But Gellert did not speak. To speak would be to break the silence, and the silence was what held this moment together. The threads of something like lust, though perhaps a bit softer--a bit less harsh--drawn between them. Gellert's fingers curled in Remus's hair, his lips parting just slightly. He considered brushing through the meager veil that barred Remus's mind from his own...but there was no need for convincing, was there? Remus's want, Remus's own lust for him would do that on its own.
Gellert's other hand touched Remus's own atop the sheets, running his fingertips over the knobs of the boy's knuckles, hard bone beneath a soft wrapping of skin.