(Albus Dumbledore x Gellert Grindelwald)
[ENG]
1. In your hands: "You are lying in the dark, embraced, motionless - but God knows what that broken mattress had to endure, all night long."
2. Enchantment: "His breath. Ocean wave breaking on the rocks...
Finalmente mi hai baciato. Vado a dormire con il cielo in bocca.
You finally kissed me. I go to sleep with the sky in my mouth.
(Franco Arminio – L'infinito senza farci caso)
~ Where do we go from here? ~
"There's no place to call our own, like a drifting haze we roam."
There are moments in which you seem to go crazy if he is not next to you, damned moments in which your breath is lost in the throat at the thought of having to wait hours - or maybe years? Centuries? Millennia? - before you can hold him in your arms again.
During the day you and Gellert are forced to keep your distance, even if it's difficult - impossible, almost - to try to hide, mask, harness the uncontrolled craving that tortures your fingers, the fierce tremor that shakes your lips, still wet with kisses, the chills in the belly when your eyes meet, after looking for each other for a long time, without respite, without shame.
Hopeless.
«They're just kids, what do you want them to understand?»
He repeats it, always, breaking the quiet of your meetings, fleeting intervals that you can snatch from a restricted, oppressive, mortifying daily life, definetly complicated to manage - and too much, too painful to bear.
«That's not the point. And even if it were, they were entrusted to me. I can't leave them alone.»
You're already doing it.
That look...
Gellert never judges.
Gellert shows no mercy.
You don't answer - you don't need it, there's nothing to add - you draw him to yourself and focus on other things, on the small - precious, immense - details that your sharpened mind collects, analyzes and then seals, down there, inside the deeper, darker and more secret lapels of your soul. The reverberation of the starry sky that is reflected in his liquid irises, burning with desire; the placid whisper of the wind in the trees; the warmth of his body, pressed against yours; the subdued and distant singing of an owl; the sparkle of a mother-of-pearl button, the sensation of silk under the sweaty fingertips, while, with exhausting slowness, you both free yourself from the clumsy shirts; the scent of fresh grass and ground, which mixes with yours, and a little stuns; the low murmur of his voice - please, my blue, please - a poignant and very sweet song capable of knotting the stomach, clawing the chest and reaching straight to the heart; his hands that sink into your hair, cling to the strained shoulders, glide slowly along the shoulder blades and lastly reach the hips, which touch and caress and imprison in a red-hot, relentless grip.
A spasm of pleasure, a sigh filled with ecstasy.
A need so strong and desperate as to leave bruises.
Time expands and contracts - for you and for him, only, exclusively for you and for him - every moment contains an intense and vibrant light - cruel and blinding -, a remnant of infinity, a bright spark of eternity.
His skin and his mouth against yours.
Finally.
"Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here? How do you fly with no wings? How do you breathe without dreams? Where do we go from here?"
NoA:
Hi everyone!
I'm back with a new little tale ^^
I hope that you like it <3
See you soon!
Soundtrack: Where do we go from here, Ruelle.
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