Heat of You

Summary - With Shirtless JP May coming to an end (*sobs*) I had to get in at least one more entry. Enjoy this drabble from a prompt by lilyterrace on Tumblr:

Chocolate + Blue + Nervous

"Lily! You made it!"

A smile spills over her face, large and bright, as she steps forward to offer Remus a hug. Overhead, the June sun blazes mercilessly down on her neck, sweat sprinkling generously over nape and brows and upper lip.

"Hey!" she greets, wiping away some moisture from her face, sensitive skin already reddening, no doubt a prelude to all the freckles she'll be welcoming soon. "'Course I did. Only an idiot would refuse a pool party in this weather."

"Face it: you were bullied into coming."

"Yeah alright, who am I kidding?" She rolls her eyes, stepping inside as Remus holds the door open, always a gentleman. The house, as grand from the inside as it had seemed from its exterior, sends a mixed bout of nerves and envy fluttering in her belly. "Is everyone already here?"

"Oh yeah, the pool's in the backyard," Remus says around a bar of half-melted chocolate. "Why don't you go join them? I'll fetch some cold beer from the kitchen."

"Um, where is…?"

"Oh, just go on straight and take a left," he replies, voice already fading as he disappears off to where she can only assume is the kitchen. "You can't miss Sirius blaring his playlist."

With a nod to the empty air, she meanders along the dictated path, eyes frequently catching onto photographs of a bespectacled little boy with glasses too big for his face and eyes too mischievous for his age, and proceeds to watch him get older as she progresses. The soft boyishness of his features eventually disappears, replaced by sharp lines, a bright smile, glasses that fit better. The hazel eyes though—they remain the same; equally as playful at seventeen as they were at five. In some of these frames, he's accompanied by his parents, who seem a good deal older than her own parents, but adoration for their son shines so loud and clear in their expressions, even in the stillness, that they're instantly made younger by it.

"Evans!" cries a familiar voice, and she squawks outrageously in surprise, jumping a foot in the air. Hand to chest, she whips around to find Sirius Black standing at the end of the hall, the door to the backyard open behind him. He smirks, thoroughly entertained, and nods towards the photographs. "Why stare at the frozen copies when you can enjoy looking at the real thing?"

"It's nothing of that sort," she hisses, glad that the burning of her cheeks can be attributed to the cruelly hot sun, and walks over to him. Sirius easily turns around, leading her out to the party. "I was just curious. Had to check whether James always had such a big head or whether it was acquired with age."

"You say that as if you haven't known me since eleven."

The unbelievably loud thud of her heart is accompanied by a traitorous grin that pulls on her lips at the sound of that voice. She bites her cheek, manages to look politely pleased instead of madly thrilled. "Well, therein lies my problem, Potter. Your head has always looked big to me."

"Is that right?" he hums, and it's all the warning she receives before he's right in front of her, body clad in nothing but summer-blue swimming trunks, skin glistening with sweat over a delicious tan. He holds a can of beer in one hand, the other rising to his head, feeling around stupidly as he looks straight at Sirius. "What d'you think, Padfoot? Is my head too big?"

"No, you're perfect." Sirius chuckles.

"See, Evans? I don't—" he suddenly stops, and she watches the muscles of his chest expand with the breath he pulls in. "Excuse me, my eyes are up here, you pervert."

Despite the warmth that clings to her neck and ears, she laughs, shaking her head as her eyes land on him. "I'm terribly sorry. Maybe you shouldn't shove your naked chest in my face next time, yeah?"

"Why?" James leans a little closer. "Is it too tempting for you?"

The thin cotton t-shirt sticking to her lower back registers glaringly on her senses all of a sudden, the music around them dulling to a mindless beat, everything sweltering, everything James and his eyes and the brief flash of his white teeth.

"Jesus Christ," mumbles Sirius, and though they hear the words, neither of them look away. "I swear it's like watching you have sex openly. I'm going to find some appropriate company."

She bites her lip, enjoys how it draws James's eyes to the movement. "You're really red," he says, tapping twice at her neck, leaving his finger there. It's quite evident when her pulse jumps against the spot, eager in its attempt to beat right in his palm. "Alright, Evans?"

"Alright," she says, voice so breathy that the conviction doesn't carry.

He's close enough now that she's able to reach out a hand and brace it against the solidness of his abdominals. Tension flutters against her skin as he freezes for a second, nerves a tight coil in her stomach. But then he smirks; smirks so lazily, so lecherously, that she feels devoured by that look, by him, entirely.

"I—"

"Lily, I got your beer!"

She instantly steps away at Remus's voice, heart pounding, blood roaring, even as James lets out a tortured groan at the distance. Sensing what he's just interrupted, Remus hands her the beer, wince marring his features.

"Oops," he says, turns to James. "Sorry, mate. I'll leave you to it."

She doesn't even manage to open the drink before he's pulling it out of her hands, setting it aside on a circular table, and skimming fingers down her elbow. "Come on. Swim with me."

"I wanted that drink, you know," she cocks a brow. "You're not being a very nice host."

Something in James's eyes blazes, and he suddenly leans down, lips brushing the shell of her ear, heat emanating off him in tantalizing waves. Her breath hitches, brain scrambling. "I don't much care about being nice right now, Evans. Do you?"

"No," the answer whooshes out, honest.

"Good," he says, and she definitely feels teeth scrape against her lobe, prompting goosebumps to flower down her arms. "Come on, then."

Certain that he's enjoying her tormented state, she takes a deliberate step back, eyes caught onto James's darkening gaze as she reaches for her t-shirt, pulls it up and over her head in a swift movement. The way he clenches his jaw has her skin buzzing, redder and redder even as she unbuttons her shorts and lets them drop away too. And just like that, she's standing in front of James Potter, dressed in nothing but a red bikini set that she knows is flattering on her figure.

It's quite a rush of thrill, therefore, when James steps towards her again with a muted swear, scorching fingers splayed over her ribcage, other hand cradling the sweat-damp skin of her neck. "Lily," he says, lips almost brushing hers, setting fire everywhere. "Fuck, I—"

She pushes up, fits her mouth against his, kisses him slow, languid, soft. "I know," the whisper falls from her tongue, only a heartbeat away. "Me too."

"I want you to remember that."

A confused frown stitches her brows together. "What?"

"I want you," he repeats, "to remember that you like me."

"Okay, but why would—" her voice transforms ungracefully into a shrill shriek when James suddenly picks her up and promptly throws her into the pool, guffawing the entire time.

The betrayed annoyance persists only until she breaks the surface, finds him dive in right after. Sturdy arms instantly encircle her waist, warm mouth back on hers, smile pressed against wet lips that won't stop beaming in return.