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James Potter would like to be able to say that he was not the kind of stereotypical, cliche romance-novel CEO who followed the inane work hard, play harder mantra by spending his days 7-7 in the office and his nights exploring the seedy underbelly of London’s filthiest, grimiest strip clubs. He would like to be able to say that he spent his hard-earned cash on philanthropic pursuits - charity donations, funding outreach centres, spearheading LGBTQ+ support organisations and absolutely not on getting his own rocks off in the pursuit of a different kind of beneficence.
And if you’d have asked him 6 months ago, he’d have been able to truthfully tell you that he wasn’t that kind of person, thank you very much. Half a year ago, James could truthfully say that he’d never once set foot in a strip club - hadn’t even considered the merits of visiting one. He was very much a romantic at heart, and he’d had his fair share of relationships over the years, and between relationships he’d never once felt that he was so lonely, so in need of human contact, that he might have to pay for it.
And more than that, he simply did not see the merits of just… watching a person take off their clothes. Academically, he understood that there was a real level of skill involved in the profession - dancing, teasing, tempting - but even now, after spending countless hours and thousands of pounds sitting on uncomfortable seats in front of sticky tables, men and women parading around him in next to nothing, whispering in his ear and offering him a private dance, it still mostly did absolutely nothing for him. Many of them were attractive, undeniably so, but if he couldn’t touch? What was the point?
No - if he ever wanted to burn off some steam between relationships, he’d follow the tried and true method of donning a pair of too-tight jeans, a silk shirt unbuttoned to the navel, and go out to a pub or club and show off his gym-toned body until someone looked his way and allowed him to buy them a drink and flirt them into his bed. Sure, it was still transactional, but in a way that didn’t feel quite so predatory.
But all of that had now changed, his morals thrown completely out of the window thanks to a man who was stripping his bank account faster than he stripped out of the lingerie that James was 90% sure at this point he was paying for. Because who else could possibly be paying for it? Besides his basic night rate and the tips he got from his one dance at the beginning of the night, James had been booking private sessions from the end of that dance to the club's close, wholly unwilling to allow anybody else the privilege of seeing this man in such an intimate setting. He was positive that if it weren’t for the fact that he was paying well over the typical odds for the time, he’d have been banned from the club by now for hogging one of their most popular dancers all the time, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay so that he could maintain the charade that this man was his. And he was - from the hours of 12pm-4am Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays.
He’d gone to the first club with genuinely pure intentions. Sirius had come to him - panicked and distraught, the kind of fear in his eyes that James had barely seen since the day he’d run away from home a decade ago - to ask for a favour. He’d discovered through a series of random, disconnected events that not only had his younger sibling also now been disowned from the Noble House of Black for being trans and gay, but that he was surviving his disownment by working as a stripper somewhere in London. He’d begged on his knees for James to go out searching for him, Sirius couldn’t do it himself on account of being banned from most of the establishments thanks to a streak of poor drunken decisions when he was younger. That, and even in the pursuit of saving him from a life that he did not deem suitable, Sirius could not bring himself to walk into somewhere he might see his brother - his baby brother, who he’d not seen for a decade - in a state of undress.
And James - kind, generous and selfless to a fault - agreed.
He didn’t find him at the first club, nor the second. It had taken 4 months of searching - dedicating several nights a week to the cause. He’d visit a club, sit there from open to close and nurse as few drinks as he could get away with, tip as little as he deemed appropriate, then return home with a not tonight text to his best friend. He even built a spreadsheet to track his visits - making sure that he visited each club on different nights under the assumption that the dancers didn’t work seven days and therefore he could not rely on the fact that if he didn’t see him on a Tuesday, he could well be there on a Wednesday.
In the end it turned out that it was in the 8th club on his list that he found him. Sirius hadn’t given him a picture - he didn’t have one - but the family resemblance was remarkable and the name that was called out as he approached the stage - Leo - was just on the right side of pretentious, just closely enough resembling the constellation that he knew he’d been named for before - that James was immediately sure. The song barely began, just the opening notes ringing out across the room and the spotlight overhead shining sending a scattered prism of light dancing from the sequins on his emerald green corset, sparks reflected in James’ own eyes and he knew.
The man standing on the stage, smirking individually at each man sitting alone at their tables as if he noticed them all, saw them all, was assessing them all, was the man he was looking for.
He also knew, from the very first fluid movement of his hips and the very first smirk pointed in his direction, that he would probably not be telling Sirius he’d found him tonight. It was perhaps the first wholly selfish thought James had ever had in his life, but as he watched Leo move around the stage like he owned it - like everyone in the room was there to serve him, to look at him - James finally understood the attraction of these kinds of places. And if Sirius knew he’d found him, the next conversation would be an unhinged plan to get him out of here and James desperately wanted to come back, to see him again like this. Selfish, all his.
No other dancer in any of the other clubs that he’d been to had been able to captivate his attention so fully. Leo was an appropriate name, because his movements were almost feline, graceful in a way that only confirmed fully that this was who he was looking for, as he’d known that Sirius’ sibling had spent years training for ballet as a child. James was pretty sure that even if this wasn’t the whole reason he was here in the first place, he’d still be jumping up out of his seat at the final notes of the song - Leo on his knees, corset stripped to leave him in just a thong, body glitter and a matching pair of scars across his chest, panting and dripping with sweat from the exertion - to stake his claim on a private dance before any of the other men who were equally hooked could even begin to rise from their seats.
2 months ago
“Potter.” Leo drawled as he first entered the room - redressed in a new set. Crimson red. Lace panties barely covering his lower half, with a matching suspender and stockings. No top, but a silk robe left open and untied, draped carelessly off one shoulder as if he wanted James to know he had no intention of removing it any further for him.
