Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

015 Tongue.

The air in the Great Hall was thick with the low hum of conversation as the students settled into their usual spots. Tom had prepared a meal for Ernesh, as always. His attention to detail never faltered, and it was as though Ernesh was the center of his world, something he indulged in privately but with great devotion. The meal was exactly what Ernesh liked: simple but perfectly crafted, designed to fuel the dark and insatiable desires they both harbored. The rest of their followers, the ones loyal to Tom, were seated around them, filling the space with casual chatter, but neither Tom nor Ernesh paid much mind to anyone else. Their world was always separate from the others.

As Tom and Ernesh sat side by side, exchanging little more than a few quiet glances, Horace Slughorn, ever eager to butter up his star students, approached Tom, pulling him aside for a conversation. It was the perfect moment for Ernesh to sink into his thoughts, his fingers tracing the snake-like lines of scales that had grown more pronounced over the years. He was used to their touch now, their presence, the pleasure that surged whenever Tom's fingers brushed across them. He was Tom's—completely.

As Slughorn chatted with Tom, Antonin Dolohov, the newest addition to Tom's ever-growing circle, sat nearby, watching the interactions with growing curiosity. Dolohov hadn't yet understood the bond between Tom and Ernesh. Most didn't. They didn't see the strings that tied them together, the way Tom could command Ernesh's every action with barely a glance, the unspoken understanding that Ernesh existed to serve Tom's desires—and only Tom's.

Dolohov leaned over to Ernesh, his voice laced with mild amusement. "You don't talk much, do you? What is this... thing you have with Tom?"

Ernesh's black eyes flickered toward him, but he didn't respond. His lips were tight, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak unless Tom told him to, and until Tom returned, Ernesh was not going to engage with Dolohov. His irritation grew with each passing second, the pressure in his chest building as he stared at the spot where Tom had gone.

Dolohov, sensing the tension but not understanding it, leaned in closer. "You don't have to be silent all the time, you know. We're all friends here, no need for secrecy."

But Ernesh's gaze remained cold, almost vacant. His fingers curled tightly into his lap, the desire to return to his thoughts overpowering any urge to engage. He wasn't interested in Dolohov. He didn't care about any of them. Only Tom.

The moment Tom returned, the space between Ernesh and Dolohov seemed to disappear. Tom's presence alone seemed to erase any trace of discomfort, and Dolohov quickly turned away, sensing the unspoken command. Ernesh didn't need to say anything, not with Tom beside him.

Later that night, as the other students drifted off to sleep, the common room fell into its usual silence. Tom entered their dormitory to find Ernesh waiting for him on the bed, as always, staring at the shadows in the room with that unnerving intensity. His eyes were deep, dark pools, pupils blown wide, his gaze fixed on Tom with an almost unnatural focus. His body was still, his mind already tuned to Tom's every movement.

Tom's smirk was almost predatory as he stepped into the room. "You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" he murmured softly, his voice a low whisper meant only for Ernesh's ears.

Ernesh's lips barely moved as he responded, his voice a breathless whisper. "Always."

Tom could feel the dark bond that had grown stronger between them, an electric charge in the air that hummed with the promise of what was to come. As he stepped closer to the bed, he saw Ernesh's gaze flicker with that intense longing, the way his eyes always seemed to soften, even in the darkness. But it was when Tom reached down and cupped his face gently that he saw the shift in Ernesh. His breath caught, and his lips parted in anticipation, waiting.

Tom leaned down and kissed him softly, his lips brushing against Ernesh's in a kiss that had been repeated countless times before. But this time, something was different. The kiss deepened, a surge of magic coursing between them. Ernesh's tongue responded to Tom's, but something strange happened. A sharp, searing pain shot through his mouth as his tongue split in two, just like a snake's.

Blood flooded his mouth, warm and thick, dripping down his chin. But Ernesh didn't pull away. The pain—at first intense, overwhelming—began to fade, replaced by something deeper, something intoxicating. The pleasure coursing through him was so strong that it pushed the pain away, leaving only the overwhelming rush of sensation. He could feel the blood mixing with the magic that connected them, the bond between him and Tom growing stronger with each second.

Tom smiled against Ernesh's lips, watching with dark satisfaction as his lover, his doll, experienced the transformation. Ernesh's back arched slightly as the pleasure overtook the pain, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as his body responded to the sensation, the sharp split of his tongue becoming a strange comfort. He had been waiting for this, for the moment when he would truly become like Tom's vision of him—more than human, something dark and powerful.

Tom gently pulled away, watching as Ernesh blinked in confusion for a moment, blood still trickling from his split tongue. But instead of pulling back, Ernesh seemed to embrace the pain, the pleasure overwhelming any discomfort. His eyes—those dark, snake-like eyes—glowed with an intensity that Tom relished.

"I'm yours," Ernesh whispered, his voice thick with blood and desire. It was both a promise and a declaration.

Tom leaned in, kissing him again, fully aware of the blood mingling between them, of the pleasure that Ernesh felt as he was consumed by the magic of their bond. It wasn't just about control. It was about transformation. About turning Ernesh into something more—a creature of darkness, just like him.

Tom can't wait to see what that tongue can do.