Everyone has baggage, but it's certainly not Selina's job to carry it for them.
*****
Radio talk show host Selina Locke was just looking for a peaceful summer in sunny Barcelona, but...
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REMUS IS HOT.
Not in an objectifying way, mind you, even though Selina isn't going to deny he makes her weak in the knees like a teenage girl with a crush, and those goddamn eyes. He's beautiful because of course he is, because that's all so many people think matters in terms of his value as a human being, and then there's the award-winning voice.
In the wise words of one Shania Twain: okay, so he's gorgeous and he can sing. That doesn't impress her much.
Not when, to Selina, he's so much more than that.
Back to him being hot. His body temperature is warm, probably warmer than usual for someone who's been in New York City for over a week (Selina, on the other hand, couldn't even feel her hands when she left her father's house this morning), and it does wonders to improve the moment.
Selina clings to him for dear life, her lifeline. Remus tastes like mint chewing gum and coffee, the only things keeping him minimally functional, but she knows she's the one waking him up and pulling him out of auto-pilot mode. His touch is electric, with his hands sliding up from her hips to her waist and to embrace her, thumbs pressing gently against the upper part of the side of her rib-cage.
She lets out a stupid little laugh when her shoulder blades hit one of the walls in the dressing room. Everything else is quiet around them and they could easily be the only two people left on Earth, but, then again, the danger of getting caught (if any of them are even thinking about it right now, or even at all) only serves to make it so much more thrilling.
"That was one hell of a song," Selina breathes out, when Remus breaks the kiss to catch his own breath. He rests his forehead against hers, gripping the fabric of her sweater with his fingers. "I'd love to hear it again."
Remus laughs softly, raising a hand to caress her cheek, and, when their eyes meet, his are much darker than their usual electric blue tone. "It's still a work in progress."
"Then, by all means." Even though her space was limited, back pressed against the wall behind her and chest pinned against Remus', she moved closer, allowing her lips to dangerously hover mere inches away from his. He took in a sharp breath and dropped his hand back to her waist, following the curves of her body on the way. "Let me help you."
He kisses her like they've known each other their whole lives, yet still magically finds new things to explore. He discovers the perfect pressure of his hands on her thighs when he hoists her up to help her wrap her legs around his waist. He discovers the perfect angle to tilt his head to deepen the kiss when she tightens the grip on his hair.
