hot (july 3) @jeggyverses-jegulus-microfic jegulus | 380 words
The display is downright obscene. James Potter—Cannons captain, war hero, father, utter tart—has been shirtless for approximately twenty minutes. He glows in the midday sun as if he’s made of it, his skin bronzed to gold, sweat shining across broad shoulders.
And Regulus can’t even enjoy himself, because he’s too busy glaring at the group of players’ partners off to the side.
“Well fit, isn’t he? Potter,” one of them said the moment James shucked his jersey halfway through his laps. The group broke into appreciative, juvenile twittering, and Regulus thinks he might have cracked a molar for how tight his jaw went.
James can read it all over him as he jogs over for a quick drink—he’s beaming. He doesn’t hesitate to sling an arm around Regulus’s waist and draw him close.
“It’s hot,” James says against his throat, sounding unbearably pleased.
Regulus manages to catch the flutter in his chest before it takes him. “Is it?” he asks airily. “I’m not the one out there showing off, so I wouldn’t know.” Still, he shivers anyway when James huffs a warm laugh into his hair.
“No. I meant you. This whole little jealousy thing of yours. It’s hot. I like it.”
A scoff. “I’m not jealous. ”
“My mistake. In that case, s’pose I should get back to it, then—” lightning-quick, Regulus’s hand whips out and wraps tight around James’s wrist. He smiles. “Or not.”
Regulus turns just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes fixed on James’s mouth. The heat between them rises—it would burn, even on a cooler day. That’s all it takes, sometimes. A word. A look.
But Regulus has more than that today. He guides James’s hand to slide down his stomach, stopping at the hem of his shirt. Of his own accord, James’s fingers dip into his waistband and—
“Hot?” James says again, this time in a whimper. “Is that—? What the fuck. That’s so bloody hot.” He makes another pathetic little noise when Regulus pulls away. “Where are you going? Have you been wearing those all day? Reg. Regulus.”
“Put a shirt on, and I’ll let you find out what color they are later."
James tears away to scramble back into his jersey—then does one better, and shrugs on his jacket for good measure.
