His hands are pale and small, delicate just as the rest of his lithe body is. His fingers are long and graceful, dancing endlessly, teasingly, across my bare flesh. They ignite such things only his fingers are wont to ignite. His flesh is so pale, a creamy white, marred only by scars that cover his body. But his skin is beautiful and I worship it, tasting the skin beneath my lips, my tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of his sweat and smelling the sweetness that is purely Remus.
We walk down the hallway, our shoes clicking on the cold stones beneath our feet, the whispers of the others bouncing off the walls and echoing around us. Remus shoots me a shy smile and his ears turn very lightly pink at the tip – the only indication of his embarrassment. I smile back, widely. Their whispers increase as I dart my hand out to enclose around his thin wrist. They know we're together and I thrill at the fact that he is so publically mine. He shoots another embarrassed glance back at me, cheeks dusted a healthy pink. All I can think about is the other things that draw out such a blush. "Sirius, stop it," he says softly, trying to pull his wrist from my grasp. I grin. He succeeds in yanking his wrist away and walks a few steps ahead of me.
"Remus," I whine, following him. I nudge him gently with my elbow and he draws in his breath as our skin brushes. His is burning.
"Stop elbowing me," he breathes. They point at us and whisper, so pathetic and obvious.
"I can't," I argue. He shoots me a sharp look. I draw up to his side and whisper in his ear, "I like touching you far too much, Mr. Moony." He gasps and inhales a shaky breath, body trembling against my own as we continue down the hall.
"Well, perhaps you should learn some restraint," he says sharply, walking quickly ahead of me. I frown, my forehead creasing in confusion. I dart my hand out and enclose his wrist once more. He turns back to me, eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"I love you," I say. No one speaks, they all inhale at the same time, anxious for either his approval or rejection. I wait too, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen. The last of the air is running through my veins, this breath could change everything. His eyes soften and his cheeks are pink again. He subtly steps closer and leans against my body.
"I love you, too," he whispers against my chest, thin fingers finding easy purchase in my shirt. They twist the fabric, securing his hold as he rises on his tiptoes to press a kiss to my lips. It's a gentle, soft kiss that lasts no more than a second. But it sets my heart racing and my blood boiling. The flesh of his cheek burns beneath my fingertips as I caress his face. "I'm hungry," he adds after a silent moment, after they've exhaled together.
"Then we should feed you, you're far too thin anyway, Moony," I say softly. He nudges me playfully and turns to walk away. I grip his hand in mine, startling him. Then he smiles and links our fingers together, the rough pad of my thumb rubs his knuckles. I lean over for one last, stolen peck on his neck and he laughs. The sound fills me and makes me feel warm. Alive all over. Their sighs trail after us down the hall, the scent of bacon wafting to greet us.