Remittance Man
by Teka Lynn

Warnings: male/male incest.
Notes: For the Pornish Pixies Livejournal Community - October Request Challenge Fest, answering to Demeleka's request ("Sirius/Regulus - Sirius seduces younger brother... alcohol involved, but the act is consensual.") Many devoted thanks to Morgan D. for a superb beta under immense rush time. Any and all errors are my fault, not hers. Te amo, querida!

Sirius leaned back, swirling the red wine in his glass, legs crossed, that smile on his face. Regulus was always unnerved by that look, as it spelled trouble. It wasn't at all a menacing smile, it was actually quite sweet. Dazzling. The smile that said "Sit back, I'll take care of it all. Don't worry. I've got it in hand." And worst of all, "Trust me."

Sirius was emphatically untrustworthy. That's why Regulus envied him.

Regulus leaned back in his own chair, a dark-green monstrosity that growled softly at him until Regulus rapped it with his wand. "That's Grandfather's 1889 vintage you're swilling."

"Can't have Mater get wind of that, can we?" Sirius asked cynically. "God forbid someone actually get some enjoyment out of the family wine cellar besides the miniaturised Acromantulas."

Regulus repressed a shudder. He'd always been terrified of the wine cellar, and having Sirius lock him in there when he was six years old had not endeared it to him further. He also disliked spiders intensely, a most un-Black phobia. "I'm surprised it hasn't turned to vinegar, even with all the preservation spells on it." He took another swallow, warming on a bleak day like today.

Though every day was a bleak day at 12 Grimmauld Place. The house seemed shrouded by a perpetual grey fog. Even when it was sunny, the house felt damp and musty, weighed down by the centuries. No fires, of course, past February or before November, no matter the outside temperature. A Black had no need to Floo; there were house elves to fetch and carry messages.

Regulus took yet another swallow—more of a gulp, really—all too aware of Sirius's amused gaze. "Take it easy, little brother," Sirius said. "We can't have you falling on your face and spoiling your looks, can we?"

"Fat lot you care about my looks," Regulus muttered, aware even to himself how sullen he must sound. But weren't little brothers always supposed to be petulant and bratty?

Sirius smiled, his grey eyes seeming to soften for a moment. "They're not so bad. They wouldn't be improved by a bruise or a scrape, anyway."

Damn it, just when Regulus was able to work up a good grudge against his brother, Sirius always did something to make him feel bad about it. "You got Grandmama's looks, anyway. You and Bellatrix." The beauties of the family, along with Narcissa, who was herself some wild throwback to a distant Malfoy ancestor.

Sirius gave him the disdainful look especially reserved for his unbeloved cousin and those who doted on her. "Oh. Something to be terribly proud of there. I could throw on a witch's robe and seduce Rodolphus." He made a disgusted face and set down his wineglass. "You've got to do better than that, Reg."

"DON'T call me 'Reg'!"

Sirius's lips twitched and Regulus mentally swore. Point to Sirius in the eternal game they played.

"Don't tell me how much I look like Trixie," said Sirius, smug.

"Trixie! Has she ever heard you call her that?"

"I'm still alive to call her that, aren't I? Even I'm not that daft."

"Bet you could fool Rodolphus into thinking you're her. He is that daft."

"She'll have him in a ball and chain when they're married," Sirius said, accentuating "ball" in a lascivious manner. "Leashed by the balls, certainly."

"You'll get a Scourgifying spell if she hears you talk like that," said Regulus, emboldened. "Or Mother, if she hears you."

"Oh. A Scourgifying spell. Regulus dear, I am terrified," he mocked. "How many times has the old bat tried that on me, and has my tongue fallen out yet? It has not." He stuck it out to prove his point.

"Put that back in your mouth," Regulus said. "I don't know where it's been and I don't want to know."

Point to Regulus. Sirius actually looked startled. He then laughed aloud, in what sounded like genuine amusement, not mockery. "You're not such a mouse after all, once you've got some wine in you, are you?" He leaned over and refilled Regulus's glass. "Grandfather's prize vinegar must be doing you good."

