Theo was more prepared for that this time, but there was still a little hum of pleasure when he did it again, and enough of a thrill to even Lestrange’s lightest touches that he could brush past every facet of this that was a bad idea until he had blocked the thought out entirely.
He took a moment to shrug off his jacket, distractedly - this less in suggestion and more because it was already fairly rumpled, and because Theo was maybe a little too warm under the collar now to need anything else to add to it. Once he’d managed that, one of his hands went back to the seeker’s shoulder, around his neck, and then moved upwards to the back of his head, his fingers drifting tentatively into Lestrange’s hair as he leant in to find his mouth again.
Theo was not sure how long they had been on the floor like this by the time a half-coherent thought flitted through his head again, though eventually he did - reluctantly - have to shift away to catch his breath, putting some space between them. Leaning back against the chair he’d been sitting on earlier, Theo waited for his pulse to slow.
The warmth of it had been nice while it lingered - only now that they weren’t touching and his hands were merely pressed flat against the floor of the box, he was already keenly aware of the loss of it. Exchanging that for his usual self again and all the dissatisfaction rattling in him seemed a poor trade. Nevertheless, Theo turned his face outwards to the stadium for a moment: the all-engulfing dark empty silence of the place was almost so familiar it was comforting. Except there was still a stubborn flicker of nervousness lodged somewhere in his chest that ought to have dissipated by now - but it hadn’t, and although he could think of nothing to say, there was a glimmer of it in the glance he finally chanced towards Lestrange.
He took a moment to shrug off his jacket, distractedly - this less in suggestion and more because it was already fairly rumpled, and because Theo was maybe a little too warm under the collar now to need anything else to add to it. Once he’d managed that, one of his hands went back to the seeker’s shoulder, around his neck, and then moved upwards to the back of his head, his fingers drifting tentatively into Lestrange’s hair as he leant in to find his mouth again.
Theo was not sure how long they had been on the floor like this by the time a half-coherent thought flitted through his head again, though eventually he did - reluctantly - have to shift away to catch his breath, putting some space between them. Leaning back against the chair he’d been sitting on earlier, Theo waited for his pulse to slow.
The warmth of it had been nice while it lingered - only now that they weren’t touching and his hands were merely pressed flat against the floor of the box, he was already keenly aware of the loss of it. Exchanging that for his usual self again and all the dissatisfaction rattling in him seemed a poor trade. Nevertheless, Theo turned his face outwards to the stadium for a moment: the all-engulfing dark empty silence of the place was almost so familiar it was comforting. Except there was still a stubborn flicker of nervousness lodged somewhere in his chest that ought to have dissipated by now - but it hadn’t, and although he could think of nothing to say, there was a glimmer of it in the glance he finally chanced towards Lestrange.
