i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
-- e.e. cummings
So many words piled around each other and crowded, pushing and elbowing each other, and yet Severus remained mute. Not soundless but without language, words being only tiny boxes not big enough to hold even a crumb of what it was like.
His skin was no smooth expanse of ivory, but a pale plane interrupted by ginger fuzz and riots of undignified freckles. His hair long, yes, but a shade of red visible even in low candlelight. A noisy colour. His eyes were a blue too vibrant to ever be called cold, like a cloudless sky in summer, always warm. The muscles that curved beneath his skin were firm and strong - the limbs, the ass, the belly of a man who lifted books but also stone and wood, who had to run for his life more frequently than he would like to admit. This was the body of a man who galloped out to meet the world, rather than building elaborate machinery to force the world to come to him. This was the skin of a man who soaked up pleasure like he soaked up knowledge - greedy, insatiate, profligate. Pleasure had no use to him but its own sake. He spent each sigh and gasp as if he had an unlimited store.
The tips of his fingers made Severus over. Everywhere he touched, Severus could feel the bones and flesh shifting, bettering themselves on command. Where pain had been remembered, there was ecstasy. Where there had been tension, now there was release. He called the nerves back to life with hands and tongue and cock; he made them dance to the tune of his breath and carry more joy than they could have possibly thought to channel without his coaxing. The long silk of his hair sliding on Severus' skin erased history and left a thing entirely new in its wake. His touch pulled something unspoiled from the wreckage of corruption and compromise, something Severus didn't even know was there. He had been right; by some miracle or magic, some small part of Severus had stayed pure, and now he summoned it forth and fed it until it grew to cover over everything.
The downy fur on his freckled arms was perfect next to Severus' sallow skin and darker, sparser hair. Severus' left-arm, knotted, death's-head scar had no meaning anymore. It was only an uninteresting relic of another life. He kissed it, tenderly, and Severus trembled and was remade again. He stroked gentle fingers down Severus' spine, he ran soft lips over delighted hip bones, he wrote incantations with his tongue on eager skin until Severus shook. Each sweep of his eyelashes persuaded Severus that what had seemed so definite, so burned into sinew and brain and marrow, was shockingly fluid. His kisses described transformation, how not only to do differently, but how to be different. Severus listened. For only the second time, Severus believed.
And when they had wrung so much pleasure out of each other they were limp and happily exhausted, they wound their bodies close together and drifted off with sated smiles.
And the word that escaped from Severus' sleepy lips sounded quite a bit like love.