Disjointed pieces of last night, the first time she saw all of him and brought him as close as she's always wanted.
Reflected orange flames like camera flashes on his glasses.
The common room so plush, and warm, and inviting when he's in it. On his own, last night.
It's late.
He's surprised. Kiss her hello, kiss her jaw, kiss her playfully into her hair.
More of that. His lips are thin but always feel much fuller on hers.
The deep reds of the room are her favourite backdrop.
Things are moving forward. She didn't plan to, but she's latched onto the idea and sunken her teeth in.
She can tell he's swatted it to the side, unconvinced this is what she wants. Wrong.
He loves her.
She loves him. More, she thinks.
Not doubting him, but rather, how could anyone love bigger than what she feels?
Hesitation in a long pause and body language that moves away from her.
He's embarrassed someone will see the moment and take it from them.
It's theirs, being together. Everything in his life belongs to other people.
Even her, really.
But no one else should get to see what they do together. That's what's theirs.
The air feels hot and thick in front of the fire in her wool jumper. She's sweating under her breasts and upper thighs.
Brilliant, he's noticed her shifting around.
Yes, she does want to go somewhere.
He pulls the cloak from his book bag, shimmering silver.
Does that mean he was expecting to leave tonight?
Not with her. Not that she would have minded, it's nice when he's optimistic.
Quiet exit.
They leave together and he holds her from behind as they walk, a reassuring hug under the cloak.
They gamble and walk uncovered up the tower stairwell, frigid autumn air making her glad of her jumper.
She loves the small sound of his steps. Cautious and gentle, unlike her shuffling stomp.
He reaches back to her without looking.
His hand is freezing.
He pulls her into the archway of the Astronomy Tower and holds her, warm breath on her neck.
The wooden floor is stiff and cold under her back, but there's nowhere else.
His lips are warm on hers, and he moves himself against her. Clothed.
Even fully dressed, they don't get to do this often. Remote corners of the grounds aren't remote at all when everyone has the same idea.
But here the room is black, and quiet, and the moonlight is enough to guide her to him.
He moves his hand under her jumper and onto her ribs, waiting for the okay.
She undoes the front clasp of her bra to help.
His thumb traces each nipple, and lifts her jumper to put his mouth on her skin.
She wants more.
She pulls his mouth up to kiss her again.
Below, she unbuttons and unzips and moves her hand on his pants.
She loves the sharp inhale he takes when she touches him there.
The night is cold and clear, but it's worth it to roll down her tights.
He helps her slide the elastic waistband of his pants to his upper thighs. All of him available to her.
He pulls off her knickers from under her skirt, completely.
Is it okay to keep going? He asks.
Keep going.
He unwraps foil and fits the clear latex around himself.
He presses into her, and it hurts, a little.
She lifts her hips. Encouragement.
He sinks his hips down and into her entirely, exhaling from his mouth.
The sensation of him inside her, rocking himself towards her and back.
It fills her and feels entirely new.
She rolls him onto his back and sits on top of him, what they're doing concealed beneath her skirt.
She moves back and forth like he did, his hands guiding her on her hips.
He tilts his head back and she can tell it feels good. They've wanted this for so long, unsaid.
It's okay to keep going.
Faster.
Between her thighs is electric.
It's building.
He's building.
He pushes harder inside her.
He grips her hips tightly and lifts his, like a reflex.
Her red hair is silky rain that falls over them when he leads her face to kiss him.
The sounds he makes into her lips when it's over for him, like nothing's ever felt so good.
He kisses her neck and she climbs off. It's sore between her legs, a little.
He loves her.
She loves him.
Not more, he says.