"It's nice." Regulus took a dreamy sip. "Better than vinegar."

"Top-flight vinegar. Best vinegar of the 1880s."

They were both giggling now.

"Vinegar with an overtone of mould and a soupcon of fly," Regulus said, between snorts of laughter.

"Full-bodied, like Pettigrew. And a prominent nose, just like Snivellus...." Sirius cackled at his own wit.

"Don't call him that!" Regulus snapped.

"Call him what?" Sirius said, puzzled. "Peter's my friend. We all know he's fat. He can take a joke."

"No, 'Snivellus'!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake, Regulus."

"Snape's a friend of mine."

"Snivellus has no friends," Sirius shot back. "If he lets you crib from his DADA homework, it's probably to see if his hexes will work on you."

"He's loyal and hardworking, which is more than can be said of you!"

"What am I, a Hufflepuff? If I'd wanted to be in Slytherin, I'd have bloody asked for Slytherin."

"Blood traitor," Regulus said automatically.

Sirius sneered, poured himself a generous glassful, downed it, and poured another. "If you're going to resort to petty insults, Regulus, at least try to be vaguely original, can't you? You can't exist on Mother's warmed-over bile forever."

"That's disgusting." Point to Sirius, damn it. "Right, then. Muggle-loving, lion-loving..."

"That's two 'lovings' right there. Try harder."

"You're impossible. Wine-thieving, Potter-sodomising..."

"Hey!"

Regulus smirked. Point to him. He took a breath. "Wine-thieving, Potter-sodomising, lion-loving, Mudblood-grovelling..." he took another breath while trying to think of more insults.

"'Mudblood-grovelling'? You're reaching, brother mine."

"Shut it. Erm..."

"You've spent yourself, admit it." Sirius put a lascivious emphasis on "spent". "Shot it all, sent it flying with one good pull, all done. Finished."

"At least I didn't leave a wet spot."

"Swill down much more of that stuff and you will leave a wet spot on the chair." Sirius looked insufferably smug. Another point.

"I will not, it's self-cleaning," Regulus muttered, hoping Sirius wouldn't press him on how he knew that.

"What, Kreacher licks it off himself? Wouldn't put it past him." Sirius looked ill for a moment, or maybe it was the alcohol. "If he tries to lick anything of mine, his head's going up on the wall before Mother can countercurse me." This was no idle boast—Sophonisba Black had been a crack duellist in her day, but Sirius was equally famed for his speed and dexterity in hexing, and he was considerably younger and more agile than their mother.

Regulus lowered his voice. "I saw him sniffing a pair of Aunt Araminta's knickers once."

Both brothers looked ill. They knocked back a glass simultaneously.

"If he's going to be sniffing anything," Sirius said, with a hint of unsteadiness in his voice, "he should be sniffing something worth sniffing."

"Potter's knickers?"

"Your knickers."

Regulus set down his glass. "My what?"

"I mean it. If that rotten little elf is going to make a spectacle of himself, why not do it over someone worth the trouble? I would."

"Would not."

"Would. And have."

"Fine. Who?"

"Shan't tell you." Sirius managed to put impressive hauteur into his dismissal.

"Hah. You have done Potter. Thought so." Regulus tried to imitate his brother's inimitable smirk. "Or he's done you."

"No!" Sirius's cheeks flamed despite the force of his denial. "He...he's not much interested in that sort of thing."

Point to Regulus, but for the moment it didn't seem to matter as much. "Are you?" he asked.

Sirius turned aside so Regulus could only partly see his face. "Shouldn't tell you if I were," he muttered.

Regulus snickered. "I always knew you were a rebel. What'll become of the Black line if you don't spawn another generation of us?"

