maidstone | stolen from another life { p h i l l i p }

She watched him, studied his face, as he spoke. She watched the smugness fading quickly as she pressed him for details, replaced by something that was a little… what was it? Something a little unsettled, but still… open. Shyness? Was this what he looked like when he was shy? She thought she understood that; this was all new for her too. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen this, so she made sure to handle it gently. She kept her eyes on him as he leaned against her old desk. It was a dusky sort of pink, the only piece of furniture in the room that wasn’t dark brown.

She smiled a little at the Christmas thing, no traces of teasing left in her expression. Just fondness now. Christmas eve had been quite special for her; she’d never fallen asleep with someone there like that before. He’d never seen her in pyjamas before that – not something that probably mattered to most people, probably not even him, but she was so self conscious about that sort of thing that it mattered to her.

She felt a little sting in her finger – a splinter? – and stopped playing with the wooden post behind her. She wanted to ask which time he was talking about when he mentioned the astronomy tower. Hadn’t they been up there past curfew more than once? Perhaps it only felt like that because it was so isolated and gorgeous up there that it felt like it’s own little world away from everything else. It was it’s own world; it always felt like it was past curfew up there. She stayed quiet instead, just wanting to listen to him talk.

She withdrew her hands from behind her and looked at her finger, noting the tiny little line just under her skin where the splinter had lodged itself. “Christmas eve,” she repeated, that small smile back again. “I really loved that,” she said gently, glancing up at him, then back down at her finger as she squeezed around it with her other hand, trying to push the splinter out.

Phillip wasn't used to this feeling, being outwardly vulnerable and shy. He was used to internalizing things, self doubt, and Merlin knew he could go days without talking, but this was something else. It was different. For the first time he didn't know what to say even though he felt like he should say something. Phillip never felt the need to speak just so that he was saying something, especially not with Billie, but right now he kind of did. And that pressure made the words even more difficult to find.

Eventually, after a moment of thought, he'd started telling her about when he'd thought about kissing her and honesty was freeing. The more he spoke the easier it became, like he was telling her secrets he'd been keeping and it swept over him like a wave of relief to say them out loud. He was admitting these things to himself just as much as he was admitting them to her. He rested his weight against the desk, watching her from across the room, and smiling when she spoke about Christmas Eve too. He liked hearing that it had been important to her too, that they both thought it was special.

Still so in tune with where she was and movements she made Phillip noticed when she started looking at her finger. Arching an eyebrow until he realized she must have pricked it on the wooden beam Phillip pushed off from the desk. He crossed the room to her, the floor boards creaking under him, and reached for her hand. "Here, let me," he told her as he pulled his wand from his pocket and whispered a spell to pull the sliver out the way it had gone in. He kept her hand on his, even after he'd finished the spell, and grew quiet again.

“Oh, Thank you,” She said, holding her hand out for him as he reached for it. Sometimes Billie wondered why they didn’t have classes on medicinal magic at hogwarts. It didn’t have to be a whole seven-year-long thing – perhaps just one year of learning. Or six months. Quietly, she added the topic to an ongoing mental list of things that she wanted to put more time into learning. She’d been spending a lot less time doing that sort of thing, lately. Most of the time she just wrote to him, or thought about writing to him, or just sort of zoned out and daydreamed about him. Completely ridiculous.

She watched with mild interest as the thin little line under her skin disappeared, replaced by the tiniest pinprick of red. She touched the tip of her index finger with her thumb, where her skin felt a little tingly. She pressed them together. After a second she removed her hand from his, then reached up and touched her fingertip gently to his lips; a hesitant kiss it better sort of gesture. She watched his face as she lingered there, a part of her wanting to just sort of freeze time so she could spend more time looking at him.

One element of note when it came to kissing was that she saw his face up close more often now. She got different perspectives, noticed different things. It was minor, but previously unconsidered. There had been a lot of little things like that – she was sure there’d be more.

Curious and tentative, she drew an invisible line across his lower lip, pausing at the corner, then continuing down and under his chin. Her movements were slow. She flicked her eyes from the path she was trailing back up to his eyes, watching his expression and imagining him touching her like this. Wondering what her expression would be. “Well,” she said softly, her fingertip brushing down over his adam’s apple, coming to rest on his chest. “I would have wanted you to. Probably.” She smiled her small smile. Amused at herself, but open. Honest. “Probably anytime you were thinking about it, I was thinking about it.”

She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue as she leaned forward a little, pushing up on her toes as she pressed her lips against his again, soft and sweet.

In a way, Phillip wished he had known she had been thinking about it then too so that they wouldn't have waited so long, but also he had a strange feeling that everything was happening just how it was supposed to. As it often was, his mind was a million miles ahead, and he knew if they had kissed back then when he had thought about it at Hogwarts, then they wouldn't be experiencing these firsts now. And in a way, he was glad to be experiencing them currently. Phillip rarely lived in the moment, he was bound by his past, stuck in it by choice and circumstance, but with Billie, he was better. He was starting to learn how not to be so broken anymore, how to let go of his grief and just enjoy things again.

