. It actually took him a moment to realize that he really was being kissed and Black hadn't somehow managed to fall against him. He pushed again, a little more desperately this time. Black tasted terrible and he was clumsy. Finally, finding it all he could do, Devon turned his head to escape, gasping a breath.

"What the hell are you doing, Black?" he demanded, not for the first time.

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

Regulus laughed, quietly, humourlessly, eyes glinting in the dark. There was something else, an edge to his voice as he spoke this time, suddenly more sober and much, much darker and sharper and more dangerous. He was still drunk, he was still miserable and he was still a boy who knew more about Dark Arts than some of the teachers at this school. His hand ran up Devon’s side recklessly, soon two slim fingers pressed against the boy’s neck. “Why, do you want to tell me you didn’t like it?” he whispered, raising his eyebrows. “I can hear your heart thumping in your chest,” he added, triumphant smile playing on his lips. Who would have thought.

If he was less pissed, he would probably wonder what Alastair Redwood would say about him molesting his dear brother, right now however such thought did not cross his mind and even if it did – he would dismiss it immediately. After all, who said the Slytherin brother would have to find out, ever? Regulus didn’t need a long term lover, even if he was looking for one he wouldn’t consider a Gryffindor a reasonable choice. This – this would be a one time thing, a way to release the tension that had been building up in him for days. It was this or becoming an alcoholic, really, and Regulus was pretty sure an addiction wouldn’t be nice – not to mention it would mean he would lose control, something that he hated most of all things, deep inside. Which was exactly why he was willing to push Devon so, so far – make him angry and disgusted enough that he could turn all these feelings into something he wanted, desired. Sneaky and fast like a snake, Black moved his hand from the other boy’s neck to his face, cupping his cheek and not letting him move away – at least, not without putting up a serious fight, something Filch would most definitely not miss. Once he was sure Redwood was not getting away so easily, Regulus took his time too, first running his tongue down the line of the boy’s jaw, then kissing the corner of his mouth teasingly, before pulling him closer for a full kiss.

He pulled away after what probably seemed like hours, but was more likely no longer than a minute. “Well?” he asked, taking one very small step back – the space didn’t allow him more, but it would be enough for Devon to miss the heat of another body – and licking his lips, slowly, as if he was trying to remember the taste. “Still want me to get out of here?” Truth be told, Regulus wasn’t all that sure he wouldn’t get kicked out right this moment, but he was willing to take the risk.

[DEVON REDWOOD]

Devon was blushing brightly, and he could see that strange light in Black's eyes that said he was up to something. True to Black's words, his heart was hammering like a frightened rabbit's, and he shivered as Regulus touched him so cavalierly, bending away from those fingers without his real say-so. "I didn't like it," he said, not altogether truthfully. He liked kisses. He was a teenage boy, after all, and, from a boy or a girl, kisses were kisses. Though, Black was a bit forceful with his. "You taste terrible," grunted. "I doubt that whiskey is as expensive as you say if it tastes that bad."

Despite his bravado, he found himself a bit afraid of this Slytherin. He was sure that Alastair had mentioned him before, said that they were perhaps almost friends. It seemed no Slytherin was friends with anyone else, not really. His eyes moved as if to follow the barely out of sight hand traveling over his skin and he swallowed, his throat constricting under Regulus's fingers. He didn't understand this, couldn't wrap his mind around Black's game under these circumstances. His mind was jumping from why to what exactly was happening. He had never spoken to Black before and now he was practically forcing himself on Devon in a broom closet while they both avoided getting caught by Filch. He shook his head momentarily but was stilled by Regulus's surprisingly strong grip.

He once more tried to pull away, but had no room to do so. He was backed up against the counter and cabinet hard enough to grind ridges and dips into his skin. He shivered at the feeling of Black's tongue and the cooling line he left along his jaw, and did his best not to react to the second kiss. His hands moved to grip Black's upper arms tightly, though somehow he couldn't bring himself to push him away.

He gasped as Black pulled away, eyes first finding the other pair in the tiny compartment, then moving down to Black's tongue as it traced across slightly swollen lips. Remembering himself, he reached up to wipe at his own. They were tingling, though whether it was from the contact or the whiskey he didn't know. "Don't you dare," he finally said. "If Filch is out there he's bound to see you. Then we'll both get caught." His eyes fell away as he failed to mention anything about Black staying away this time. He didn't want to acknowledge that any of this was happening. What if his brother found out? What if Sirius found out? Devon liked to think he was in the running to at least be included with the Marauders (thought he rarely even spoke to them other than a soft excuse me every once in a while) and if Sirius Black found out that Devon had been snogging his little brother in a supply closet, well, he'd be done for.