James, for his part, was not completely surprised he’d been recognised. Sure, a decade had passed since they’d been in the same room but even 10 years of growth and aging from a gangly, awkward teenager to the attractive and well-built man he was now could not do enough to change his face.
“You remember me, then?” James leaned further back into his seat, allowing the easy confidence that he always held to carry him through the conversation.
“Remember you?” Leo busied himself with plugging his phone into the speaker system. “Barely. You’ve grown up. You look good”
“So do you.”
A slow smirk spread across Leo’s face, lighting his features in a way that made James feel like he was not the predator in this situation, a creep paying a man for a glimpse at his body - he was the prey.
“I know.”
The opening beat to his chosen song began to play, the bass flowing from the speakers directly to James’ already rapidly beating chest as Leo stepped forward to take his place on the small stage in the centre of the room, directly in front of James.
“I didn’t ask you here to dance for me, Leo.”
“No?” he tipped his head to the side in questioning, fluidly leaning forward and resting his hands on his own knees, back perfectly arched. “I’ve 2 grand in my knickers that says otherwise.” Another smirk, and he casually moved the robe to the side to reveal the wad of cash tucked into his waistband.
“I was hoping we could talk.” James leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He hoped it looked smooth, and not just an effort to still his legs that were beginning to shake with nerves, excitement? He wasn’t sure, but he was straining himself against the urge and hoped the pressure of his elbows would help.
“Then talk” Leo continued to move his hips to the music, bringing his arms up and behind his head causing the robe to slip down to the crook of his elbows, and James had to swallow the gulp that formed. “I’m listening.”
“Leo, please. Stop.” James spoke through gritted teeth, his resolve to not be a creep rapidly crumbling as the robe that was barely hanging on finally fell to the floor at Leos’ next movement - a rapid arch backwards with his arms out that gave him a perfect view of his barely covered crotch.
He must have sounded appropriately desperate, needy enough, because Leo obeyed. He stopped abruptly, stepping down from the stage to sit at the edge of it, one leg crossed over the other and leaning back just slightly on splayed hands. The room was small, and the stage was close enough that if James just reached out he could… No. No touching. That was the cardinal rule of private dances even when the dancer wasn’t your best friend’s estranged brother that you’d spent months tracking down.
Still, despite his immediate and undeniable attraction to this man, James had decided before he’d even found him that he’d be honest with him about his intentions and that resolve did not change now. It was risky, but he didn’t think Leo would bolt. He hadn’t left when he’d recognised him, after all.
“Sirius asked me to find you. He’s worried about you.”
Leo scoffed. “He wasn’t so worried about me ten years ago when he left me behind in that place.”
“He- It was hard for him, leaving you behind.” And it had been. It had taken months before Sirius stopped crying himself to sleep over the worry that he’d made the wrong decision, that he should have dragged them kicking and screaming with him.
“Hard for him?” Leo’s tone dropped, cutting through James like ice. “I’m sure it was very hard, being doted on by Euphemia Potter. All the while it was me who had to… No. I’m not talking about this. It’ll cost you more than 2 grand to start unpacking all of that.”
“How much then, Leo? Because I don’t want a dance but I do want to get to know you again, if you’ll let me.”
Leo paused, and James could almost see the gears turning behind those storm grey eyes as he no doubt had an argument with himself. He’d always been so calculating, even at school he never did anything that didn’t benefit him in some way. James was desperate, clinging on to the fact that he’d had so many opportunities already to bolt - he’d recognised him on the floor and still accepted the private dance, had redressed himself in red which James had already deluded himself into thinking was targeted, hadn’t run when he’d said Sirius’ name.
Time passed. Long enough for the song to finish and bleed into the next, another slow number that James knew would have Leo’s hips swaying in a way that would make it so impossibly hard for him to not reach out and grab that tiny waist that would be haunting his dreams from here on out.
“Fine.” Leo sighed and pulled himself forwards, sitting straight upright, no longer leaning on his palms. “But I have terms.”
“Of course you have terms.” James rolled his eyes slightly. Ten years and despite the obvious, he hadn’t changed at all.
“I’m sure you’re here in some kind of misguided attempt to save me from my lifestyle. You’re wasting your time. I do this because I choose to. I don’t need saving.” He paused long enough for the words to sink in and James’ stomach dropped at the implication. It wasn’t even about saving him any more, hadn’t been from the moment he’d stepped onto the stage and James’ heart constricted within his chest at the sight. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Leo dancing for strange men but it wasn’t out of a sense of duty to his friend’s brother, it was because he wanted to be the only person who got to see it.
“Secondly.” Leo interrupted James’ spiralling to continue with his list of demands. “You know where to find me. I work Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. Do not ask to see me outside of these days, and do not bring Sirius. You can tell him I’m alive, you can tell him anything I tell you here. But do not bring him.”
That was fair - more fair than James had expected. Leo didn’t want direct contact with his brother but he was allowing him to share the information he’d be willing to give him. It would have to be enough for Sirius, at least for now. James was confident and already falling so deep into obsession with this man that he genuinely believed he could change his mind on this point, eventually. So he wouldn’t push. For now.
But it did mean he could tell Sirius he’d found him, the weight of the lie he’d been preparing lifting from his throat. God Bless Leo and his terms, because it meant he could put a firm stop to any and all of the convoluted plans that Sirius might come up with.
“Thirdly, you’re paying for me to dance. I can’t… I do want to talk to you, James. It’s too… too strange for me to accept your money if all we’re going to do is talk. This is my job. I like doing it. So if you’re going to take up as much of my time as I’m assuming you will, you’re paying for the dance. The rest is… the rest is just because I want to.”
