If anything was amiss with Lestrange, Theo hadn’t noticed it; he was too lost in the sensations of the moment, of being up close against him and having his mouth on his and of making leisurely progress with unbuttoning his shirt.
Oh, fuck, Theo had absolutely not thought this bit through, because now Lestrange was at his shirt buttons as well. And somehow already at the button right by that stupid scar on his abdomen, and - well, if anyone else were going to see it, maybe he could have gotten away with pretending that it was the result of a thrilling auror training incident, or something (- anything -) vaguely alluring and impressive. But no, not here - Theo suddenly felt heat in his face for a different reason - here it would probably still be the mortifying reminder of a long-ago school quidditch match, the game wherein Lestrange had captained Ravenclaw to quidditch cup victory and Theo hadn’t seen any of it, because he’d been busy impaling himself on his own broomstick and being out cold in the hospital wing for a week. Great. Wonderful. As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough in front of him already.
No, it would be fine. He probably, hopefully, didn’t remember that. Still, just to be safe... maybe he wouldn’t even notice it, if Theo kept him well enough distracted? With a newfound surge of urgency, then, he managed the next couple of buttons and tugged the shirt open and off him; or at least partly off, as far as he could get it without being able to wrangle the sleeves all way down his arms and with the door behind him. Theo broke off their kiss and moved his mouth to Lestrange’s jaw instead, working his way keenly along the curve of his neck and onto his now-exposed collarbone. At the same time, he let his fingers skim over the seeker’s bare skin, hands roaming over his chest and abdomen and down towards the top of his trousers.
Oh, fuck, Theo had absolutely not thought this bit through, because now Lestrange was at his shirt buttons as well. And somehow already at the button right by that stupid scar on his abdomen, and - well, if anyone else were going to see it, maybe he could have gotten away with pretending that it was the result of a thrilling auror training incident, or something (- anything -) vaguely alluring and impressive. But no, not here - Theo suddenly felt heat in his face for a different reason - here it would probably still be the mortifying reminder of a long-ago school quidditch match, the game wherein Lestrange had captained Ravenclaw to quidditch cup victory and Theo hadn’t seen any of it, because he’d been busy impaling himself on his own broomstick and being out cold in the hospital wing for a week. Great. Wonderful. As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough in front of him already.
No, it would be fine. He probably, hopefully, didn’t remember that. Still, just to be safe... maybe he wouldn’t even notice it, if Theo kept him well enough distracted? With a newfound surge of urgency, then, he managed the next couple of buttons and tugged the shirt open and off him; or at least partly off, as far as he could get it without being able to wrangle the sleeves all way down his arms and with the door behind him. Theo broke off their kiss and moved his mouth to Lestrange’s jaw instead, working his way keenly along the curve of his neck and onto his now-exposed collarbone. At the same time, he let his fingers skim over the seeker’s bare skin, hands roaming over his chest and abdomen and down towards the top of his trousers.