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

He felt rather than saw the blush spreading across the other boy’s cheeks, heat radiating from his pale skin. The smile Regulus threw his way was outright nasty – even the mischievous glint in his grey eyes couldn’t soften the expression. Oh well. He had never claimed to be a nice person, after all. “Yeah. Right. You hated it, I can tell,” the Slytherin replied, voice flat, as if he was dealing with an especially difficult child. “Also, you wouldn’t know a good whiskey if it kicked you in the ass. Can we please stop talking, Redwood?” Someone might hear them. Filch, for example. Besides, there were other, more interesting things to do, as Regulus had oh so bravely proved.

Truth be told, Black found it rather amusing how the Gryffindor responded to his pushy behaviour. He had not considered whether the boy was even interested in people of his own gender – it hadn’t seemed important at the moment. Well apparently Devon was interested in him, if his bodily reactions were anything to go by. Regulus shrugged inwardly, not really all that bothered by the fact that Redwood’s mind hadn’t quite caught up with his body yet. It would soon enough, he would make sure of that. For now, he wondered briefly what the other boy was thinking about the whole situation; Merlin knew what was going on in this Gryffindor head of his. They had barely spoken to each other, the only time Regulus could actually recall was during the attack on Hogsmeade, and they hadn’t had much time to chat back then. He really hoped that Devon wouldn’t get any stupid ideas, like that it was Regulus’ way of confessing his life-long crush on him or something. That would make things unnecessarily complicated, and he sure as hell didn’t need further complications in his life.

He couldn’t stop himself from smirking – didn’t even want to – as he noticed the way Redwood was watching him. Regulus raised an eyebrow and, still looking the other boy squarely in the eye, raised his hand to his face, wiping his lower lip. It ended up as a very obscene gesture, especially when the tip of his tongue touched one of his fingers and then dragged oh so slowly across the length of it. “Oh, right. Filch,” he answered lightly, as if the dreaded janitor was not a threat at all. “Well then, looks like we’re stuck here for some time,” he added, rather gleefully at that. Wickedly, too. Slytherin really was a nest of corruption, living up to its reputation. “And trust me, I would love to get to know you better, though a friendly conversation is not necessarily what I have in mind.”

[DEVON REDWOOD]

Devon hated this feeling. He wasn't claustrophobic in the general sense. A small space like this closet didn't put him on edge or make him nervous, even with Black squeezed in there with him. But this feeling of being trapped, not by a physical barrier like a body or a door, but in this other way he couldn't quite put words to, scared the sense out of him. His breath was coming quicker and his heart beating faster at the very thought that this little Slytherin asshole had him trapped like a rodent in a serpent's gaze.

And he unfortunately couldn't deny that he was very much enjoying the attention, though not intentionally or willingly at all. He had yet to claim a girlfriend at this school, unless that girl in second year counted, though he doubted it did. They barely held hands before she unceremoniously told him she was seeing someone else. Even then Devon had bitterly thought she meant it in the literal sense. She had probably seen a cute boy across the room and decided they were together. Truth be told, Devon hadn't found himself very interested in girls or their various annoyances. On the outside of relationships, it seemed like it was all more trouble than anyone would ask for. He didn't want to put himself through that for a snog.

So, despite his inexperience, or perhaps because of it. Devon found himself reacting rather positively to Black's actions, if only in his body. His mind was telling him to shove the little wanker off of him, to throw him out the door and make a run for it and pray that Filch found the Slytherin before he found Devon. His mind was telling him that this was another boy, a drunk one, a Slytherin, and one who wasn't in this for anything other than a quick kiss and also most likely embarrassing the hell out of Devon. But his body wanted more of it.

His breath hitched as Regulus wiped his lip, somehow making even that simple act too much for Devon to stand as he cut his eyes away. How did Black even know how to do that? They were fifteen, for Godric's sake. What was worse was that Devon found it horrifically attractive, though it infuriated him to think of the other boy that way. "Stop talking," he said harshly, his tone quite a bit stronger than his current constitution. He was practically sealed against that cabinet, trying to get as far from Black as he could in the tiny space. "And don't touch me again."