Sirius sneered, at least so Regulus assumed. "What does that matter? They have you for that, don't they? Marry you off to some pureblood bitch with a line dating back to the arrival of the Celts, but not a Galleon to go with it and a face that would frighten a hag. You'll be the obedi...obedient one, won't you? You'll stick it in her and she'll push your babies out nine months later and the Black family will go on until the heat death of the universe. Isn't that the idea, Regulus?" His words, so bitter and biting, turned softer and seemed oddly forlorn by the time he finished.

Regulus shrugged. "I suppose that's about right," he said. Sirius had these odd moods sometimes. You couldn't really do anything about it, except jolly him along and wait for them to be over. In the meantime, he refilled his own glass.

Sirius grabbed the bottle away from him. "You can't have it all your way, you selfish goon."

"'Goon'? You have been hanging around with Mudbloods."

"Don't call them that!" Sirius seemed genuinely angry again. "It's completely rude."

"They're Muggles," Regulus said, exasperated. "They don't understand manners and it wouldn't matter even if they did. Mother's not inviting one over to tea, is she?"

"Only if she can poison it."

The wine felt good on Regulus's tongue, smooth and, well, winey. "The way Mother brews tea?" he said, feeling extraordinarily brave and insolent today. "They'd hardly know the difference between her standard brew and her extra special variety for Mu..." He wavered between "Mudbloods" and "Muggles" for a moment. "For Muddles," he said firmly, and wondered why Sirius was laughing this time. He hadn't said anything particularly risible, surely.

"You're the muddled one," Sirius said, and reached over to ruffle Regulus's hair. He overbalanced and landed with his hand straight in Regulus's lap.

"You stop that, now," Regulus said in his best nanny house-elf tones. He pushed Sirius's unexpectedly heavy body away in a haphazard fashion. They ended up sprawled together in a more or less sitting position in the chair, which growled at them but stopped when Sirius thwacked it reprovingly with his wand.

"Gotta get out of here," Sirius said softly, and rested his head against Regulus's shoulder.

"Where?"

"Somewhere. Hot. Sunny. Just fly away to Madagascar or Australia or Timbuktoo. Don't care as long as it's not here." Sirius's head felt uncomfortably heavy, but his hair was soft and smelled nice. Regulus couldn't help but smell it, close as they were.

"You'll be a remittance man like Uncle Alphard."

"Mmm. Could be. You do that when we're of age. Give me a pot of Galleons and tell me to get lost. Then you can be heir and we'll all be happy."

Damn, that sounded good. "I can see you there, on the beach. Your hair..." He inhaled and lost his train of thought for a moment. "Your hair a right mess," he said hastily. "And you in the sun, basking like a cat, all happy and good for nothing."

"A cat, am I?" Sirius sounded unexpectedly amused, though it shouldn't be as unexpected as that, given that Sirius seemed to be amused all the time. That, or angry. This was a different amused, somehow. Tenser.

"A big cat." Sirius was too dark to be a proper Gryffindor lion. Perhaps a panther.

"Your hand feels nice like that," Sirius said in his ear suddenly.

"What?"

"Petting me like a cat. S'nice." He snuggled—there really was no other word for it—closer to Regulus.

Regulus realised in shock that he had indeed been stroking Sirius's lovely soft hair. Rhythmically petting and tangling his fingers dreamily in his brother's hair.

"Need to comb it, Sirius," he said vaguely. "It's gone all messy again."

"With you pulling at it?" Sirius's tone cleared and he straightened himself a bit. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"You shouldn't be tossing it all over my face then, you tosser," Regulus retorted, feeling remarkably witty. "Talk about making a spectacle of yourself. What if someone saw?"

"Saw what?" Sirius asked reasonably. "The heir to the family and his little brother..."

"The heir to the family and his big brother, by a year, you mean."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the two of us, whichever of us inherits and the other one. Drinking the family wine, to which they are perfectly entitled, being the spare and heir and all, and carrying on a reasonably civilised conversation."

"In each others' laps."

"There is that." Sirius shifted back against Regulus. "Comfy."

"Not on me you're not, you big berk."

