It seemed unthinkable that he really could have forgotten this, that he could have buried the way this felt. He couldn't even entirely delude himself into believing it was simply the physical act he found he'd missed so acutely. It wasn't enough, just skin and warmth and lust-drenched demands. There was no one in the world like Gellert. Apart from Albus. And even he--
That want arose, sharp and practically seething, to press himself into Gellert's mind as Gellert had so often let him. It was for best, surely, that such magic remained beyond his grasp. Such games required consent, and Albus wasn't entirely sure he'd be patient enough for that. Neither was he sure he could keep himself from tearing through whatever respectable boundaries Gellert had in his mind, from stripping Gellert truly bare before his sight.
One of Albus's hands found a grasp of Gellert's hair, tugging him up, pulling Gellert's back against his chest. His grip shifted, fingers sprawling along Gellert's jaw to twist his head, to crush their lips together as his other hand wrapped around Gellert's erection. He moaned, again, before he bit at Gellert's lip. The more sensations exploded across his skin, the more his skin seemed to want. Harder, harsher, tighter, and faster; all were demands he'd meet quite happily. Some certainty seemed to dwell in his core, that if he could somehow just tangle them up enough, he could fill in the missing pieces of himself. He could make himself whole again.