He felt sparks where her finger trailed against his lips, and he stayed still, rock steady because he didn't want to move and cause her to stop what she was doing. This side of Billie was different, and seeing her in this light was driving him crazy. She had always been smart, inquisitive, but this curiosity was something more, and it thrilled him. Eyes nearly closed; he watched as her index finger moved, and she spoke. "Really?" He whispered, a bit distracted, a bit off guard, as his mind whirled over the idea.

Before he could think about any of it too much, she had stood on her tippy toes, something he found endlessly endearing and kissed him again. The wizard was the type who obsessed about things, focussed on them until they broke; he couldn't be swayed in his opinions or his anger, but when Billie kissed him, everything melted away. Nothing else existed but the two of them.

His hands rose to her waist once more as he kissed her back, taking a step and closing the distance between them until his body was pressed up against her with her four-poster behind her. He wasn't the sort of wizard who went around snogging witches in broom closets, Phillip hadn't even had a girlfriend in more than two years, but at this moment he felt like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like his body, instinctively knew where to put his hands and when to deepen the kiss. And as the world around them fell away, he gave into those instincts, letting his body take control, and his rambling thoughts slip away.

It was a freeing feeling, he never wanted to let it, or her, go.

Billie just nodded in response to his really? Her instinct was to say more, keep things slow and verbal in between the kisses, but that idea disappeared quickly. It was funny how quickly things shifted in this context. That was something she’d sort of noted too. An errant observation, tucked away for later. For example, one second ago, she’d really felt like he’d been shy when he’d been admitting how he was feeling, but now her back was flush against the frame of her old bed, and his body held her there tightly as they kissed.

Her brain went blank again as she kissed him back, reaching up quickly to drag away some pale blonde strands of hair that were caught between their faces. Her hands came to settle on his chest, just below his collar bones like they belonged there. She felt warm, did he feel warm? His body felt warm to her; his hands on her waist felt warm. His lips were warm. She could feel a thin sheen of sweat on the back of her neck, and her heart was racing. They were in the warmest room in the house on a summer’s day; she wished she hadn’t worn long sleeves.

That last thought might be for more than one reason, though, she noted distantly, feeling his hands tight on her waist as she kissed him. She slid her own hands up to the top of his shoulders, her thumbs brushing the collar of his top, just touching skin. Her pulse was up again, but her thoughts were racing too; she’d moved past the blank stage and into the thinking-about-things stage. It was a lot.

He didn't know how long they had been standing there because time had melted away around him. It wasn't until he broke the kiss to steal a much-needed breath that he noticed his hands had found the hem of her blouse again. He was out of breath, his heart racing, as he opened his eyes to look at her intently. He felt like he'd seen her so many times in the last two years he should have had every inch of her face memorized but standing this close afforded him a brand new view. He noticed things he hadn't before like her little dimples and the way her lips parted slightly. His gray eyes trailed down from hers and back to her lips, memorizing the shape of them as his own smiled a little.

Phillip wanted to do so much more than just kiss her, it was like his body was screaming for him to do so. He felt like it was a brand new dance but somehow he knew all of the moves already. Regardless of what he wanted, the teenager waited. Hesitating, his eyes were still focussed on her lips and he sucked in another quiet breath. His thumb ran absently over where he'd found her tucked in the shirt before, desperately wanting to pull on it. Despite how close they were, everything they had shared with each other over the years, everything they were sharing now, Phillip knew there were still barriers between them.

His thoughts spun around in his head like a black hole, sucking all of his apprehensions about moving too quickly into the crushing black abyss at the back of his mind. He had considered moving away, of letting go of her and catching his breath, but his feet were firmly planted when he kissed her again. It was slow and sweet even though his hands and body wanted to move as fast as his mind was. His hand moved up her shirt, causing the tiniest of breaks to form between her skirt and her blouse. He was so aware of it, his good intentions obliterated by it, and soon enough his fingertips found that tiny bit of soft skin.

Billie made a soft sound of protest as he pulled back, and her eyes remained closed an extra moment in case he was going to kiss her again, or kiss her neck again. When he didn’t, she opened her eyes slowly and met his rather intense gaze. She watched him, trying to take even breaths while she studied his expression. He looked at her lips and smiled. She smiled tentatively in response.

She felt a little lightheaded; obviously she wasn’t yet used to the whole taking-breaths-here-and-there part of making out – she always found herself breathing hard when they pulled apart, a little dazed. Again, she wondered how anyone got anything done when doing this felt so good. A part of her felt like a new person, like she’d suddenly gotten a look into this whole other world. It sounded dumb in her head though – what, the “whole other” world of “making out”? She mocked herself and cringed appropriately. It did feel new though. A new world of other things.

