Kisses
The first time Remus and I kissed it was on the battlefield, just after some other members of the Order drove the Death Eaters off of Hogwarts grounds. Everyone was celebrating and Remus was the closest male in proximity to me. We looked at each other, grinning, and he grabbed me and kissed me. It didn't last very long, but I will never forget the feeling of his lips on mine. He didn't know it, but with that kiss, he fulfilled a girlhood fantasy of mine.
Later, when we were all delivered safely back to Grimmauld Place, I kissed him again. This time, it was for no reason other than he just looked damn sexy in the firelight with his hair falling into his eyes. I pulled away quickly, thinking he would be embarrassed, but he pulled me back to him and kissed me with a desire I didn't know existed in the usually quiet, reserved professor. He hid it so well, but Remus Lupin was an incredibly passionate and intense wizard.
We've been kissing a lot since then.
I love how he kisses. When he wakes me in the morning, it's with soft, sweet kisses that make me think he loves me. Late at night as we lay in bed, I know that when he kisses me deeply and fervently he wants to do anything but sleep. My favorite kisses are those when he returns from working on Order business, especially when he's been gone a few days. He usually returns with a slight mustache and chin stubble. It scratches my face and leaves a red burn, like he's marking me or something. But what I love most about those kisses is that he kisses me like we've been separated for months and he kisses me like a man who's been starved of affection for those months.
For a werewolf, he has wonderful soft lips. They're thin, but seem to take on a life of their own when they join with mine. Our lips fit perfectly together, and I wonder how I've ever been satisfied with anyone else's kisses before Remus'. I could kiss him for hours and be perfectly content.
I didn't mean to kiss Ginny Weasley that day after the battle. I didn't mean to kiss anyone. At my age and station in life, I'd just about given up on that sort of thing. But suddenly, there I was- lip-locked with a twenty-year-old woman who was every younger man's fantasy. She'd never been my fantasy, at least not before that first kiss.
She kissed me again later that same night. She pulled away, but I wasn't about to let her escape that easily. She'd awakened a sleeping beast within me, and the wolf wanted its prey. Lucky for me, she obliged.
Ginny kisses with a fire as blazing has her scarlet hair. She kisses me like it's the last thing she'll ever do. In the morning, I am too tired to kiss with any real energy. Yet, after my lips meet hers in a brief kiss, I am fully awake and ready for more. Unfortunately, we have business to attend to.
I love kissing her while we make love. She is equally passionate then, but even more than what's taking place in our lower bodies is the fight of our lips and tongues for control and pleasure.
For such a young woman, she seems quite adept at kissing. I've kissed a fair number of women in my time, but none of those distant memories hold a candle to this young witch of mine.
Who knows if we'll continue in our relationship? I don't even know if what we have is love. All I know is that when I'm old and decrepit, I'll have the memory of kissing this young, vibrant, beautiful woman. And dreaming of our kisses will keep me happy and satisfied until my dying day.