InsaneJournal

Hunger

                Severus loved his balding head with the patches of red hair, the way the radio was on its last leg and you could barely make anything out, the way the chairs in the man's house never matched. He loved that the man was not the dominant parent in his family, loved the glasses that obscured warm, brown eyes. He loved the way he was so fucking polite all the time. He loved the man's penchant for Muggle artifacts, for what was new, for what was unknown. He loved his innocent image (though he knew by now that the man was not quite so innocent as he had made people believe), his accepting personality. For some reason, his smiles and his warmth opened up Severus's heart, in contrast to the ways of others such as Remus Lupin or the man's own wife's personalities left him cold.

                Arthur loved the unwashed hair, the sharp, hooked nose, the bland house that he lived in, the one that had belonged to his parents. He loved the beady black eyes and the thick brows and the too-thin look of the man's body, and the way he got snarky and sarcastic about sex, right up until the point where he lost his control (or, gave it away, really, because he deeply trusted Arthur). He loved the way the man's robes swooshed out behind him when he was acting all superior, loved the way the cheeks reddened when the man got mad. He always found himself amused. Molly was great, and he loved her, but he loved Severus too, and, he was quite sure, what Molly did not know could not very well hurt Molly.

                They loved the gifts they gave each other on birthdays, when Arthur had the money, when Severus felt like it, or how they'd owl each other at work every once in a while, just to keep in touch. Arthur felt it was important to keep in touch, and for the most part Severus agreed with all of his notions regarding their relationship.

                Severus loved the way Arthur groaned his name at climax. Arthur loved the way Severus struggled not to, because they both knew it didn't need to be uttered aloud.

Severus loved the shoddy robes the man wore, wanted to devour them whole with the man and his lovely freckles and his love handles.

                Arthur wanted to dig his teeth into Severus's Dark Mark and never let go.

                There was a hunger inside each of them that they knew none but the other could fill. It was an odd sentiment, really, because when they got together it was hot and needy, but hardly angry, hungry, feral, devouring, no. Never anything nasty. It was like the sort of need a man has after three days without food, yet had the gentleness in action of the need for a midnight snack.

                "I love you," they'd say sometimes, careful not to say it too much, lest the hunger turn into fullness and they not hunger again.

                It was rather silly, though, to think the hunger would die away. Twenty years had not seen to that yet—how could one too many "I love you"s?