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Summary
“Merlin's beard,” James muttered, touching his lips. The room exploded with laughter and catcalls.
Frank sat perfectly still, a tight knot of jealousy twisting low in his gut. He knew it was just a game. He knew James was harmless. But watching Regulus kiss someone else with that kind of effortless mastery—watching the way James had melted under it—made something possessive flare hot and sharp inside him. Regulus was not his to look at like that, but Frank wanted him to be.
Regulus leaned back, lips slightly reddened, and caught Frank's eye. The smallest, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly what Frank was thinking.