Disclaimer... these characters belong to JKR.
A.N. Okay, so I wouldn't call this smut... hmm. Fairly graphic love-making? No anatomical descriptions? I don't know, man. Just be warned. Requested by a friend who read a bunch of my work, emailed me, and told me, 'you need to write more dirty stuff.'
"They gave themselves up to the stars the way swimmers can surrender to the waves, and the stars took them without resistance."
― Mark Helprin, Winter's Tale
May 2nd, 1978
The first time for anything was always terrifying. The first day of school – Lily would remember it forever, painted in sweaty fingers and shaking knees. The first time she rode a bicycle – wobbly and unsure, and then with a sudden swoop of elation as she soared for a few glorious seconds before promptly crashing head first into a hedgerow.
This was no different, except it was.
This was strange and unknowable, and it wasn't so much something to be given, or something to get over with, as it was a part of growing up, as inevitable as scraped knees and doctors' appointments.
The night was cool, and the stars were bright.
"Are you there?" she asked softly.
"Over here."
She followed James' voice, to where he sat on a blanket by the shore of the Great Lake. It was a moonless night, but the stars were still silvery-bright overhead, seeping the colour from the scene.
"I thought you weren't coming," he said, offering her a hand as she sat.
Lily snorted. "'course I was coming. Mrs Norris got in my way – I was almost waylaid by a cat, James."
"Normally I like cats," James told her. "But she's not a cat, she's some sort of demon spawn."
"A spy for the Death Eaters," Lily countered.
"Voldemort's familiar."
They lapsed into silence that was heavy around the edges – like a sheet of paper weighed down by stones on the corners.
It was almost easier in the darkness. Lily could see the faint edges of James, a bit hazy in the black, and she could reach across for his hand without having to say anything.
The quiet held as they connected, just two hands stretching across a worn blanket.
"Lily," James said, voice a little hoarser than it normally was. "I love you."
"I love you too, dear. Feeling sentimental?"
"Little bit."
Lily laughed quietly. She propped herself up on her knees and reached across the gap, laying a gentle hand on his cheek.
Where they touched, it felt heavy and deep and right.
He leaned up as she bent her head, mouths brushing once, twice, before finding each other properly.
The cool night air raised goosebumps on Lily's skin, and she settled down above James, still kissing him. She could feel his hands at her waist, shaking slightly, and she brushed fingers feather-light down his jaw.
The kiss deepened, mouths slipping wider as they sighed and whispered and shared breath.
James took her lower lip between his teeth, deliberately, before kissing her hard and fast again, cradling her and dragging her down atop him.
"Ouch!"
"Overestimate your own strength, Romeo?"
She'd knocked the wind out of him as he'd pulled her down, and James was gasping for air.
"Serves you right," Lily said serenely. "Trying to manhandle me never works."
"I'm quite aware of that," James managed to cough. "I was being romantic."
"Sure."
Lily rolled off him, lying beside him, one hand splayed across his chest.
"Take your time," she suggested. "It's a marathon, not a sprint."
"Oh, shut up."
She grinned, safe in the darkness.
Then James moved and suddenly he was above her, pressing down lightly against her whole body, framing her between his arms.
"Hi," she whispered, as he leaned down to kiss her.
It was scorching, searing her fingers tips where they curved around the back of James' neck, burning where she wrapped one leg around his waist.
He broke away for a second, frowning.
"I didn't know you were that flexible."
Lily ignored him, pulling them back together.
Their teeth hit, but she ignored him, kissing him without technique or finesse. It was desperate and grasping, and they were both breathing heavily, foreheads tilted against each other, arms wrapped as tight as they could.
"Are you ok?" Lily whispered as they caught their breath.
"Brilliant. You?"
"I'm just fine."
"Just fine?" James sounded almost betrayed, despite his breathlessness.
"Er – I'm wonderful?"
"Better."
There was some difficulty in getting her jumper over her head – it caught in one of her earrings and then James couldn't find the neck of it, but they managed and Lily shivered, feeling almost naked despite the thin t-shirt she was wearing.
