Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

48

Mature content ahead. The mention of knives, and blood may be upsetting. Please read with caution.

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Draco pushed her forward a bit. Intimidating her to the brim as her eyes widened at every twitch in his muscles. He was furious with her. She could tell.

''I asked you a question, Clarke.'' He gritted, his jaws sharp, ''I asked you a fucking question, and when I do that, you—''

''Answer...'' Isla breathed, her body stiffened at the way he was squeezing her flesh. His hands bored and drilled into her. His breaths were hot on her shoulder. His eyes so intense that she couldn't breathe at the closeness of him — and she wasn't even looking at him, ''When you ask a question, I answer.''

''You do,'' He said, lowly and deep. She shivered, ''You do answer when I ask you something, Clarke. I think we both have established how I am all for punishment. Don't push me.''

Push him. Push him. Push him.

That was all her mind could reach as she tried to yank out of the grip he kept on her. Forcing herself out of his arms and turning around. She didn't stand a chance. Too tired. Too drained of strength. Isla couldn't distance herself even if she wished to do so.

''I said—'' He grunted, pinning her arms down by her sides now, still standing firm and solid behind her. He didn't allow her to move an inch, ''Don't fucking test me, Clarke. I'll make you regret it.''

Test him. Test him and test him again.

Isla wished she had the courage to do that. To test him and to push him, and to stretch his limits. Somewhere she knew that he'd let her do that. He'd let her test his boundaries. She knew he would.

''What if I want to regret it?'' She let out, hesitant yet so filled with will.

He hissed. Drawing a breath through his teeth at her choice of words, but the second she indeed spoke those terms — let go of her. Causing her to finally turn around and face him, ''You don't.'' Draco declared, hard, ''You don't want to regret it, because when you do — there's no turning back. You know that, Clarke.''

She knew that. Of course, she knew that.

If she let herself loose with Draco again, she wouldn't be able to stay away. Neither would he. He would become feral, untamed around her. It took almost everything the blond owned not to kiss her as they stood there. Close in his library at the early hour.

He wanted to let all his fears go, but he couldn't.

''Draco...'' It was a sweep of hurt in her voice. A coat of regret in her eyes. Something heavy, ''I—''

''Go back upstairs,'' Shifting around from her, he shook his head. Looking over everything he'd researched in there. It wasn't what she thought. He didn't need to read her mind to understand that this was her thinking that he was looking for revenge. Draco was honest about his past. What he'd been through. The reason his house was painted all red.

She had her suspicions, he believed. If he only knew just how wrong he was.

Her heart pounded. Crashing and thrashing around in her chest. She wanted to say something more. To ask more, but she didn't dare to. He didn't want her there.

''Clarke,'' He muttered at her silence. Yet failing to look at her, ''Just go back upstairs. Go get a few hours of sleep and then leave.''

She didn't want to. She wanted to hear what this was, what he'd been doing in there. Why there were meters and feet of research, but she was scared. Scared that he'd search her head if she were too obvious.