A burning summer

1st July 1899

It was a midnight kiss, perhaps exchanged just as the hour struck, because immediately after they were enveloped in an enchantment.

The two brightest wizards of the time continued to seek each other's lips, their kisses reeked of magic, mystery and night. Albus brought his hands to that golden hair that tickled his face and felt how Gellert traced a finger down his chest.

The world had started to whirl around them, the auburn haired no longer understood anything and at the same time had never known so clearly what he wanted.

He needed air, yet he hated the idea of ​​separating himself from those summer lips. In the end it was Gellert who interrupted the kisses, Albus felt incredibly dizzy, but soon after he felt those same silky lips caress his neck, go down the vein, follow the shape of his collarbone.

"Merlin" he breathed.

He moved his hands along the blond's face drawing the contours of his cheekbones, he needed to touch that golden skin, those moulded shapes of a Greek statue: he wanted to learn them all by heart. But then he forgot everything because Gellert opened the buttons of his shirt and put his burning hand on his bare skin. That immense heat went right through his chest and straight into his heart, oh, how he loved him, Merlin, how he loved him.

Gellert followed the line of his abs, Albus thought he would start shaking.

"Wait" he sighed, his hands back in his hair, "Gellert ..."

He looked into his eyes after one last kiss on the sternum. Albus tugged at his shirt: "Off" he begged.

Gellert grinned, hesitating for a moment just to enjoy the impatient and fiery gaze of the young wizard in front of him. He didn't bother to open the buttons one at a time, but pulled the shirt directly over his head. He seemed to be made of marble: the definition of perfection.

At Hogwarts, especially when he went to change after a quidditch game, Albus had always had some girl hanging around him that he had always tried to avoid with awkward attempts. He had never understood what all those girls found so fascinating about his body. He was aware of being muscular like all sportsmen, of course, but he had never considered his body shape as a reason for attraction.

At that moment he understood very well instead: it was an uncontrollable need, like an invincible force that attracted him to that sculpted diaphanous chest. He felt the need to touch, follow the lines of the muscles to make sure they were real. It was a burning and delicious touch at the same time, like hands under hot water after a long day playing in the snow.

Albus returned to request kisses that Gellert willingly granted, then pushed him onto the mattress. He placed her lips back on his neck, lightly marking his skin with his teeth. The auburn-haired found himself emitting air in a broken sigh, then turned his head towards the golden locks that tickled his cheek and inhaled the smell of summer deeply.

He rolled them over wanting to admire all the beauty of the young son of Durmstrang and to be able to caress his face and chest. Gellert surrendered to his caresses, watching Albus with a summer smile as he descended along the lines of his abdominals with gentle and urgent kisses at the same time. The young English wizard sought his hand, their fingers intertwined like the roots of a tree.

After a while the auburn haired felt as if he were enveloped in sparkling bubbles that caused an incessant tingling on his skin and he knew with certainty that what he was feeling was love and happiness in their purest state. It was like that breeze he had first felt on the quidditch court, like an icy ice cream eaten in the sun in the middle of summer, yet what he was feeling at that moment was all a hundred times more powerful.