And just like that, all of James’ carefully constructed walls began to teeter on the edge of collapse. Because he was reading between the lines, almost certainly deluding himself into heartache later down the line, but what Leo said and what James heard were two entirely different things.
Leo wanted to talk to him, and he wanted to dance for him. And James was absolutely going to let him.
“Right. Alright.” James bit back a grin and leaned back in his seat again, crossing one leg over the other in a mirror of Leo’s position opposite. “Dance for me, Leo. And talk to me.”
And Leo, God bless him, did.
For hours, he alternated between standing up on the stage, wrapped around the pole, moving so gracefully that James had to start sitting on his own hands to stop himself reaching forward - and talking. He told James about how he’d felt when Sirius had abandoned him, how alone he’d been in that house without his brother there to protect him. How he’d been so damn angry that he hadn’t even asked if he’d come too that he spent most of the first months cursing his brother's name. How eventually he’d come to understand that Sirius had done what he needed to, that he’d have died if he’d stayed and that their parents only allowed him to go because they still had him at home, the perfect daughter to mould and shape and sell off to the highest bidder.
By 4am - closing time - they were both wrung out. Leo both emotionally and physically from the hours of dancing and laying his soul bare, James from the revelations that sent him reeling, and from the strain in his trousers that hadn’t even abated even when Leo had started crying as he admitted that he did miss Sirius but he just wasn’t ready to see him, needed more time to prepare.
They parted ways with a promise that James would come again on Wednesday. And Saturday. And every shift that Leo worked until he was ready.
The next 2 months were a whirlwind for James. He’d told Sirius the following morning, allowing himself a scant few hours of sleep before opening that can of worms which he knew he’d have to be fully mentally present for, lest he blurt out how badly he wanted to bend Leo in half and fill him to the brim with his devotion. Leo was a God and James was rapidly preparing to fall to his knees in worship, and Sirius could not ever find out that was the real reason he’d been so quick to agree to the terms without offering a single rebuttal or resistance of his own.
Every time he visited the club, he’d learn more. Leo was slowly giving over small pieces of himself that were painting a picture of a man who hadn’t just survived the additional time he’d spent in the House of Black, he’d absolutely thrived there. He’d taken the lessons that were meant to turn him into a twisted, evil shell of a person and instead picked up the skills he needed to grow and develop into himself. His mother - a master at manipulation and gaslighting - had inadvertently paved the way for him to turn his transition into a positive for the family, the male heir that they were now lacking presented before them in shiny gift wrap - hormones and top surgery paid for with a bat of his lashes and a didn’t you always want a good son.
It hadn’t even been his homosexuality that had been the tipping point in his disownment as it turned out. He’d revealed this little snippet in the fourth week - Saturday night clad in white like a fallen angel, devil horn tattoos peeking over the edge of his waistband at the dip of his hips shattering the illusion, gyrating wildly to Next Go Round like he was fucking the pole between his legs as he mimicked the words with perfect timing and precision. Hanging upside down, dark curls tumbling towards the ground as he admitted he’d been cast out over his dancing - something he started long before being cut off from the families finances because it allowed him to have control and freedom in a way that barking orders across a boardroom like his father did could never equal.
In turn James had spilled his own secrets. Explained to Leo how hard Sirius had taken it when he’d left and they hadn’t seemed willing to follow. Admitted his twisted joy over gaining a sibling because he’d never had one before, how conflicted he’d felt over stealing one from someone else. Revealed how deep his own impostor syndrome ran at work - he’d not felt at all ready to take over his fathers company but with his declining health he had no choice but to slap a brave face on and show up every day, feeling like less of himself every time he clocked in.
And over time, the dancing itself was changing. Morphing into something that James had little to no control over, his reactions getting less and less subtle as Leo regularly moved from the stage to the floor, to his lap. James had never been more proud of anything more than his own self restraint than he was the first time Leo dropped to his knees and crawled over to him, running his delicate hands up the length of James’ legs with a muttered “You can’t touch, but I can”.
It wasn’t dancing any more, you couldn’t call it that and keep your face straight. Leo was fucking him, from several feet away with James fully clothed and shaking, losing composure with each delicate touch, every gyration of his hips a mockery of what he could be doing against James’ cock.
It was frightening, and dangerous, and James was so far into the deep end of his lust that he’d left the room at the end of the night more than once with a cooling damp in his pants, released from the sight alone of Leo bending over in front of him, thong slipped to the side and leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. A knowing smirk on the younger man's face because he knew exactly what he’d reduced him to without touching him anywhere close to where he was desperately wanted. A smirk that was betrayed ever so slightly by the glistening wetness that proved without a shadow of a doubt in James’ mind that he wasn’t the only one discreetly clenching his thighs together.
But it was more than that by now. Not just lust. Leo had revealed so much about himself by now, James knew him so well, that he wasn’t shy about calling it what it really was. Not in his own mind, at least.
He’d fallen in love with this man. Catastrophically, unerringly and completely in love with someone who he now felt he knew so well, so deeply, that it was finally time to make the push.
And Leo was clearly enamoured by him too, or at the very least was horny for him. James really didn’t think it was his own rose-tinted delusion talking, not with the way he’d gotten bolder with his dancing, firmer with his touches. The way the insides of his thighs shone with barely concealed arousal a direct contradiction to the constant reminders that James could look, but he couldn’t touch.
