augustustheyoungerâ:
He joked and complained about being treated like a teenager, but then there was a whole lot about their whole situation that was exactly that. They werenât exactly sneaking around, per se, but it sure as hell felt like it the way they had to get so creative to snag even a few minutes of alone time. It made it all the more interesting, a lot of the time, but sometimes, with more and more frequency lately, he wished they had their own space where they wouldnât have to worry about being quick or getting caught. He didnât like to dwell on that thought too much, though.
And there was certainly no time to dwell on that now, or on the fact that Al might reappear at any given moment, considering he had no idea where she was, as Fletcher answered his snark by closing the space between them, and grabbing his face to kiss him. A little noise of surprise left his lips, muffled, before he managed to respond in kind. Maybe he shouldâve been used to it by now, but every bloody time it took him by surprise that he was allowed this with anyone, yet alone Fletcher. It was too good to be true.
His hands instinctually went to their hips, following their lead as their fingers tugged them closer. The kiss was messy, and so good, and the feeling of their lips made it possible to let go of all the worry for a second. It was hard to think of anything mattering more than feeling like this, after all, in the moment. Augustus deepened the kiss, pressing forward until Fletcherâs back hit the wall, hands wandering, before lips trailed along their jaw. âBloody lucky Alâs gone, someoneâs needy this morning,â he hummed, teasing, before kissing them again.
   âCall me needy one more time,â they said, voice a threatening growl between desperate kisses, but then again, wasnât that exactly what this was? Wasnât that exactly why they were here? They needed a distraction and, for some reason, he was the only person they could think of to provide it, they only person they wanted to provide it. And this wasnât exactly the first time, though they usually managed to couch it in slightly less desperate terms. It was easier, after a few drinks, to admit it, or to ignore it, tactfully pretending that there was more to this than just physical need. It was easier in dark corners, easier when they only had a moment to spare. Easier when they knew they were going somewhere, crossing the border on a mission and maybe never coming back. Augustus calling it out, so blatantly, even as a joke, in broad daylight, made them feel naked, and not in the way they wanted to be naked. Speaking of which...
They pushed a hand up under his shirt, palm flat against his hot skin, the fabric of the shirt wrinkling up over his stomach and chest, high enough that it would be easier to just take it off than to keep it there, get rid of the obstruction entirely. Their sentence went unfinished, the Iâll just leave left unsaid. Because they wouldnât: they knew they wouldnât, and so did he, probably.
Some piece of armor, in the back of their mind kept reminding them that this was a bad ideaânot just because Moody might walk in at any time and they were attempting to practically rip Augustusâ shirt off in the front hallway, but because this was getting to be too easy, too regular, too predictable. Too close for comfort, the way they kept finding themself gravitating back to him, ending up here again and again and again. But right now, it was that or facing the litany of their own sins, the bad news they had brought, subjecting everyone to its pull of despair. This was easier, so much easier, than all of that.

















