You didn't even hear his steps, yet when you saw a grimace creep up on Leander's face as he spoke to you, and strong arms wrap around your torso, you knew.
Sebastian left a soft kiss on the top of your head, looking at Leander with a small frown. You thought it must be one of those things only boys understood, because Leander sighed and nodded, without saying a word. Sebastian relaxed against you.
Pair of eyes looked between the two boys, as if expecting a fight to come out of it, but Leander just smiled in acknowledgement. "Sallow." Then his eyes met yours. "I'll see you in class. Don't forget your Leechjuice again."
You rolled your eyes. "It was one time."
Many people mistook it for possessiveness. You knew the real reason for it.
Leander walked away, waving you a goodbye, and Sebastian leaned his head against yours.
"Hi," you whispered with a small smile. He nuzzled your cheek, leaning his weight on your back.
While you never reproached him for showing his touchy side in public, you were starting to feel a little self-conscious of all the curious eyes piercing the two of you, so you turned around in his arms — albeit with great difficulty as his iron grip on you seemed unmovable — and cupped his cheeks.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You swore you saw a few tears collect in his eyes as you spoke, so you walked him backwards to a more secluded bench. He sat down and immediately pulled you onto his lap.
After two years of dating, Sebastian had no more qualms about showing you his need for affection. You were there through it all: when Anne was cursed, when Sebastian desperately tried to find a cure, and even now, when he was diving into a dangerous path with his new friend. He had begun to rely on you, and on something only you could give him.
Security.
You threaded your fingers through his hair, affectionately scratching his scalp, and he let out a soft whine – a whine of pleasure, and a whine of something else. Something sad and guilty and that made him tighten his grip against you and bury his face in your chest.
"He has sent another letter!" he began, running his hands along your back and hips. You learned it was a way for him to reassure himself and calm down. "He told me the if I don't stop, he'll never let me see Anne again!"
Your face softened, hand now cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Usually, when Sebastian had a fight with Solomon, he'd retreat in the Undercroft, angry and incensed and ready to burn his own rage to the sound of very loud Confringo's. But there were times when his uncle's words got to him, made his heart sink with the need of a love that was stripped from him. A love he tried to silence by hugging his pillow tight at night when he was young. A love he found in you.
"He won't actually do it. Anne will always be your sister," you reassured him softly. "She'll want to see you, and he can't stop her from that."
He breathed heavily in your chest, pressed his palm under your thighs to pull you further in.
"She doesn't agree with what I'm doing…" He muffled his broken voice in your shirt.
"I know…"
"And she might stop loving me…" he said tearfully.
"She won't." You said earnestly. "She's your twin. In her heart, she knows she'd do the same for you."
He trembled a little, emotions threatening to explode.
"You don't trust Solomon," you began, stroking his hair, "but you can trust me. And you can trust Anne."
He stopped quivering, and you could almost feel the gears turn in his brain at your words. He began to kiss you through your shirt in gratitude.
You thought the position must have been uncomfortable to him, even if he didn't show it, so you slightly pushed his torso back, his face leaving your chest with a displeased frown, and leaned him on the seatback a little, then nestled in his arms, face nuzzling his neck. He sighed in relief as you cuddled against him.
"I know I'm too much sometimes…" he said in a small voice, hiding his face in your hair.
"You're not," you answered immediately. You could see his insecurities start to creep up on him, and you wouldn't have that.
"I annoy you."
"You don't," you protested, looking up at him in concern.
"I always come to you—"
"I'm glad you do."
"—and I'm always too needy."
"I don't see a problem with that."
You sighed and cupped his cheek again, drawing him down to press your mouth to his. It took a small touch for him to ignite, leaning his whole torso over you to deepen the kiss, desperately tugging at your lips. He pulled back with a grimace again when he noticed, and turned away, almost guilty.
"Don't refuse my affection," you whispered.
"I will consume you."
"I'm yours anyway."
He looked back at you, eyes fleeting over the gentle smile on your lips.
"Now come and kiss me a little more."
The battle in his mind seemed to settle immediately, and he lunged forward, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you in place as his lips feasted on yours. His other arm circled your waist, holding you impossibly tight against him. And he was everywhere — his body caging yours, lips hungrily pulling and biting and bruising, hands desperately kneading your flesh, prising your shirt open to touch your bare skin. You felt dizzy at the force of his affection, and you knew he was right. He would consume you, like a wildfire, an eruption, a cataclysm about to blow your heart in a pulp of blood and passion as his tongue claimed yours. And you'd stop feeling like a person at his touch, so overcome by him you'd lose yourself. And then he'd settle it all right, kissing the blood off your lips with reverence, caressing your bruises gently, putting order into your feelings and reminding you once again that you would do anything for him.
"I need you," he breathed out, dipping his head in the crook of your neck. "Every day…"
You didn't stop him when he sucked a love bite into your skin.
"It's a good thing I feel the same," you chuckled.
"Even if you don't need me as much as I need you—"
"I need you more than you can imagine."
He looked up at you, and you kissed his lips again. This time he was gentle as well.
"Don't stop coming to me. Ever."
He nodded and kissed you again. And again. And again. And again, until Professor Weasley reproached the both of you for inappropriate behaviour and sent you to detention for a week.
And he'd kiss you there, too.