Perfidy | Tom Riddle |

31.

TW: KNIVES AND BLOOD

Riddle and Lyra stood there, her leading legs hoisted around him, his generous hands under her thighs. The pair properly registered what they had just done.

Neither one wants to voluntarily speak first, afraid they'd get involved in another fight or forcefully run away acting like it didn't happen. His eyes lingered to her lips, how soft they were, how he wanted to go back into the euphoric state he was present.

He lightly traced the familiar shape of her sensual lips, despairingly wanting to taste her again, wanting to be warm again. "I never wished for that to happen to you," he breathlessly spoke out after what felt like countless hours, the silence nearly drowning them. He ultimately met her glittering eyes, "I don't know how to comfort people, I've never had to before. I've also never had to apologize before because I've never cared to. I understand it's not something you should forgive me so easily f-"

She enclosed the space between him, intimately connecting their lips once more. Instantly resuming the tension building up inside her. Her fingers regaining its original place back into the obsidian curls but more gently this time. The other hand placed by his neck with her thumb pressing into his chiseled jaw.

Her brain shut up, stopped thinking the moment she went back to kissing him, for once her mind was un-flooded, filled with nothing but the sensation of his cold fingers roaming around her burning skin the feeling of his ring buried into her thigh. The way their tongue's inseparably connected as if they had been away for the longest time in absolute agony.

He let out a profound sigh of relief when she cut him off, he was worried that one wrong word would send her off. It was a blessing in disguise. He's desperately aching for something unfamiliar, though kissing her was already a new experience he wants to savor over and over again, he wanted- no, he needed something new.

Pushing away from her lips, his own lips instantly found the something new he wanted, right onto her neck his tongue traced her jaw, carefully tracing every vein running down, sending a knot into her abdomen.

"Is this okay?" he murmured tenderly onto the crevasses of her neck while suckling right at the jugular.

She leaned her head back hurling it onto the stone wall with her eyes shut vastly, "For you- oh- for only you, it is."

"For only you, it is"

She shouldn't have said that.

He had this feral-like look wash across his black eyes, filled with a lustrous desire to possess her in a way he never expected to before. The image of having her beg for him, to only allow him to touch her clouded his mind.

Throwing her over his shoulder, he secured his hand over her bum for the flowing skirt to not rise up, she yelped at the sudden stop.

"Riddle, what are you doing?"

He didn't address her but maintained his steady pace. She realized where they were going, "Are you mad what if someone sees us like this is the common room."

"Pureblood," The painting opened. Her heart swelled at the thoughts running through her mind, pondering why he came to a sudden stop.

Riddle opened her room before kicking it shut placing her down onto the leather chair instead of the bed. He reached for his wand and cast a silencing charm before tossing his wand to the side. She stood but her action was stopped when he placed his hands around her shoulder slamming her down.

He went down to his knees never looking away from her frightened but anxious gaze.

The fabric of her dress got in the way, he gripped the edge of it ripping it apart straight from the center with ease.