I was leaning against the bench in the kitchen of my dorm. I shared it with a few other people who went to the university with me, but by this time they'd all gone to bed. At least, most of them had. I couldn't quite explain why I hadn't done the same. You know that feeling you sometimes get? The one similar to when you were a child, and your parents told you it was time for bed? As soon as those words left their mouth any fatigue seemed to leave your body. I had this energy that wouldn't seem to go away, whispering to me that I shouldn't go to bed yet, I should stay up. Just a bit longer. And so, in an attempt to fix my evidently broken body clock, I had found myself in the kitchen, late at night, leaning against the bench and drinking a glass of water. Most of the lights in the kitchen were off, as I didn't want to wake anyone else in the dorm. The dim lighting seemed to create that still feeling, the one you get when you stay up late at night reading a book under your covers, with only a dim light to help you see the pages. The silence made the atmosphere so peaceful, and I hoped it would help to lull my mind to sleep.
It might have worked, except that apparently I wasn't the only member of my dorm who was still awake. The door to the kitchen opened, and Sirius walked in. Sirius Black. I would never admit it, but I had always had a bit of a weak spot for the hot quarterback. He must have been coming back from a late practice, as he still wore the uniform. His skin was glistening with sweat, and when he saw me his face broke into a smile. The kind of smile that rendered me speechless, apparently.
"What are you still doing up?", he questioned, his tongue tracing over his lips and his hand running through his long black hair. I like to think that normally, that wouldn't be enough to turn me into a stammering idiot. What was enough was when he proceeded to reach back and grab the neck of his shirt, pulling it over his head. The muscles in his arms rippled, and the sight of his incredibly toned abs and pecs pushed me over the edge.
"Uh… I um, couldn't sleep." Luckily for me, he was kind enough not to acknowledge my stuttering. He nodded, and walked towards me. And then he kept walking. Surely he was too close now for this to be a purely platonic conversation? My mind seemed to go into overdrive, suddenly reminding me of every fantasy I'd ever had of Sirius, and hoping one of them was about to come true.
He had reached me now, and was leaning forwards, close enough that there were only a few inches between our faces. And then he leant behind me to get a glass from the cupboard I was standing in front of. Dammit.
"Sorry." He murmured, as he closed the cupboard and pulled back slightly. His hips were still touching mine, trapping me against the bench, and neither of us could seem to find the willpower to move away. I wondered what would happen if I were to kiss him. I'd liked him for a while now, but I'd never imagined that the feeling could be mutual. I had a hard time believing that anybody could see me in that way. It wasn't that I thought I was unattractive, because I wasn't. But I wasn't like other girls. I didn't flirt with boys, and didn't really know how. What he did next broke any resolve I'd managed to summon.
He stared into my eyes, as if searching them for something, and I stared back.
"Fuck, you're beautiful." He blurted, and then proceeded to look shocked, as though he had never intended to say those words out loud. My heart had stopped, my eyes widening, as I stared.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to-" His words were cut off as I reached a hand into his hair, the other twisting around the back of his neck, and pulled him towards me. Our lips crashed together, and he responded almost immediately. Our movements were eager, showing how long we had both waited for this moment. His hips pressed against mine, and I could feel the hard surface of the bench behind me. I was vaguely aware of him placing the glass that was still in his hand into the sink, so that both hands were free. His lips were salty, evidence of the workout he had come back from, and with a confidence unusual for me I traced my tongue over his lips, tasting the salt there.
He groaned slightly, using the arm that was around my waist to pull me closer as he opened his mouth to mine, granting me entry. Our tongues danced together, the low sound of our mixed moans and heavy breathing breaking the silence of the night. He lifted me up onto the bench as though I weighed nothing, and nestled himself between my legs. His hands were tangled in my hair, tracing my face, running over the curves of my body. It was as though he was determined to memorise every part of me, and I sighed as the desperate kisses became slower, more sensual. His finger ran lightly down the sides of my breasts, to my waist and then my thighs. We stayed there for what felt like an eternity, neither of us wanting the moment to end.
"Let me take you out on Friday.", he whispered against my lips. I smiled, breaking the kiss momentarily to stare into his eyes, looking for confirmation of his sincerity.
"Why me?", I couldn't help asking. I needed to know, needed to be certain that he wouldn't play me.
"Because you are beautiful. Because you are kind, and gentle, and help anyone who needs it. Because your smile makes me smile, and your laugh is contagious. Because seeing you hurt tears me apart inside, and I want to be the one you go to for comfort. I want to hear about your day, and fall asleep next to you every night." He separated each sentence with a gentle kiss, and with each one my body seemed to melt into his. Finding myself unable to speak, I looked at him and nodded, both of us grinning like fools.
He picked up his discarded shirt and walked towards the door, leaving me frozen on the bench, trying to process what had just happened.
He reached the door and turned to look at me, a smirk on his face.
"I'm off to have a shower." I nodded slightly, and he laughed.
"You coming or not?"