slytherin boys react - II

tom riddle - as a vampire

he storms into your room, slamming the door shut with a harsh thud. his normally composed features are tight with irritation, his eyes darkened with an unspoken, gnawing tension. you don't even get the chance to greet him before he interrupts, "don't speak."

he walks toward you, without a word, his hands find your shoulders, pulling you to your feet with a single, swift motion. he doesn't look at you as his fingers begin undoing the first few buttons of your shirt, each movement deliberate.

he mutters under his breath, irritation lacing his voice. "slughorn's unbearable," he says, his fingers brushing against your skin, his frustration barely contained. "nattering on about some pointless potion as if we were still children. i had to listen to that idiocy for over an hour."

he works his way down another button, the fabric falling open to reveal more of your collarbone. the heat of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, but his focus is elsewhere, his mind clearly preoccupied. "and the others," he adds, his voice dropping, "pathetic, incompetent fools. i can't stand them, not one of them."

his lips graze your collarbone, a possessive touch. you feel the subtle tension in his hands as they tighten on your shoulders. he pauses, and his voice softens, but the edge of his stress remains. "wasting my time with their trivial nonsense. i don't have time for it."

his fingers pause at the next button, leaving your shirt undone just enough to reveal a tempting sliver of skin. his breath quickens, his lips hovering dangerously close to your neck. you instinctively try to speak, but before you can, he silences you with a soft, insistent shush. "don't worry," he murmurs, his voice dark and almost intimate as his lips brush over the exposed skin of your neck. "just be patient with me."

you feel his mouth move down the length of your neck, his kisses growing more insistent, more desperate. the weight of his tension presses against you, a storm building beneath his calm. the truth of his distress hits you, he's hungry, starving, and you know it's only you who can relieve him.

he stops at the spot just below your ear, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin. "it's been a long day," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse, "and i am starving."

his tongue flicks out, tracing a path along your collarbone as if savoring the taste of you already. his words send a shiver down your spine. "and you..." he murmurs, his voice laced with desire, "you taste too sweet to resist."

he tilts your chin up, his gaze never leaving yours as his fingers tangle in your hair, holding you firmly in place. his voice is darker now, rough and urgent. "just a taste," he says, his tone low and almost feral. "only a taste, i swear. i need this."

he lowers his mouth to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his fangs graze you lightly before sinking into the tender flesh. he drinks quickly, his movements almost reverent as he pulls you closer, his body pressing flush against yours. his voice is a husky whisper against your skin. "you're like a drug," he murmurs between his swallows, "so sweet, so intoxicating. i could drink you dry, and still, i wouldn't be satisfied."

his lips pull away, only for a moment, his gaze dark and possessive. his tongue flicks out to lap at the remnants of blood, and you see the primal hunger in his eyes, tempered with tenderness. "i'd keep you here," he growls, "my private feast, until there was nothing left of you but me."

he pulls back, his chest rising and falling with quick, controlled breaths. he looks at you, eyes narrowed with intensity. "but i won't," he says quietly, "because you are mine, and i won't let you weaken, not like this. you won't lose yourself to me."