She waited for him to do something. It made her nervous, the waiting. She had too much time to think, to wonder if he was going to kiss her again or pull back. Wonder what he was thinking, or if he liked it as much as she did, or if she really wasn’t very good at kissing and maybe that was on his mind… She trailed off a bit, not really able to commit to that particular insecurity when he was looking at her like that. It felt like slow motion.

He kissed her again and she felt relieved, the tension breaking. She expected it to be fast again, rushed as their lips met, but it was sweeter and slower. She liked this too. Then his fingertips tickled her side a bit and she felt it through her whole body. Her breathing hitched a little, her lips stilling against his for a moment before she continued to kiss him. Billie wasn’t sure what she thought about this sort of thing, in the general sense. She was incredibly sheltered in a lot of ways, and there were older, more traditional parts of her that felt alarmed at the improperness of it.

But being present here, she couldn’t deny that it felt good. Skin on skin. His fingertips at her waist. The risk of it all, the alarm as he untucked her shirt from her skirt. The danger. It made her thoughts spark off in directions that made her blush. She moved one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

To Phillip, these little pauses for breaths were like gateways that opened to let a waterfall of thoughts rush in. Every time the kiss broke he had to fight back the surging water, threatening to spill over with questions and thoughts he wouldn't normally say. When he was kissing her everything fell away, there were no doubts or hesitations, no over thinking or letting his mind run wild picturing other things. He was just lost in the moment, but it was the kind of lost he wanted to be. It was quiet but it was also chaotic in the sense that he felt consumed by it. In the back of his mind he knew it was silly to be so disoriented by all of this but he couldn't help but feel like he was inside of a fantasy.

When she pulled him closer he felt his entire body, every inch of it, igniting. His hand moved up her waist hungrily, under the fabric, his palm against the smooth skin of her torso. He felt like her movements were some kind of permission, her way of telling him it was okay, and he wanted more. Electricity was coursing through him as his fingertips inched further up her side. His hips pushing into hers and he was overcome by all of it. Swept away by the rushing tide and just giving in to it. Hands still at her waist he broke the kiss again but this time he didn't pause or hesitate, he didn't even open his eyes as his lips trailed kisses down her neck hurriedly. There was a new pace to it, her movements motivating him in ways he had never felt before.

"Do you.." he asked between kissing her neck and stealing breaths, making his way toward the sensitive skin on her shoulder. He pulled the fabric of her collar out of the way, lips finding new skin to kiss, and finished the question. "How does this feel?" He wanted to know if she liked it but more than that he wanted to know what she liked about it. He wanted to know what things she liked, what she might like him to try, how she was feeling, what she was thinking, he wanted to know all of it.

She opened her eyes, trying to focus on his words, rather than the sensation of his hot breath on her neck as he spoke. Did she…? How did it feel…? She swallowed nervously, breathing hard, her gaze on the line between the wall and the ceiling. His hand was right there on her side, thumb at the bottom of her ribs. She wondered if he’d noticed how fast she was breathing, or if he was more focused on what he was doing. She was having trouble thinking about anything at all at the moment, his touches crowding out other thoughts.

“Er – good,” she answered, breathless. Billie resisted the urge to cringe away as his lips tickled her skin. She was so ticklish, so sensitive. And no one had ever kissed her there before. She had goosebumps all down that side of her body, but she was sweating too. Every time he kissed her skin, she felt echoes of the touch after he’d moved on, so it sort of compounded as he made his way past her collarbone. She felt stressed, but not in a bad way; her body was singing. Everything that was happening right now felt good (Merlin, she was going to think about it all later) but she wasn’t sure about where things were heading, or what his expectations were. She felt nervous about it all. Nervous and good. A good kind of nervous. A nervous kind of good.

“Um,” she breathed, but she’d closed her eyes again now, and with her eyes shut, everything really fell away. She was hyper aware of how he touched her. “Really good,” She added – a very creative addition to the ”Er good” from moments before. Her arms were still sort of folded up between their bodies, but she was more focused on his movements at the moment. “Finding it – um – difficult to think. Straight.”

He was breathless by the time she'd changed her answer from good, to really good, and he smiled against her skin at her words. Breathing in deeply he could smell the rose scent of her shampoo, knowing that was one of those little details he would remember later when he was thinking about everything that was happening now. And he would be thinking about it, he knew this too. Phillip barely moved his body as he pulled away slightly from her neck, feebly attempting to catch his breath and keep himself from doing anything she wouldn't want him to. He had no plans to go too far, but the teenage wizard wanted to find out exactly how far they could go.

