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Albus knows he should resist. He knows they should have stayed in the café, surrounded by the real world, careful with their actions because they could get caught.
The power Gellerts touch has over him is frightening. Only the whisper of Gellerts fingers on the bare skin of his neck, the breathless voice in his ear: “How does it feel around yours?“
It feels like a part of Gellert. It feels like he is close to Albus. It feels like he holds his whole world in his hands.
The room around them changes and the smile of Gellerts lips brushes on Albus cheek.
For a moment, he wants to believe it. Turns his head. Returns his touch. Swallows the bitter lie that bubbles from his familiar lips, sweet as honey.
“You could stay with me,“ his smile is crooked. With his shirt open, his hair in disarray and the damp traces of Albus' kisses, Gellert's proposal looks invitingly seductive. His fall from grace, all he had to do was reach out. A warm hand that could lie gently on his skin, stealing down along the body that would take him over. Albus' whole being, his whole soul. Gellert's smile turns in the fire and his teeth flash through it. Tearing, snapping. Devouring. And captivatingly beautiful.
“For a moment,“ his mismatched eyes sparkle, turning black with the cracking logs in the night, “for a moment, you wanted it.“
Albus presses his lips together. The hand around the collar that coveres him clenches painfully. While his heart wrenches.
“I want it all the time,“ he confesses, still not taking his eyes off Gellert's lips, who is playfully wetting them with his tongue as if he was still tasting Albus’ flavour on them.
“It's not right.“
“To want?“ Gellert inquires, but he doesn't really form a question with the words. His voice is temptation. The pale light that envelops Gellert's silhouette flatters him with dark desire and Albus almost wants to look away. Because he knows that he could get drunk from the sight alone. Drunk with longing and false promises.
“You only acted hedonistically for a moment, you shouldn't judge yourself for it,“ Gellert is flatteringly tender now, moulding the tones darker, truer, as he says: “Geliebter.“
Shivers on Albus' skin and a tremor, much deeper still. The word shakes his soul, his whole being, and robs him of the air he needs to breathe.
Waves of white sheets billow around him and Gellert's warm body above him, pressing him down.
Albus drowns in the word that Gellert says only to him, gives only to him, addresses only to him. He drowns under the soft kisses, more chaste than Gellert's words could have predicted. Only when Albus feels the fingers around his wrists does he catch his breath.
Gellert holds him tight. Hard. Determining. Captivating. At his will.
Albus' body betrays him, presses closer to Gellert. Feels the unyieldingness of his body, hears the dark laughter vibrating on Albus' own skin. He can smell Gellert's scent as he presses his lips against his cheek. He tastes sweet memory and bitter truth. Albus closes his eyes, because he can't see the gleam of Gellert's love-struck eyes now, which would make Albus' next words waver.
“Your being for me is not more important to you than your being for you. That's not right.“
Gellert's skin twitches where the words hit him. But he doesn't flinch. Now he forms the words harshly, piercing Albus to the core.
“You have gone. I'm completing our plan.“
It is a part of you, it screams out from Gellert, a part of you, just as it is a part of me. Entirely, completely. Without you, it wouldn't exist.
That's what wasn't right. Chasing after the rebellious thoughts of youth without being able to recognise the maturity of right and wrong in them.
“What is it, my love, what is right and what is wrong?“ Gellert had read his thoughts and the sheer shamelessness of this act makes Albus rebel inwardly as he feels the placating hand on his own.
“You think so loudly, even the Ministry in England would have heard you.“
There he was, the sensitive Gellert, who could sense the swing of emotion with unbearable ease. Just like magic, when it weaves fine traces in the air or is about to erupt. He is superior to him in so many ways that Albus is sometimes afraid of his abilities. Gellert smiles at him.
“Not at all, my love, you're avoiding the question by bathing yourself in self-pity and inferiority. You don't need it, you never have.“
His cheeks caught in Gellert's hands, his slender fingers on the contours of Albus' lips. ‘Your magic shines so brightly around you that sometimes I fear it might burn me.’
When Gellert kisses him, Albus thinks he can feel the light explode.
“And every time you allow me to be a part of it, I think I don't deserve it. That I'm not valuable enough for your greatness. For your wisdom, your beauty and your infinite talent that flows to me from every corner of your self when I am allowed to touch you.“
You touch everything, Albus wants to say, you are the reason why I glow. Why shouldn't you be allowed to touch me? When you're the only reason why touching makes sense?