It was time to break down Leo’s second term - no meetings outside the club. Because the club meant no touching, it meant no real privacy with the camera that James knew to be pointing inside the room, for the protection of dancers from handsy customers. James had waited long enough, he’d been so patient - so restrained - but he was just a man. A weak, weak man who had cum in his pants more times in the last 2 months than he ever had as a teenager, completely pathetic and ready to finally take his chance to worship at the altar of the infuriating man who had captivated him so fully.
Present day
Well into his second month of visiting this club 3 times a week, James had fallen into a routine. Greet the doorman, pay his cover. Seemed to increase every week - he’d either been clocked as someone who’d pay whatever they asked, or Leo was playing a game with him. Didn’t matter either way, he paid it. Head to the bar to buy a double whiskey on the rocks and throw a wink at the barman who was hot, but just not hot enough. Maybe in another life he and Evan could run off into the sunset together, but even if he wasn’t so obsessed with Leo he was pretty sure he was fucking the doorman and Barty was a scary looking guy, and he wasn’t a fighter. Cross to the front of the room and take his position at the closest empty table and settle in for an hour of dancers he didn’t care about, moving their hips to songs he didn’t like. Tip perfunctorily at the end of each dance, he was consuming their content after all so it was only fair he paid for it. They never approached him to offer a private dance any more, they all knew it was a waste of their time. Table service for a second drink, a splash of soda water in this one, he wasn’t here to get drunk but there was a two-drink minimum and he wasn’t about to get himself barred over not following such a simple rule. Then Leo would take the stage, and his night would really begin.
His dance was - as it always was - magical. There was no other word to describe the way this man moved, rolls and sways and thrusts against the pole that shot straight to James’ cock and primed him for the following hours where he’d have him all to himself.
He was in red again tonight - Leo had long since stopped changing after his set, instead coming to James still sweaty and dishevelled. James supposed he knew he didn’t need to try so hard to hook him, he was already wrapped around his finger and the younger man knew it well. Not the same red set from the first night - that one had been delicate and lacy, could have come across as almost innocent if not for the fire that had burned behind his eyes as he stripped off the last piece in the dying hours in the morning, baring his pretty cunt, spread out on the stage and short-circuiting James to the point that it took him longer than he’d care to admit to shake himself back to reality and whisper a choked Thankyou.
No, this one was, well. Not for the first time, James’ hands itched to take the jacket that was splayed across the back of his chair and cover him up, because the outfit that Leo was sporting on stage in front of dozens of the seediest, creepiest old men that London had to offer was almost obscene and was definitely not something that he’d usually pull out on a Wednesday night. This kind of outfit was usually saved for a Saturday - where the club was fuller and the men tidier, more polite. The tips were more generous on the weekend so the outfits were more risque, Leo wouldn’t generally pull out a half-corset, thong and suspenders along with teetering heels that had James concerned for the safety of his ankles on a night where his only real payment would come from James himself later on.
James left before the final song even finished, taking his place in the private backroom that he knew so well. He’d already hooked up his own phone to the sound system and set Movement by Hozier playing through the speakers. Something slow, sultry. He liked the fast paced songs that Leo typically went for, all bold movements and flying hair, but tonight he wanted the tenderness. Needed to feed into his delusion that Leo was affected by their meetings as he was.
“Evening, Jamie.”
James peered over his shoulder at the intrusion. Leo was leaning against the door - James hadn’t even heard it open and close but it must have, unless Leo had suddenly gained the ability to pop into and out of existence. He wouldn’t put it past him, actually. If it was possible, he’s exactly the sort of person who would learn.
His heels were gone, designed for dancing, not walking through the corridors that led from the back of the stage to the private rooms, hanging lazily from one hand. Robe already discarded and hung on the hook at the back of the door.
Jamie. That wasn’t new. James had been expected to be relegated to Potter so it had been a pleasant surprise that first night, when Leo’s lips had formed the word James instead. An even more pleasant surprise when, several weeks of talking and dancing and flirting later, James had offered an admission of his own that he liked the nickname, but nobody ever called him that.
Nobody except Leo, who had called him nothing else since.
“Good evening, Leo.” James put his phone down on the side, playlist perfectly curated to autoplay over the evening’s proceedings, and took his usual seat in the plush armchair directly across from the stage. It was a huge thing, far bigger than you’d expect for a room of this size, easily big enough to fit 2 people side by side. Or, James’ traitorous mind supplied, one person sitting down, with another person spread out on their lap, knees sunk into the soft surface below.
Leo had done that two days ago, hovering several inches above his lap, chest pressed to chest as he murmured into his ear. Let go, Jamie. I know you want to. You can’t touch me, but you can cum for me, can’t you? Just imagine it, the way it would feel if I dropped my hips now. You want it don’t you? Don’t you need it? James had bit his tongue as he came, the iron tang of blood filling his mouth as he filled his trousers. Good boy, Leo had said. Giving security a good show on that camera. Showing them how obedient you are for me, how good.
James shuddered at the memory, as he always now would whenever he lowered himself into the seat.
“Good choice” Leo remarked, as he took position at the centre of the stage, planting his feet either side of the pole behind him, reaching back his arms to hook them around it and slide slowly, slowly to his knees.
You are a call to motion
There, all of you, a verb in perfect view
“I’ve had a little chat with Barty, by the way.” He spun a full circle around the pole, knees tucked close to his chest. “Did you hear? The camera in this room is broken. Can’t get anybody to fix it until tomorrow.”
James gulped heavily and glanced up to the corner and sure enough, the little red light was not blinking. If Leo was implying what he thought he was…
“Would be an awful… shame if somebody lost his manners tonight, wouldn’t it? With nobody to watch.”
James watched slack-jawed as Leo moved with a fluidity that immediately sent his blood rushing southward, the zipper on his jeans already digging in painfully. He’d considered switching to joggers, but the pain kept him grounded. Served as a reminder that he had to restrain himself.