Sirius wriggled against Regulus's lap. "No?"

"No. Now stop that."

"You sure?" The movements became more rhythmic. Regulus, being fifteen, couldn't help but respond, to his embarrassment.

"No..." he said a bit breathlessly, then caught himself and cuffed Sirius on the side of the head. "YES!"

"Why?"

A good question.

"Because it's too damn cold in here and..." he peered around Sirius at the table in front of them "...we've finished off the last of the '89 vinegar."

Sirius belched. "It went to a good home," he said. "It was lonely in that dank cellar. I know I'd be."

Regulus rested his cheek against Sirius's head. "You...goon."

He felt Sirius give him that smile.

"Lord, I gotta piss," Sirius moaned.

"Well, don't tell me about it," said Regulus. "I'm not helping you with that. Shouldn't have drunk all that wine." He felt a bit uncomfortable himself.

Sirius snorted and helped himself to the chamber pot, which promptly cleaned itself with a small gurgle. He turned round and flopped with remnants of his usual grace on the massive, black-curtained bed. "Bet Kreacher drinks out of Mother's chamber p..."

"Don't," Regulus said, shoving Sirius out of the way as he got up to use the implement himself. "That is more disgusting than I can think about." Kreacher probably would, that was the worst of it. "Ah," he sighed in relief, then mentally cursed himself for giving Sirius the pleasure.

"You done yet? Get over here, I'm cold. I think the wine wore off."

Regulus whispered a simple cleansing charm for them both, as Sirius rolled his eyes, then joined him on the big bed. He plumped up his pillow and rested his elbows on it, lying comfortably on his stomach. "We," he said, "are going to be in so much trouble."

"From your little spell there? Mother'll buy them off. Blacks can do anything, remember?"

"No," Regulus said, annoyed. "From guzzling down half of Father's wine cellar!"

"Probably," Sirius said, and yawned.

Regulus nudged him. "Don't you care?"

"Not particularly. God, I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts."

"Back to Potter or whoever your pretty bumboy is?"

Sirius snorted. "And you say I need a Scourgify spell?" He grinned, devilish once more. "You'd like to see what I'd get up to, wouldn't you?'

"The thought of you and your Gryffindor Mudblood friends rolling about like dogs in heat turns my stomach," Regulus said primly, and buried his face in his pillow. It was chilly from the damp of the house, and musty, but felt reassuringly familiar.

He gasped for breath as Sirius threw his greater weight and strength on Regulus's protesting back.

"Don't say that," Sirius said in his ear, low and brimming with anger. "You don't talk like that about my friends."

Regulus tried, unsuccessfully, to buck him off. "God, there's no dealing with you, is there? You slag my friends off all the time, and the minute I dare say anything against yours, you're on me like a Lethifold." He managed to get an elbow up and into Sirius's ribs, judging by the startled grunt in his ear. With another heave, he managed to hump his brother off his back. "Wish I was the oldest, you'd be sunning yourself on the Costa del Sol in no time flat."

He rolled over and glared into Sirius's eyes. His brother's quicksilver expression had shifted yet again, this time to regret and perhaps even shame. "I'm sorry," Sirius said softly and more humbly than usual. "I just...this house. It always gets to me over the holidays. I just want to go back, get out of here."

Regulus half-lay on his back and surveyed the room. Nothing wrong with it. High, Georgian ceilings, heavy dark furnishings polished by age and the fingers of innumerable house-elves, the black fall of heavy bed curtain only the stretch of an arm away; all of it imbued by the aura of the Black family who had lived there and shared these furnishings time out of mind. Continuous, unending. Deeply reassuring.

"I've got to get out of here," Sirius said again. "I can feel the walls closing in." Regulus could feel his brother trembling, so slightly, next to him. His long, slender fingers clutched restlessly at his pillow.

This had to be more than one point to Regulus. Odd that he didn't feel happier about it. "Only a week. You can stick it out 'til then."

Sirius blinked tiredly at him. "Think so?"