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

Regulus rolled his eyes, exasperated, suddenly wishing he hadn’t dropped that bottle of whiskey. (Not because it would mean he probably wouldn’t even be here in the first place. His logic didn’t go so far in his current state of intoxication. He simply felt like he could kill for another mouthful of booze. Or two. Or more. The more the better, in fact.) “Gryffindors,” he muttered, making sure all his drunken frustration and distaste made themselves audible in his voice, despite having to keep it down in case Filch was still somewhere out there. Which he probably was, if only to clean the shattered glass that reeked suspiciously of alcohol way too strong to be in possession of any Hogwarts student. To be honest, the young Slytherin doubted that Filch would give up his hunt any time soon, not with proof like this. Salazar! The things the slimy son of a bitch could do if he found an obviously pissed student wandering the corridors in the middle of the night – if he was to be honest with himself, Regulus had to admit that he wouldn’t be above hexing the man before running back to the dungeons. Come to think of it, why had nobody done that before? Filch was a squib, for Merlin’s sake, surely he was susceptible to a simple Obliviate.

Actually, now that he had thought about, the idea didn’t seem half bad. What were the chances that a memory modifying charm wouldn’t work on the man, after all? Even if they didn’t, which was close to impossible unless he was protected somehow – not that Regulus had ever heard of a protecting spell with such properties – he would have no proof; if anything, the young Black knew how to erase the history of spells he had cast from his wand. He threw the Gryffindor a long, contemplative look. If Redwood didn’t go with the plan, well, maybe actually leaving the admittedly uncomfortable closet wasn’t such a bad idea to begin with. Regulus was good with spells, all spells, not just dark magic that was banned in Hogwarts and punished in the Wizarding World altogether. He could cast a disillusioning charm on himself, throw Redwood to the wolves, why not? The boy licked his lips again, smirking rather nastily. Yes, that was an alternative worth considering.

The hitch in Devon’s breath hadn’t go unnoticed, however, so maybe the Gryffindor wasn’t a lost cause yet. Perhaps he just had to use another… tactic, so to speak. “You could make me stop talking,” he retorted, throwing his head back just a little, as if challenging the other boy. His lips were still red and swollen, shiny with spit, and parted just enough to be… encouraging. Fifteen or not, the Slytherin had enough issues to have found a completely wrong way of working them out some time ago; in that department he was Sirius’ faithful follower. He laughed as the other boy warned him against touching him again. “Or what?” Regulus asked, leaning towards Devon with a devious smile playing on his lips. He watched the Gryffindor for a while, much like a cat watching a mouse right before ripping its throat open, before he spoke again. “Come on, Redwood. I want it, you want it, one quick fuck in a storage closet, no big deal. Just admit that you’re too scared to do it.” What Gryffindor wouldn’t fall for this? Oh, dear, the look on Redwood’s face. It was more amusing that Regulus ha expected, really.

[DEVON REDWOOD]

The Gryffindor looked away from Black, his jaw clenched. The tiny amount of light that was filtering over them in that tiny closet shone on the muscles moving in his jaw as he turned his face away. He wasn't a complete idiot. He wasn't the smartest student at Hogwarts. He wasn't even the smartest Gryffindor, or anywhere near. But he knew Black's angle by now. The suggestion that Devon make Regulus be quiet came with another, nastier suggestion altogether, one that Devon understood.

Still, he couldn't stop his eyes trailing over the shine of Regulus's lips, the glint in his eye. He withdrew his wand from his robe and whispered, "Lumos," to take away some of the dramatic lighting and hopefully distract himself from how damn pretty the little bastard looked right now. Devon didn't have to remind himself that Black was drunk off his ass, not with the two of them so close and every panted breath bringing his nose a new reminder of just what Regulus had been drinking before. But he did have to keep telling himself that Black wasn't himself right now because of it. This was something that he would never do, surely, if he were sober. Devon told himself he would just have to wait it out, use the one virtue that he thought he didn't have: patience.