"Yeah?" he asked as he exhaled, a little smile on his lips. His hand trailed lightly up her ribcage, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against the thin skin as his heart raced. "You are all I think about..." he confessed, shocking himself with the openness and turning to search her face. He was quite in general, despite his mind going a million kilometers an hour he said very little, but here with her, he wanted to say more. And to ask her things he had never dared to ask before.

Idly his thumb traced serene little circles on her skin and the other hand fell back to her waist. Another pause between kisses had his mind turning, all of the wondering and wandering thoughts returning. The look on his face giving away how lost in thought he was, and they were all about her. He smiled then, at nothing in particular and everything all at once, before he spoke.

"What are you thinking?"

“Mhmm,” she answered, trying to catch her breath, squirming a little as his fingertips tickled her skin. She blinked when he looked at her, feeling once more like the world was suspended in slow-motion. It was a snapshot moment she’d file away for later – she knew it instinctively. Those words. His hands on her sides. That look in his eyes. She held her breath for a moment, and wanted to kiss him again just then, slow and with feeling.

An impatient – unexpected – part of her wanted him to pick up the pace again, but most of her felt some relief that there was a break in the momentum. When he asked another question, Billie flicked her gaze upward, at the ceiling, resting her head against the wooden beam behind her. “Um, right now?" She breathed, stalling a bit, "mostly about your hands,” She admitted, an embarrassed, self-aware smile appearing as she spoke. She looked back at him, trying to read his expression. She ran her thumb up and down the side of his neck tenderly, then laughed lightly, from some kind of mix of nerves and relief and happiness. "How about you?" she asked quietly, still smiling.

"Yeah, right now." He clarified when she asked, eyes staying on her face even as she moved to look at the ceiling. He could stand this close to her for hours, just watching the little ways she did things, memorizing the corners of her smile, but he already knew he wanted to kiss her again. He never wanted to stop kissing her, but he had to pause, had to give his mind a minute to take control otherwise his body would.

Mostly about your hands, her words made him take another deep breath, his heart feeling like it was skipping a bit. His cheeks felt hot when he thought about what she said, but for other reasons. His skin tingled where her thumb ran across it, shooting sparks down his body, and he grinned.

"About you.." he trailed off as his gray eyes sunk past her face and down toward where his hand was resting on her skin. Her shirt was still pulled up slightly, resting on his wrist, and his breath caught in his throat seeing the bare skin.

Her smile widened a little when he grinned, but her gaze softened. A rare proper grin, she thought, dimples and all. It made her a little weak at the knees in a way that the kissing didn’t. She wanted to touch his gorgeous face, savour the moment; seeing him smile with such little restraint made her soft in other ways. Who would have thought that all she’d have to do to see it was kiss him a bunch?

She watched his gaze trail down her body, and felt very self conscious under it. Her nerves were back, watching the way he was looking at her. For the millionth time, she wondered what he was thinking. He’d just answered that question, but it wasn’t a very satisfying answer. “Yeah?” she prompted softly. Yeah wasn’t usually in her vocabulary; she was usually so much more of a yes person. This whole situation was pretty out of her comfort zone, though, so she wasn’t surprised.

“Me too,” she teased, “but about you.”

"But what about me?" He asked, the smirk coming back to his face as his eyes trailed back up toward her face. He spoke quietly, it was almost a whisper shared between them, and it felt more intimate that way. His hand brushing her skin, their bodies so close to each other, and her arms still around his neck, it all felt right. "Like anything... specific?" His eyebrow shot up playfully as he finished the sentence, adding a little extra enthusiasm to the last word.

He wasn't quite able to ask her to but Phillip would have loved to hear her tell him in detail what she was thinking. How it made her feel. What she wanted. And maybe one day they'd be at a place where he could ask that, like really ask those sorts of things, and he was already looking forward to that day. He felt giddy and weightless and more like a teenager than he ever had right now. Emotions and thoughts swirling around his mind, a new sort of hunger coursing through his body. He'd never felt anything like it and it made him playful, it made him excitable. He smirked, a dancing playfulness in his words as he looked into her eyes.

"Like.. do you want me to kiss you again?"

He didn’t really answer her, but his grin shifted into more of a smirk. She wanted to laugh again, but listened to what he said instead, her heart racing. Specific? He wanted specifics? There was a lot going on in her head right now, a lot of things she could tell him. Should she say that she hadn’t really stopped paying attention to where his hands were since he’d put them on her? That a second ago she’d sort of lost her brain just seeing him smile? That the trail he’d kissed down her neck was still tingling?

He was doing the confident-eyes thing at her, and it worked for a second, but then she blinked the effect away. “I – That’s not fair,” she protested, but she was smiling, her eyes crinkling a little at the corners. She raised her eyebrows. “Do you want me to kiss you again?” she asked, resisting the urge to laugh again.