And Gellert knows it, even if Albus doesn't say it. Because his hands don't ask as they brush Albus' clothes off his skin, carelessly tearing the fabric down if it doesn't move quickly enough. For it is more meaningless than what it conceals. Gellert's fingers dance knowingly over Albus. His kisses are not uncertain exploration. They are demanding. They are knowing.
Gellert's lips know every detail of Albus, making his body vibrate. Albus surrenders to him with such ease that it should frighten him. For the moment he surrenders to Gellert, Albus gives himself up for a fraction of time. Then it is not him who is trapped in morality. Not the one that every wizard in the world looks up to, asks for advice, seeks his presence and wants a spark of his wisdom for himself.
Beneath Gellert's body, penetrating deep inside him, his eyes closed, blond curls playfully caught on his lips, Gellert mirrors everything Albus wants.
As he whispers his name, in a hoarse voice that Albus barely notices as his own, so rarely has he heard it in that tone, Gellert looks at him. And as his fingertips brush over Albus' cheeks, their bare skin rubbing together lustfully and Albus feels Gellert twitch inside him, he believes it for a moment.
This is his world. Far away from all the burdens he has to carry. Far away from everything they may be in reality. Here they are lover and beloved. The only love either of them will ever know, the only love that will ever matter to them.
Albus sees it in Gellert's gaze, whose eyes do not wander erratically through visions, terror and imperiousness, but recognise only him.
Gellert feels it in Albus's magic, which reaches out to him all-encompassingly, gently, without judgement, with understanding, with the purest form of devotion he has ever known.
He loves him. How could love not be right?
They lie together, their limbs almost indistinguishable, so closely entwined. The warmth of their skin still resonates with the echoes of lust and their kisses are softer than before.
Gellert paints twinkling stars in the blue of the twilight stretching through the curtains and Albus lets them float above their bed. They dance in the firmament of their own world.
“You know,“ says Gellert and the darkness in his voice sends shivers down Albus’ spine. But he breaks off, doesn't finish the sentence. Only the stars he has conjured tremble in the power of the unsaid. And Albus knows. Because he feels the same way. He almost gave up the fight for what is right. Just to be with Gellert. For all eternity.
But they don't both believe in the same right thing in the real world. And the real world is not theirs.
Twilight gives way to day and with it the dreams of night.
They don't say another word as they get up. But their bodies seek each other out, no movement passes without touching. Delicately. Gently. Assuring. That the other is still there, that the bond that just existed will last forever. The sparkling stars made out of magic follow them.
When Gellert steps infront of the window sill, his golden hair is set aflame by the rising light of breaking dawn. He still is the brightness of summer. And the fire of hell.
“We will not speak to one another as lovers after this night fully ends.“
Albus searches for a lie. But Gellerts face is motionless, no sign of betrayal. It hurts. That even though Albus can still feel Gellert inside him, feel the wet path of his lust lubricating his thighs, he is already slipping from his gaze.
He had expected the hand reaching in his direction but Albus shrieks away from it anyways. The grimace on Gellerts face makes Albus heart ache and the memory of Gellerts touch burns his skin. So close to what is wrong but feels so right.
Gellert looks away, avoiding Albus glance. Because he can not bear to look at him, his features gently caressed by the light of a new day, lips still swollen from Gellerts kisses and their mixed scents floating in between them, making them rightfully one when they are already wrongfully apart.
Gellert clenches his fists.
“All the right memories in the wrong world.“
He swallows hard, glances upwards and the sheer vision of Albus strikes him. The light of his existence, bathed in the clearence of everything he is for Gellert. The beauty of his world mirrored in one person.
And suddenly, his voice cracks and Gellert, who will be known as the darkest wizard of a whole century for a long time, allows himself one plea, out of the one pure side of his heart that he will learn to never speak again. Without the crooked smile. Without the lustful seduction. Just with the deepest desire of his own heart: “Stay with me.“
Longing. Yearning.
Albus feels weak. All he will ever want. All he can never have. The right thing in the wrong world. Where they can never be.
Albus shakes his head, shakes the dreams away. Shakes his heart to pieces.
“I can’t.“
And as the sun finally rises and sets the world aflame in the colours of golden fire, Gellert is gone.
The last stars burst and trickle down on Albus in sharp shining sparks.