Except… did he? Hadn’t he been cursing their lack of privacy for weeks? A lack of privacy that tonight, was not a problem.
Move me, baby (oh, ay)
So move me, baby (ooh)
Like you've nothing left to lose (ooh-ooh)
“Yeah.” James’ voice sounded punched out, even to his own ears. “A shame.”
“Hmm.” Leo dropped into a split, slow and controlled. “Or maybe, it would be a shame to miss out on the opportunity?” He dragged his legs behind himself, raising up onto his knees to begin the slow crawl across the room to where James sat.
“You’ve been such a good boy, Jamie. So controlled. Tonight I want you to let go. Prove to me that you deserve me outside of these walls.”
“Outside?” James reeled in awe. He hadn’t even tried to push yet. “You mean… you’re ready?”
“Ready to meet Sirius, ready to let you show me off out there.” He reached James’ parted legs, and ran his hands up the inside of his thighs. Nothing new, but a firmer move than normal, no delicate dancing of fingers against denim. A firm presence. “Ready to let you in.”
“Fuck, Leo” James groaned helplessly, stuttered and raw.
Leo winked up at him through his lashes, licking his lips as he brought his hands higher, higher but not quite high enough, pressing hard against the inside of James’ parted thighs.
“That’s the idea, yes.”
James was gone. Done for. Completely ruined. Leo had needed time to prepare, but he was giving James exactly none and he really shouldn’t have expected any differently.
“In the interest of full honesty, though. You should know I’ve not been exactly… transparent with you.”
Before James was allowed to panic, to rack his brain over their past interactions and wonder what was real and what was not, Leo braced his arms against the flat of the armchair and pulled himself up, resting one perfect knee either side of James’ lap and continued.
“Leo is a stage name. My name is Regulus.”
“Regulus?” James’ brows furrowed as he racked his brain for the scant astronomical knowledge he’d picked up over the years.
“Mhm, like-”
“Like the heart of the lion? There’s some Gryffindor in you, after all.”
Then Regulus - beautiful, confusing, and wholly dangerous Regulus - dropped the final distance and ground himself against James’ straining erection, all whilst leaning forward to whisper into the shell of his ear.
“Not as much as I’d like for there to be.”
For the first time since they’d started this game, James allowed his hands to do what they had been itching to do for 2 long months, and they flew up to take their rightful place at the dip of Regulus’ waist and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he grabbed and pulled him down firmly, pushing up his own hips as he did and drawing a startled gasp from the younger man.
“Why now?”
“Because” Regulus whispered, deep and sultry and dripping with honey. “The camera really is broken, and so is my resolve. Do you think it’s been easy for me, watching you get off and leaving me so… untouched?”
James’ heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. All this time, he’d seen how aroused Regulus had been, how dripping he was by the end of their time together, but there were rules and he was following them and he hadn’t spared a second to think about how painful it must have been for him. “I’m sorry, I-”
“No apologies, Jamie.” Regulus nipped at his ear, dipping lower to kitten lick at his neck just below. “You were just following the rules. You can make it up to me now.”
You can make it up to me now? James fully intended to, by his count he had 4 orgasms to make up for, and he’d be damned if he left here tonight without paying for his sins.
His grip on Regulus’ waist tightened and in one smooth motion, he stood. Hoisting the smaller man up in his arms and twisting to deposit him back on the chair with a bounce.
“I’ll make it up to you, Regulus. I’ll be so good for you. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it I swear, I-” He was begging, he knew he was. Pathetic and weak and desperate to prove to Regulus that he could be a part of his life outside of these four walls.
“On your knees, Jamie. Your begging is pretty, but I want to see what else your mouth can do.” He parted his legs slowly, making room.
James fell to the ground like he was a marionette and his strings had been cut. No room for dignity, no room for a controlled seduction. No room for a single breath as he reached forward and grasped for the waistband of Regulus’ thong, intent on getting to work.
“Ah, ah.” Regulus scolded from above him, as he gripped his wrists. “I want to see what your mouth can do. No hands.” His grip loosened, and James knew what he’d have to do in order to prevent himself from being tempted.
He sat back on his haunches, looked up at Regulus with an expression on his face so open, so vulnerable, and one by one brought his own hands up and behind his back, gripping his own wrists and causing his chest to thrust out proudly, and then with a cocky grin that only he could pull off, he leant back forward and licked a broad stripe up the fabric covering Regulus’ already visibly slick cunt.
James couldn’t help himself, the moan he released as the first taste bloomed across his tongue was like nothing he’d ever produced before. But then, this was like nothing he’d ever tasted before. Sweet, salty, so fucking decadent that James knew without question that if he somehow took leave of his senses and ended up on death row, he’d be requesting this for his final meal.
But his own moan was nothing, nothing compared to the broken, debauched sound that spilled from between the lips of the man above him. He’d heard Regulus laugh, he’d heard him cry, he’d heard him joke and tease and drop to that sultry whisper against the shell of his own ear but he’d never thought for even a second that he could produce a sound like that, certainly not that he could have been the cause.
Regulus pressed forward, grinding himself against James’ outstretched tongue and it was all the permission that James needed. Gently, carefully he bit down on the soaked fabric and manoeuvred it to one side, snaking his tongue between Regulus’ folds and finally closing his lips around his swollen cock and sucking.
“Shit, Jamie. You’re so good at that. I knew you would be. So desperate to please me, desperate to prove yourself.”
James whimpered at the praise, so proud of himself. So pleased that he’d barely been between Regulus’ perfect thighs for a moment and already, he was doing a good job.