Then James' fingers were on the hem of that, and he was asking if she was good, and she was nodding and bloody merlin, she was cold.
James covered her with his body, warming her, and she trailed her fingers down the buttons of his button-down, flicking the top one open.
"Okay?" she whispered.
"Perfect."
Lily kept going, easing each button through, until it was hanging off James' shoulders and she was able to push it off.
He was pale, in the dark, and she feathered her fingers over his shoulders and down his back, gently, raising goosebumps in their wake.
At this point, James, who had conveniently forgotten about the second blanket, located it and tossed it over them, draping it across Lily carefully.
He was touching her so softly, like he was afraid she would break, and it made her angry because he never touched her like this. He held her knowing she was strong and knowing she wasn't breakable.
"You're being so careful," she murmured, cupping his face in her hands. "Why?"
"Because I'm scared," James said, and his voice trembled a little bit.
"Me too," Lily admitted. "It's not because of it, itself, it's because it's you and I care about you."
"I know exactly what you mean."
He kissed her gently, then, easing her lips open, tracing her mouth with his tongue, and she held him back, pulling him down hard, until she could feel him against her stomach.
Everything slowed down.
James eased a knee between her legs and moved his hands to the waistband of her jeans.
"Go ahead," Lily said, when he looked up at her, and he eased them off, leaving her cold again.
Even though her fingers and toes were cold, there was a fire burning in her stomach, and when James kissed her again, it only burned all the brighter.
She could almost feel the stars on her skin, burning but freezing at the same time, dappling her already heat-misted and pliant skin.
Lily helped James off with his trousers, kicking them out of the way as they moved together.
She arched her back, running her hands over his shoulders and gasping at the heat-pleasure-pain sensation they made together as she rolled her hips.
James slipped one hand around the back of her head, supporting her neck as they kissed, shuddering together, skin pressed tight. It felt like they were melding themselves into a new shape, entangled and star-struck, gasping into each other's mouths.
James pressed her down into the ground, and she could feel the cold slip-slide of the grass even through the blanket, her skin hyper sensitive.
One particularly deep thrust sent Lily arcing off the ground, curling herself around James.
"James," she gasped, kissing the corner of his mouth almost absently as the pool of heat in her stomach built and built and built, like a Guy Fawkes bonfire.
Their lips fell over each other carelessly, busy with skin and sensation and movement. There was stillness in quiet moments, in the second after a kiss, when they were still gasping for air, or when a diamond-needle of starlight shone across Lily and she was burning so brightly that James had to stop and commit it to his memory.
Reaching down to where James' hand rested on her hip, Lily took it in hers, interlacing their fingers and bringing his hand up until it rested on her breast, leaving it there. His fingers circled around her nipple and she flushed with pleasure, pressing her face into his shoulder.
Time didn't exist as they moved together. One of Lily's legs was hitched around James' waist, and her fingers were tangled through his hair, gasping against his mouth. Their movements sped up, deepening exquisitely. Lily was letting out her breath in short pants, letting herself be rocked against the cold ground, James' other hand trailing down across her stomach.
They were as close as two people can physically be – wrapped up in each other and around each other and covering each other, kisses being dropped across bare, sweat slicked skin, pleasure shooting through over sensitive flesh.
Lily's eyes met James', stars reflecting in them, love and joy and wonder filling them and crowding the lonely stars out.
"I love you," Lily murmured, gasping, but managing to shudder out the words as her whole body went rigid. "So much. So much."
I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
- From 'XVII (I do not love you...)' by Pablo Neruda
A.N. Okay, so full disclaimer. I've never properly written smut. This is as racy as it gets, for my writing. I read a hell of a lot of smut, but I just can't write it? Who knows. Anyways, thank you for making your way through that awkward fest, and if you have any tips on how I can make it better, please don't hesistate to drop a review! For the purposes of this fic, contraceptive potion is a thing! Yay! As is protective potion, in case of magical STDs. (I can't believe I just wrote that sentence. I also can't believe I just wrote a sex scene about Harry Potter's parents, so.) Anyways. Stay safe kids.