"Soft, sweet, tender?
The heart is an organ of fire. Consuming, battling. Killing, destroying, we try put it out before it takes us all, controling our lives for good. But we let it in, warming our bodies until the tips of our toes feel the heat. What is it good for?
I know. I know the answer to this, the question that is passed from generation to generation. My parents had it passed down from their parents, and they from their own. I had it passed from my parents. They never speak of it, oh no. Never ever speak. But I know the question. It was only a matter of time before I knew the answer."
Remus put down his pen, and beckoned his answer to come towards him. That answer to his problems, his questions, the one who made every last feeling good. The one whose hair he loved to bury his head in, whose chest he longed to hover his hand over, making light of the gentle hairs that took hold of its surface.
"What are you writing?" whispers he, he who places a light hand on Remus' stomach, he who begins to kiss Remus' neck so gently that it could be a feather tickling the most vulnerable spot on his anatomy.
"Oh, nothing much," Remus replies, arching his back and craning his neck at the touch of the lips dancing across his skin in their silk slippers.
"Soft, sweet, tender?" reads the lover, in between his luxurious kisses. Remus can now feel the sticky wet of the tongue launching further down his neck to his collarbone, and wants to turn to face the owner so he can thank him, but he can't bring himself to do it. He can't tear these lips from his skin for even a second, or he'd miss them too much.
"Soft....." replied Remus, his eyes closing and his head leaing back. "Sweet......tender." He gave up allowing himself this pleasure, and turned to Sirius Black, letting his long hair fall down onto his own chest. He cradled his body for a second, before reaching in to kiss him boldly on the lips.
And then soft, sweet and tender were lost forever, just notions in the book that Remus kept beneath his pillow and allowed no one, not even Sirius Black, to read.
---------
"The heart is an organ of fire" - quote taken from The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje.
The heart is an organ of fire. Consuming, battling. Killing, destroying, we try put it out before it takes us all, controling our lives for good. But we let it in, warming our bodies until the tips of our toes feel the heat. What is it good for?
I know. I know the answer to this, the question that is passed from generation to generation. My parents had it passed down from their parents, and they from their own. I had it passed from my parents. They never speak of it, oh no. Never ever speak. But I know the question. It was only a matter of time before I knew the answer."
Remus put down his pen, and beckoned his answer to come towards him. That answer to his problems, his questions, the one who made every last feeling good. The one whose hair he loved to bury his head in, whose chest he longed to hover his hand over, making light of the gentle hairs that took hold of its surface.
"What are you writing?" whispers he, he who places a light hand on Remus' stomach, he who begins to kiss Remus' neck so gently that it could be a feather tickling the most vulnerable spot on his anatomy.
"Oh, nothing much," Remus replies, arching his back and craning his neck at the touch of the lips dancing across his skin in their silk slippers.
"Soft, sweet, tender?" reads the lover, in between his luxurious kisses. Remus can now feel the sticky wet of the tongue launching further down his neck to his collarbone, and wants to turn to face the owner so he can thank him, but he can't bring himself to do it. He can't tear these lips from his skin for even a second, or he'd miss them too much.
"Soft....." replied Remus, his eyes closing and his head leaing back. "Sweet......tender." He gave up allowing himself this pleasure, and turned to Sirius Black, letting his long hair fall down onto his own chest. He cradled his body for a second, before reaching in to kiss him boldly on the lips.
And then soft, sweet and tender were lost forever, just notions in the book that Remus kept beneath his pillow and allowed no one, not even Sirius Black, to read.
---------
"The heart is an organ of fire" - quote taken from The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje.