9. Venice: Dorsoduro and Back on the Train

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Minerva woke to the sensation of something tickling her nose. She opened her eyes to see Albus looking down at her, the end of his beard spidering across her face.

She smiled up at him as he leant down to kiss her.

His mouth was enticing, sweet and slightly minty, and she pulled him down to her, relishing the warmth of his skin against hers.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"A few minutes."

"You should have woken me."

"I was enjoying watching you sleep."

"I have an idea you'll enjoy more," she said, moving her legs up on either side of his and rocking her hips.

"When did you become so insatiable?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Mmm," he murmured, any other response lost in the movement of his lips across her neck.

She drew her nails gently down his back and kneaded his buttocks as he licked and sucked at her sensitive skin, cool, but beginning to heat up under his attentions.

He was hard now, and with a small shift of his hips, he slipped easily into her.

"Oh, that's lovely," she whispered.

"You are lovely." His hands were on either side of her face, and he looked into her eyes as he moved over her.

The intensity of his gaze brought heat to her cheeks, and she had the passing thought that to be the centre of Albus Dumbledore's attention was a heady thing indeed.

Their lovemaking was languid and gentle, and Minerva kept her eyes open, watching him. There came a point when his concentration shifted from her to someplace deep inside himself, and for a moment, she wondered where he went at those times when his eyes squeezed shut and his face took on an almost-pained expression, then any conscious thought fled as her own pleasure engulfed her.

When her orgasm waned and she opened her eyes again, he was looking down at her, a half smile on his lips.

"You are very beautiful when you come," he said.

Flustered, she said, "I doubt that."

"It's true."

"Kiss me."

He did, then started to move off her.

"No, stay," she protested, wrapping her legs around his hips to keep him in place.

"I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all. I'm not ready to let go of you yet."

"You need never let go of me, my love."

They lay quietly, Minerva enjoying the feeling of being pressed tightly to him, as close as they could be, nearly one flesh. Albus's scent, sandalwood and lemon, with a hint of sweat from the morning's exertions, familiar and soothing, lingered in her nose. His head was on the pillow, face turned towards hers, and he placed occasional soft kisses on her ear as she drew lazy patterns on his shoulders and back with her fingers.

Eventually, their bodies' other needs forced them out of bed.

Minerva washed and got ready for the day, and while Albus took his turn in the bathroom, she packed her things in her trunk.

Wisps of steam followed him when he emerged, a towel wrapped around his middle.

"I'm sorry our holiday is ending, but I will be glad not to have to use any more of this Morgan's," he said, tossing a yellow jar of pomade onto the rumpled bed.

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