Beg For Me- Mattheo Riddle x Reader

5. Sweet Little Angel

"Yes, Wednesday stays the same, but I've added Friday evenings for potions." You said, shutting the creaky wooden door behind you as you trailed inside the empty classroom after Mattheo. "I've already informed Professor Dumbledore."

"But, Raven...Friday nights are for the fucking boys." He grumbled, a playful yet frustrated pout on his lips as he practically threw himself into the chair. "You've absolutely sewered me here."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Sewered?"

"Yeah, you know...you sewered me...it's the clean version of 'you fucked me'," he said, staring at you as though you were an alien with three heads. "I would have just said that but we both know you've never fucked anything..."

You rolled your eyes. "No need to be so crude, Riddle."

"Crude?" Mattheo smirked, his eyes widening with sheer amusement. "What's going on with you, princess? You finally get into the club of your dreams and now you're back to being all uptight? Trying to impress someone, perhaps?"

You were on the verge of scoffing, ready to roll your eyes so far back that the inside of your skull would be your view--but then, he stood up, advancing toward you with an electrifying intensity in his eyes--a look that effortlessly stalled your breath, seizing your lungs and making your heart race without the slightest effort--and you already knew you were doomed, your defiance cracking more with each one of his footsteps.

"Guess that just means I'll have to loosen you up a bit, yeah?" He purred, gripping your jaw and directing your eyes up to meet his. "After all, my pretty little slut still has a job to do..."

Your mind reeled. My pretty little slut. The first two words were almost enough to make your stomach wind up in your goddamn feet. Not only did he call you pretty, but he fucking called you his.

"Yours?" Your voice was a mere breath as it left your lips. "Did you just call me yours?"

"I did, Raven...because it's true..." A smirk curled upon his lips, his eyes deepening into pools of darkness as he pulled you closer by the grip on your jaw. "You know it, and I know it."

"N-no..." You stammered. "It's not."

Mattheo paused, his gaze fixated on yours, a flicker of something primal dancing behind his eyes, sending a shiver down your spine that seemed to reverberate through every inch of your body.

"You sure?" He snickered. "Who else do you get on your knees for every fucking week?" His tone dropped into a low whisper, tilting his head slightly as he scanned your face, free hand finding purchase on your hip. "Who else touches you like this?...or kisses you like this?..."

With a tenderness previously unseen, Mattheo tilted your chin up, leaning in and brushing his lips against yours--once, then twice, and finally, a third time before he pressed the plush entirety of his mouth to yours--his movements so gentle, so incomprehensibly tender they made everything around you fade into insignificance, your lids fluttering shut as his mouth worked over yours. The sensation in your chest grew stronger as his hand cradled your jaw, ensuring your lips remained connected to his while his free hand traced a path around the small of your back, pulling you snug against his frame.

And as you melted into the kiss, your mind reeled with the reality of the situation. You couldn't deny the whirlwind of emotions inside you as the two of you continued this potentially perilous game; a game where the line between obligation and necessity blurred into an indistinct haze.

You knew you fucking despised this boy, but you weren't naive enough to deny that the line between love and hate was a very thin one to begin with. You were well aware that your heart was teetering on the brink of destruction, and caution was your only lifeline--so with trembling fingers, you gripped the wrist to the hand holding your jaw, exhaling a shaky breath as he pulled back, dark eyes searching your face.