Rough brick presses into his back, scratching, even through his uniform jacket. His heart is racing and his traitorous emotions send blood rushing to his cheeks. No matter how many times he does this it becomes no less thrilling, no less amazing.
A bomber jacket clad arm comes up to rest by his head. The tall boy leans down, presses against him, but keeps his lips a tortuous couple of inches away, teasing with that self-satisfied grin of his. He can feel the boy's hot breath rushing across his cheek, and hears the frantic pounding of his own pulse.
They stay like that for a moment. He looks up into the tall boy's blue eyes but then immediately averts his gaze, cheeks going redder. "Are you going to kiss me or not, git?" he asks breathlessly.
The boy chuckles. "So impatient."
And then they're kissing. First, a chaste press of the lips, then more. The boy presses harder, he grabs hold of that ridiculous bomber jacket and tugs him closer. His lips part slightly and the boy takes advantage of the opening. And, oh God, the boy is good. Then their kisses are all tongues and teeth. He bites down on the boy's lower lip and tugs gently. The boy lets out a groan that sends shivers down his spine.
They're both panting now, and he feels dizzy from all of the kissing, so the boy gives him a chance to catch his breath by pressing light kisses up his jaw. The boy's lips pause just below his ear and he jumps when he feels the pressure of teeth leaving their mark there. A bite and then a kiss and he reaches up to tangle his fingers into the boy's soft, golden hair because this is all too much.
Somehow their lips find their way back together and the boy steals his breath with that eager mouth of his. The boy sighs something harshly against his lips and he pauses.
"What?" he whispers.
The boy kisses him again. Sighs it again. "I love you."
He freezes. They've stopped kissing now and the boy rests his forehead against his. For a few impossibly long seconds everything is silent.
"I love you, too."
The boy lets out a sound somewhere between and laugh and a gasp, relief evident on his face. The boy kisses him again. He kisses him and kisses him, leaving the imprint of his words on his lips, his cheek, his eyelids, his neck. And then they just stand there, pressed against each other, caught in an infinitesimal moment of time where it is just the two of them. No one, nothing else exists in the world.
But then the bell rings, students pour out of the building onto the grounds, and the moment is shattered.
They step away from each other, suddenly the shy school boys they never are when they're alone. They turn and walk away from the spot just behind the building, their spot, and head towards their classmates to be swept into conversation they won't be able to focus on, drama they won't be able to care about.
As they walk the boy takes his hand, laces their fingers together, and he feels as if he chest might burst.
When they join their friends some glance curiously at their intertwined hands, some share knowing looks, a few feet away Gilbert grudgingly slaps some bills into Francis's waiting hand, but no one says anything, and so neither do they.
Alfred squeezes Arthur's hand.
I love you.
Arthur squeezes back.
I love you, too.