So he does the only thing he can - he doubles down. Working his tongue in broad, firm strokes from cunt to cock, dipping inside then moving back up to swirl around the swollen nub, teeth grazing slightly and sucking like it was his intention to swallow him whole.
And his relentless efforts were clearly paying off, every time he pulled back to draw in a much needed breath, Regulus chased him with his hips, not allowing the contact to cease for even a full second, panting and moaning and whining at the temporary, miniscule losses as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from James’ tongue for a single moment.
His own cock - achingly hard and pressed firmly against the front of his jeans - was twitching and leaking and the bite of the zipper pressed against the length was the only thing keeping him from slipping away into that space between heady arousal and unrestrained bliss, he was thankful for the pain because it kept him present. Conscious, able to focus fully on the meal that was spread in front of him.
And James - in his refusal to do anything less than please and serve and worship lets him, pressed deeper in with every grind forwards, sucking and licking and devouring like his life depended on it.
In some ways, it sort of did. Because now that James had tasted heaven between Regulus Black’s thighs, he really thought he might die if he was told he’d never taste it again.
He dipped his tongue inside, reaching as far as he could to press and lap against the smooth velvet walls that were squeezing so tightly, James could only imagine how good it would feel with his prick sheathed within him, and with one final retreat, one final journey back up to suck on his cock, Regulus fractured.
“Jamie, yes, God yes, I’m gonna- I’m- I” Regulus trailed off into a long, drawn-out whine and James doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, simply continues to suck his cock into his mouth like he’s being paid to do it, forcing his face forwards against the aftershocks that had Regulus bucking away from him.
“Stop, Jamie.” Regulus attempts to writhe away, but James wasn’t yet ready to let go of his prize and the chair was only so deep, there was only so far he could go. James slows, but he doesn’t stop, reducing his fervent sucking to a languid circle around the base of his cock.
“Come on, Reggie.” He muttered, lips still flush against his abused cunt. “I still owe you three more.”
Regulus’ next cry is shattered, broken as James gradually begins to increase the pressure, tongue beating a relentless rhythm against his cock, not straying even an inch from the focal point of pleasure until barely minutes after the first, Regulus arches his back obscenely and he cries out with his second orgasm of the night, thighs clamping down either side of James’ head and holding him in place as he rides out the ebbing pleasure.
James had done that. He’d broken down the beautiful man above him not once, but twice, all with just his tongue. He grinned, pulling back and dropping back to his haunches the moment Regulus loosened his grip.
“Fucking hell Jamie, where did you come from?”
James simply shrugged as he finally loosened his grip on his own wrists, bringing one hand forward to wipe away the mess of drool and arousal that was dripping down his chin and the other hand forward to stroke Regulus’ outstretched leg.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m here now. And I still owe you two.”
“You really do think that, don’t you?” Regulus winced as he rearranged himself in the chair, shuffling forward to perch at the very edge, legs parted widely. “Tell me, Jamie. How close are you to owing me another, just from getting your lips around my cunt?”
“So close.” James whined, Regulus’ words dragging his attention back to the problem in his own trousers. Straining, untouched and desperate to be freed, but willing to stay contained as long as Regulus wished it. “Please, baby. Let me-”
“Let you what, Jamie? Let you fuck me?” Regulus arched a perfect brow and leaned down to cup James’ chin, stilling his frantic nodding. “I’ll definitely be letting you fuck me. The real question is - how well behaved are you? I’ve seen you cum completely untouched just from looking at me before now. Are you even capable of holding off long enough to please me? Or will you spill the second I allow you inside?”
“I can hold it, baby. I swear I can. Let me show you, please?” James pleaded. He hadn’t believed that Regulus would let him go this far, not the very first time he was allowed to touch him. But now that the offer was on the table, now that he knew he could?
“Hmm.” Regulus used his grip on James’ chin to move his head one way, then the other. Assessing him for what? Honesty? Capability? James wasn’t sure but he held the intense eye contact for as long as he could, not wanting to appear lacking in any way.
Without warning, Regulus released his hold and leaned back in the chair.
“Get up. Strip.”
The strings that had been cut at Regulus’ earlier command reattached themselves securely, yanking James upright with a speed that he didn’t know he could manage, let alone replicate again. His hands flew to the hem of his shirt, arms crossed and ready to pull it over his head.
“No, Jamie. Like I do. Give me a show.” Regulus settled further back into the seat, one leg crossed atop the other and smirked. Eyes wide and alive, tracking James’ every move.
The timing could hardly have been better, James wouldn’t put it past Regulus to have planned his own orgasms as the command came right as one song ended and the next began.
If he weren’t so hard, so aroused, so fucking desperate - he might have seen the irony in the guitar line that was currently bleeding out of the speakers and filling the room.
When you came in the air went out
And every shadow filled up with doubt
I don’t know who you think you are but before the night is through
I wanna do bad things with you
Fitting, that James would be standing on a stage for the first time in his life, slowly removing his clothes to the soundtrack of a sex-filled, lusty and wholly irreverent TV show that at times was more softcore pornography than anything else. Regulus sat in his chair, pale skin shining and running his tongue over his teeth as he watched, reminding James of vampires of mythology, and James was absolutely caught in his thrall.
He’d never before appreciated how difficult it was, to simply get undressed in front of another person. How did Regulus do this multiple times a week, not even batting an eyelid? How did the awkwardness not overwhelm him? How did he keep his movements from being stilted and stiff?
Still, somehow, he managed to sway his hips to the beat as he fumbled his shirt off over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him.
