#this is real soft

[cassetteinability]

@macrocest prompt: first and last, pt 6 / tw incest, nsfw

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5

the five times it was nothing when the black brothers fucked, and the one time it was everything

When the sun did finally rise the next morning, Regulus was still tangled up with Sirius on the couch, arms and legs woven together until it was nearly impossible to tell who was who.

As Regulus thrust into Sirius last night, rough and angry and claiming, he made a vow to himself: the last time that he had agreed they were ‘nothing,’ was the last time he ever would.

“I wasn’t on a date last night,” Sirius said into the quiet room, eyes still closed as if he were feigning sleep even as he spoke the words. Maybe he didn’t want to see Regulus’ reaction to the knowledge of his lie.

“Hm?” Regulus asked, curiosity peaked. “Then where were you?”

“Just getting dinner with James, Rem, and Pete,” Sirius admitted, almost sheepishly. “We thought it would be fun to dress up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that last night?” Regulus asked, freeing his arms and propping himself up onto his elbows against the couch to look down at Sirius’ face. It felt like an important question, one that would evolve into something serious, for better or for worse.

Sirius opened his eyes slowly, a sly smile growing on his face as he whispered, “I liked seeing you so jealous.”

“But…” Regulus trailed off, thinking. His brain was moving a mile a minute as he tried to put the pieces of that admission together. “But you always tell me that this —” he gestured between the two of them — “is ‘nothing.’”

Sirius shook his head. “You started that,” he pointed out. “I only went along with it because it meant I got you to myself. It meant that I got you at all.”

Regulus blanched, thinking back to the first time they had touched each other, and how he had clung to the easy word out of sheer desperation.

Nothing.

Pretend it’s nothing, don’t scare Sirius off.

“Fuck,” Regulus said with a short laugh, surprised at how easily the truth rolled off his tongue too. “This has never been nothing — it’s always been everything.”

“You are everything, Reggie,” Sirius said softly, curling his fingers around Regulus’ waist and pulling him onto his lap, ass pressed against Sirius’ toned stomach. His hands immediately found Regulus’ hips, thumbs tracing small circles at the bend where his thighs began. His hands gravitated toward that spot every night they spent together, as if by some sort of magnetic pull, thumbs slotting in as if they belonged there.

Regulus thought maybe they did belong there.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ lips, gentle and inquisitive as he felt the air shift around them; there was no turning back from this, not when Sirius was kissing him back the way that he was.

“I love you, Sirius,” Regulus said as he pulled away, letting the words hang right there above them, “I’m so in love with you.”

Sirius only grinned back up at him, his own confession written right there within the curve of his lips, within the glint in his silver eyes.

Regulus took his time sliding down Sirius’ body, peppering him with languid kisses and gentle nips until he finally reached his hips, where he settled easily between his legs. He moved at a glacial pace, bobbing his head and scissoring his fingers slowly inside of him. Every thrust was an attempt to wash away the ‘nothings,’ a demand to fill Sirius with his unwavering devotion.

After so long pretending, Regulus would ensure that Sirius knew the truth:

That they belonged together. That they were forever, and they were everything.

[fenrislorsrai]

A shared bed

[from part of a longer fic. Crowley is watching Aziraphale sleep for once. Female pronouns for this part. genderfluid in longer fic]

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That he was so rarely unconscious was a big part of it. If he was being particularly opaque about his desires, Crowley could always just read him when he was awake. She generally didn’t because it often enough ended up being something he wanted but wasn’t ready TO want. Which meant if she just did it, it was way too fast. He had to be ready to articulate that want to her to accept it. So they had their little dance back and forth, with Crowley occasionally peeking when Aziraphale was being particularly confusing (or confused) about what he wanted. 

Sometimes she suspected he relied on her reading him to find out what he wanted rather than saying. Which had been invaluable during the time of the Arrangement but now sometimes landed them in trouble as they often ended up not talking about things they really should discuss like mature, immortal beings.

That Aziraphale struggled with finding the words and more specifically with even recognizing the truth in them for himself, made some of their stupider fights rather more forgivable in retrospect. 

Crowley had been reluctant in pushing things as too many times she’d gone for doing things she knew he desired, in some form, but clearly hadn’t recognized as his own desire as of yet. Or hadn’t quite figured out the shape of just yet. But some of that opposition and back and forth seemed to be what he needed to recognize what he wanted. They’d just been so secretive for so long that it was difficult to even be honest with themselves or each other. 

Their respective employers had trained them well on how obvious disagreement was dealt with. And even now, their silence had done additional damage. Yes, they had wanted to be left alone, but the total and complete silence sometimes felt less like respecting their wishes and more like ostracism. They had to make this work or they would be truly alone. Which fueled worry over what might happen if they disagreed too strongly and openly with each other. Better to just agree to end the argument, to not push too far. They’d had a few spectacular rows shortly after Armageddon which had then resulted in a period where they overcompensated and too quickly agreed to things they didn’t actually want.

