GRINDELDORE ~ Of love and other demons

3 degrees

{Year 1912; London; Gellert POV}

Fearless hearts love the heart of the night.

(Luther Blisset – Q)

~ 3 degrees ~

"Con le mani tra i capelli
e la pelle che si tocca,
fumo bianco dalla bocca
dammi ancora le tue labbra,
quella notte non finiva mai,
no, no, no, no."

«Where do we go?»

You ask him panting, your mouth stuck to him, your hands buried in his ruffled hair.

Around you the darkness is thick, oppressive; the damp air freezes the bones and the sleeping city encloses you in a ghostly embrace, black of fog and soot. Everything appears smoky, gloomy, without defined shapes.

It almost seems like a dream.

It's cold tonight, it's cursed cold but you don't realize it – his body, crushed against yours, burns and trembles and seethes like the fiery heart of a furnace.

Albus.

You knew it would end like this (it always ends like this between you two).

«There's no need to go anywhere», he replies, seraphic, without stopping a single moment of tormenting your cheeks and chin; you keep your eyes closed – your head thrown back, your throat exposed to his fierce kisses – but you clearly feel his warm lips pursing and tending in a sly, wolfish, perfidious grin.

«What's on your brilliant mind this time?»

Albus don't waste time answering. He grabs your buttocks and lifts you off the ground, pushing you by force against a wall. You cling to him, crossing your calves and ankles at the base of his back; you clutch to his shoulders and begin to lick his neck, you torture its sinuous curve in large bites, while his nimble fingers are already running to slip between the slots of your pants.

You let out a low, frustrated wheeze.

Are you a magician or what? Come on, make them disappear!

He laughs.

The impudent laughs loudly.

You suddenly tighten the thighs around his hips, stealing from him a hoarse groan that he immediately tries to suffocate and hide.

Albus and his fucking pride.

Again, he looks for you, he catches your tongue between his teeth and sucks, sucks for God, he sucks as if he wanted to tear your soul away from your chest.

As you wish, my Lady.

The movement is barely perceivable – he certainly doesn't need a wand for such stupid thing. You hold your breath, savoring every gasp, every wet sigh, every shiver that radiates from the belly and furiously climbs along the backbone.

Now nothing remains to divide you from him.

His skin on yours is liquid fire, dissolved silk, melted glass. It's the red-hot core of the Sun.

More, give me more, give me more.

His excitement – yours excitement – is a stormy ocean, a swirling and wild current, an active volcano about to explode.

More, more, oh, more –

«You're right», you finally whisperer, with a broken voice, a moment before you feel him sink gently, totally, inexorably in you – don't make me wait, don't make me wait, don't make me wait –

«There's no need to go anywhere».

"3 gradi sembravano 20
3 gradi sulle scale, i vestiti fra i denti,
fuori con la luna piena sulla testa,
3 gradi e basta.
3 gradi sembravano 100
come brucia il tempo quando ci sei dentro,
ancora non mi passa,
3 gradi e basta."[1]

[1] With my hands in your hair and the skin you touch, white smoke from the mouth, give me your lips again, that night never ended, no, no, no, no. \\ 3 degrees seemed 20, 3 degrees on the stairs, clothes between teeth, out with the full moon on our head, 3 degrees and that's it. 3 degrees seemed 100, how time burns when you're in it, it still does not pass me, 3 degrees and that's it.

NoA:

Hi everyone! The third chapter is here!

Did you like it?

But over all, do you understand my english? ^^'

Thanks to all the readers, bye 😊  

Soundtrack: 3 gradi, Diego Conti.

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