"Of course you can," Regulus said, with more heartiness than he felt.

Sirius closed his eyes, sighed, and snuggled more tightly into his pillow. His fingers loosened, still twitching.

Regulus reached out, fascinated despite himself, and wrapped his hand round those fingers. Sirius's grip tightened on his and his brother moved closer.

His brother's breath smelled like wine. His lips were half-open.

Regulus watched his own hand move up from Sirius's hand, to his elbow, to his shoulder, to trace the relaxing lines of his brother's jaw. Sirius didn't protest as Regulus curved his hand against his skull, once again sinking his fingers in the thick waves of black hair.

He couldn't help running his fingers along his brother's lips, all the time waiting for the mouth to open, the teeth to come down hard on his finger, and the biting remarks to begin again.

They didn't. Sirius's mouth moved into a soft smile under Regulus's hand, and Sirius kissed his palm.

"Going soft in your old age, Sirius?" Regulus wanted to bite his tongue in half just as he said that, but Sirius shook his head, said "No," and guided Regulus's hand between his legs.

"Guess not."

Sirius grunted again, this time happily, as Regulus pressed his hand against the heavy robes. The shape underneath felt both familiar and strange, and he was aware again of his own cock, upright and taut against his belly.

It was dark, they were drunk, they would be returning to Hogwarts next week. And they needed this.

"Are you going to fiddle about much longer or are you going to do something?" Sirius complained.

Regulus didn't bother to reply. He irritably hiked up Sirius's robe and wrapped his hand about his brother's cock.

Sirius squirmed closer. "That's more like it." He raised his head from the pillow to grin at Regulus, his grey eyes once again sparkling with life and mischief.

Regulus hated himself for his inability to resist that face, that smile. "Shut it," he said, and began to milk his brother properly.

Sirius's eyes shut, his mouth opened. Regulus resisted the impulse to kiss him. Instead, he focused on doing it right. He spat into his hand and moistened it thoroughly.

"Disgusting," Sirius murmured. "What kind of wizard are you? Can't be arsed to use a lubricating spell."

"Do you really want me to stop long enough to go fetch my wand?"

"Hell no," Sirius said, and pushed himself harder into Regulus's hand. "And don't you stop!" His breath shuddered between his teeth.

The robe was more in the way than ever, and Regulus shoved it up to Sirius's waist. His brother's skin was smooth, unspotted by youthful acne, unlike Regulus's, which would be yet another thing to begrudge Sirius if Regulus weren't getting into the moment quite so much. He wrapped his other arm around Sirius's back and brought them closer together. Judging by Sirius's response, it wouldn't be long.

Sirius's cock felt surprisingly good in Regulus's hand. It had a nice shape, somehow, and it was amazing to realise he could do something that actually cracked his older brother's facade of supremacy. It was hard to act completely superior, after all, when he was clawing at Regulus's back and panting hot, warm breaths right in his ear and giving ecstatic little grunts. Regulus was always deathly quiet when he was playing with himself, as he was too worried about being overheard and subsequently mocked, but Sirius seemed to have no such qualms. Perhaps Gryffindor males were more forgiving of their dorm-mates' peccadilloes, or, more likely, Sirius had simply cowed the rest of his companions with his alpha male presence.

He shouldn't have thought about his brother as the alpha male, Regulus realised. It was too distracting—he could hardly stop to take care of himself at this moment—and far too alluring a thought.

Who are you thinking about, Sirius? Regulus wondered. Potter? Lupin? Not Severus, surely. Evans? No, it wouldn't be a woman his brother dreamed of....

Sirius's entire body twisted against him and he shouted as his climax hit and jetted white against the dark fabric of robes and bed. He fell back, panting, looking insufferably pleased with himself.

"Well, there's that robe ruined," Regulus said, miffed.

Sirius snorted. "What sort of wizard are you? Get your wand and clean the damn thing."

"Shan't. I'm sopping," and hard as a rock, he didn't add. "You get it."