They’d only bought the bed they were currently sharing after several months of not talking about a dresser they both hated. The third such dresser. The dresser had become an issue when Aziraphale has finally admitted he was actually living with Crowley in her flat and needed something to keep clothes in. Rather than rearranging storage space to share, he’d dealt with this personal revelation by just buying a dresser. Crowley had hated the antique the instant it came into flat, but had been too afraid to say anything about it, as saying she didn’t want the dresser seemed like it would be taken as saying she didn’t want Aziraphale living there. It wasn’t simply that the style was totally different, the aged wood held some scent that she couldn’t quite describe other than that she loathed it. That the scent eventually permeated Aziraphale’s clothes was the only reason they’d talked about it at all. If yelling counted as talking.

The second one Aziraphale had picked out of a catalog with Crowley’s input on style. Initially it seemed to work, but they both grew to hate it. The dresser just didn’t work in the space. The drawers were just a tad too small for what Aziraphale wanted to keep in them. He’d altered it via miracle several times, but then it stuck out just a little too far so Crowley bumped into it frequently. And then would alter it back to not being in the way. They were cancelling each other out in the most irritating way possible. This meant that things often got stacked on top of it rather than put away and when Crowley inevitably bumped into it, they fell off. One too many instances of that had caused a row that sent them out shopping while they were both still fuming.

After a long day of staring at furniture until they both hated the entire concept of dressers, they’d finally just picked something tolerable. It did what it needed to do. Both had been silently displeased with it, but had tolerated it for two months as this was what they thought compromise was. They also had other more pressing personal issues to sort out, but the dresser sat in their bedroom and silently mocked them.

Going shopping for the dresser had been such an ordeal that Crowley had expected broaching the subject of getting a bed that was mutually comfortable was going to be equally awful. So she started with a kitchen table instead. That went surprisingly well, other than Aziraphale sighing in exasperation as she tried out chairs by sitting on them in every way except sitting on them like a normal person.  But it was fond exasperation, so it was time to suggest they might want a bed together.

By that point, Aziraphale had taken to spending the night in bed with a sleeping Crowley curled around him while he read. The bed Crowley had at the time was a little too small for them both and the headboard hit Aziraphale awkwardly in shoulders when he was reading. Pillows had fixed some of it, but some different design was needed. Aziraphale wouldn’t change anything about it since it was Crowley’s and she was the primary user. He was still just a visitor to this particular part of the flat. He wasn’t quite living there and Crowley very much had wanted him to, but couldn’t quite articulate that in so many words at the time.

So they’d gone shopping to look at options. Miracling up something was all well and good, but not if they didn’t know what the options were. And the miracled dresser they’d just gone back and forth with cancelling each other out instead of exploring options. So this was just an exploratory trip, really. Just testing out the idea of coming to some kind of mutual agreement on what they needed. Crowley wanted to replace the bed, but also wanted Aziraphale’s input on what to get. It was her idea then to go from it being her bed, to being their bed but she wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was actually ready for that yet.  It was really the last part of moving in together permanently.

The had found they were both gravitating towards higher ones with underbed storage and eyeing each other before suggesting, perhaps we could go with this which would give us some different drawers and maybe we could get rid of The Dresser?  Agreeing to get rid of it had been a great relief. They’d taken quite a bit longer looking at beds, but knowing the hated dresser would be leaving had eased some bit of tension they hadn’t known they’d both been holding. She knew he was finally actually considering the bed something to share when he’d whispered a suggestion in her ear about possible advantages to a higher bed. In the middle of the shop! She needed to have a lie down right there. Just testing this mattress out!  The pillow over her very red face was just part of the testing it out. Yes.

They did still have a dresser, but it was the original one Crowley had started with, just now split between them. It was mostly socks, underclothes, sleepwear, and accessories. The more rarely used or out of season clothes went in the underbed drawers while the in-season items were hung in the closet. Most of it was Aziraphale’s, as Crowley had a tendency to miracle up things that were this season’s fashion and banish them when they were no longer trendy. She had been convinced to keep more actual clothes as part of getting Aziraphale to get some more modern casual clothes.

There were a lot of things like that that would have gone a lot smoother if they were better at actually communicating with each other about their new circumstances rather than relying on millenia of being together under entirely different circumstances being enough to sort it out without talking. They were getting a lot better at it, but still there were surprises where they really should have talked about things and hadn’t. Aziraphale alternated between being utterly unready to deal with things or vastly overprepared, like he’d carefully thought out the whole discussion beforehand and prepared himself for any question or objection Crowley might have.  Was this what he did while watching Crowley sleep, rehash old arguments and have whole silent theoretical conversation where he sifted through all those words, trying to find the answers?  If so, Aziraphale really needed to sleep more because it was exhausting.

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Part of chapter 7 of Find Your Way. You can read rest over on AO3.  Including a footnote I left out of the tumblr version!

[maverickflare]

the only thing that doesnt make kai flustered is he just sorta casually kisses the others? just a soft kiss to their knuckles or their shoulder and its just so normal and comfortable for him he honestly doesnt even notice sometimes but it makes his boyfriends absolutely giddy that when hes not even focusing he instinctively kisses them

they can dish it out but they cant take it