In your eyes I see stars within super nova stars, and snitches bouncing around snitches, gleaming and sparkling no matter how dark or light it is. I see bludgers ready to lash out and pound me into oblivion, but they don't, because you keep them cornered, caged, because you keep them chained down just for me.

When I feel your teeth nibble at my lips and my neck I can feel your anger and your pain, but I can also feel how just by being here I make it easier for you to go on existing for one more second, and I can feel how you aren't sure whether you should keep nibbling or bite down until I scream, but you just slip your tongue out over my wounds, healing them and bathing away the pain, holding your pain to yourself, just for me.

In your chin I can see your pride, driven into you by a family and a family name, countless generations built up to shape you, to form you, to forge you from a battle scarred mold, just for me.

On your tongue I can taste the poison and the acid, the acid you use to tear others down and to form an impenetrable shield to hold them away afterwards, the poison I managed to dodge only because you held it back, turned it off, just for me.

In your arms I can feel your strength, as you grind me against you and against the wall at the same time, a strength you want to simply unleash but don't, because you know it can scare me, and because you don't want to change the moment or the mood at all, because it's about to make you pass out, and that's what you want, but just with me.

In your hair I see the bright yellow straw of your broomstick, in my face as we race around the field until you let me win by dropping your front tip low and I pretend I don't notice what you did until later, when I repay the favor, and in your hair I can smell an amazing perfume found nowhere in the Muggle world and very rarely in the wizarding one, that you created by stealing from Snape's secret stores, and a risk you took and a scent you put in, just for me.

As I slide my tongue along your ear I remember how you listen to me try to sing to you, with that look on your face that makes me want to either scream at you or drop onto my knees and pray to you, because I know that look is just for me.

On your lips I can taste the Veritserum that makes you say harsh truths with a straight face, and its fresh, but stale enough to let you whisper sweet lips into my ears as you feast on my mouth and my neck, and stale enough to let you scream but half truths later on, as were feasting together, half truths meant just for me.

As I feel your nose rub slowly along my skin, level with my hipbones, I know you can barely smell the traces of the cave I was in, and the hairs of the dog I was petting, but you don't ask about it and you don't tell anyone either, and you tell your suspicions and your paranoias to shut up, just for me.

In your legs I can feel your fear and your insecurities, as they shake around my waist, and in the way you pull them tight around mine in bed before you go to sleep, because you're afraid of the dark, and even more afraid of waking up alone, of being alone at all, or maybe your just of missing me, missing just for me.

In your hands I can feel the ones who came before me and because of you, those you used to use to replace your boredom and to pass your time, I feel them in your calluses and your expertise, but I can also feel the new wrinkled and the new tricks, the ones that are there just for me.

Against your chest I can feel your heart, pumping hard, echoing your gasping breaths, pumping blood through your body and lust through your loins and love through your brain, just for me.