Fourth Secret

She giggles as he cranes his neck around backwards and snaps his teeth as if to bite at her. "A tattoo, Professor Remus?" she asks cheekily. They are still in the getting to know you stage, still mired in the world of Oh- sweet-Merlin-he-looked-at-me and stammered confessions and blushes, and his body still holds mysteries that she longs to discover, planes that can take her breath away with their beauty. She aches to know him fully.

"You're not as tightly laced as some might think," she says, nipping playfully at the slight curve of his firm ass. She traces the lines of the phoenix that hovers over the base of his spine with her tongue, feeling his muscles tremble underneath her.

He groans unintelligibly.

"Hmm . . . ?" she asks archly, stretching her body slowly, tantalizingly over his so that her nipples brush against his back. Her lips find his ear, and she sucks gently, the way she's already discovered he likes.

"James and Sirius and I—we went and got them one night. Right after school, seventh year, we were going to join the Ord—oh god, don't stop . . ."