Suppressing a soft groan with every shift of Gellert's hand along his length was a loosing battle. He should have been pushing Gellert, too-young Gellert-- nearly eight years younger Gellert, away. He ought to find someone responsible to keep him from succumbing to the wanton assault against which he felt so utterly defenseless.
A throaty sound welled out of him, and for a moment Albus was entirely arrested by the tangle of hot and sharp against his neck. It might have been as if he'd never been touched before, if it weren't for the way every point of contact sparked an eruption of memory beneath his skin. Albus was so perplexed by Gellert's rearrangement of their positions that when he grasped Gellerts intention, a moment later, he actually chuckled aloud. The specifics of their sexual past had certainly been varied, but it had never once included Gellert as the one driving into him. There was, however, something to decidedly be said for Gellert's ability to employ the full potential range of manual dexterity to accompany his truly wicked, searing and perfect and wildly addictive mouth.
But Gellert's insistent declarations, words that had been quietly haunting Albus, came back with full force. And Gellert was right. The differences in their ages wasn't going to stop him. That hardly meant, of course, that he had to concede the ground just yet. Gellert's slighter frame worked entirely to Albus's advantage, and his long legs made simple work of switching their stances. Somewhere in the transition, Albus's trousers had fallen, forgotten, to the floor. His hands however, paid no mind and moved immediately to sweep over the flat plane of Gellert's stomach to begin dispatching with the fastenings of his trousers.
"I thought you said you knew what I wanted," Albus couldn't help murmuring, feigning a taunt, against Gellert's hair as he rocked his hips against the curve of Gellert's backside. Truth be told, he delighted in the opportunity to show Gellert that he didn't know everything about what had passed between them-- that, in some things, he'd only barely begun to scratch the surface.