"Damn it," he whispered, closing his eyes as Regulus leaned in ever closer. He was amazed there was still an inch of space between them. His eyes snapped back open, the blue tint showing obviously in the wandlight between them. "What?" he hissed. "I would never -- you have got to be kidding me!" His teeth, bared, moved back and forth against each other tightly. "I am not scared," he growled. Devon was almost painfully Gryffindor. He wouldn't back down from a challenge if he could help it, and he wouldn't let anyone, especially a Slytherin, say he was afraid of anything. Even a quick fuck in a broom closet.

Despite his defense, he did look scared. He looked very much afraid that they would end up doing something terrible together. But he still looked angry, his nose scrunched and his eyebrows drawn tightly together. "You don't want this," he growled. "You're drunk, and you're being an idiot. I'm not a queer."

[/blockquote]

[mitzeh]

There was a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of Regulus’ mouth, one close to blossoming into a full, shit-eating grin very soon. The looks Redwood was giving him weren’t quite as unwilling as they had been just a few moments ago; the young Slytherin could almost visualize the other boy’s doubts melting away. He was just about to do something about it, too, when the Gryffindor did one of the most stupid things he could have done: lit his wand. Regulus cursed quietly and leaped forward, stumbling only a little due to the alcohol still merrily pumping in his veins, and latched himself onto Devon’s wrist, casting a quick “Nox”. “Are you more of an idiot that I previously thought, this door isn’t exactly lightproof, you moron, someone could see,” he said harshly, throwing the other boy a look much more annoyed than he should be able to manage in his current state. “Or was it just an excuse to have me this close again?” he asked, slower, his warm fingers still wrapped tightly around Devon’s wrist.

Trust a Slytherin to turn every situation to their own advantage. With his knee between Redwood’s legs, leaning on him for support, Regulus quickly moved his mouth to the other boy’s neck. Even terribly drunk, he moved like a snake, as expected from someone from his House. He mouthed at the soft skin before giving it a slow, almost thoughtful lick, one that was bound to get him a reaction, at least a merely physical one. He wasn’t going to kiss Devon on his own again, well, not for now, but he had a few ideas as to how to use his mouth for other, just as interesting… activities. But that would have to wait, of course – small steps, that was the only right tactic while dealing with someone as jumpy as Redwood.

Regulus almost ruined the mood with a highly inappropriate reaction – the only reason he hadn’t was that he couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to let out a long, suffering sigh or rather laugh til his ribs hurt and he couldn’t catch his breath anymore. He settled for giving Devon’s neck a quick, experimental bite before pushing away again, so he was able to look the other boy in the eye. “Look, Redwood,” he started, almost boringly. Gryffindors and their petty… morals, or whatever it was stopping Devon from just giving in to his desires already. “I’m not a queer either, so what? I might be drunk, but does what I’m doing look like something an inexperienced, pissed kid would do?” To take his point even further, Regulus pressed his body further against the other boy’s, radiating heat and want and something that most certainly wasn’t inexperience, quite on the contrary. And the smell of booze, too, but that wasn’t relevant. “Really, of all Gryffindors in this goddamn castle I had to get the one who doesn’t have the guts to experiment a bit…” he sighed, although it was worth noting that he hadn’t pushed away this time.

[DEVON REDWOOD]

He gasped, barely managing not to knock something off of the wall and make even more noise. He cursed softly as the light went out, his eyes trying to adjust to the lack thereof as his mind tried to respond accurately to the warmth of the Regulus's body against his again. "N-no, I just thought -- you're making me! I don't like not being able to see!" He grimaced and his eyes darted down, pupils dilated almost fully as he took in the vague sight of Black's thin, pale fingers wrapped around his wrist. He could feel the warmth there, and, more noticeable, his own pulse against those prodding fingertips.

His attention jerked downward as he felt that utterly invasive knee between his legs, pressing and pushing. He let out a soft noise without meaning to. "Black," he gasped. "Stop..." He lifted his chin partly to avoid Black's lips and partly to give him more room to work. "Nngh." He winced as he let out the little needy noise, his body reacting far too well to Black's motions. "Damn it!"

The Gryffindor practically melted at the bite, even if it was meant to punish or -- something. His knees buckled and he barely supported himself against the counter behind him that was digging into his back. Another curse left him on a breath as Regulus pressed further against him. "I'm not afraid, Black," he hissed. "I just don't want to do this! I'm not going to -- to do whatever this is with you!" Whether he was more worried what they were about to do or who he was currently with was a mystery.

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