꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 67

They slowly glide back down, from top to bottom, exploring the tops of her thighs like a first year their first week in the castle. When she rolls forward onto her knees for a better angle, he seizes the opportunity to give the backs their rightful turn, snuffling in amusement when his fingers skim against the pits of her knees.

"Don't turn yourself on. It'll be a one man show" Romie warns firmly, flickering up from her handiwork to his eyes.

And good God, she thinks that warning may be too late, his irises dark and his pupil's darker. Bigger. Essentially hogging up all the room just as he'd been doing the bed earlier. It's a carbon copy of the eyes he'd been staring at her with moments prior to slurring out an unforgettable confession, the grounds for why the Gryffindor decides to braces herself. A splendid idea, she determines, spying the slow lazy quirk of his mouth.

"Might be a one man show but you'll definitely be present one way or another"

In his thoughts, in his mental imagery. Romie internally scolds herself for the thrill that rushes through her at the prospect of him pleasing himself to her, climaxing to her, whispering in a hiss,

"You don't get to do that anymore"

"Oh, you want me to replace you with someone else?" Regulus plainly replies, lurching something not so nice in Romie's stomach.

No. Nope, not in a million years. Perhaps it deems her the most selfish being walking the planet, disallowing him to think about her and not allowing him to think of anyone else, Romie couldn't help it. Because thinking can quite quickly turn into touching. And knowing someone else knows the pressure of his kiss, knows the unique pattern of his fingertips, knows the soft edges of his eyes afterwards might break her more than not being his.

Removing his hands from her thighs, wonderfully civil and direct, she says, "What I want is to get you outside. Fresh air does wonders"

Leaving no room for further discussion, she throws her legs over the side of the bed and collects up some items of clothing scattered around the floor, throwing behind a few bits and pieces to Regulus. When familiar dark fabric lands with a plop on-top of his head, fits over his face like the mask worn last night, Regulus grunts a little, reaching up to free himself. Elfin Bitch.

He stills all of a sudden, hand stopping dead in its tracks. The soft, quiet 'oh' sound that slips out of him mustn't be as quiet as he initially pegged, because from where she's clumsily tugging on some longer bottoms, Romie turns around, asking,

"What?"

She returns his quiet throat clearing and wave of the hand with a strange look, but decides not to press onto the matter, grabbing the sweatshirt exchanged for his. It's nowhere near as soft and comfy as his, but the intensity of his gaze when he spots the jutting collar bone on full display thanks to the loose asymmetric shoulder increases it's worth a ton. The faint colour dusting his hollowed cheeks increases its worth a ton.

Though, that one she isn't one hundred percent certain is solely down to the show of sensual features. She swears out of the corner of her eye she catches him burying his nose deep into his sweater. Brushing it off, she leads him out of the door and down the stairs of the manor, walking at a pace three times slower than normal.

From the dulcet tones of chatter coming from the homely living room and how she blatantly guides him past and no worries of being caught red handed, realisation strikes Regulus. The moving out and buying a place hadn't just been an adult step taken by their older brothers. Hogwarts' Head Boy and Girl they're taking the baton from are also gone. Romie's the only bird left in the nest.