I’m the kind to sit up in his room
Heartsick and eyes filled up with blue
I don’t know what you’ve done to me but I know this much is true
I wanna do bad things with you
His jeans followed, pushed roughly down his thighs, an attempt at a smooth seductive move betrayed by the way they caught around his ankles because in his nerves, he hadn’t yet taken off his shoes. Sheepishly, he kicked them off and wrestled the denim off his feet, kicking it to the edge of the stage until it tipped over.
Left in just his underwear, he braved a glance over to Regulus. Regulus - who had draped his legs over the arms of the chair and had snaked a hand down his own torso, and was staring unabashedly at James with a slack jaw, 2 fingers plunging in and out of his sopping cunt slowly. Lazily. Not preparing himself, not chasing a high, simply enjoying the show. Underwear still just pulled to one side - somehow now wearing more clothes than James was as he also hadn’t lost his stockings or corset.
It was a heady thrill, to see that the younger man was so captivated by him. A jolt of unfounded confidence ran through him as he started to realise that this was the power Regulus chased, the control he craved. Because standing before him, stripped down to his tented underwear and moving his hips with more vigour as the song played on, James felt it. The rush. The power. The loosening of his own awkwardness into a kind of fluidity that he hadn’t known he was capable of, every movement drawing out a gasp from Regulus’ lips.
He wasn’t in control, far from it. But he had the illusion of it, and he understood.
And that rush? It was the final piece that fuelled his confidence as he drew his underwear down his thighs, kicked off the stage perfectly in time with the end of the song.
He stood stock still, feet spread slightly, cock jutting out proudly in front of him, precum dripping and splashing onto the stage below. Breath heavy, sweat dripping down the length of his nose, and grinned. He watched as Regulus withdrew his fingers and bought his hands together into a slow clap. Could have been sarcastic, if not for the blown out expression in his eyes.
“Not half bad, Jamie. I’ll make a dancer out of you yet.” He dropped his legs and made a show of standing, stretching out his thighs that must be aching from the stretch. James remained firmly in place as Regulus stepped up onto the stage to join him - he’d not been told to move, after all. He came to a stop in front of him, and with no warning curled his hand around the base of James’ exposed cock and began to stroke him, stretching up onto his toes to capture James’ lips in a fierce kiss.
Distantly, James realised he’d done this out of order. He’d had his lips on Regulus’ cunt long before he’d had them on his lips. It felt sinful to have their first kiss tainted by the taste of the smaller man's dripping arousal, but as Regulus’ tongue slipped into his mouth and he moaned - all of a sudden it didn’t seem like a sin at all. It felt an awful lot more like worship.
“Get back in the chair, Jamie.” Regulus muttered against the kiss. “I’m going to ride you now, and you’re not going to cum until I do.”
Regulus released his grip after a final, firm squeeze, and James did not have to be told twice. He almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to take the required position - did trip over the edge of the stage and only sheer dumb luck prevented him from falling flat on his face.
But before he knew it, he was there. Settling in against the soft cushion of the armchair, the memory of the last time Regulus had crawled into his lap still blooming bright behind his eyelids now despite the fact he was about to be getting so much more than last time.
Regulus chuckled, still standing on the stage, still as fully clothed as James ever saw him.
He thumbed at the edge of his corset with a question in his eyes.
“Off or on, Jamie?”
And fuck, he was getting a choice? He was torn between wanting the whole expanse of this man's milky flesh to be exposed to his eyes, and the need to feel the silk of the corset against his own flushed skin.
“Whatever you want, baby. Off or on, I don’t care. I just… I just want to make you feel good.”
Regulus tutted. “I do feel good, Jamie. You’ve made me feel so good.” He stepped off the stage, moving to stand between James’ spread legs. “You can’t make any decisions right now can you? Can’t think. Too cock drunk.”
And God, James was. Regulus was lucky James had the capacity to manage his own breathing right now, and even that was because it was mostly an involuntary action.
“Take off my panties. Go on.”
“Am I allowed to use my hands this time?” James questioned, in remembrance of the last time he’d attempted this move.
Regulus leaned forward to whisper against his ear.
“You can do whatever. You. Want.”
Like lightning, James’ hands flew forward to grab at the waistband and finally, finally pull them down the length of Regulus’ legs. And not a moment later, he’d grabbed him by the waist and hauled him into his lap, legs falling naturally either side and cunt positioned over the top of James’ leaking cock.
James could feel the heat emanating from the centre of him, spreading like fire through the scant inches of separation.
“Go on then, baby.” James said, with a false confidence that he didn’t really have. He wanted so badly to please Regulus, but Regulus had said he wanted to ride him, and who was James to argue? “Ride me.”
And just like that, Regulus once again dropped his lips to meet James in a battle of tongue and teeth as he ground his hips down and back and the leaking head of James’ achingly hard cock caught at his dripping entrance and began to slide in.
James took back everything he’d ever said about God and religion in the past. Heaven was real and it existed right here, in the blistering wet embrace of the space between Regulus Black’s legs. He could die - might actually have died - and he’d be happy because he’d been able to experience the sheer magnitude of the moment they finally joined. Months of anticipation led to this moment, hours of teasing and torture and it was worth it all. So worth it. James would walk over hot coals if Regulus asked him to, if this was the prize he’d be bestowed with at the end.
“Holy shit.” Regulus gasped, as he sank fluidly down the full length of him. “You feel so big. Filling me up so good.” He rose up, just a few inches, and dropped back down. “Gonna let me use you? Fuck myself on you like you’re nothing more than a sex toy? A fucking dildo?”
“Yes, God yes baby. Use me, take what you want from me.” James choked out the words between broken breaths, already dangerously close to the edge and forcing himself to hold back, to be good. “Don’t want you empty. Want you full of me, always.”