"All right then." Sirius got up with a pop of muscles and a groan, and waved his wand negligently at Regulus. "Evanesco. And do stop whinging."

"Christ, don't you ever say 'thank you'?"

"Thank you. And try stroking the balls next time, you wouldn't believe how good that feels."

"You are so...! You could at least finish me off, you bastard."

"Thank you. It...helped things. A bit."

Regulus looked up at the newly serious tone of his voice. Sirius was sitting up on the side of the rumpled bed, legs over the side. He had shucked off his robe, which was lying crumpled up untidily a few feet away. "I mean it," he repeated. "It did help. A little."

"Well," Regulus said, confused by his unpredictable brother yet again. "That's good." He went over to stand in front of Sirius. "How about helping me?" Not that Sirius would do such a thing, self-centred as he was.

But Sirius smiled, warm, devil-may-care as always, and Regulus's heart turned over, as always. "All right," he said, and slid down to his knees, still naked, to kneel on the hard floor.

"Don't do that," said Regulus. "Here." He pulled his own robe over his head and tossed it on the floor. Sirius shuffled over to kneel on the fabric. Too late, Regulus thought of the creases that would undoubtedly put in it. Ah well, too late now.

The state of his robe became the last thing in his mind when he felt himself enveloped by Sirius's warm, wet mouth. His brother seemed to know what he was doing (how? with whom? oh, who cared). He was remarkably careful with his teeth, and Regulus's knees almost buckled when he swirled his tongue around the shaft, then flicked the tip up and down the ridge. Then he felt one warm hand reach up to cup and gently fondle his balls, supporting them with one hand while the other hand gripped Regulus's hip bone for balance.

"Oh Lord," Regulus moaned.

His horrible, wonderful older brother had the nerve to chuckle at that, and the sensation made him tremble more than ever. Please, don't let Sirius say "I told you so," he thought. Having his balls held and caressed like that did feel so good, and even Sirius's strong hand on his hip, now moving to his arse to draw him closer in. There was real affection in it. Strange, when after "Toujours Pur", the Black family motto was "Affection is False"....

And he stopped analysing his brother for once. He buried his fingers in his brother's thick, silky hair and bent almost double over him, trying muzzily to hug him after a fashion. Sirius gently pushed him back up, his hand stroking Regulus reassuringly. Regulus felt himself tighten, his teeth clench, and oh god, Sirius...

...if he could admit it to himself, the only one he'd ever really wanted...

...Sirius didn't pull back, didn't push him away, but greedily swallowed every last drop as though Regulus were what he'd wanted all along himself.

Somehow they both tottered back to the bed and collapsed, Sirius's arm thrown protectively over Regulus as they curled up together.

It was Regulus who woke up first, mouth powdery and skull throbbing. Sunlight squeezed its way through the heavy drapes of the window and the bed, to gild Sirius's dark hair. Regulus watched Sirius, his mouth ever so slightly open in sleep, the barely-visible black down beginning to show on his upper lip. He looked gentle, peaceful, the fight gone out of him for this moment of quiet. His brother was beautiful. Too beautiful. Always had been, always would be. Regulus could refuse him nothing, after all.

He couldn't help it. He leaned forward and gave his brother the softest, quickest kiss on the mouth.

Sirius stirred, frowned, turned over. "Don't be soft, Reg," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

It was really too much, Regulus thought vaguely, for the truce they'd unexpectedly forged over smuggled wine and cursory sex to last much past the first week of their return to Hogwarts. It would be a miracle for it to last an hour after they both woke up.

But there was time before then. He didn't touch Sirius again, but continued to gaze at him.

I promise you, he thought. When we are of age, I will exile you. Send you away from our home, laughing.

And we will both be free.

Written by Teka Lynn
October 2004

All rights to the characters and setting are held by J K Rowling and whoever else holds them, including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros. This fanwork was created solely for fun and has no legal or financial connection to the Harry Potter novels.