Paint the Moon Black

Rolling out of bed, you recall snippets of light brown hair and soft hands and murky green eyes that remind you of the forest at night. The steady throb of someone's pulse against your own. Dashes of skin, a familiar smile, a glint of laughing white teeth, the smell of ink and old books and herbs. A tangle of sheets, a blur of bodies. Everything felt beautiful. [2ndPOV, Sirius POV]