What We Must
Title: What We Must
Pairing: Narcissa/Regulus
Prompt: Regulus Black/Narcissa Black - My lover's gone, I know that kiss will be my last. They both knew he wasn't going to live through the task he set out to accomplish.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: cousin-cest
Notes: Another little bit for hp_humpdrabbles - hamimifk was right; this is just like riding a bike ;)
"You're mad." Narcissa pulls the brush through her hair with a quiet fury, ticking her tongue against the back of her teeth to count the strokes. One hundred. Every night since she was a little girl.
"Maybe." Regulus has his hands in his pockets, half-slumped forward in a posture that reminds Narcissa of his vagrant of a brother.
"Absolutely." Sixty-seven. "And stand up straight, would you? You're a Black." Narcissa takes a deep breath in. It rattles the insides of her ribs, but she holds herself steady against the quake. Sixty-eight.
Regulus laughs, bitter and dry. He shifts his weight a bit, but that's the extent of his obedience. "I haven't forgotten."
He meets Narcissa's eyes in her vanity mirror - sprawling and ornate; the components of her life - and she stops mid-stroke, becoming dangerously silent. She slams the silver brush down against the wood with a crack. "You aren't going anywhere. I forbid it." The tenor of her voice startles him; it's quiet, pulled so tight that it could snap at any moment.
"You forbid it?" He's incredulous; the volume of his own voice rising to meet the lowering of hers. "You don't get to forbid me anything."
"You're right." Regulus's eyebrows draw together in surprise. "I've never forbidden you anything," she continues, speaking to the mirror, her body gone still. "Nothing. Not even those things that I perhaps should have." The pause she takes to collect herself is pointed and meaningful. "I've never asked one single damned thing of you, except for this: that you not.." The last word quavers as she searches for the next.
Regulus steps closer and places his palm over the fragile round of her shoulder. Narcissa's bare skin pricks into goosebumps underneath it. "That I what?" he asks. His grip grow tighter, one finger slipping under the fussy collar of her nightdress.
"That you not abandon your blood," she finishes. She lifts her shoulder and sighs, pressing her cheek into the back of Regulus's hand and nuzzling it against the soft line of her mouth. "That you come home.."
Home opens like a kiss around his knuckle, and Regulus responds in kind, pressing his long, graceful finger into the warmth of Narcissa's tongue.
She sucks, slow, starting at the tip and working all the way down. Regulus watches her in the mirror - the bend of her neck, the outline of her hardened nipples through the filmy fabric, the depths of the grief welling in her eyes, so unsettlingly like his own - then bends to press his lips to the knob of bone at the top of her spine.
"Cissa," he whispers, using a name she hasn't heard in a decade. "I'm sorry."
She bites gently at his wrist, the tears making their way down her scrubbed-clean cheeks now. "We do what we must," she says softly.
Regulus nods and reaches to pull her gown over her head.
Pairing: Narcissa/Regulus
Prompt: Regulus Black/Narcissa Black - My lover's gone, I know that kiss will be my last. They both knew he wasn't going to live through the task he set out to accomplish.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: cousin-cest
Notes: Another little bit for hp_humpdrabbles - hamimifk was right; this is just like riding a bike ;)
"You're mad." Narcissa pulls the brush through her hair with a quiet fury, ticking her tongue against the back of her teeth to count the strokes. One hundred. Every night since she was a little girl.
"Maybe." Regulus has his hands in his pockets, half-slumped forward in a posture that reminds Narcissa of his vagrant of a brother.
"Absolutely." Sixty-seven. "And stand up straight, would you? You're a Black." Narcissa takes a deep breath in. It rattles the insides of her ribs, but she holds herself steady against the quake. Sixty-eight.
Regulus laughs, bitter and dry. He shifts his weight a bit, but that's the extent of his obedience. "I haven't forgotten."
He meets Narcissa's eyes in her vanity mirror - sprawling and ornate; the components of her life - and she stops mid-stroke, becoming dangerously silent. She slams the silver brush down against the wood with a crack. "You aren't going anywhere. I forbid it." The tenor of her voice startles him; it's quiet, pulled so tight that it could snap at any moment.
"You forbid it?" He's incredulous; the volume of his own voice rising to meet the lowering of hers. "You don't get to forbid me anything."
"You're right." Regulus's eyebrows draw together in surprise. "I've never forbidden you anything," she continues, speaking to the mirror, her body gone still. "Nothing. Not even those things that I perhaps should have." The pause she takes to collect herself is pointed and meaningful. "I've never asked one single damned thing of you, except for this: that you not.." The last word quavers as she searches for the next.
Regulus steps closer and places his palm over the fragile round of her shoulder. Narcissa's bare skin pricks into goosebumps underneath it. "That I what?" he asks. His grip grow tighter, one finger slipping under the fussy collar of her nightdress.
"That you not abandon your blood," she finishes. She lifts her shoulder and sighs, pressing her cheek into the back of Regulus's hand and nuzzling it against the soft line of her mouth. "That you come home.."
Home opens like a kiss around his knuckle, and Regulus responds in kind, pressing his long, graceful finger into the warmth of Narcissa's tongue.
She sucks, slow, starting at the tip and working all the way down. Regulus watches her in the mirror - the bend of her neck, the outline of her hardened nipples through the filmy fabric, the depths of the grief welling in her eyes, so unsettlingly like his own - then bends to press his lips to the knob of bone at the top of her spine.
"Cissa," he whispers, using a name she hasn't heard in a decade. "I'm sorry."
She bites gently at his wrist, the tears making their way down her scrubbed-clean cheeks now. "We do what we must," she says softly.
Regulus nods and reaches to pull her gown over her head.