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Summary
“Fuck,” he groans into his pillow.
He’s been at this for hours.
The healers weren’t having him on when he said the injections would affect his sex drive.
What sex drive? He’d had the audacity to scoff at them.
Well, this sex drive apparently.
The one that has him fucking his mattress like it’s a pretty bitch for hours on end while he listens to the sounds of soft, sapphic rock playing through his brother’s wireless from across the hall. That certainly wasn’t helping his situation - the borderline erotic crooning leading to Regulus’s dark mind imaging what Sirius was doing while he listened to that suggestive music.
Was his brother touching himself, too?
Working with his hips to take his mattress apart?
Did his hormones have him in just as much of a state of distress as they were keeping Regulus in? Regulus knew he shouldn’t think like that and yet… It didn't stop him from picturing it.
In fact, maybe Sirius could help him.