“Yeah? You’d like that wouldn’t you. Bet you’d let me just sit on you if I wanted, just to keep me full. Not even fucking you.” He leaned down to suck a bruising kiss into the hollow of James’ throat. “Let me mark you up, so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“Fuck, I am. I’m yours.” Pleasure was burning tight, coiling in James’ gut and he had to clench his fists so hard he feared he’d draw blood just to hold off the train that was barrelling towards him. “Yours to fuck. Yours to use.”
“And me, am I yours?”
“God I hope so.” His thighs were shaking with the exertion, the refusal to tip over the edge. “Mine to fill. Mine to please.”
Regulus cried out, a broken sob accompanied by a clench of his walls that James could feel in his toes.
“I’m so close Jamie, are you close?” Regulus’ rhythm was stuttering now, his movements harsh, sloppy. “Cum with me, can you do that baby? Can you fill me up real good?”
James is no longer questioning it. He’s gone, obliterated, deceased. It’s the only explanation, because this couldn’t actually be happening to him.
“Shit” James groans. “Yeah, I’m close, you’re fucking milking me, you’re so tight. So hot. Cum for me baby, please, I can’t… I can’t hold it much longer, I-”
“Let go, Jamie” Regulus breathes with a whimper and a shudder, and James violently shakes through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his life as the fractured sob that escapes Regulus as he finds his own release bleeds into his ears and takes over all his senses. All that is left is a blinding white light behind his eyelids and an electric shock of pleasure coursing its way through his veins.
He doesn’t know how long he sat there, Regulus catching his breath in his lap and drawing soothing circles against the flesh of his shoulderblades. All he does know is that he would do anything Regulus commanded of him if it meant he’d get to find himself here again, trapped beneath a fallen angel, halo crooked and covered in silk.
“I still owe you two.”
Regulus makes a soft sound, a light chuckle borne in the back of his throat and exhaled breathily directly into James’ ear.
“Another time, Jamie.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s time to go home.”
James jolted. It was? He looked over himself and sure enough, 03:32 am. They’d been here for over 4 hours - passage of time had been lost to him but he didn’t think he’d been hard for that long, though it went some way to explaining why he was so lightheaded and sore.
“Come with me?” James mumbled, voice dripping with the exhaustion that was just now catching up to him. “I’ll give you another in the morning, then we can go to meet Sirius.”
“Don’t” Regulus gasped, scandalised. “Talk about my brother when you’re still inside me.”
James pouted. “But I want to always be inside you.”
“Admirable, but we really should clean up.” Regulus winced slightly as he lifted himself off and stepped back, slowly gathering their discarded clothes. “Meet me out front in 10. I need to get my outside clothes on and settle my tips.”
James caught his underwear that Regulus tossed to him, and visibly double-taked.
“Really? You’ll come with me?”
Regulus threw over the remainder of his clothing with a sly grin, and James in his bewilderment didn’t even attempt to catch it, his jeans left dangling over one arm of the chair.
“Well, you do still owe me 2 orgasms after all. And that camera will be fixed tomorrow.”
James reeled. He'd give him far more than 2. He'd give him as many as he allowed him, the balance would be tipped far into Regulus' favour after the next day, he guaranteed it. Swore it to himself like an oath - 24 hours from now, he’d never owe Regulus another one.
No. He’d be bestowing them like the gifts they are. Bleeding one into the other with such frequency that he’d not even have time to forget how good James made him feel before the next one started.
Lost in thought, he pulled his pants and trousers on, standing on shaking legs to pull them up. So he didn’t particularly notice Regulus rummaging through the pocket of the robe he’d arrived in.
“Here, this is yours.” Regulus held out a wad of cash in offering, looking slightly vulnerable for the first time all night.
“No, Reg. I paid for your time.”
“No, you paid for a dance. That's what we agreed. And I didn't dance. You did. So please, take it.”
James reached out to grasp the bundle of notes. “Okay. But only because you're going to let me buy you something pretty tomorrow.”
“You spend too much on me, Jamie.” Regulus still seemed insecure, and James wanted to kiss the shy little smile off his face. So, remembering that he could, that’s exactly what he did.
“You’re worth every penny, and more.” The words were spoken against Regulus’ lips, his hand holding the younger man firmly in place. “I’ll give you anything you want baby. My time, my money, my tongue, my co-”
“Yes, yes. I get it. You truly do live to serve.” Regulus swatted his arm playfully as he extracted himself from his hold. “10 minutes. Outside. If you’re not there, don’t bother coming back.”
With a final look over his shoulder he left the room, and James scrambled to re-dress as quickly as he could, uncaring over the crease of his shirt or the unruliness that his hair must have descended into.
Regulus was coming home with him. He was coming home with him, and tomorrow he’d spread him out on a bed and worship him the way he truly deserved, the way he hadn’t got to fully explore tonight in a cramped chair in a brightly lit room. And then, after he’d wrung him dry, he was going to witness a pair of brothers reunite.
Sirius was so excited to meet his brother. James was so excited to bring them together.
He was even more excited over the prospect of wringing Regulus out over and over again, breaking him apart only to put him back together, as often as the younger man would let him.
James Potter was not the kind of stereotypical CEO from a romance novel, discovering a broken and desperate young man in a seedy strip club, only to rise from the ashes as his saviour to rescue him from a life he didn’t want.
Regulus would continue dancing - he’d left his family over their refusal to accept that part of him, James had no doubt he’d leave him if he ever so much as suggested the same thing.
And James? Well he’d continue paying for the dances. Every week, every shift he’d pay for his time. And he never worried about the camera in the corner again, not when he got to take Regulus home with him for the aftershow.